At the close of my ramble, I met a man hobbling along on two wooden legs, leaning on two sticks. 'Tell me,' said I, 'my poor fellow, how you came to lose your legs?' 'Why, sir,' said he, 'in my younger days I was a soldier. With a few comrades I attacked a party of the enemy, and overcame them, and we began to load ourselves with spoil. My comrades were satisfied with little, but I burdened myself with as much as I could carry. We were pursued; my companions escaped, but I was overtaken and so cruelly wounded, that I only saved my life afterwards by losing my legs. It was a bad affair, sir; but it is too late to repent of it now.' 'Ah, friend,' thought I, 'like the fruit tree, and the mangled sheep, you may date your downfall to your possessions. It was your riches that ruined you.'