I received a letter this week from a lady (who is here). Now this is her own wonderful being revealing to herself a wonderful picture. It is all self-revealed. “I am in a place,” she said, “barely furnished, no rugs, no carpets, and here are my children. The boys are in clean overalls seated in high-backed chairs and the girls in starched long cotton dresses. They looked like what we think the Quakers must look like as they sit straight. They seemed to be without emotion. There they were. They are my children, and we were waiting for father. Then came news which I knew from the father that he is not returning. He’s not dead, but the work that he has done in the children is over. He has finished it and it is perfect and now he is not returning. Then the scene changes and we are in a farmhouse. We look through and here is this most marvelous harvest, bursting! You’ve never seen such a beautiful abundant harvest. The oldest one comes back and he is radiantly happy; for the first time he is now creating for himself. Then the girls and the boys who are there begin to create as they never have before. Before, they only obeyed the father, like an automaton, and they executed his will, but now that he has withdrawn himself because his work is finished they become creators in themselves.” What a beautiful experience! She saw in miniature form the world.738 ¶16