I wish you could
teach me your faith."
"Mr. Van Berg," replied Ida, with a troubled face, "I'm not wise
enough to guide you in such a matter. I would much rather you
would talk with Mr. Eltinge or some learned, good man."
"I shall be glad to see Mr. Eltinge, but I don't care to go to the
learned man just yet. We might get into an argument, in which of
course I should be worsted, but I fear not convinced. I have never
known anything so real as your faith has seemed, but I can obtain
nothing that in the least corresponds with it. I ask, but receive
no more response than if I spoke to the empty air. Then comes the
strong temptation to relapse into the old materialistic philosophy,
which I had practically accepted, and to believe that religious
experiences are imaginary, or the result of education and
temperament. At the same time I have found this philosophy such a
wretched support, either in life or in the prospect of death, that
I would be glad to throw it away as worthless."
"I fear to speak to you on this subject," she said, "and shall not
for a moment attempt to teach you anything. They say facts are
stubborn things, and I'll tell you a few, which to my simple, homely
common-sense are conclusive.
Pages:
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721