the water coming out of my eyes,—or would you get a surgeon to sew the lids together so they couldn't leak? If you did, you'd be trying to stop the effect without paying any attention to the real cause. (Maybe you would stop it for a minute, by attracting my attention, but as soon as I stopped thinking about the new ideas, I'd begin to cry again.) But suppose that instead of that, you went to work to find out what the trouble might be, and then helped me out of it, whatever it was; wouldn't you stop the tears a whole lot sooner, even if they were real, wet, watery tears? You see, in some cases you'd do exactly as we do; and the only difference is that we know that all seeming 'physical manifestations of trouble' have a mental source, and we do our work upon that, the cause, instead of trying to wrestle with the effect.
"Now, if a person is in trouble, the way to stop the tears is to tell him something which shows that he hasn't, really, any cause for them; that is, make him understand that there isn't any such cause, and then he can't cry if he wants to; and the way we stop other 'manifestations of trouble,' called sickness, is by making him
