The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1923-02-18


With no pretense Of greatness,
no seeking after effects. NJ. Coue
told his story and gave his mes
sage OF healing to the world.
And seeing him, my mind
leaped back to that time. not
long ago, when America had the
privilege Of entertaining a IA
nous countrywoman Of his, Nine.
Curte. She came with q mes.
sage Of help to thousands Of
suffering women: q promise Of
relief to thousands more to come,
through her pioneer work with
radium. Yet her great sim
plicity, the sweetness Of her face,
the gentleness of her smile were
her outstanding characteristics.
even as Of M. Coue.
Each had a message for hu.
manity. The wonder Of It is that
coming in close touch with sui.
fering, as each must do CON.
stantly, they can smile at all.
GIVES MESSAGE FREELY.
M. Coue's message is for all.
He does not pretend that It is
original. It is as old as st.
Paul. so he says. He gives it
freely to those who can reach
him. and the fact that he denies
himself at all is more the re.
suit Of firm stands taken by his
managers and insistence on Ger.
tain rules, than because Of any
inclination Of his own.
Forty Coues could not have
seen all the people who throneed
the corridors Of the Copley-
Plaza Hotel to see him. Forty
could not have yielded to the men
and women who limped, climbed,
or were led to that platform in
fremont Temple-begging as
they did centuries ago. to touch
the hem Of His garment"
The procession Of the suffer
ing. the parade Of those whom
life had labeled unfit" began
early In the day. while M. Coue
was treating Mary Garden in the
seclusion Of her suite for the
ills that she believed had be-
fallen her throat and her golden
voice.
They were not all the men
and women whom poverty had
stamped with its ineffable mark.
Some bore evidences Of pros.
perity, but all were anxious for
a conference with the man who
was, in their eyes, a miracle
worker.
SORROWFUL PROCESSION.
If you had a heart it would
have melted at that sorrowfuI lit
tie procession that came in two
and threes.
There was the lame child. a
brtght-eyed boy seated In one of
those great enveloping chairs of
the lounge, waiting for a glimpse
OF the great man, for examine
There was that other boy, lir,p.
Ing through the revolving doors
on crutches, wasted limbs giving
every evidence Of some disease
that had taken firm hold unon
MN. There was that midle-aged
woman, almost borne along a DR.
ridor by devoted husband, hard.
ly able to stand and almost I'm.
able to walk, yet ready to wait
and to wait long hours---if she
could obtain the audience that
she craved.
1t was a day Of heartbreak for
one who had eyes to see in that
tragic. changing procession. Just
so does that pathetic column wind
every year to the beloved shrine
OF st. Anne de Beaupre. praying
for the miracle that comes-once
in a while! Just so do the suf.
ferers endure hardship and pain
and suffering-as well as the gaze
OF the thousands Of curious-that
they may somehow be well again.
You know NJ. COue's simple
doctrine by now. You know his
rosary Of words. the litany Of
faith that he breaches and insists
that You tell your subcOnsciOus
mind, every day. But you do NOT
knoW-unless you have seen for
yourseH-t1ne effect q that slmu1a
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