Then he began to push out into the byways and hedges.  He sought out the suffering poor more than he had ever done before, and here he found a field “ready to harvest,” where he could preach the “new gospel” and prove the promise, “The works that I do shall ye do also if ye believe on Me.”

So the growth in his own consciousness went on while he was “casting his bread upon the waters,” and he also might have been seen, nearly every Sunday morning, in one of the rear seats in the hall on Grove Street, listening intently to the service.

One supreme joy came to him during this time.

Ned Willard’s improvement had been phenomenally rapid after his return home, and, to his family, the change in himself appeared no less remarkable.

He was now always considerate of and courteous to every member of the household, frequently expressing grateful appreciation of their care and kindness, while an oath, which once had been a frequent offense to their ears, was now never heard to pass his lips.

One morning, while making his accustomed visit, Dr. Stanley observed that his patient was strangely silent and thoughtful, seeming disinclined to talk, although he suggested several topics to attract his attention.  He was just on the point of rising to go, thinking it wiser to leave him to his mood, when he suddenly broke forth: 

“I say, Stanley, what have you been doing to me?”

“‘Doing to you!’ I am not sure that I catch your meaning.”

“Well, when I tumbled helplessly into your hands, down there in Massachusetts, you told me you were using Christian Science treatment, and asked me if I objected.  I thought it all ‘bosh’; but, as you know, told you I didn’t care, provided the method brought right results.  I thought that if things did not go O. K. you would slip back to the old way, so I felt perfectly safe.  But now I begin to feel some curiosity regarding this peculiar mode, process, or whatever it may be, for not only has my leg got well—­ it is practically well—­quicker than I supposed it possible for a broken bone to mend, but I feel mended in other ways,” he concluded, with some embarrassment.

“What do you mean, Ned?”

“Well, physically, I feel like a new man—­kind of clean and fresh, through and through.  Then”—­flushing—­“I am amazed that I haven’t been crazy for drink; but I do not seem to want it—­I do not even care to smoke, and—­”

“Yes,” said his companion, kindly.

“Oh! hang it!  Stanley, it isn’t easy to tell it, but I’m going to; I feel as if an X-ray had been turned upon my mentality, showing me what a blamed fool I’ve made of myself during the last few years, making me wish I could blot it all out and take a sharp turn in another direction.  How’s that for humble pie!  I declare, I don’t know myself!” he concluded, apologetically.

Dr. Stanley was literally stricken speechless.  His heart was too full for utterance.  Surely this “fruit of the Spirit” was ripening far earlier than he had dared to hope, although he had worked on the case with all the understanding he possessed, in connection with frequent correspondence with Mrs. Minturn for counsel.