Life — December 25, 1902 — page 45: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Page LIFE Aces y¢e 7 was on three legs. His other paw he held half bent in the air. Connie was an Irish terrier, and was known for miles around as a scrapper. Only the day before a strange dog had intruded into the neighborhood, What happened to him in the fifteen minutes that Connie was with him is not recorded, but Connie's front paw bore evidence that the encounter had not been without cer- tain tangible results. “Why in the world,” said Witherby, half contemptu- ously to himself, “doesn’t she cure that dog? She ought to be able to easily enough, and there was a time. before . she wert crazy, when she thought something of him. Poor old man. It’s too bad.” He stooped down and examined the disabled member. “He nipped you hard, didn't he?” The dog wagged his tail in answer, and was off down the road. “That would be a case,” said Witherby to himself— he had gradually grown calmer with the exhilaration of the moderate exercise—‘that would be a case of real benefit to the cause. If she could just look at that dog's leg hard enough, and make him walk off cured, I might believe there was something in it. Then I would be converted, and be in the same class with her, and we'd live forever.” His eye unconsciously followed the limping dog in the distance. “Poor old man!" he said again, sympathetic- ally. “I'll think about that leg of yours anyway. It may help. Any fool knows that the mind has some influence, without becoming a Christian Scientist.” By and by he came to the little hill where he had been accustomed to wander when troubled in spirit, and sat down under the old tree, with the dog panting by his side. A bird flew up in the brush nearby, and the dog sprang after it. And Witherby, watching his move- ments lazily, suddenly started as he saw the dog com back. Connie was walking on four legs, as if nothing had ever happened to him, Witherby rubbed his eyes. Could such a thing be pos- sible? He got up d ran down the hill, this time the dog in full swing behind him. Witherby whistled and the little animal came obediently. His master took up his paw. No sign of that nip. The leg was as if it had never been touched before. “Can it be possible.” thought Witherby, “that I did that, just by the power of my own mind? Why, it must be so. This is wonderful! I'll try it some more.” He hastened back to the house. He walked into the dining room and sat down for a moment in deep thought. “There can be no doubt,” he said to himself, musingly, “that there is something in mental suggestion. Doctors have used it from time out of mind. It's an every-day occurrence with almost every one. That's what makes me so infuriated with this whole affair. Just because there is something in it, these people gather in all the victims they can at the highest figure. Here's a pretty how-de-do when a man’s wife gets off her trolley.” He heard the cook moving about in the kitchen, and necessarily he suddenly remembered that she had given notice to leave, and was going the next day. She was a good cook. Witherby liked her. He recalled now regretfully those delicious waffles that she made in the morning, and his mouth, obedient to this mental suggestion on his part, began to water at the thought. He dwelt also on the savory vegetables and the aromatic coffee, and his heart rebelled at the departure of this good woman Connie sniffed at his hand. After all, if the dog's paw had been cured, perhaps he could get that cook to stay. He bent his. mind upon the task, with all the grim de- termination of a man with a fine appetite unimpaired by his recent and indeed present trouble. For a long time he sat there and ordered that cook to stay, in his mind. Then he got up and walked out into the kitchen, “Celia,” he said, “I hear you are going to leave us.” Celia sighed a Celtic sigh. “Sure I was, sur,” she said, “but Oi've changed my mind. If you don’t mind, I'm going to stay. “Good!” exclaimed Witherby. “I knew yon would. I knew you couldn't go,” and he stalked out, proud and happy. He was another man. Here was a simple natural law that he had never had occasion to try before. a power long dormant that had been suddenly awakened. He strolled up stairs triumphant. “The cook is going to stay,” he said. “I thought she would,” said Mrs. Witherby, quietly. “I have been treating her for it.” “Well, I like that.” said Witherby. “I have been treating her myself. I did it.” “You don’t mean to tell me,” said Mrs. Witherby, “that you, too, have become a Scientist, and in such a short time? It’s wonderful. It's——" “No, I haven't anything of the sort, id Witherby. “As I told you, I thoroughly believe it's the greatest fraud of the century. But, my dear girl, I want to con- vince you. if such a thing is possible, that there is a simple natural law that governs these matters, and you don’t need a ‘mother,’ or a book, or a set of souvenir spoons, or anything else that puts money in some one’s pocket. I suppose the next thing you will say will be that you cured Connie's leg.” “T most certainly shall,” said Mrs. Witherby. “ Why, I read from jence and Health, With Key to the Scrip- tures,’ this afternoon for that purpose alone. And. he triumphantly exclaimed, “look at him! He is perfectly well.” “I did that,” said Witherby, “just by the power of my own mind.” “Oh, how near you are to the blessed truth!" replied his wife. “You will be one of us soon.” Witherby smiled in response. He could afford to smile, for a great idea had come to him. fy dear,” he said, as he lighted a cigar and strolled toward the door, “just you go on thinking that I will become a Christian Scientist. In the meantime, leave me alone. I’ve got some important work on hand.” He stooped and kissed her. comicbooks.com