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Rh desire, let me say to you, dear reader: Call at the Massachusetts Metaphysical College, in 1889, and judge for yourself whether I can talk — and laugh too! I never was in better health. I have had but four days' vacation for the past year, and am about to commence a large class in Christian Science. Lecturing, writing, preaching, teaching, etc., give fair proof that my shadow is not growing less; and substance is taking larger proportions.

Out upon the sidewalk one winter morning, I observed a carriage draw up before a stately mansion; a portly gentleman alight, and take from his carriage the ominous hand-trunk.

“Ah!” thought I, “somebody has to take it; and what may the potion be?”

Just then a tiny, sweet face appeared in the vestibule, and red nose, suffused eyes, cough, and tired look, told the story; but, looking up quaintly, the poor child said, —

“I've got cold, doctor.”

Her apparent pride at sharing in a popular influenza was comical. However, her dividend, when compared with that of the household stockholders, was new; and doubtless their familiarity with what the stock paid, made them more serious over it.

What if that sweet child, so bravely confessing that she had something that she ought not to have, and which mamma thought must be gotten rid of, had been taught the value of saying even more bravely, and believing it, —