I concluded to try. Accordingly, I summoned Winona to the library that
evening, and we were closeted with folded doors, as the phrase is, for
an hour and a half. Being a father I was desirous naturally to be
judicious and yet sympathetic; being a philosopher, I was willing to be
enlightened if I was ignorant. My son David had demonstrated to me
that a young germ of tuberculosis has all the engaging attractiveness
of a six months' old baby; perhaps it had been reserved for my daughter
to prove to me that I had never had constitutional headaches. If so,
what an amount of unnecessary misery I had undergone from sheer lack of
knowledge!
Conventional conceptions are slow to relax their grip even when one's
reason is prepared to discard them as out-worn. I am not giving
utterance in this sententious fashion to distrust in allopathy; I
simply am thinking of the qualms which persisted in harrowing my soul
as I gazed upon my very beautiful daughter, and tried to feel proud
that she was endeavoring to do something useful. My associations with
lovely women are so intimately associated with the ball-room floor and
the purlieus of polite society, that, in spite of my secret sympathy
with the progress of the sex, I could not completely school my mental
machinery so as to exclude a lurking regret that such arrant good looks
were to be wasted upon people who had nothing the matter with them, and
who would, perhaps, be slow in recognizing the fact. I was even weak
enough to remark:
"Winona, my dear, you look this evening handsome enough to eat."
As Christian Scientists are said to harbor the belief that, owing to
the non-existence of matter, looks of any kind are a delusion and
snare, for the reason that individuals do not really exist, but are
merely so many reflections of the one eternal and immutable existence,
just as the various reflections in a stream are often but the
continuous duplication of some single incandescent jet, it was scarcely
to be expected that my darling daughter would fall a victim to the lure
which I held out to her. She had the goodness to smile a ghost of a
smile, but it was evident that the speech interested her very little.
Before settling down to the business in hand I could not help, however,
saying to myself that, if I were a young man, I should fall down and
worship before this particular shrine, Christian Science and delusion
to the contrary notwithstanding. Then I said, with as much cheer as I
could muster:
"And so you wish to practise medicine, Winona?"
"Not medicine, father. It is Christian Science."
"Excuse me. But are not Christian Scientists doctors?"
"We do not give medicine."
"But you cure sick people?"
Winona shook her head and smiled sweetly. "There are no sick people,"
she said, with quiet decision.
"Then why are there so many physicians?"
"If people had the requisite faith, there would be no more physicians."
"Only Christian Scientists."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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