“By no means. Some pleasure springs directly from religion. Of heavenly wisdom it is written in God’s Word, _Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace_. And other pleasure may be hallowed by religion; but it must be pleasure that has no connection with _sin_. We may gather life’s flowers, but we must be careful that they are those which have not the trail of the serpent upon them.” “Is it wrong to enjoy the riches which God gives us?” asked Ernest. “Shall I sin if I look with joy on the noble estate and all the beautiful things which you tell me are mine?” “God forbid,” replied the clergyman; “hath He not _given us all things richly to enjoy_? But we must _use the world as not abusing it_. There is a test by which we can easily find out if riches are not clogging and delaying us in our heavenward path. We must examine, _first_, if we receive them with gratitude, as coming from God; _secondly_, if we are watchful to spend them to the glory of God; _thirdly_, if we are ready to resign them, in obedience to God.” “I think,” observed Charles, “that Ernest will be less in danger from the pride of life than I was.” “Yes,” said Ernest, looking admiringly at his brother; “because I shall have so very much less to be proud of.” “I never meant that,” cried Charles, colouring; “but I fancy that you have been so tried and subdued, by suffering so much, that you will never be so foolish and flighty as I; you will not be so easily puffed up.” “I am sure that I could not answer for myself,” replied Ernest, simply. “No; and certainly you are very ignorant of the ways of Vanity Fair; that’s the part of your pilgrimage that you are coming to now.” “Surely not till I go to London. I shall see nothing of it while we stay quietly studying at the castle.” “Little you know!” exclaimed Charles, laughing. “My good Aunt Matilda, my pretty little cousin, and perhaps my business-like uncle himself, may introduce you—” Charles stopped, for he caught his tutor’s eye, and its grave expression silenced him at once. “_Judge not, that ye be not judged_,” said the clergyman, impressively. “There is nothing so little becoming a young pilgrim as passing unkind judgment on his elders.” “I’m afraid that it’s my besetting sin,” said Charles, “and one that it is very difficult to get rid of.” “Like many others, I believe that it springs from pride,” observed his tutor. “When we are deeply sensible of our own imperfections, we have more mercy to show, or less attention to give to those of our neighbours and companions.”