I think she once prized money for the ease and comfort it could bring, the showy vanities it could furnish, and the social promotion it could command; for we have seen that she was born into the world with little ways and instincts and aspirations and affectations that are duplicates of our own.  I do not think her money-passion has ever diminished in ferocity, I do not think that she has ever allowed a dollar that had no friends to get by her alive, but I think her reason for wanting it has changed.  I think she wants it now to increase and establish and perpetuate her power and glory with, not to add to her comforts and luxuries, not to furnish paint and fuss and feathers for vain display.  I think her ambitions have soared away above the fuss-and-feather stage.  She still likes the little shows and vanities—­a fact which she exposed in a public utterance two or three days ago when she was not noticing —­but I think she does not place a large value upon them now.  She could build a mighty and far-shining brass-mounted palace if she wanted to, but she does not do it.  She would have had that kind of an ambition in the early scrabbling times.  She could go to England to-day and be worshiped by earls, and get a comet’s attention from the million, if she cared for such things.  She would have gone in the early scrabbling days for much less than an earl, and been vain of it, and glad to show off before the remains of the Scotch kin.  But those things are very small to her now —­next to invisible, observed through the cloud-rack from the dizzy summit where she perches in these great days.  She does not want that church property for herself.  It is worth but a quarter of a million—­a sum she could call in from her far-spread flocks to-morrow with a lift of her hand.  Not a squeeze of it, just a lift.  It would come without a murmur; come gratefully, come gladly.  And if her glory stood in more need of the money in Boston than it does where her flocks are propagating it, she would lift the hand, I think.

She is still reaching for the Dollar, she will continue to reach for it; but not that she may spend it upon herself; not that she may spend it upon charities; not that she may indemnify an early deprivation and clothe herself in a blaze of North Adams gauds; not that she may have nine breeds of pie for breakfast, as only the rich New-Englander can; not that she may indulge any petty material vanity or appetite that once was hers and prized and nursed, but that she may apply that Dollar to statelier uses, and place it where it may cast the metallic sheen of her glory farthest across the receding expanses of the globe.

PRAYER

A brief and good one is furnished in the book of By-laws.  The Scientist is required to pray it every day.

THE LORD’S PRAYER-AMENDED

This is not in the By-laws, it is in the first chapter of Science and Health, edition of 1902.  I do not find it in the edition of 1884.  It is probable that it had not at that time been handed down.  Science and Health’s (latest) rendering of its “spiritual sense” is as follows: