warmth within the ample, richly furnished house was agreeable. Seated in the large parlor, I became aware of a white-haired lady slowly descending the stairs. She entered with a gracious smile, walking uprightly and with light step, and after a kindly greeting took a seat on a sofa. It was Mrs. Eddy. There was no mistaking that. Older in years, white-haired and frailer, but Mrs. Eddy herself. The likeness to the portraits of twenty years ago, so often seen in reproductions, was unmistakable. There is no mistaking certain lines that depend upon the osseous structure; there is no mistaking the eyes — those eyes the shade of which is so hard to catch, whether blue-gray or grayish brown, and which are always bright. And when I say frail, let it not be understood that I mean weak, for weak she was not. When we were snugly seated in the other and smaller parlor across the hall, which serves as a library, Mrs. Eddy sat back to be questioned.
“The continuity of The Church of Christ, Scientist,” she said, in her clear voice, “is assured. It is growing wonderfully. It will embrace all the churches, one by one, because in it alone is the simplicity of the oneness of God; the oneness of Christ and the perfecting of man stated scientifically.”
“How will it be governed after all now concerned in its government shall have passed on?”
“It will evolve scientifically. Its essence is evangelical. Its government will develop as it progresses.”
“Will there be a hierarchy, or will it be directed by a single earthly ruler?”
“In time its present rules of service and present rulership will advance nearer perfection.”
