I go to Mr.Wynkoop with my questions, and they only seem to shock him.

Why should they?
God must have put all these doubts and wonderings into my mind, and there must be an answer for them somewhere.

Mr.Wynkoop is a good man, I truly respect him.

I want to please him, and I admire his intellectual attainments; but how can he accept so much on faith, and be content?
Do you really suppose he is content?
Don't you think he ever questions as I do?
or has he actually succeeded in smothering every doubt?
He cannot answer what I ask him; he cannot make things clear.

He just pulls up a few, cheap, homely weeds,--useless common things,--when I beg for flowers; he hands them to me, and bids me seek greater faith through prayer.