“No, no; not that! not Atheism!  God save me from that deepest, blackest gulf!” She shuddered, and covered her face with her hands.

“Beulah, you alone must settle these questions with your own soul; my solutions would not satisfy you.  For thousands of years they have been propounded, and yet no answer comes down on the ’cloudy wings of centuries.’  Each must solve to suit his or her peculiar conformation of mind.  My child, if I could aid you I would gladly do so; but I am no Swedenborg, to whom the arcana of the universe have been revealed.”

“Still, after a fashion, you have solved these problems.  May I not know what your faith is?” said she earnestly.

“Child, I have no faith!  I know that I exist; that a beautiful universe surrounds me, and I am conscious of a multitude of conflicting emotions; but, like Launcelot Smith, I doubt whether I am ‘to pick and choose myself out of myself.’  Further than this I would assure you of nothing.  I stand on the everlasting basis of all skepticism, ’There is no criterion of truth!  All must be but subjectively, relatively true.’”

“Sir, this may be so as regards psychological abstractions; but can you be contented with this utter negation of the grand problems of ontology?”

“A profound philosophic writer of the age intimates that the various psychological systems which have so long vexed the world are but veiled ontologic speculations.  What matters the machinery of ideas, but as enabling philosophy to cope successfully with ontology?  Philosophy is a huge wheel which has been revolving for ages; early metaphysicians hung their finely spun webs on its spokes, and metaphysicians of the nineteenth century gaze upon and renew the same pretty theories as the wheel revolves.  The history of philosophy shows but a reproduction of old systems and methods of inquiry.  Beulah, no mine of ontologic truth has been discovered.  Conscious of this, our seers tell us there is nothing now but ‘eclecticism’!  Ontology is old as human nature, yet the stone of Sisyphus continues to roll back upon the laboring few who strive to impel it upward.  Oh, child, do you not see how matters stand?  Why, how can the finite soul cope with Infinite Being?  This is one form—­ the other, if we can take cognizance of the Eternal and Self-existing Being, underlying all phenomena, why, then, we are part and parcel of that Infinity.  Pantheism or utter skepticism—­there is no retreat.”

“I don’t want to believe that, sir.  I will not believe it.  What was my reason given to me for?  Was this spirit of inquiry after truth only awakened in my soul to mock me with a sense of my nothingness?  Why did my Maker imbue me with an insatiable thirst for knowledge?  Knowledge of the deep things of philosophy, the hidden wonders of the universe, the awful mysteries of the shadowy spirit realm?  Oh, there are analogies pervading all departments!  There is physical hunger to goad to exertions which will satisfy its demands, and