Chapter LVI

A man staggering wearily through the streets of Persepolis, under a heavy burden, said to himself:

"I wish I knew what this thing is I have on my back; then I could make some sort of conjecture as to what I design doing with it."

"Suppose," said the burden, "I were a man in a sack; what disposition would you make of me?"

"The regular thing," replied the man, "would be to take you over to Constantinople, and pitch you into the Bosphorus; but I should probably content myself with laying you down and jumping on you, as being more agreeable to my feelings, and quite as efficacious."

"But suppose," continued the burden, "I were a shoulder of beef--which I quite as much resemble--belonging to some poor family?"

"In that case," replied the man, promptly, "I should carry you to my larder, my good fellow."

"But if I were a sack of gold, do you think you would find me very onerous?" said the burden.

"A great deal would depend," was the answer, "upon whom you happened to belong to; but I may say, generally, that gold upon the shoulders is wonderfully light, considering the weight of it."

"Behold," said the burden, "the folly of mankind: they cannot perceive that the _quality_ of the burdens of life is a matter of no importance. The question of pounds and ounces is the only consideration of any real weight."