eivably remote future shall have performed his solemn little
high-jinks on the stage and closed the business, there will be enough
of them accumulated in the museum on the Other Side to start a heaven of
their own-and jam it.

Each in his turn those little supernaturals of our by-gone ages and
aeons joined the monster procession of his predecessors and marched
horizonward, disappeared, and was forgotten. They changed nothing,
they built nothing, they left nothing behind them to remember them by,
nothing to hold their disciples together, nothing to solidify their work
and enable it to defy the assaults of time and the weather. They passed,
and left a vacancy. They made one fatal mistake; they all made it,
each in his turn: they failed to organize their forces, they failed to
centralize their strength, they failed to provide a fresh Bible and a
sure and perpetual cash income for business, and often they failed to
provide a new and accepted Divine Personage to worship.

Mrs. Eddy is not of that small fry. The materials that go to the
making of the rest of her portrait will prove it. She will furnish them
herself:

She published her book. She copyrighted it. She copyrights everything.
If she should say, "Good-morning; how do you do?" she would copyright
it; for she is a careful person, and knows the value of small things.

She began to teach her Science, she began to heal, she began to gather
converts to her new religion--fervent, sincere, devoted, grateful
people. A year or two later she organized her first Christian Science
"Association," with six of her disciples on the roster.

She continued to teach and heal. She was charging nothing, she says,
although she was very poor. She taught and healed gratis four years
altogether, she says.

Then, in 1879-81 she was become strong enough, and well enough
established, to venture a couple of impressively important moves. The
first of these moves was to aggrandize the "Association" to a "Church."
Brave? It is the right name for it, I think. The former name suggests
nothing, invited no remark, no criticism, no inquiry, no hostility; the
new name invited them all. She must have made this intrepid venture on
her own motion. She could have had no important advisers at that early
day. If we accept it as her own idea and her own act--and I think we
must--we have one key to her character. And it will explain subsequent
acts of hers that would merely stun us and stupefy us without i