The “revolutionist” of Latin America is generally only the disgruntled politician. His revolution is seldom more than a violent squabble among greedy spoilsmen for control of the loose-jointed administration. But the great Mosquera Revolution which burst into flame in New Granada in 1861 was fed with fuel of a different nature. It demonstrated, if demonstration were necessary, that the Treaty of Westphalia did not write finis to the history of bloodshed in the name of Christ; that it had but banked the fires of religious animosity, until the furnace should be transferred from the Old World to the New, where the breath of liberty would again fan them into vigorous activity.

The Mosquera War tore asunder Church and State; but left unhappy Colombia prone and bleeding. It externalized a mighty protest of enlightenment against Rome’s dictates in temporal affairs. And, as has before happened when that irresistible potentiality, the people, has been stirred into action, the Church was disestablished, its property confiscated, and its meddling, parasitical clergy disenfranchised.

But then, too, as almost invariably occurs when the masses 282 find that they have parted with cherished prejudices and effete customs, and have adopted ideas so radical as to lift them a degree higher in the scale of progress, they wavered. The Church was being humiliated. Their religion was under contempt. The holy sacrament of marriage was debased to a civil ceremony. Education was endangered by taking it out of the hands of the pious clergy. Texts unauthorized by Holy Church were being adopted. Where would this radical modernism end? The alarm spread, fanned by the watchful agents of Rome. Revolt after revolt occurred. And twenty years of incessant internecine warfare followed.

Fear and prejudice triumphed. A new Constitution was framed. And when it was seen that Roman Catholicism was therein again declared to be the national religion of the Republic of Colombia; when it was noted that the clergy, obedient to a foreign master, were to be readmitted to participation in government affairs; when it was understood that a national press-censorship was to be established, dominated by Holy Church; and when, in view of this, the great religio-political opponent was seen laying down her weapons and extending her arms in dubious benediction over the exhausted people, the masses yielded––and there was great rejoicing on the banks of the Tiber over the prodigal’s return.

When Wenceslas Ortiz was placed in temporary control of the See of Cartagena he shrewdly urged the Church party to make at least a pretense of disbanding as a political organization. The provinces of Cundinamarca and PanamÁ were again in a state of ferment. Congress, sitting in BogotÁ, had before it for consideration a measure vesting in the President the power to interfere in certain states or provinces whenever, in his opinion, the conservation of public order necessitated such action. That this measure would be passed, Wenceslas could not be sure. But that, once adopted, it would precipitate the unhappy country again into a sanguinary war, he thought he knew to a certainty. He had faced this same question six years before, when a similar measure was before Congress. But then, with a strong Church party, and believing the passage of the law to be certain, he had yielded to the counsel of hot-headed leaders in Cartagena, and approved the inauguration of hostilities.

The result had been a fiasco. Congress dropped the measure like a hot plate. The demands of the “revolutionists” were quickly met by the federal government. The causae belli evaporated. And Wenceslas retired in chagrin to the solitude of his study, to bite his nails and wonder dubiously if his party were strong enough to insure his appointment to the See of Cartagena in the event of the then aged occupant’s demise.

It was this hasty judgment of Wenceslas and his political associates which had delayed further consideration of the objectionable measure for six years. But the interim had seen his party enormously strengthened, himself in control of the See, and his preparations completed for turning the revolt, whenever it should come, to his own great advantage. He had succeeded in holding the Church party aloof from actual participation in politics during the present crisis. And he was now keeping it in constant readiness to throw its tremendous influence to whichever side should offer the greatest inducements.

Time passed. The measure dragged. Congress dallied; and then prepared to adjourn. Wenceslas received a code message from his agent in BogotÁ that the measure would be laid on the table. At the same time came a sharp prod from New York. The funds had been provided to finance the impending revolution. The concessions to be granted were satisfactory. Why the delay? Had the Church party exaggerated its influence upon Congress?

Wenceslas stormed aloud. “Santa Virgen!” he muttered, as he paced angrily back and forth in his study. “A curse upon Congress! A curse––”

He stopped still. In the midst of his imprecations an idea occurred to him. He went to his escritorio and drew out the Legate’s recent report. “Ah,” he mused, “that pig-headed Alcalde. And the good little JosÈ. They may serve. Bien, we shall see.”

Then he summoned his secretary and dictated telegrams to BogotÁ and New York, and a long letter to the Alcalde of SimitÍ. These finished, he called a young acolyte in waiting.

“Take a message to the Governor,” he commanded. “Say to His Excellency that I shall, call upon him at three this afternoon, to discuss matters of gravest import.” Dismissing his secretary, he leaned back in his chair and dropped into a profound revery.

Shortly before the hour which he had set for conference with the Departmental Governor, Wenceslas rose and went to his escritorio, from which he took a paper-bound book.

“H’m,” he commented aloud. “‘Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest.’ Bien, I was correct in my surmise that I should some day have use for this little volume. Poor, misguided RincÓn! But––Bien, I think it will do––I think it will do.”

A smile played over his handsome, imperious face. Then he snapped the book shut and took up his hat. At the door he hesitated a moment, with his hand on the knob.

“If the Alcalde were not such a fool, it would be impossible,” 284 he mused. “But––the combination––the isolation of SimitÍ––the imbecility of Don Mario––the predicament of our little JosÈ––Hombre! it is a rare situation, and it will work. It must work––cielo! With the pig-headed Alcalde seizing government arms to suppress the Church party as represented by the foolish JosÈ, and with the President sending federal troops to quell the disturbance, the anticlericals will rise in a body throughout the country. Then Congress will hastily pass the measure to support the President, the Church party will swing into line with the Government––and the revolution will be on. SimitÍ provides the setting and the fuel; I, the torch. I will cable again to Ames when I leave the Governor.” He swung the door open and went briskly out.

“Padre, I am crushed.”

It was Rosendo who spoke. He and JosÈ were sitting out in the gathering dusk before the parish house on the evening of the day that Ana’s babe had been christened. The old man’s head was sunk upon his breast, and he rocked back and forth groaning aloud.

“We must be brave, Rosendo,” returned JosÈ tenderly. “We have gone through much, you and I, since I came to SimitÍ. But––we have believed it to be in a good cause. Shall we surrender now?”

“But, Padre, after it all, to have her babe come into the world blind! God above! The poor child––the poor child! Padre, it is the last thing that I can endure. My ambition is gone. I cannot return now to GuamocÓ. Let come what may, I am done.”

“Rosendo,” said JosÈ, drawing his chair closer to the old man, and laying a hand on his, “we have fought long and hard. But, if I mistake not, the greatest struggle is yet to come. The greatest demand upon your strength and mine is still to be made.”

Rosendo raised his head. “What mean you, Padre?”

JosÈ spoke low and earnestly. “This: Juan returned from Bodega Central this evening. He reports that several large boxes are there, consigned to Don Mario, and bearing the government stamp. He found one of them slightly broken, and he peered within. What think you it contained? Rifles!”

Rosendo stared at the priest dumbly. JosÈ went on:

“I did not intend to tell you this until morning. But it is right that you should hear it now, that your courage may rise in the face of danger. What think you? The federal government is sending arms to SimitÍ to establish a base here at the outlet of the GuamocÓ region, and well hidden from the Magdalena 285 river. This town is to become a military depot, unless I mistake the signs. And danger no longer threatens, but is at our door.”

“Ca-ram-ba!” Rosendo rose slowly and drew himself up to his full height. “War!” he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

“There is no question about it, Rosendo,” replied JosÈ gravely. “And I have no reason to doubt the truth of Diego’s prophecy, that this time it will be one to be reckoned with.”

“Hombre! And Carmen?”

“Take her into the hills, Rosendo. Start to-morrow.”

“But you?”

JosÈ’s thought was dwelling on his last talk with the girl. Again he felt her soft arms about his neck, and her warm breath against his cheek. He felt her kiss, and heard again her words, the sweetest, he thought, that had ever echoed in mortal ears. And then he thought of his mother, of his office, of the thousand obstacles that loomed huge and insurmountable between him and Carmen. He passed a hand across his brow and sighed heavily.

“I remain here, Rosendo. I am weary, unutterably weary. I welcome, not only the opportunity for service which this war may bring, but likewise the hope of––death. If I could but know that she were safe––”

“Caramba! Think you she would leave you here, Padre? No!” Did Rosendo’s words convey aught to the priest that he did not already know?

“But––Rosendo, I shall not go,” he returned bitterly.

“Then neither do we, Padre,” replied Rosendo, sitting again. “The child, Carmen––she––Padre, she loves you with a love that is not of the earth.”

Morning found the old man’s conviction still unshaken. JosÈ sought the quiet of his cottage to reflect. But his meditations were interrupted by Carmen.

“Padre,” she began, sparkling like a mountain rill in the sunlight as she seated herself before him. “Pepito––Anita’s babe––he is not blind, you know.” Her head bobbed vigorously, as was her wont when she sought to give emphasis to her dramatic statements.

JosÈ smiled, and resigned himself to the inevitable. He had been expecting this.

“And, Padre, have you been thankful that he isn’t?”

“Isn’t what, child?”

“Blind. You know, Padre Diego thought he couldn’t see the reality. He looked always at his bad thoughts. And so the not seeing, and the seeing of only bad things, were 286 both––externalized, and the babe came to us without sight. That is, without what the human mind calls sight. And now,” she went on excitedly, “you and I have just got to know that it isn’t so! The babe sees. God’s children all see. And I have thanked Him all morning that this is so, and that you and I see it. Don’t we, Padre dear? Yes, we do.”

“Well––I suppose so,” replied JosÈ abstractedly, his thought still occupied with the danger that hung over the little town.

“Suppose so! You know so, Padre! There isn’t any ‘suppose’ about it! Now look: what makes sight? The eye? No. The eye is made by the sight. The human mind just gets it twisted about. It thinks that sight depends upon the optic nerve, and upon the fleshly eye. But it isn’t so. It is the sight that externalizes the ‘meaty’ eye. You see, the sight is within, not without. It is mental. God is all-seeing; and so, sight is eternal. Don’t you see? Of course you do!”

JosÈ did not reply. Yes, he did see. But what he saw was the beautiful, animated girl before him. And the thought that he must some day be separated from her was eating his heart like a canker.

“Well, then,” went on the girl, without waiting for his reply, “if a mortal’s mental concept of sight is poor, why, he will manifest poor eyes. If the thought-concept were right, the manifestation would be right. Wouldn’t it?”

JosÈ suddenly returned to the subject under discussion. “By that I suppose you mean, chiquita, that the babe’s thought, or concept, of sight was all wrong, and so he came into the world blind.”

“Not at all, Padre,” she quickly replied. “The babe had nothing to do with it, except to seem to manifest the wrong thoughts of its father, or mother, or both. Or perhaps it manifests just simply bad thoughts, without the bad thoughts belonging to anybody. For, you know, we none of us really have such thoughts. And such thoughts don’t really exist. They are just a part of the one big lie about God.”

“Then the babe sees?”

“Surely; the real babe is a child of God, and sees.”

“But the human babe doesn’t see,” he retorted.

“But,” she replied, “what you call the human babe is only your mental concept of the babe. And you see that mental concept as a blind one. Now un-see it. Look at it in the right way. See only God’s child, with perfect sight. And, Padre, after a while you will see that babe seeing things, just as we do!

“Don’t you understand?” she exclaimed, as he sat looking fixedly at her. “Don’t you see that if you have the right thought about the babe, and hold to it, and put out every thought that 287 says it is blind, why, your right thought will be externalized in a mental concept of a babe that sees? Don’t you know that that is exactly what Jesus did? He didn’t affect the real man at all. But he did change the mental concepts which we call human beings. And we can do the same, if we only know it, and follow him, and spiritualize our thought, as he did, by putting out and keeping out every thought that we know does not come from God, and that is, therefore, only a part of the lie about Him. Here is a case where we have got to quit thinking that two and two are seven. And I have done it. It is God’s business to make our concepts right. And He has done so––long since. And we will see these, right concepts if we will put out the wrong ones!”

“Well?” he queried lamely, wholly at a loss for any other answer.

“Well, Padre, I am not a bit afraid. I don’t see a blind babe at all, because there just can’t be any. And neither do you. The babe sees because God sees.”

“In other words, you don’t intend to allow yourself to be deceived by appearances?” he suggested.

“That is just it, Padre!” she exclaimed. “Blindness is only an appearance. But it doesn’t appear to God, It appears only to the human mind––which isn’t any mind at all! And the appearance can be made to disappear, if we know the truth and stick to it. For any appearance of a human body is a mental concept, that’s all.”

“A thing of thought, then?” he said.

“Yes, a thing of wrong thought. But all wrong thought is subject to God’s right thought. We’ve proved that, haven’t we, lots of times? Well, this wrong thought about a babe that is blind can be changed––made to disappear––just as any lie can be made to disappear when we know the truth. And so you and I are not going to be afraid, are we? I told Anita this morning not to worry, but to just know all the time that her babe did see, no matter what the appearance was. And she smiled at me, Padre, she smiled. And I know that she trusts, and is going to work with you and me.”

Work with her! Heavens! had he done aught of late but work against her by his constant harboring of fears, of doubts, and his distrust of spiritual power?

“Padre,” she resumed, “I want you to promise me that every day you will thank God that the babe really sees. And that you will turn right on every thought of blindness and know that it is a part of the lie about God, and put it right out of your mind. Will you?”

“But––child––if my mind tells me that the babe is blind, how can I––”

“I don’t care what your mind tells you about the babe! You are to listen to what God tells you, not your human mind! Does God tell you that the babe is blind? Does He?” she repeated, as the man hesitated.

“Why, no, chiquita, He––”

“Listen, Padre,” she interrupted again, drawing closer to him. “Is God good, or bad, or both?”

“He is good, chiquita, all good.”

“Infinite good, then, no?”

“Yes.”

“And we have long since proved by actual reasoning and demonstration that He is mind, and so infinite mind, no?”

“It must be conceded, Carmen.”

“Well, an infinite mind has all power. And an infinite, all-powerful mind that is all good could not possibly create anything bad, or sick, or discordant––now could He?”

“Utterly impossible, little girl.”

“The Bible says so. Our reasoning tells us so. But––the five physical senses tell us differently. Don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And yet, we know that the five physical senses do not tell us truth! We know that when the human mind thinks it is receiving reports about things through the five physical senses it is doing nothing more than looking at its own thoughts. Now isn’t that so?”

“It certainly seems so, little one.”

“The thoughts of an infinite and good mind must be like that mind, all good, no? Well, then, thoughts of discord, disease, blindness, and death––do they come from the infinite, good mind? No!”

“Well, chiquita mÍa, that is just the sticking point. I can see all the rest. But the mighty question is, where do those thoughts come from? I am quite as ready as you to admit that discord, sin, evil, death, and all the whole list of human ills and woes come from these bad thoughts held in the human mind and so externalized. I believe that the human man really sees, feels, hears, smells, and tastes these thoughts––that the functioning of the physical senses is wholly mental––takes place in mind, in thought only. That is, that the human mind thinks it sees, feels, hears; but that the whole process is mental, and that it is but regarding its thoughts, instead of actually regarding and cognizing objects outside of itself. Do you follow me?”

“Of course,” she replied with animation. “Isn’t that just what I am trying to tell you?”

“But––and here is the great obstacle––we differentiate between 289 good and bad thoughts. We agree that a fountain can not send forth sweet and bitter waters at the same time. And so, good and bad thoughts do not come from the infinite mind that we call God. But where do the others originate? Answer that, chiquita, and my problems will all be solved.”

She looked at him in perplexity for some time. It seemed to her that she never would understand him. But, with a little sigh of resignation, she replied:

“Padre, you answered that question yourself, long ago. You worked it all out three or four years ago. But––you haven’t stuck to it. You let the false testimony of the physical senses mesmerize you again. Instead of sticking to the thoughts that you knew to be good, and holding to them, in spite of the pelting you got from the others, you have looked first at the good, and then at the bad, and then believed them all to be real, and all to be powerful. And so you got miserably mixed up. And the result is that you don’t know where you stand. Do you? Or, you think you don’t; for that thought, too, is a bad one, and has no power at all, excepting the power that you seem willing––and glad––to give it.”

He winced under the poignant rebuke. He knew in his heart that she was right. He had not clung to the good, despite the roars of Satan. He had not “resisted unto blood.” Far from it; he had fallen, almost invariably, at the first shower of the adversary’s darts. And now, was he not trying, desperately, to show her that Ana’s babe was blind, hopelessly so? Was he not fighting on evil’s side, and vigorously, though with shame suffusing his face, waving aloft the banner of error?

“The trouble with you, Padre,” the girl resumed, after some moments of reflection, “is that you––you see everything––well, you see everything as a person, or a thing.”

“You mean that I always associate thought with personality?” he suggested.

“That’s it! But you have got to learn to deal with thoughts and ideas by themselves, apart from any person or thing. You have got to learn to deal with facts and their opposites entirely apart from places, or things, or people. Now if I say that Life is eternal, I have stated a mental thing. That is the fact. Its opposite, that is, the opposite of Life, is death. One opposes the other. But God is Life. Is God also death? He can’t be. Life is the fact. Then death must be the illusion. That being so, Life is the reality, and death is the unreality. Very well, what makes death seem real? It is just because the false thought of death comes into the human mind, and is held there as a reality, as something that has got to happen. And that strong belief becomes externalized in what mortals call death. 290 Don’t you see? Is there a person in the whole world who doesn’t think that some time he has got to die? No, not one! But now suppose every person held the belief that death was an illusion, a part of the big lie about God, just as Jesus said it was. Well, wouldn’t we get rid of death in a hurry? I should think so! And is there a person in the whole world who wouldn’t say that Anita’s babe was blind? No, not one! They would look at the human thought of blindness, instead of God’s real idea of sight, and so they would make and keep the babe blind. Don’t you understand me, Padre dear? Don’t you? I know you do, for you really see as God sees!”

She stopped for breath. Her eyes glistened, and her whole body seemed to radiate the light of knowledge divine. Then she went hurriedly on:

“Padre, everything is mental. You know that, for you told me so, long since. Well, that being so, we have got to face the truth that every mental fact seems to have an opposite, or a lot of opposites, also seemingly mental. The opposite of a fact is an illusion. The opposite of truth is a lie. Well, God is the great fact. Infinite mind is the infinite fact. The so-called opposite of this infinite fact is the human mind, the many so-called minds of mankind––a kind of man. But everything is still mental. Now, an illusion, or a lie, does not really exist. If I tell you that two and two are seven, that lie does not exist. Is it in what we call my mind, or yours? No. Even if you say you believe it, that doesn’t make it real. Nor does it show that it has real existence in your mind. Not a bit of it! But––if you hold it, and cling to it––allow it to stay with you and influence you––why, Padre dear, everything in your whole life will be changed!

“Let me take your pencil––and a piece of paper. Look now,” drawing a line down through the paper. “On one side, Padre, is the infinite mind, God, and all His thoughts and ideas, all good, perfect and eternal. On the other side is the lie about it all. That is still mental; but it is illusion, falsity. It includes all sin, all sickness, all murder, all evil, accidents, loss, failure, bad ambitions, and death. These are all parts of the big lie about God––His unreal opposite. These are the so-called thoughts that come to the human mind. Where do they come from? From nowhere. The human mind looks at them, tastes them, feels them, holds them; and then they become its beliefs. After a while the human mind looks at nothing but these beliefs. It believes them to be real. And, finally, it comes to believe that God made them and sent them to His children. Isn’t it awful, Padre! And aren’t you glad that you know about it? And aren’t you going to learn how to keep the good on one side of that line and the illusion on the other?”

It seemed to JosÈ a thing incredible that these words were coming from a girl of fifteen. And yet he knew that at the same tender age he was as deeply serious as she––but with this difference: he was then tenaciously clinging to the thoughts that she was now utterly repudiating as unreal and non-existent.

“Padre dear,” the girl resumed, “everything is mental. The whole universe is mental.”

“Well,” he replied reflectively, “at least our comprehension of it is wholly mental.”

“Why––it is all inside––it is all in our thought! Padre, when Hernando plays on that old pipe of his, where is the music? Is it in the pipe? Or is it in our thoughts?”

“But, chiquita, we don’t seem to have it in our thought until we seem to see him playing on the pipe, do we?”

“No, we don’t,” she replied. “And do you know why? It is just because the human mind believes that everything, even music, must come from matter––must have a––”

“Must have a material origin? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes. And men even believe that life itself has a material origin; and so they have wasted centuries trying to find it in the body. They don’t seem to want to know that God is life.”

“Then, chiquita, you do not believe that matter is real?”

“There is no matter outside of us, or around us, Padre,” she said in reply. “The human mind looks at its thoughts and seems to see them out around it as things made of matter. But, after all, it only sees its thoughts.”

“Then I suppose that the externalization of our thought in our consciousness constitutes what we call space, does it not?”

“It must, Padre,” she answered.

He studied a moment. Then:

“Chiquita, how do you know me? What do you see that you call ‘me’?”

“Why, Padre, I see you as God does––at least, I try always to see you that way?” she answered earnestly. “And that is the way Jesus always saw people.”

“God sees me, of course. But, does He see me as I see myself?” he mused aloud.

“You do not see yourself, Padre,” was her reply. “You see only the thoughts that you call yourself. Thoughts of mind and body and all those things that go to form a human being.”

“Well––yes, I must agree with you there; for, though God certainly knows me, He cannot know me as I think I know myself, sinful and discordant.”

“He knows the real ‘you,’ Padre dear. And that is just as He is. He knows that the unreal ‘you,’ the ‘you’ that you think 292 you know, is illusion. If He knew the human, mortal ‘you’ as real, He would have to know evil. And that can not be.”

“No, for the Bible says He is of eyes too pure to behold evil.”

“Well, Padre, why don’t you try to be like Him?”

But the girl needed not that he should answer her question. She knew why he had failed, for “without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.” She knew that JosÈ’s struggle to overcome evil had been futile, because he had first made evil real. She knew that the difficulty he had experienced in keeping his thought straight was because he persisted in looking at both the good and the evil. Lot’s wife, in the Bible allegory, had turned back to look at things material and had been transformed into a pillar of salt. JosÈ had turned again and again to his materialistic thoughts; and had been turned each time to salt tears. She knew that he gave up readily, that he yielded easily to evil’s strongest tool, discouragement, and fell back into self-condemnation, whereby he only rendered still more real to himself the evil which he was striving to overcome. She knew that the only obstacle that he was wrestling with in his upward progress was the universal belief in a power other than God, good, which is so firmly fixed in the human consciousness. But she likewise knew that this hindrance was but a false conviction, and that it could and would be overcome.

“Padre,” she reflected, looking up at him in great seriousness, “if a lie had an origin, it would be true, wouldn’t it?”

He regarded her attentively, but without replying.

“But Jesus said that Satan was the father of lies. And Satan, since he is the father of lies, must himself be a lie. You see, Padre, we can go right back to the very first chapter in the Bible. First comes the account of the real creation. Then comes the account as the human mind looks at it. But that comes after the ‘mist’ had gone up from the ground, from dirt, from matter. Don’t you see? That mist was error, the opposite of Good. It was evil, the opposite of God. It was the human mind and all human thought, the opposite of the infinite Mind, God, and His thought. The mist went up from matter. So every bit of evil that you can possibly think of comes from the material, physical senses. Evil is always a mist, hiding the good. Isn’t it so? The physical universe, the universe of matter, is the way the human mind sees its thoughts of the spiritual universe that was created by God. The human mind is just a bundle of these false thoughts; and you yourself have said that the human consciousness was a ‘thought-activity, concerned with the activity of false thought.’ The human mind is 293 the lie about the infinite mind. It is the mistake, the illusion. It is like a mistake in mathematics. It has no principle, and nothing to stand on. The minute you turn the truth upon it, why, it vanishes.”

“Well, then, chiquita, why don’t people turn the truth upon it everywhere?”

“Because they are mesmerized by the error, Padre. They sit looking at these false thoughts and believing them true. Padre, all disease, all evil, comes from the false thought in the human mind. It is that thought externalized in the human consciousness. And when the human mind turns from them, and puts them out, and lets the true thoughts in, why––why, then we will raise the dead!”

“But, chiquita, the human body––if it has died––”

“Padre,” she interrupted, “the human body and human mind are one and the same. The body is in the mind. The body that you think you see is but your thought of a body, and is in your so-called human mind!”

“Do you really understand that, child?”

“I know it!” she exclaimed. “And so would you if you read your Bible in the right way. Why––I had never seen a Bible until you gave me yours. I didn’t know what a book it was! And to think that it has been in the world for thousands of years, and yet people still kill one another, still get sick, and still die! I don’t see how they can!”

“But, chiquita, people are too busy to devote time to demonstrating the truths of the Bible,” he offered.

“Too busy!” she ejaculated. “Busy with what?”

“Why––busy making money––busy socially––busy having a good time––busy accumulating things that––that they must go away and leave to somebody else!”

“Yes,” she said sadly. “They are like the people Jesus spoke of, too busy with things that are of no account to see the things that are––that are––”

“That are priceless, chiquita––that are the most vital of all things to sinful, suffering mankind,” he supplied.

Rosendo looked in at the door. JosÈ motioned him away. These hours with Carmen had become doubly precious to him of late. Perhaps he felt a presentiment that the net about him and his loved ones was drawing rapidly tighter. Perhaps he saw the hour swiftly approaching, even at hand, when these moments of spiritual intercourse would be rudely terminated. And perhaps he saw the clouds lowering ever darker above them, and knew that in the blackness which was soon to fall the girl would leave him and be swept out into the great world of human thoughts and events, to meet, alone with her God, the 294 fiercest elements, the subtlest wiles, of the carnal mind. As for himself––he was in the hands of that same God.

He turned again to the girl. “Chiquita,” he said, “you do not find mistakes in the Bible? For, out in the big world where I came from, there are many, very many, who say that it is a book of inconsistencies, of gross inaccuracies, and that its statements are directly opposed to the so-called natural sciences. They say that it doesn’t even relate historical events accurately. But, after all, the Bible is just the record of the unfoldment in the human consciousness of the concept of God. Why cavil at it when it contains, as we must see, a revelation of the full formula for salvation, which, as you say, is right-thinking.”

“Yes, Padre. And it even tells us what to think about. Paul said, you know, that we should think about whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report. Well, he told us that there was no law––not even any human law––against those things. And don’t you know, he wrote about bringing into captivity every thought to Christ? What did he mean by that?”

“Just what you have been telling me, I guess, chiquita: that every thought must be measured by the Christ-principle. And if it doesn’t conform to that standard, it must be rejected.”

“Yes. And then he said that he died daily. He did die daily to evil, to all evil thought––”

“And to the testimony of the physical senses, think you?”

“He must have! For, in proving God to be real, he had to prove the reports of the five physical senses to be only human beliefs.”

“You are right, chiquita. He must have known that the corporeal senses were the only source from which evil came. He must have known that unless God testified in regard to things, any other testimony was but carnal belief. This must be so, for God, being infinite mind, is also infinite intelligence. He knows all things, and knows them aright––not as the human mind thinks it knows them, twisted and deformed, but right.”

“Of course, Padre. You know now that you see it right. And can’t you stick to it, and prove it?”

“Chiquita,” he answered, shaking his head again, his words still voicing a lingering note of doubt, “it may be––the ‘I’ that I call myself may be entirely human, unreal, mortal. I make no doubt it is, for it seems filled to the brim with discordant thoughts. And it will pass away. And then––then what will be left?”

“Oh, Padre!” she cried, with a trace of exasperation. “Empty yourself of the wrong thoughts––shut the door against them––don’t let them in any more! Then fill yourself with 295 God’s thoughts. Then when the mortal part fades away, why, the good will be left. And it will be the right ‘you.’”

“But how shall I empty myself, and then fill myself again?”

“Padre!” cried the girl, springing from her chair and stamping her foot with each word to give it emphasis. “It is love, love, love, nothing but love! Forget yourself, and love everything and everybody, the real things and the real bodies! Love God, and good, and good thoughts! Turn from the bad and the unreal––forget it! Why––”

“Wait, chiquita,” he interrupted. “A great war is threatening our country at this very minute. Shall I turn from it and let come what may?”

She hesitated not. “No! But you can know that war comes only from the human mind; that it is bad thought externalized; and that God is peace, and is infinitely greater than such bad thought; and He will take care of you––if you will let Him!”

“And how do I let Him? By sitting back and folding my hands and saying, Here am I, Lord, protect me––”

“Oh, Padre dear, you make me ashamed of your foolish thought––which isn’t your thought at all, but just thought that seems to be calling itself ‘you.’ Jesus said, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do likewise. But that did not mean sitting back with folded hands. It meant understanding him; and knowing that there is no power apart from the Christ-principle; and using that principle, using it every moment, hard; and with it overcoming every thought that doesn’t come from God, every thought of the human mind, whether it is called war, or sickness, or death!”

“Then evil can be thought away, chiquita?” He knew not why he pursued her so relentlessly.

“No, Padre,” she replied with a gentle patience that smote him. “No, Padre. But it can be destroyed in the human mind. And when you have overcome the habit of thinking the wrong way, evil will disappear. That is the whole thing. That is what Jesus tried to make the people see.”

But JosÈ knew it. Yet he had not put it to the proof. He had gone through life, worrying himself loose from one human belief, only to become enslaved to another equally insidious. He knew that the cause of whatever came to him was within his own mentality. And yet he knew, likewise, that he would have to demonstrate this––that he would be called upon to “prove” God. His faith without the works following was dead. He felt that he did not really believe in power opposed to God; and yet he did constantly yield to such belief. And such yielding was the chief of sins. The unique Son of God had said so. He knew that when the Master had said, “Behold, I give you 296 power over all the enemy,” he meant that the Christ-principle would overcome every false claim of the human mentality, whether that claim be one of physical condition or action, or a claim of environment and event. He knew that all things were possible to God, and likewise to the one who understood and faithfully applied the Christ-principle. Carmen believed that good alone was real and present. She applied this knowledge to every-day affairs. And in so doing she denied reality to evil. He must let go. He must turn upon the claims of evil to life and intelligence. His false sense of righteousness must give place to the spiritual sense of God as immanent good. He knew that Carmen’s great love was an impervious armor, which turned aside the darts of the evil one, the one lie. He knew that his reasoning from the premise of mixed good and evil was false, and the results chaotic. And knowing all this, he knew that he had touched the hem of the garment of the Christ-understanding. There remained, then, the test of fire. And it had come. Would he stand?

“Padre,” said Carmen, going to him and putting her arms about his neck, “you say that you think a great war is coming. But you needn’t be afraid. Don’t you remember what it says in the book of Isaiah? ‘No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.’ No weapon of evil can touch you, if you understand God. Every tongue of the human mind that rises to judge you, to sentence you, shall be condemned. You will condemn it––you must! This is your heritage, given you by God. And your righteousness, your right-thinking, must come from God. Your thoughts must be His. Then––”

“Yes, yes, chiquita,” he said, drawing her to him.

“And now, Padre, you will promise me that you will know every day that Anita’s babe is not blind––that it sees, because God sees?”

“Yes, chiquita, I promise.”

“Padre dear,” she murmured, nestling close to him, “I love you so much, so much!”

He answered not, except in the tightening of the arm that was about her.