the little hut on the mountain-side, in which I thought to dwell in
pastoral simplicity, has been scattered to the tempest, and I am
turned out to the blast without a shelter. I have wandered long and
far, but have not found that rest which you tell me is to be obtained.
As I examine all other theories, they seem, to me, pressed by at
least equal difficulties with that I have abandoned. I cannot make
myself contented, as others do, with believing nothing, and yet I
have nothing to believe; I have wrestled long and hard with my
Titan foes,--but not successfully. I have turned to every quarter
of the universe in vain; I have interrogated my own soul, but it
answers not; I have gazed upon nature, but its many voices speak no
articulate language to me; and, more especially, when I gaze upon
the bright page of the midnight heavens, those orbs gleam upon
me with so cold a light, and amidst so portentous a silence, that
I am, with Pascal, terrified at the spectacle of the infinite
solitudes,--'de ces espaces infinis.' I declare to you that I know
nothing in nature so beautiful or so terrible as those mute oracles."

"They are indeed mute," said Fellowes; "but not so that still voice
which whispers its oracles within. You have but to look inwards, and
you may see, by the direct gaze of 'the spiritual faculty,' bright
and clear, those great 'intuitions' of spiritual truth which the
gauds and splendors of the external universe can no more illustrate
than can the illuminated characters of an old missal;--just as little
can any book teach these truths. You have truly said, the stars will
shed no light upon them; they, on the contrary, must illumine the
stars; I mean, they must themselves be seen before the outward
universe can assume intelligible meaning; must utter their voices
before any of the phenomena of the external world can have any real
significance!"