CHAPTER XXIX.
"Blessed influence of one true, loving soul on another. Not calculable by algebra, not deductible by logic, but mysterious, effectual, mighty as the hidden process by which the tiny seed is quickened, and bursts forth into tall stem and broad leaf, and glowing tasseled flower."—George Eliot.
"Oh dear!" exclaimed Kate as she laid down the letter containing the lesson on Thought. "I didn't know we were so responsible for every little thing that comes into our mind."
"Or goes out of it," said Grace, smiling, as she finished tinting a dainty plaque. "Now we can understand that 'where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise,'" she added rather absent-mindedly.
"Yes, but I think I prefer the wisdom to the bliss. Do you understand this lecture as well as the rest?" asked Kate, again glancing at the letter.
"Why shouldn't we? It is plainly told, and is a natural sequence to the others. I should think it very helpful, and if there really is so much power in thought, it is time people knew it."
"But what of the people who do not know it? Are they utterly defenseless?"
"As long as they believe in the reality of sin, sickness and death, they must suffer from them," replied Grace, picking a loose hair from her blender.
"Then they ought to know how to learn and understand these things, but I could not tell anybody."
"We can solve any problem by going back and reasoning from the premise. If any shock of sin or sickness come over us, we have simply to remember the spiritual, which is the only real creation."