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When Herbert's long talk with Dr. Dowie was ended by Murray's appearance, it was too late to go out to the South Side for supper. At Captain Erdman's invitation, Herbert ate with him in the dining-room of Zion Home. At the same table he was glad to see John Harrow.

“Hello, Renbrush, glad to see you again. Mrs. Har­row, may I present Mr. Renbrush? He's a Berrence, Ninety-six, ex-right guard, and, as you can see, a welcome addition. Mrs. Harrow, if I may say so, is a product of Oberlin, but fell a victim to matrimony before taking her degree. So we have here the nucleus of a Zion University Club."

Mrs. Harrow responded with a firm hand-clasp, a friendly smile, and, "I don't admit it, Mr. Renbrush, but John says I've been excited and thrilled ever since he told me you were coming. But I will own that you keep his promises about you beautifully. Now, wasn't that a nice speech?"

Nancy Harrow was undeniably pretty-just missed being a beauty. She was a vivacious brunette of nine­teen or twenty. Her mouth, perhaps a little too wide, was warmly red, her teeth even and white, and her square little chin piquant in its implications of in­dependence, love of physical activity, and determina­tion. Leg-of-mutton sleeves and stiff hour-glass stays



of the late nineties could not wholly mask the slim allure of her figure, which seemed to pulsate with the same eager life that shone from her eyes.

If Herbert had been glad to meet John Harrow and pleased that he should be in Zion, he was doubly delighted to find with him this frank and charming girl.

Next day Herbert began his reading of "Leaves of Healing." Dr. Dowie's library was

Comfortable and quiet. Herbert was a rapid reader. He found the pa­per unusually well printed, illustrated with many excellent half-tone engravings from photographs of Dr. Dowie, Jeanie Dowie, their two children, the various tabernacles and Zion Homes, and hundreds of men, women, and children who wrote letters tell­ing how they had been "saved, healed, and blessed in answer to our dear Dr. Dowie's prayers." There were sermons by Dr. Dowie, editorials-usually several pages of them in each issue-by Dr. Dowie, special articles by Dr. Dowie, and letters in praise of Dr. Dowie. Except for a short article by Mrs. Dowie, which appeared again and again, no one else seemed to write for the publication. All of Dr. Dowie's state­ments were positive. There was no perhaps, no quali­fication, no hedging. He backed up what he said by liberal quotations from the Bible and by hundreds of living witnesses. Dr. Dowie did not argue about his authority. He did not even assume it. He accepted and used it. All this in short, pungent, Anglo-Saxon words. As Herbert read on, these statements, testi­monies, and Bible texts were repeated endlessly. It


was like being hammered on one spot hour after hour.

Assault on the young reader's mind went on eight hours a day, five days a week.

But, lest even this should not be enough, the astute head of Zion piled on more. Every day he spent some time with Herbert--some days only a few minutes, on other days several hours. Often luncheon was brought up from Dr. Dowie's private kitchen, on the third floor, and served in the library. Sometimes Herbert was invited down to the third floor dining-­room, where he lunched with the General Overseer and his family.

Mrs. Jeanie Dowie, herself a preacher, was a bit taller than her husband, with clear, blue eyes, gen­erous figure, rosy cheeks, and softly waving reddish-­gold hair. Though friendly, she never lost a self­-possessed exclusiveness of manner left over from her girlhood as daughter of a wealthy, prominent family. She loved fine apparel and diamonds.

Miss Esther, her father's idol, was only seventeen but a fully developed, fine-looking woman-well-­modeled features, masses of dark glossy hair, unforgettable eyes like her father's, and a clear, fair skin. She had inherited also a swift and sure intellect.

A. J. Gladstone, the only son, a bearded youth of twenty-one, student in the University of Chicago, master of handball, tennis, bowling, cricket, and chess, brought up in hotels and divine healing homes, hid genuine friendliness under a mask of boredom. Herbert grew increasingly fond of him as the years passed.



In his talks with Herbert the preacher said little about his mission and beliefs. Instead, he was schol­arly, playful, genial, generous, charming.

But Dr. Dowie was also humble. He was only a lowly instrument in God's hands, after all. He had to do many things and say many things much against his personal taste. He was, at times, depressed and even terrified by the magnitude of the task which God had laid upon him. Not for him was the freedom to go his own way and enjoy a quiet life other men enjoyed. He must go through fire and even blood­shed. Martyrdom surely awaited him. “Even now," he said, his eyes and voice tragic, "the secret, unknown head of the Masonic order, who is also the Black Pope, head of the infamous Jesuits, has ordered my murder. & soon as they dare, there will be an 'accident,' and, in the confusion, a Masonic bullet will still my heart. But," and the eyes suddenly flashed and glowed, "they can never kill me. I'll come back, with Christ my King, and destroy them-set my world free from their foul, atheistic thralldom."





One day, when Herbert had been reading for two weeks, Dr. Dowie came into the library and said, "I'm having luncheon sent up to us here. Afterward, I have a healing meeting down­stairs. How would you like to attend?"

“I’d be glad to," said Herbert, but he did not tell all the truth. He was glad of the opportunity to see and hear what occurred at one of these meetings-­but he was also a little frightened. He had all his Anglo-Saxon fear of an emotional scene.

The room at the northwest corner of the ground floor was the one Herbert had noticed through double doors from the lobby on his first visit to Zion Home. It was filled with its little audience of about a hun­dred drab invalids when he and Dr. Dowie arrived.

Dr. Dowie mounted the platform and began at once to lead his audience in repeating the thirty-fifth chapter of Isaiah.

All repeated the prophet's promises in unison. It was plain that their leader took them literally as ad­dressed to him and applying to his Zion. His pleasure in them was rapturous, almost voluptuous.

As always, this was followed by singing, "We're Marching to Zion."

Then the General Overseer, seating himself in a comfortable chair, began to talk:



“Let me speak to you of Jesus. In simple, honest words, with tenderness and love, I want to tell you glad, good news.

“Christ changes never, and as He was on earth in ages long gone by, He is unchangeably the same even here and now. The Word which never dies is true, 'Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and for­ever.' "

The speaker leaned forward, smiling tenderly upon the sufferers before him.

“All His life and ministry were beautifully de­scribed by Peter thus: 'God anointed Jesus of Naz­areth with the Holy Ghost and with power: who went about doing good, and healing all who were oppressed of the Devil.'

“Teaching patiently, preaching boldly, He went about with constant sympathy, ‘healing all manner of diseases and all manner of sickness among the people.'

"Oh, wherefore doubt, and wherefore seek at other hands, from surgeon's knife or poison draft, the heal­ing which He died to bring to thee, to me, to all man­kind, in every age, in every land, in every clime? Christ changes never."

Pausing a moment, Dr. Dowie leaned back in his chair. In a more intimate tone he went on, “At noon­tide, twenty-two years ago, I sat in my study in the parsonage of the Congregational church at Newton, a suburb of the beautiful city of Sydney, Australia. My heart was very heavy, for I had been visiting the sick and dying beds of more than thirty of my flock, and I had cast the dust to its kindred dust into more than forty graves within a few weeks.



“And there I sat with sorrow-bowed head for my afflicted people, until the bitter tears came to relieve my burning heart. Then I prayed for some message, and oh, how I longed to hear some words from Him who wept and sorrowed for the suffering long ago."

The preacher's voice trembled, sobbed. Upon his uplifted imploring face were tears. He waited a few moments for control, then, with glowing eyes, he re­sumed.

"And then the words of the Holy Spirit inspired in Acts ten, thirty-eight stood before me all radiant with light, revealing Satan as the defiler and Christ as the Healer."

Springing from his chair, the speaker began to en­act the next scene.

“A loud ring and several loud raps at the outer door, a rush of feet, and then at my door two panting messengers, who said, ‘Oh, come at once. Mary is dying; come and pray.' I rushed from my house, ran hatless down the street, and entered the room of the dying maiden. I looked at her and then my anger burned.

“’Oh,' I thought, ‘for some sharp sword of heavenly temper keen to slay this cruel foe!' "

Standing there with upraised arm, his fringe of black curls flying, defiance blazing from his eyes, he seemed almost to wield a sword.

“In a strange way it came to pass; I found the sword I needed in my hands, and in my hands I hold it still, and never will I lay it down. The doctor, a good Christian man, was quietly walking up and down the room, sharing the mother's pain and grief.



Presently he stood at my side and said, 'Sir, are not God's ways mysterious?'

“Instantly the sword was flashing in my hands-­the Spirit's sword, the Word of God. ‘God's way?' I said, pointing to the scene of conflict. 'How dare you, Dr. K-, call that God's way of bringing His children home from earth to heaven? No, sir, that is the Devil's work, and it is time we called on Him who came to destroy the work of the Devil to slay the deadly, foul destroyer, and to save the child.'

“At once, offended at my words, my friend was changed and saying, 'You are too much excited, sir; 'tis best to say God's Will be done,' he left the room.

" 'It is not so,' I exclaimed; 'no Will of God sends such cruelty, and I shall never say God's Will be done to Satan's works, which God's own Son came to de­stroy, and this is one of them.'

“And so we prayed.

“And, lo! the maid lay still in sleep, so deep and sweet that the mother said in a low whisper, 'Is she dead?' 'No,' I answered in a whisper lower still, 'Mary will live; the fever has gone. She is perfectly well, and sleeping as an infant sleeps.'

“As I went away from the home where Christ as the Healer had been victorious, I could not but have somewhat in my heart the triumphant song that rang through heaven, and yet I was not a little amazed at my own strange doings, and still more at my discov­ery that He is just the same to-day.

"And this is the story of how I came to preach the Gospel of Healing through faith in Jesus."



Seating himself again, the General Overseer re­sumed his more intimate manner.

"Let the words abide in your hearts: He is just the same to-day. And if you will believe Him, first for Salvation and then for Healing, you will go onward in the King's Highway of Holiness.

"Now read with me from the sixteenth chapter of Saint Luke, the seventeenth and eighteenth verses. Now listen carefully, for I may make mistakes.

"And these signs may follow them that believe-" Audience: "Shall follow?"

General Overseer: "Sure of that?"

Audience: "Yes, shall follow."

General Overseer: "In My Name they may perhaps cast out devils-"

Audience: "Shall they cast out devils?"

General Overseer: "They shall lay hands on the sick, and they may recover."

Audience: "Shall recover!"

General Overseer: "Do you believe it?"

Audience: "Yes."

While the General Overseer talked, Herbert, who had seated himself at the side of the room, near the door, began to look around at the people. He did not want to-did not like to-but some dreadful fas­cination dragged his eyes from face to face. Startled, he found himself almost hating these sufferers for their ugliness, their pains, their pallor and discolora­tion, their deformities.

In the rear he saw a woman lying on a wheeled stretcher. Her face was emaciated, her skin coarse



and blotched; the little that remained of her hair was harsh and dry; her hands, lying on the gray shawl which covered her, were stained a dark, purplish brown by inner poisons. So slight was her figure that it hardly lifted the shawl from a level plane. By her side sat a big, red-faced man with the gentle, won­dering eyes of a child. As Herbert looked, the big man turned, smiled affectionately at the woman, and took her hand tenderly in his own. The invalid gave him scarcely a glance in return. Her eyes were fastened upon the General Overseer. She joined the others in correcting his reading of the Scripture, saying "shall recover" with burning vehemence.

Suddenly the preacher leaped to his feet, pointed a finger at the woman on the wheeled stretcher, and demanded:

"Mrs. Garrish, do you believe that Jesus heals?" "Yes, Doctor," answered the woman.

"Do you believe that He is just as able and just as willing to heal to-day as He was when He said to the man at the pool, 'Arise and walk'?"

"Yes, Doctor."

Dr. Dowie left his little platform and trotted down the aisle to her side. Holding her eyes with his he asked:

"Do you believe that God has called me as His minister?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Then, do you believe that my command, in His name, is God's command?"

“Yes, Doctor."




“And are you prepared to obey me- to do what I tell you?”

"Yes, Doctor, God helping me."

He now looked at her with mingled sternness and exaltation-mysterious-compelling.

Placing his hands upon her shoulders, her chest, her thighs, her knees, her ankles, and feet, but still looking into her eyes he said, sotto voce, "Breathe deep."

Then, in low tones: "In the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ, by the Power of the Holy Spirit, and in accordance with the Will of God, of our Heavenly Father, I command you to rise and walk!"

As he spoke the closing words of his command, he grasped her hands and slowly but firmly pulled her into a sitting position. Swinging her legs over the side of the stretcher and then, tremblingly and feebly at first but with more and more confidence and vigor, she stood on her feet. Her face shone.

"Walk, Mrs. Garrish, walk!" urged the preacher, pulling her forward. Timidly, she took a halting step, tottered, almost wilted.

"Fear not. God has healed you. He gives you strength. In Jesus' Name, walk!"

She took another step, a little more firmly.

Already tears were streaming down the faces of the other invalids. Some were laughing almost hysteri­cally. Many exclaimed: "Praise the Lord! Glory to God! Thank God! Yes, Lord, You are just the same to-day."

Dr. Dowie continued to back up the aisle, holding




both Mrs. Garrish's hands in his own, encouraging her, never taking his eyes from hers. More and more strongly she walked, now laughing and saying, "Praise God, I'm healed," over and over. By the time they had reached the platform she was walking erect and with confidence. Dr. Dowie, now smiling, almost capering, released her hands.

“Now walk back to your husband," he com­manded.

She obeyed, still laughing.

“Now let the people see you run,” he said, You’re a girl again. Run up to me."

She ran.

“Now up these steps!"

Up the steps she went, vigorously.

"Now tell these dear people about yourself. How long had you been ill?"

His smile, his attitude were now all tenderness and sympathy.

“I was thrown out of a wagon and had my spine broken thirteen years ago last August," she said, "and have not sat up a moment, much less stood on my feet or walked, until this blessed afternoon, praise the Lord!"

“Did you have doctors?"

“Dozens of 'em, and treatments and operations, but I got worse and worse."

“And did you suffer pain?"

“Only God knows what I have endured these thir­teen years and more, every hour, every minute, day and night. But now I feel no pain. I feel so well, so light, so strong, I don't know myself. Oh, I do thank



God for His wonderful goodness to me. And I can never thank you enough for your teaching and prayers, Doctor Dowie. May God bless you!"

“Mr. Garrish, is this all true?" asked Dr. Dowie of the big, red-faced man.

“Every word of it, Doctor, praise the Lord. Her poor back was quite broke and she couldn't even sit up against pillows these thirteen years. It's God's miracle my eyes have seen this day, glory to His Name!"

Tears were running down the wide, red cheeks, but the once so-patient eyes were joyous.

“See you don't work her too hard, now she's healed," laughed Dr. Dowie, shaking a finger at him.

"Oh, Doctor, no work will be too hard," exclaimed Mrs. Garrish. "It will be God's own joy to work again. Oh, I'm so happy! Praise God! Praise God!"

“Yes, dear woman, of course you're happy," crooned the General Overseer. And he gallantly kissed her.

Then he continued, "And how have you been eating, all these years?"         .

“Mostly I've eaten gruel, milk toast, and beef-tea.

Sometimes I couldn't keep even water on my stom­ach for days together."

With such pathetic grace as his tubby, bow-legged figure could encompass, he gaily bowed and extended his bent elbow. "You're going to have a feast to-day," he said, laughing. "Come, I'll feed you myself."

They walked out, followed by Edward Garrish, leaving a happy buzz and cackle among the invalids remaining.



Herbert went for a long walk down Michigan Avenue. As he walked he wondered much, believed and doubted and believed again. Afterward his watchful eye followed the woman he had seen rise and walk that day. But, year after year, she went on walking, carrying “Leaves of Healing" about Chi­cago as a member of Zion Seventies, doing her own housework and looking twenty years younger than when he first saw her. He had half anticipated this, but occasionally he wondered, guiltily, whether her spine had not, all unbeknown to her, mended itself while she lay, with a habit of helplessness, on her wheeled stretcher.