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“He was very fond of the flute his son had given him, and on that sweetest and most expressionless of instruments he played exquisitely.
One evening when I called to see them, Falconer said,
‘We are going out of town for a few weeks, Gordon: will you go with us?’
‘I am afraid I can’t.’
‘Why? You have no teaching at present, and your writing you can do as well in the country as in town.’
‘That is true; but still I don’t see how I can. I am too poor for one thing.’
‘Between you and me that is nonsense.’
‘Well, I withdraw that,’ I said. ‘But there is so much to be done, specially as you will be away, and Miss St John is at the Lakes.’
‘That is all very true; but you need a change. I have seen for some weeks that you are failing. Mind, it is our best work that He wants, not the dregs of our exhaustion. I hope you are not of the mind of our friend Mr. Watts, the curate of St. Gregory’s.’
‘I thought you had a high opinion of Mr. Watts,’ I returned.
‘So I have. I hope it is not necessary to agree with a man in everything before we can have a high opinion of him.‘
‘Of course not. But what is it you hope I am not of his opinion in?’
‘He seems ambitious of killing himself with work—of wearing himself out in the service of his master—and as quickly as possible. A good deal of that kind of thing is a mere holding of the axe to the grindstone, not a lifting of it up against thick trees. Only he won’t be convinced till it comes to the helve. I met him the other day; he was looking as white as his surplice. I took upon me to read him a lecture on the holiness of holidays. “I can’t leave my poor,” he said. “Do you think God can’t do without you?” I asked. “Is he so weak that he cannot spare the help of a weary man? But I think he must prefer quality to quantity, and for healthy work you must be healthy yourself. How can you be the visible sign of the Christ-present amongst men, if you inhabit an exhausted, irritable brain? Go to God’s infirmary and rest a while. Bring back health from the country to those that cannot go to it. If on the way it be transmuted into spiritual forms, so much the better. A little more of God will make up for a good deal less of you.'” – George MacDonald. From Robert Falconer.
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