“You seemed disposed, like Howitt, to accord it the title of ’Bible of Quakerism,’” said Mr. Lindsay, in answer to a remark of hers concerning its tendency.

“It is a fertile theme of disputation, sir, and, since critics are so divided in their verdicts, I may well be pardoned an opinion which so many passages seem to sanction.  If Quakerism is belief in ‘immediate inspiration,’ which you will scarcely deny, then throughout the ‘Excursion’ Wordsworth seems its apostle.”

“No; he stands as a high priest in the temple of nature, and calls mankind from scientific lore to offer their orisons there at his altar and receive passively the teachings of the material universe.  Tells us,”

“’Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things,’”

“and promises, in nature, an unerring guide and teacher of truth.  In his lines on revisiting the Wye, he declares himself,”

             ’"Well pleased to recognize
     In nature, and the language of the sense,
     The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
     The guide, the guardian of my heart and soul,
     Of all my moral being.’”

“Quakerism rejects all extraneous aids to a knowledge of God; a silent band of friends sit waiting for the direct inspiration which alone can impart true light.  Wordsworth made the senses, the appreciation of the beauty and sublimity of the universe, an avenue of light; while Quakerism, according to the doctrines of Fox and his early followers, is merely a form of mysticism nearly allied to the ‘ecstasy’ of Plotinus.  The Quaker silences his reason, his every faculty, and in utter passivity waits for the infusion of divine light into his mind; the mystic of Alexandria, as far as possible, divests his intellect of all personality, and becomes absorbed in the Infinite intelligence from which it emanated.”

Beulah knitted her brows, and answered musingly: 

“And here, then, extremes meet.  To know God we must be God.  Mysticism and Pantheism link hands over the gulf which seemed to divide them.”

“Miss Benton, is this view of the subject a novel one?” said he, looking at her very intently.

“No; a singular passage in the ‘Biographia Literaria’ suggested it to me long ago.  But unwelcome hints are rarely accepted, you know.”

“Why unwelcome in this case?”

She looked at him, but made no reply, and none was needed.  He understood why, and said quietly yet impressively: 

“It sets the seal of necessity upon Revelation.  Not the mystical intuitions of the dreamers, who would fain teach of continued direct inspiration from God, even at the present time, but the revelation which began in Genesis and ended with John on Patmos.  The very absurdities of philosophy are the most potent arguments in substantiating the claims of Christianity.  Kant’s theory that we can know nothing beyond ourselves gave the deathblow to philosophy.  Mysticism contends that reason only darkens the mind, and consequently, discarding all reasoning processes, relies upon immediate revelation.  But the extravagances of Swedenborg, and even of George Fox, prove the fallacy of the assumption of continued inspiration, and the only alternative is to rest upon the Christian Revelation, which has successfully defied all assaults.”