Now this kingdom, as the people well knew, lay just beyond their own boundary, toward the setting of the sun; and indeed many of them had wished that they might sometime go thither, for they had heard wondrous reports of its beauty and of the happiness of its people. But they had been deterred from setting out by their affairs at home, and by certain sayings that had got abroad concerning the difficulties of the way. So when the stranger spoke thus, a large number of the people gathered around, and began to comment on the cloak, which hung upon the man’s arm and was of some soft woollen goods. It gave out too, a scent more delicate and sweet than the fragrance of any flower that blooms. Their criticisms were various. One old peasant said that while he should like to own the cloak, he feared its elegance might excite the contempt of his neighbors, who heretofore had never seen him clothed in anything but coarse garments. A woman at his elbow also had a voice in the matter. “The opinion of the neighbors,” said she, “would have little weight with me. But such a cloak hanging from the shoulders would greatly hinder one when at work.” “Yea, that it would,” answered another, “and work we must, if we would lay up dowries for our daughters, or buy a bit of land for our sons. We have none of us time to journey towards that Western country,” she added reflectively. Just then a youth wearing the heavy shoes and blouse of a workman drew near. After asking some questions, of the way that led to the Pleasant Land, he declared his intention of setting out that very hour, but added that he should have no need of the mantle, for he was young and sturdy and used to depending upon himself. “Yet take the cloak!” urged the stranger, “for I have never known any traveller to reach the kingdom without one.” The youth, however, shook his head, and, laughing lightly, waved his hand in farewell to the people. He turned his face confidently toward the West, taking a narrow path that led over the mountain, and thence into a little valley. It was a quiet, peaceful way bordered by grass of a tender green and by flowers whose delicacy showed that they were the blossoms of spring. One end of the vale was almost shut in by the rocky walls of two high mountains, and the pass between them was barred by a massive gate. Toward this gate the narrow footpath tended. The youth still felt fresh and vigorous and it was not long ere he had reached the portal where at each hand he now beheld a sentinel. “Few are the days of the journey,” said the first. “And, alas! wearisome and profitless to him who weareth not the mantle of loving kindness,” said the second.