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publication quarters of the society in Boston have quite as keen a knowledge of geography, in their way, as any teacher in the schools. And swiftly as their work is done, there is always more for them to attempt. One thing more in connection with the extraordinary growth of Christian Science. Just as surely as the spring sun coaxes forth the blades of grass and the budding flowers, so surely is it affecting very materially schools of thought and practice long bitterly opposed to it. Many clergymen are coming under its gentle sway; yes, but more than that, and far more significant for the future, those preachers who remain anchored to their old faith are changing the slant of their sails. One does not need to be an expert in spiritual matters to see that more and more in pulpits of the long-established denominations are heard utterances showing the influence of Christian Science tenets. And what is as fully significant, perhaps, the rasping denunciations of the new spiritual movement are heard no more. It is almost fully recognized that Christian Science is not a subversion of Christianity, but a form of Christianity that surely makes its professors better and happier individuals. No less is the practice of medicine being vitally influenced by this new belief as to the treatment of diseases. Drugging is going out of favor more

and more, even by those who once conceived that all physical welfare revolved around ipecac and calomel. With increasing force the mental part of cure is being insisted upon, and the purer elements of materiality, air, sunlight, exercise, cheerful surroundings are climbing above the older forms of materia medica. Eminent professors of medical schools are inveighing against the customary pouring of drugs and poisons down people's throats. Everywhere there is a great reaction against old methods. What has done it? Can any one doubt? Is it a mere coincidence that the new idea has suddenly sprung into being with the rise of Christian Science? If so it is a happy meeting of chance events.

No one with half a mind for the value of social signs can believe for a moment that Christian Science has even begun to approach the limits of its influence and strength. The constant increase in all of the elements that make it powerful would preclude any such judgment as that. When men and women come to a movement of the sort without proselyting—and that lack is typical of Christian Science —there is shown a vitality that gives no evidence of decadence. “I would not urge a single human being to come into the movement,” said a prominent Scientist the other day. But they come without urging. Therein lies the secret.




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- ROM an almost impenetrable cloud of dust blown onward down the road by the stiff sea breeze, emerged a big brown roadster which bowled along at a rapid pace under the skilful guidance of its sole occupant, a young man at the wheel, and drew up to the Cliff House piazza. If Grace Spofford had heard the automobile approach she showed no consciousness of it, and the few guests promenading the wide hotel piazza who smiled questioningly in her direction certainly did not have the satisfaction of knowing how discriminating her little ear had become in detecting the sounds characteristic of different motors. As the exhaust from the approaching car was muffled much more than that of any motor with which she was familiar she continued the discussion of plans for the afternoon sail with the group of relatives and friends that could usually be found in an animated, jolly circle about her. She turned quickly, however, as the big car was brought to a halt near her and the driver began to gaze anxiously through his goggles along the piazza, as if searching for Some One. “Good morning to you, Mr. Burnham, and your big road roller,” she said gaily, leaning over the balustrade. “Won't you take off that disguise and come up here with us?” “Thank you,” he replied, “but I'm just trying my new car and I thought you might like to take the initial trip with me.” “Another new one!” she exclaimed, reprovingly. “What can you do with more than one, I should like to know, and how can anybody feel safe to take

a walk with that great silent monster rushing along the narrow roads? It's easy to understand your reason for wearing those horrid things, Mr. Burnham.” “Please inform me?” he asked obligingly, as he removed cap and goggles, revealing a manly face, bright eyes, and the firm chin and square jaw that make for achievement. “Because if you should ever kill anybody his friends could never identify you,” she explained with amusement in her eyes. “Your insight regarding the motives of the human mind is most keen,” he said gravely, with a low bow. “Thank you,” she retorted, mockingly. Then with an entire change of mood she continued, “I should be delighted to go. I won't keep you waiting but a minute.” It was five minutes later, however, before she appeared, clad in a long dust coat and wind veil. Burnham carefully assisted her into the seat, then jumped in beside her and they were off down the road in a swirl of dust, the horn belching forth brazen notes of warning meanwhile. “This is certainly becoming pathetic,” said Mrs. Spofford to her husband, who was looking with interest toward the thick cloud of dust in the distance. “Well, Burnham certainly wins this time,” commented Mr. Spofford, taking up his morning paper, “and as far as 1’m concerned he'll make a very satisfactory son-in-law. A rare combination, my dear. George has the money to make a fine home for Grace, and, more than that, he's a nice young fellow in every way.” “And so is Robert Hamilton,” hastily interposed his wife. “Both are such fine fellows that I sore:-es think it would almost break my hear: if either is rejected.” “My sentiments exactly, bot bigamy has never been regarded as q:te to proper thing, Augusta.” “Don’t be vulgar, Jim,” reproo Mrs. Spofford. “Both cannot win, of course, 2nd we may as well pick our favorites,” urged her husband, in conciliating tones. “A capitalist is a great indicement,” he added, after a slight pause. Mrs. Spofford was as anxious as ever to champion her sex. “How sordid you are, Jim. Doubtless Grace gives due consideration to his money. She would hardly be human otherwise. But I know she likes Mr. Hamilton and he's not so very poor. His last two novels are very creditable and should have the success they deserve. Grace is just the sort of girl for such a man, and she has been so associated with me in my literary work that their tastes will be exactly alike. Both will have the *ame thoughts and the same emotions. Writers are not so horrid and practical as to give greater consideration for a man's money than for his qualities as an ideal companion. Think what in*piration they would be for each other! It would be a charming match, you know it would.” “Certainly, my dear,” said Mr. Spofford without enthusiasm as he re*umed his reading rather than carry the argument further. He well knew that his wife must be the acknowledged victor of every domestic discussion, for she ruled quite as supremely at home as he did in his office on Wall Street. Nevertheless, he felt that a match between Grace and Robert Hamilton would be far too ideal to be a success; that they would become bored by the very similarity of their tastes. He wanted Grace to be happy and realized that the financial element, while not the first consideration, should not be ignored entirely. Moreover, he thought he knew a man when he met one and he was sure that he saw evidences of the same instinctive

feeling in his fazghter's manner toward Born-arm. In a storeme test He was co-foen: Borrham world not be fond wanti-g; Hamilton he was not so stre of.

*Jim,” said Mrs. Spofford after a 2-g silence. “you know Mr. Hamilton wrote that he hoped to get back last night and I feel stre he will cali to see Grace this morning. I think it rather unkird of her to go off with George Barnham. She saw Mr. Hamifton's letter and it will be such a disappointment after being in the city two weeks. It seems to me—"

She stopped abruptly as Mr. Hamilton himself approached from the diming-room and learning that Grace was o:t. invited her father and mother to enjoy a drive with him in the cool morning air.


It is probable that Grace felt a little regret as well as happiness as she stepped into the big roadster, for she had not forgotten the probable return of Robert Hamilton and she could easily imagine his disappointment at not finding her that morning. Of course he might not come, and automobile driving with her, as with most young women, was a passion not held in subjection without difficulty. Besides, Robert was stopping at the same hotel, so she could see him that afternoon when they might perhaps go for a sail down the bay.

There is an exhilaration ever attendant upon swift motion that soon lays a firm hold on the senses, and this with the comfort of the wide leather seat and her growing admiration of her companion soon dimmed all else save the enjoyment of the present

moment. She liked Burnham very well indeed and greatly admired him. Yes, there was no question

ing that. His fine, manly figure and clean-cut, wholesome face, quite boyish in expression, were handsome even in automobile clothes. She looked at him from time to time, watching his eyes glancing here and there to make sure that every part of the big machine

was working properly, and as she looked she began to realize that there were few men who could look so well in a slimpsy auto coat, goggles, and a small cap pulled firmly over the head. ...What a beauty!” exclaimed the girl. “It just suits me,” said Burnham, “it was made to order from my own designs.” “Only two can ride, I see. I thoughtit was to be a touring car.” “So it is—for two,” and he smiled, “with fine baggage capacity back of the seat.” “What an enormous one, too. fast?” “It’s something of a racer, Miss Spofford, but with all the comforts of a touring car. Sixty horse-power, good for sixty miles an hour on good roads.” “Splendid! Won't you teach me to drive it sometime? I'd love to.” Her head bent forward and she looked at him questioningly. “You will?” persistently. “To be sure I will,” he replied, “if you wish it. Shall we begin to-morrow afternoon P” “I’ll be ready,” she replied, with animation. “Now, that's settled. From here to Great Head on the Beach Road there is six miles of good macadam and probably no one on it as early as this. How quickly can we make it?” “Reckless little woman' You like to drive fast?” “I love it.” “Hold hard to your seat,” he warned. The car jumped forward as he advanced the throttle, leaning low over the wheel, meantime with his eyes fixed on the stretch of road ahead. The girl almost involuntarily crouched toward him. There seemed to be no noise, wind, or anything to distract the attention from the gray streak of road upon which she gazed intently, and along the sides of which flew fences, occasional trees and clumps of bushes, and were gone before they could be recognized one from the other. Nothing seemed to occupy her mind but the thought that of a sudden one of those blurred objects might be

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directly ahead in the road instead of along its sides. As this thought grew upon her, it seemed as if she could not bear it. She tried to speak, but could not. Suddenly they flew around a wide curve and there beyond, entirely unconscious of the approaching danger, was a little child at play in the middle of the road. Grace nearly stopped breathing and closed her eyes to shut out the horrible thing she expected would happen. The horn gave forth a belated warning. Instinctively she grasped the handles on her seat with all her strength and braced her feet as if trying in some way with the little force she was able to exert to stop the onward rush of the heavy car. It was fortunate for her that she did so, for she was almost wrenched from her seat when a moment later the big roadster lurched to one side and shot by the frightened little fellow, the outside wheels passing along the very edge of a deep stone culvert. It was not until they were safely back in the road again and running at slow speed that either spoke or really began to breath freely again, but the girl thrilled from head to foot at the thought of such masterful control and daring. The man's face looked pale and tense when he stopped in the shade of a big apple tree and removed his goggles. “If anything had happened to you or that little fellow back there, I could never have forgiven myself,” he said, hoarsely. “Were you hurt by the sudden lurch?” he continued, anxiously. “Not in the least, but I must confess I was terribly frightened.” “No wonder,” he ejaculated. “I never should have taken that curve so fast. It was the most careless thing I ever did.” After a pause he continued, with a rueful smile, “I’m afraid I've made a very bad beginning. You see I’d intended to-day to ask you to entrust your happiness to my safe keeping as the future Mrs. Burnham, and now see how careless I've been. But you must have known how I love you, Grace. I want you, need you, dear, to make life worth living, and I’ve sometimes thought just for a moment that you cared the same for me—of course I wasn't sure.”

“I’ve never thought you careless,” said Grace evasively, after a pause. Her words sounded kind and gracious, but there was in them a tone of remoteness he had not expected. Looking into her eyes as he talked to her he thought at first he saw there momentarily the light of a great happiness; then a look of abstraction came into them as if another thought took possession of her mind; and this in turn changed as her usual tantalizing humor made its appearance again. Perhaps, he thought, this explained her evasive answer. “Won't you try me?” he urged, smil1ng. “You’ve done me the highest honor in your power and I fully appreciate all it means and thank you,” she replied, more seriously, “but do not ask an immediate answer. Our experience this morning has upset me a little and I can't think clearly. Give me until— let me see—until to-morrow—when I become your chauffeur,” she finished, smiling.

“Chauffeur for life, I hope,” he said, fervently.


Two days later found Robert Hamilton up betimes in the morning; that is to say, long before the other hotel guests had thought of such a thing. It was no newly acquired habit with him, for he loved the open—the great outdoors; he loved the restless, everchanging sea, and these are best in the early morning. After the humidity of the city in midsummer the cool air laden with dew, the salt sea breeze, the singing of birds, the sweet scents of hay-making, of flowers, and, above all, the freedom to come and go at will made life seem glorious.

Two busy weeks in the city forced upon him by the details of dramatizing his latest novel, interspersed with the writing of a few short stories and followed in alternation by a few days at

the seashore had been his life program through the summer. Reporters, curious about the new play, had not helped to make his summer an easy one, but he needed every word they would write to assist in keeping him before the public. Literary success was very pleasing, especially after the struggle he had been through to attain it, but the enjoyment of outdoor life seemed even more gratifying just then. Strolling toward the hotel wharf Robert seated himself on the steps leading down to the float, inhaling deep breaths of the cool salt air as he watched the little white boats at their moorings here and there on the bay. It was not long before his attention was attracted by a young woman raising a sail on a neat sloop nearby, which quickly came about and made for the wharf. It was a beautiful little craft with spotless sails suggestive of the wings of some great sea bird, but Robert's attention went not to the sloop itself but to the girl who sailed it. Her graceful beauty as she stood, one hand occupied with the tiller the other holding the sheet, and her apparent confidence in herself as a skipper, aroused Robert's admiration in a manner too spontaneous and genuine to be concealed. He stood ready to fend off the bow as the boat reached the float, calling cheerily, “Good morning, Cap'n.” “Good morning, Mr. Hamilton; won't you tie her up while I pump out last night's shower? You might wet those spotless shoes if you came aboard,” she laughed merrily, throwing him a rope. Robert made a half hitch over a wooden cleat on the float and then looked down inquiringly at Grace. “How about your own?” he asked. “I haven't shipped a drop and I've been out half an hour already.” With this she began pumping, the muscles outlining themselves under the brown skin with charming boldness as she worked. “One can find you out here almost before light. Seriously, Miss Spofford, do you ever sleep?” “Lots. Come down here and take

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