ich brings me no
happiness has resulted. I am most willing to apply such salve as I can.
The best way to set the matter right and make everything pleasant and
agreeable all around will be to print in this place a description of the
shrine as it appeared to a recent visitor, Mr. Frederick W. Peabody, of
Boston. I will copy his newspaper account, and the reader will see that
Mrs. Eddy's portrait is not there now:

"We lately stood on the threshold of the Holy of Holies of the
Mother-Church, and with a crowd of worshippers patiently waited for
admittance to the hallowed precincts of the 'Mother's Room.' Over the
doorway was a sign informing us that but four persons at a time would be
admitted; that they would be permitted to remain but five minutes only,
and would please retire from the 'Mother's Room' at the ringing of the
bell. Entering with three of the faithful, we looked with profane
eyes upon the consecrated furnishings. A show-woman in attendance
monotonously announced the character of the different appointments.
Set in a recess of the wall and illumined with electric light was an
oil-painting the show-woman seriously declared to be a lifelike and
realistic picture of the Chair in which the Mother sat when she composed
her 'inspired' work. It was a picture of an old-fashioned? country, hair
cloth rocking-chair, and an exceedingly commonplace-looking table with a
pile of manuscript, an ink-bottle, and pen conspicuously upon it. On
the floor were sheets of manuscript. 'The mantel-piece is of pure onyx,'
continued the show-woman, 'and the beehive upon the window-sill is made
from one solid block of onyx; the rug is made of a hundred breasts of
eider-down ducks, and the toilet-room you see in the corner is of the
latest design, with gold-plated drain-pipes; the painted windows are
from the Mother's poem, "Christ and Christmas," and that case contains
complete copies of all the Mother's books.' The chairs upon which the
sacred person of the Mother had reposed were protected from sacrilegious
touch by a broad band of satin ribbon. My companions expressed their
admiration in subdued and reverent tones, and at the tinkling of the
bell we reverently tiptoed out of the room to admit another delegation
of the patient waiters at the door."

Now, then, I hope the wound is healed. I am willing to relinquish the
portrait, and compromise on the Chair. At the same time, if I were going
to worship either, I should not choose the Cha