and of these again, many soon forgot them; some would not believe they served Belial, others would not have it that this untrodden little hole was the gate of Life, and that the other bright portals, and this castle, were a delusion to prevent them seeing their doom before coming face to face with it. Just then, behold a troop of people from the Street of Pride, knocking boldly enough at the gate; but they were all so stiff-necked that they could never enter a place so low without soiling their periwigs and horns, so they sulkily retraced their steps. In their wake there came up a group from the Street of Lucre: “And is this the Gate of Life?” asked one; “Yea,” said the watchman overhead. “What must be done to enter?” he enquired. “Read what is inscribed above the doorway and ye shall know.” The miser read the Ten Commandments through: “Who will say that I have broken one of these?” he exclaimed. But when he looked up, and saw the words, “Love not the world, nor the things that are in the world,” he was amazed, and could not swallow that hard saying. There was one, green-eyed and envious, who turned back when he read: “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” There was a gossip and a slanderer who became dazed on reading: “Thou shalt not bear false witness.” When he read, “Thou shalt not kill,” “This is not the place for me” quoth the physician. In short, everybody saw something which troubled him, and so they all returned together to consider the matter. I saw no one yet come back who had conned his lesson; they had so many bags and scripts tightly bound to them, that they could never have got through such a narrow needle’s eye, even if they had tried to. After that a drove from the Street of Pleasure walked up to the gate. “Where, pray, does this road lead to?” asked one of the watchmen. “This,” answered he, “is the way that leads to eternal joy and happiness.” Whereupon all strove to enter, but failed, for some were too stout to pass through such a strait opening; others too weak to struggle, being enfeebled through debauchery. “Oh, ye must not attempt to take your baubles with you,” said the watchman, observing them; “ye must leave behind your pots and dishes, your minions, and all other things, and then hasten on.” “How shall we live?” asked the fiddler, who would have been through long since but that he feared to smash his fiddle. “Ye must trust the king’s promise to send after you as many of these things as will do you good,” said the watchman. This made them all prick their ears, “Oh, oh!” said one, “a bird in hand is worth two in the bush,” and at that they with one accord turned back.