land and was daily at Mr. Quimby's office. Quimby always spoke of her as a remarkable woman and would daily question her as to her understanding of her cure. She regarded him with the enthusiasm one rescued from drowning feels for the swimmer who has brought him to shore. She continually invested his mind with her own ideas. He was eager to take advantage of her superior mental qualifications to add something to his “Wisdom,” and he would converse with her by the hour for that purpose.
“You say there is a principle which governs the healing,” he would remark. “Now what do you think that principle is?”
“I think it is God,” she would reply. “You should understand, Dr. Quimby, much better than I that this is not your magnetism or your wisdom but God's truth. I try to understand my cure every day, but I am still confused. You should make clear statements concerning your understanding of this truth for your patients’ sake, not in scribbled notes, but in a developed argument summed up in a treatise. There must be a truth underlying your healing. Do you analyze your processes?”
“I do not understand entirely what I do,” the doctor would say; “so how can I make the patient understand?”
“But there can be no science of health until the laws can be stated,” Mary Baker would reply. “If this is a philosophy it can be reduced to philosophic arguments. This is a very spiritual doctrine, the eternal years of God are with it, and it must be stated so that it will stand firm as the Rock of Ages.”
