continually, now in the dark of Metaphysics, now in the dusk of Science; losing himself in the tangled bushes of English Materialism, and German Mysticism, and Arabic Sufism; calling now to Berkeley, now to Hackel; meeting with Spencer here, with al-Ghazali there; and endeavoring to extricate himself in the end with some such efforts as “the Natural being Negativity, the Spiritual must be the opposite of that, and both united in God form the Absolute,” etc. , etc.
But we shall not give ourselves further pain in laying before the English reader the like heavy and unwieldy lumber. Whoever relishes such stuff, and can digest it, need not apply to Khalid; for, in this case, he is but a poor third-hand caterer. Better go to the Manufacturers direct; they are within reach of everyone in this Age of Machinery and Popular Editions.
But there are passages here, of which Khalid can say, ‘The Mortar at least is mine.’ And in this Mortar he mixes and titrates with his Neighbour’s Pestle some of his fantasy and insight. Of these we offer a sample: