“How hard it is to do good!” said Ernest, with a sigh of mortification, when they had walked a few steps from the place. “I see the wisdom of Mr. Ewart’s doubts, when he said that he believed that there might be objections to this plan.” “Well, you’ve acted kindly, and you’ll have your reward,” observed Charles. “Not in the gratitude of these boys.” “Did you do it to purchase their gratitude?” asked his brother. “Mr. Ewart says that some do good actions to buy praise, and some to buy gratitude, but both look for an earthly reward, and, therefore, for one which can never be sure. It is the cup of cold water given for the Lord’s sake which is remembered and rewarded above.” “True,” replied Ernest, “and if we do good only in order to be loved, the many, many disappointments which we meet with, will soon make us weary in well-doing. That benevolence only will be steady and sure which comes from a wish to please that Master in heaven who never can change or forget.” CHAPTER XVII. LIFE IN THE GREAT CITY. Days and weeks passed, but the instructions which he received seemed to make little impression on the obdurate spirit of Jack, who had one idea rooted in his mind, which neither example nor exhortation was able to shake—that it was a sort of injustice to him for one who had once been his equal to be so rich while he remained so poor. In vain both the folly and ingratitude of his conduct were shown to him; a proud, levelling spirit had taken possession of his heart, which would neither bend in submission to Heaven, nor thankfulness to those who did him kindness. Would that this feeling were more uncommon in the dwellings of the humbler classes, and that they to whom little of this world’s goods have been given would remember that, while the rich have duties towards the poor, the poor have also duties towards the rich. The annoyance which it caused Ernest’s sensitive spirit to be the object of envy and ingratitude, and the necessity of being ever on his guard to avoid expressing anger, or, which is much harder, feeling it, made him rather rejoice when the day arrived for the family’s removal to London. He was impatient to see that wonderful place of which he had heard so much. The winter, also, had come, and the coldness of the weather made the prospect of a journey southwards very agreeable. The boy’s only regret was leaving Mr. Ewart, whom they regarded more as a parent than a tutor. “Good-bye, and Heaven watch over you!” said the clergyman, earnestly, as he stood at the door to witness their departure. Charles pressed his tutor’s hand warmly between both his own; Ernest threw himself into his arms. “You must not keep us, boys; we shall be late for the train,” called out Mr. Hope from the carriage. “I can’t conceive what makes them so fond of that man,” observed Mrs. Hope in no amiable tone.