the awful story that “he helped ‘niggers’ kill the white folks!” Even the loving children are sometimes made to believe a lie, and to hate reformers. It is pleasant, now, to contrast with that childhood's wrong the reverence of my riper years for all who dare to be true, honest to their convictions, and strong of purpose.
The reformer has no time to give in defense of his own life's incentive, since no sacrifice is too great for the silent endurance of his love. What has not unselfed love achieved for the race? All that ever was accomplished, and more than history has yet recorded. The reformer works on unmentioned, save when he is abused or his work is utilized in the interest of somebody. He may labor for the establishment of a cause which is fraught with infinite blessings, — health, virtue, and heaven; but what of all that? Who should care for everybody? It is enough, say they, to care for a few. Yet the good done, and the love that foresees more to do, stimulate philanthrophy and are an ever-present reward. Let one's life answer well these questions, and it already hath a benediction:
Have you renounced self? Are you faithful? Do you love?
Mrs. Eddy Sick
The frequent public allegement that I am “sick, unable to speak a loud word,” or that I died of palsy, and am dead, — is but another evidence of the falsehoods kept constantly before the public.
While I accord these evil-mongers due credit for their
