Article April 26, 1900 Issue

Fog from Two Rivers

BY METTA F. MILLER

New York City was wrapped, for two days in January in a dense fog. Ferry boats plied slowly across the rivers and disconsolate passengers had no alternative but patiently to wait for transport. The fog from East River had rolled up and met the fog from North River, and the city was folded in a dripping cloud.

The blue sky and bright sunshine of the days before would have seemed like a dream, only we knew it was the fog that was temporal, the blue sky is always over us and the sun shines on always the same, so the fog must be dispersed and harmony and light and warmth be restored. But the fog would not have been so dense, so far-reaching, so much of an impediment to traffic, had it not risen from both rivers, each helping to darken the other.

So with our progress along the path out of error into Truth. Fogs will arise from the rivers of error about us, and if we meet them with an answering fog from a river of error within, dark indeed will seem the way, but if we keep our side clear, we can always catch a glimpse of a bit of blue sky, for error must grow less dense as it nears the thought of light, until the full force of the understanding of error's nothingness destroys all the gloom, for light and warmth and peace and harmony are with us alway.

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