Alls For the Best | Page 2

The body doesn't think; it is the soul."
"Very well. For argument's sake, let all this be granted. I don't wish to
cavil. I am in no mood for that. And now, as to the ground of your faith
in God."
"Convictions," answered Mr. Wilkins, "are real things to a man.
Impressions are one thing; convictions another. The first are like
images on a glass; the others like figures in a textile fabric. The first are
made in an instant of time, and often pass as quickly; the latter are
slowly wrought in the loom of life, through daily experience and
careful thought. Herein lies the ground of my faith in God;--it is an
inwrought conviction. First I had the child's sweet faith transfused into
my soul with a mother's love, and unshadowed by a single doubt. Then,
on growing older, as I read the Bible, which I believe to be God's word,
I saw that its precepts were divine, and so the child's faith was
succeeded by rational sight. Afterwards, as I floated off into the world,
and met with storms that wrecked my fondest hopes; with baffling
winds and adverse currents; with perils and disappointments, faith
wavered sometimes; and sometimes, when the skies were dark and
threatening, my mind gave way to doubts. But, always after the storm
passed, and the sun came out again, have I found my vessel unharmed,
with a freight ready for shipment of value far beyond what I had lost. I
have thrown over, in stress of weather, to save myself from being

engulfed, things that I had held to be very precious--thrown them over,
weeping. But, after awhile, things more precious took their
place--goodly pearls, found in a farther voyage, which, but for my loss,
would not have been ventured.
"Always am I seeing the hand of Providence--always proving the
divine announcement, 'The very hairs of your head are numbered.' Is
there not ground for faith here? If the word of God stand in agreement
with reason and experience, shall I not have faith? If my convictions
are clear, to disbelieve is impossible."
"We started differently," replied Mr. Fanshaw, almost mournfully.
"That sweet faith of childhood, to which you have referred, was never
mine."
"The faith of manhood is stronger, because it rests on reason and
experience," said Mr. Wilkins.
"With me, reason and experience give no faith in God, and no hope in
the future. All before me is dark."
"Simply, because you do not use your reason aright, nor read your
experiences correctly. If you were to do this, light would fall upon your
way. You said, a little while ago, that you had no faith in anything. You
spoke without due reflection."
"No; I meant just what I said. Is there stability in anything? In what can
I trust to-morrow? simply in nothing. My house may be in ruins--burnt
to the ground, at daylight. The friend to whom I loaned my money
to-day, to help him in his need, may fail me to-morrow, in my need.
The bank in which I hold stock may break--the ship in which I have an
adventure, go down at sea. But why enumerate? I am sure of nothing."
"Not even of the love of your child?"
A warm flush came into the face of Mr. Fanshaw. He had one daughter
twelve years old.
"Dear Alice!" he murmured, in a softer voice. "Yes, I am sure of that.
There is no room for doubt. She loves me."
"One thing in which to have faith," said Mr. Wilkins. "Not in a house
which cannot be made wholly safe from fire; nor in a bank, which may
fail; nor in a friend's promise; nor in a ship at sea--but in love! Are you
afraid to have that love tried? If you were sick or in misfortune, would
it grow dim, or perish? Nay, would it not be intensified?
"I think, Mr. Fanshaw," continued his friend, "that you have not tested

your faith by higher and better things--by things real and substantial."
"What is more real than a house, or a ship, or a bill of exchange?"
asked Mr. Fanshaw.
"Imperishable love--incorruptible integrity--unflinching honor," was
replied.
"Do these exist?" Mr. Fanshaw looked incredulous.
"We know that they exist. You know that they exist. History,
observation, experience, reason, all come to the proof. We doubt but in
the face of conviction. Are these not higher and nobler things than
wealth, or worldly honors; than place or power? And is he not serenest
and happiest whose life rests on these as a house upon its foundations?
You cannot shake such a man. You cannot throw him down. Wealth
may go, and friends drop away like withering autumn leaves, but he
stands fast, with the light of heaven upon his brow. He