st an
opportunity--it was always with that conscious smile and the set phrases
which the village girls used to imitate: "I _learned_ this from Dr.
Quimby, and he made me _promise_ to teach at least _two_ persons before
I _die_."

The story of the Quimby manuscript from 1867 to 1875 and of the gradual
growth of Mrs. Eddy's feeling of possession, has already been recounted
in an earlier chapter of this history.[3] By the time the first edition
of "Science and Health" appeared, Mrs. Eddy said no more about Quimby or
her promise to him. Mrs. Eddy has always been able to believe anything
she wishes to believe, especially about her own conduct and about that
of persons who have displeased her, and it is very probable that by this
time she had persuaded herself that she really owed very little to the
old Maine philosopher.

_How "Science and Health" was Published_

Although Mrs. Eddy had been working upon her book for about eight years,
writing and rewriting with almost incredible patience, she was unwilling
to assume any financial risk in getting it printed. George Barry and
Elizabeth Newhall, two of her students, agreed to furnish the sum of one
thousand dollars, which the Boston printer asked for issuing an edition
of one thousand copies. Mrs. Eddy made so many changes in the proofs,
continuing her revisions even after the plates had been cast, that she
ran the cost of the edition up to about twenty-two hundred dollars, and
Miss Newhall and Mr. Barry lost about fifteen hundred dollars on the
book. They would, indeed, have lost more, had not Daniel Spofford, much
against Mrs. Eddy's will, paid over to them six hundred dollars which he
had received for the copies of the book he had sold. Although Mrs. Eddy
at that time owned the house in which she lived and had some money in
bank, she did not, either then or later, suggest reimbursing Barry or
Miss Newhall for their loss.

Aside from the fact that she was unwilling to risk money upon it, Mrs.
Eddy believed intensely in her book. One of her devoted students sent
copies of "Science and Health" to the University of Heidelberg, to
Thomas Carlyle, and to several noted theologians. But the book made no
stir outside of Lynn, where it caused some perplexity. There was little
about it, indeed, to suggest that it would be an historic volume. It was
a book of 564 pages, badly printed and poorly bound; a mass of
inconsequential statements and ill-constructed, ambiguous sentences
w