turned my misnamed joys to sorrow. When I went back into the house to take something out of it, my misery increased; so I came hither, hoping that I might follow thee whithersoever thou goest.”
And the Stranger saith unto him, “Wilt thou climb the mountain, and take nothing of thine own with thee?”
He answered, “I will.”
“Then,” saith the Stranger, “thou hast chosen the good part; follow me.”
Many there were who had entered the valley to speculate in worldly policy, religion, politics, finance, and to search for wealth and fame. These had heavy baggage of their own, and insisted upon taking all of it with them, which must greatly hinder their ascent.
The journey commences. The encumbered travellers halt and disagree. They stoutly belay those who, having less baggage, ascend faster than themselves, and betimes burden them with their own. Despairing of gaining the summit, loaded as they are, they conclude to stop and lay down a few of the heavy weights, but only to take them up again, more than ever determined not to part with their baggage.
All this time the Stranger is pointing the way, showing them their folly, rebuking their pride, consoling their afflictions, and helping them on, saying, “He that loseth his life for my sake, shall find it.”
Obstinately holding themselves back, and sore-footed, they fall behind and lose sight of their guide; when, stumbling and grumbling, and fighting each other, they plunge headlong over the jagged rocks.
Then he who has no baggage goes back and kindly binds up their wounds, wipes away the blood stains, and
