“Ah! the one who went away sorrowing, because he had great possessions.”
“I have little doubt,” said Mr. Ewart, “that had he been commanded to build a place of worship, or to give liberal alms, he would at once have willingly complied.”
“But he was told to give up all! Do you know, sir, that it has often struck me that that was a command very hard to obey. I am glad that in these days there is no need for such commands.”
“There is the same need now, Charles, that there was then for a spirit of willing obedience. We may not now be called upon to give up all, but every Christian must be ready to do so. If there is anything on earth on which we fix our hearts, so as to say, I can yield to God anything but this, that thing from that moment is an idol and a snare, and we are breaking the second commandment.”
Charles was silent for a few moments, thinking over his tutor’s words, till Mr. Ewart began conversation on a different subject.
“You must sometimes have heard speak of an infant brother of your own.”
“Oh yes, little Ernest, who was drowned three days before I was born, whose marble monument I so constantly see in church—a lovely baby, sleeping amongst water-lilies.”
“His monument is there, but not his body.”
“No, poor little one, it never was found. I have heard all about his death many a time: how his careless nurse set him down to crawl on the grass, and was either called away or fell asleep, I forget which, and the poor baby rolled into the river and was lost, nothing of him being recovered but his little hat and plume, which was found floating on the top of the water.”