HH: The first time I read these two chapters, I realized how anyone could do what I thought was impossible: How anyone could become wealthy (financially well-off) on almost any income. A feat I thought was reserved for the few.
* * *
The Man Who Desired Gold
Bansir, the chariot builder of Babylon, was thoroughly discouraged. From his seat upon the low wall surrounding his property, he gazed sadly at his simple home and the open workshop in which stood a partially completed chariot.
His wife frequently appeared at the open door. Her furtive glances in his direction reminded him that the meal bag was almost empty and he should be at work finishing the chariot, hammering and hewing, polishing and painting, stretching taut the leather over the wheel rims, preparing it for delivery so he could collect from his wealthy customer.
Nevertheless, his fat, muscular body sat stolidly upon the wall. His slow mind was struggling patiently with a problem for which he could find no answer. The hot, tropical sun, so typical of this valley of the Euphrates, beat down upon him mercilessly. Beads of perspiration formed upon his brow and trickled down unnoticed to lose themselves in the hairy jungle on his chest.
Beyond his home towered the high terraced walls surrounding the king’s palace. Nearby, cleaving the blue heavens, was the painted tower of the Temple of Bel. In the shadow of such grandeur was his simple home and many others far less neat and well cared for. Babylon was like this --a mixture of grandeur and squalor, of dazzling wealth and direst poverty, crowded together without plan or system within the protecting walls of the city.
Behind him, had he cared to turn and look, the noisy chariots of the rich jostled and crowded aside the sandaled tradesmen as well as the barefooted beggars. Even the rich were forced to turn into the gutters to clear the way for the long lines of slave water carriers, on the “King’s Business,” each bearing a heavy goatskin of water to be poured upon the hanging gardens.
Bansir was too engrossed in his own problem to hear or heed the confused hubbub of the busy city. It was the unexpected twanging of the strings from a familiar lyre that aroused him from his reverie. He turned and looked into the sensitive, smiling face of his best friend --Kobbi, the musician.
“May the Gods bless thee with great liberality, my good friend,” began Kobbi with an elaborate salute. “Yet, it does appear they have already been so generous thou needest not to labour. I rejoice with thee in they good fortune. More, I would even share it with thee. Pray, from thy purse which must be bulging else thou wouldst be busy in yon shop, extract but two humble shekels and lend them to me until after the noblemen’s feast this night. Thou wilt not miss them ere they are returned”
“If I did have two shekels,” Bansir responded gloomily, “to no one could I lend them --not even to you, my best of friends; for they would be my fortune --my entire fortune. No one lends his entire fortune, not even to his best friend.”
“What,” exclaimed Kobbi with genuine surprise, “Thou hast not one shekel in thy purse, yet sit like a statue upon a wall! Why not complete that chariot? How else canst thou provide for thy noble appetite? ‘Tis not like thee, my friend. Where is thy endless energy? Doth something distress thee? Have the Gods brought to thee troubles?
“A torment from the Gods it must be,” Bansir agreed. “It began with a dream, a senseless dream, in which I thought I was a man of means. From my belt hung a handsome purse, heavy with coins. There were shekels which I cast with careless freedom to the beggars; there were pieces of silver with which I did buy finery for my wife and whatever I did desire for myself; there were pieces of gold which made me feel assured of the future and unafraid to spend the silver. A glorious feeling of contentment was within me! You would not have known me for they hard-working friend. Nor wouldst have known my wife, so free from wrinkles were her face and shining with happiness. She was again the smiling maiden of our early married days.”
“A pleasant dream, indeed,” commented Kobbi, “but why should such pleasant feelings as it aroused turn thee into a glum statue upon the wall?”
“Why, indeed! Because when I awoke and remembered how empty was my purse, a feeling of rebellion swept over me. Let us talk it over together, for, as the sailors do say, we ride in the same boat, we two. As youngsters, we went together to the priests to learn wisdom. As young men, we shared each other’s pleasures. As grown men, we have always been close friends. We have been contented subjects of our kind. We have been satisfied to work long hours and spend our earnings freely. We have earned much coin in the years that have passed, yet to know the joys that come from wealth, we must dream about them. Bah! Are we more than dumb sheep? We live in the richest city in all the world. The travelers do say none equals it in wealth. About us is much display of wealth, but of it we ourselves have naught. After half a lifetime of hard labour, thou, my best of friends, hast an empty purse and sayest to me, ‘May I borrow such a trifle as two shekels until after the noblemen’s feast this night?’ Then, what do I reply? Do I say, ‘Here is my purse; its contents will I gladly share?’ No, I admit that my purse is as empty as thine. What is the matter? Why cannot we acquire silver and gold --more than enough for foods and robes?
“Consider, also, our sons,” Bansir continued, “are they not following in the footsteps of their fathers? Need they and their families and their sons and their sons’ families live all their lives in the midst of such treasurers of gold, and yet, like us, be content to banquet upon sour goat’s milk and porridge?”
“Never, in all the years of our friendship, didst thou talk like this before, Bansir.” Kobbi was puzzled.
“Never in all those years did I think like this before. From early dawn until darkness stopped me, I have laboured to build the finest chariots any man could make, soft-heartedly hoping some day the Gods would recognize my worthy deeds and bestow upon me great prosperity. This they have never done. At last, I realize this they will never do. Therefore, my heart is sad. I wish to be a man of means. I wish to own lands and cattle, to have fine robes and coins in my purse. I am willing to work for these things with all the strength in my back, with all the skill in my hands, with all the cunning in my mind, but I wish my labours to be fairly rewarded. What is the matter with us? Again I ask you! Why cannot we have our just share of the good things so plentiful for those who have the gold with which to buy them?”
“Would I knew an answer!” Kobbi replied. “No better than thou am I satisfied. My earnings from my lyre are quickly gone. Often must I plan and scheme that my family be not hungry. Also, within my breast is a deep longing for a lyre large enough that it may truly sing the strains of music that do surge through my mind. With such an instrument could I make music finer than even the king has heard before.”
“Such a lyre thou shouldst have. No man in Babylon could make it sing more sweetly; could make it sing so sweetly, not only the king but the Gods themselves would be delighted. But how mayest thou secure it while we both of us are as poor as the king’s slaves? Listen to the bell! Here they come.” He pointed to the long column of half naked, sweating water bearers plodding laboriously up the narrow street from the river. Five abreast they marched, each bent under a heavy goatskin of water.
“A fine figure of a man, he who doth lead them.” Kobbi indicated the wearer of the bell who marched in front without a load. “A prominent man in his own country, ‘tis easy to see.”
“There are many good figures in the line,” Bansir agreed, “as good men as we. Tall, blond men from the north, laughing black men from the south, little brown men from the nearer countries. All marching together from the river to the gardens, back and forth, day after day, year after year. Naught of happiness to look forward to. Beds of straw upon which to sleep --hard grain porridge to eat. Pity the poor brutes, Kobbi!”
“Pity them I do. Yet, thou dost make me see how little better off are we, free men thou we call ourselves.”
“That is truth, Kobbi, unpleasant thought though it be. We do not wish to go on year after year living slavish lives. Working, working, working! Getting nowhere.”
“Might we not find out how others acquire gold and do as they do?” Kobbi inquired.
“Perhaps there is some secret we might learn if we but sought from those who knew,” replied Bansir thoughtfully.
“This very day,” suggested Kobbi, “I did pass our old friend, Arkad, riding in his golden chariot. This I will say, he did not look over my humble head as many in his station might consider his right. Instead, he did wave his hand that all onlookers might see him pay greetings and bestow his smile of friendship upon Kobbi, the musician.”
“He is claimed to be the richest man in all Babylon,” Bansir mused.
“So rich the king is said to seek his golden aid in affairs of the treasury,” Kobbi replied.
“So rich,” Bansir interrupted, “I fear if I should meet him in the darkness of the night, I should lay my hands upon his fat wallet,”
“Nonsense,” reproved Kobbi, “a man’s wealth is not in the purse he carries. A fat purse quickly empties if there be no golden stream to fill it. Arkhad has an income that constantly keeps his purse full, no matter how liberally he spends.”
“Income, that is the thing,” ejaculated Bansir. “I wish an income that will keep flowing into my purse whether I sit upon the wall or travel to far lands. Arkad must know how a man can make an income for himself. Dost suppose it is something he could make clear to a mind as slow as mine?”“Methinks he did teach his knowledge to his son, Nomasir,” Kobbi responded. “Did he not go to Nineveh and, so it is told at the inn, become, without aid from his father, one of the richest men in that city?”
“Kobbi, thou bringest to me a rare thought.” A new light gleamed in Bansir’s eyes. “It costs nothing to ask wise advice from a good friend and Arkad was always that. Never mind though our purses be as empty as the falcon’s nest of a year ago. Let that not detain us. We are weary of being without gold in the midst of plenty. We wish to become men of means. Come, let us go to Arkad and ask how we, also, may acquire incomes for ourselves.
“Thou speakest with true inspiration, Bansir. Thou bringeth to my mind a new understanding. Thou makest me to realize the reason why we have never found any measure of wealth. We never sought it. Thou hast laboured patiently to build the staunchest chariots in Babylon. To that purpose was devoted your best endeavours. Therefore, at it thou didst succeed. I strove to become a skilful lyre player. And, at it I did succeed.
“In those things toward which we exerted our best endeavours we succeeded. The Gods were content to let us continue thus. Now, at last, we see a light, bright like that from the rising sun. It biddeth us to learn more that we may prosper more. With a new understanding we shall find honourable ways to accomplish our desires.”
“Let us go to Arkad this very day,” Bansir urged. “Also, let us ask other friends of our boyhood days, who have fared no better than ourselves, to join us that they, too, may share in his wisdom.”
“Thou wert ever thus thoughtful of thy friends, Bansir. Therefore hast thou many friends. It shall be as thou sayest. We go this day and take them with us.”
* * *
The Richest Man in Babylon
In old Babylon there once lived a certain very rich man named Arkad. Far and wide he was famed for his great wealth. Also was he famed for his liberality. He was generous in his charities. He was generous with his family. He was liberal in his own expenses. But nevertheless each year his wealth increased more rapidly than he spent it.
And there were certain friends of younger days who came to him and said: “You, Arkad, are more fortunate than we. You have become the richest man in all Babylon while we struggle for existence. You can wear the finest garments and you can enjoy the rarest foods, while we must be content if we can clothe our families in raiment that is presentable and feed them as best we can.
“Yet, once we were equal. We studied under the same master. We played in the same games. And in neither the studies nor the games did you outshine us. And in the years since, you have been no more an honourable citizen than we.
“Nor have you worked harder or more faithfully, insofar as we can judge. Why, then, should a fickle fate single you out to enjoy all the good things of life and ignore us who are equally deserving?”
Thereupon Arkad remonstrated them, saying, “If you have not acquired more than a bare existence in the years since we were youths, it is because you either have failed to learn the laws that govern the building of wealth, or else you do not observe them.
“’Fickle Fate’ is a vicious goddess who brings no permanent good to anyone. On the contrary, she brings ruin to almost every man upon whom she showers unearned gold. She makes wanton spenders, who soon dissipate all they receive and are left best by overwhelming appetites and desires they have not the ability to gratify. Yet others whom she favours become misers and hoard their wealth, fearing to spend what they have, knowing they do not possess the ability to replace it. They further are best by fear of robbers and doom themselves to lives of emptiness and secret misery.
“Others there probably are, who can take unearned gold and add to it and continue to be happy and contented citizens. But so few are they, I know of them but by hearsay. Think you of the men who have inherited sudden wealth, and see if these things are not so.”
His friends admitted that of the men they knew who had inherited wealth these words were true, and they besought him to explain to them how he had become possessed of so much prosperity, so he continued:
“In my youth I looked about me and saw all the good things there were to bring happiness and contentment. And I realized that wealth increased the potency of all these.
Wealth is a power. With wealth many things are possible.
“One may ornament the home with the richest of furnishings.
“One may sail the distant seas.
“One may feast on the delicacies of far lands.
“One may buy the ornaments of the gold worker and the stone polisher.
“One may even build mighty temples for the Gods.
“One may do all these things and many others in which there is delight for the senses and
gratification for the soul.
“And, when I realized all this, I decided to myself that I would claim my share of the good things of life. I would not be one of those who stand afar off, enviously watching others enjoy. I would not be content to clothe myself in the cheapest raiment that looked respectable. I would not be satisfied with the lot of a poor man. On the contrary, I would make myself a guest at this banquet of good things.
“Being, as you know, the son of a humble merchant, one of a large family with no hope of an inheritance, and not being endowed, as you have so frankly said, with superior powers or wisdom, I decided that if I was to achieve what I desired, time and study would be required.
“As for time, all men have it in abundance. You, each of you, have let slip by sufficient time to have made yourselves wealthy. Yet, you admit, you have nothing to show except your good families, of which you can be justly proud.
“As for study, did not our wise teacher teach us that learning was of two kinds: the one kind being the things we learned and knew, and the other being the training that taught us how to find out what we did not know?”
“Therefore did I decide to find out how one might accumulate wealth, and when I had found out, to make this my task and do it well. For, is it not wise that we should enjoy while we dwell in the brightness of the sunshine, for sorrows enough shall descend upon us when we depart for the darkness of the world of spirit?
“I found employment as a scribe in the hall of records, and long hours each day I laboured upon the clay tablets. Week after week, and month after month, I laboured, yet for my earnings I had naught to show. Food and clothing and penance to the gods, and other things of which I could remember not what, absorbed all my earnings. But my determination did not leave me.
“And one day Algamish, the money lender, came to the house of the city master and ordered a copy of the Ninth Law, and he said to me, ‘I must have this in two days, and if the task is done by that time, two coppers will I give to thee.’
“So I laboured hard, but the law was long, and when Algamish returned the task was unfinished. He as angry, and had I been his slave, he would have beaten me. But knowing the city master would not permit him to injure me, I was unafraid, so I said to him, ‘Algamish, you are a very rich man. Tell me how I may also become rich, and all night I will carve upon the clay, and when the sun rises it shall be completed.’
“He smiled at me and replied, ‘You are a forward knave, but we will call it a bargain.’
“All that night I carved, though my back pained and the smell of the wick made my head ache until my eyes could hardly see. But when he returned at sunup, the tablets were complete.
“Now,’ I said, ‘tell me what you promised.’
“’You have fulfilled your part of our bargain, my son,’ he said to me kindly, ‘and I am ready to fulfill mine. I will tell you these things you wish to know because I am becoming an old man, and an old tongue loves to wag. And when youth comes to age for advice he receives the wisdom of years. But too often does youth think that age knows only the wisdom of days that are gone, and therefore profits not. But remember this, the sun that shines today is the sun that shone when thy father was born, and will still be shining when thy last grandchild shall pass into the darkness.
“’The thoughts of youth,’ he continued, ‘are bright lights that shine forth like the meteors that oft make brilliant the sky, but the wisdom of age is like the fixed stars that shine so unchanged that the sailor may depend upon them to steer his course.
“’Mark you well my words, for if you do not you will fail to grasp the truth that I will tell you, and you will think that your night’s work has been in vain.’
“Then he looked at me shrewdly from under his shaggy brows and said in a low, forceful tone, ‘I found the road to wealth when I decided that a part of all I earned was mind to keep. And so will you.’
“Then he continued to look at me with a glance that I could feel pierce me but said no more.
“’Is that all?’ I asked.
“’That was sufficient to change the heart of a sheep herder into the heart of a money lender,’ he replied.
“’But all I earn is mine to keep, is it not?” I demanded.
“’Far from it,’ he replied. ‘Do you not pay the garment-maker? Do you not pay the sandal-maker? Do you not pay for the things you eat? Can you live in Babylon without spending? What have you to show for your earnings of the past month? What for the past year? Fool! You pay to everyone but yourself. Dullard, you labour for others. As well be a slave and work for what your master gives you to eat and wear. If you did keep for yourself one-tenth of all you earn, how much would you have in ten years?’
“My knowledge of the numbers did not forsake me, and I answered, ‘As much as I earn in one year.’
“’You speak but half the truth,’ he retorted. ‘Every gold piece you save is a slave to work for you. Every copper it earns is its child that also can earn for you. If you would become wealthy, then what you save must earn, and its children must earn, that all may help to give you the abundance you crave.
“’You think I cheat you for your long night’s work,’ he continued, ‘but I am paying you a thousand times over if you have the intelligence to grasp the truth I offer you.
“’A part of all you earn is yours to keep. It should be not less than a tenth no matter how little you earn. It can be as much more as you can afford. Pay yourself first. Do not buy from the clothes-maker and the sandal-maker more than you can pay out of the rest and still have enough for food and charity and penance to the gods.
“’Wealth, like a tree, grows from a tiny seed. The first copper you save is the seed from which your tree of wealth shall grow. The sooner you plant that seed the sooner shall the tree grow. And the more faithfully you nourish and water that tree with consistent savings, the sooner may you bask in contentment beneath its shade.’
“So saying, he took his tablets and went away.
“I thought much about what he had said to me, and it seemed reasonable. So I decided that I would try it. Each time I was paid I took one from each ten pieces of copper and hid it away. And strange as it may seem, I was no shorter of funds than before. I noticed little difference as I managed to get along without it. But often I was tempted, as my hoard began to grow, to spend it for some of the good things the merchants displayed, brought by camels and ships from the land of the Phoenicians. But I wisely refrained.
“A twelfth month after Algamish had gone he again returned and said to me, ‘Son, have you paid to yourself not less than one-tenth of all you have earned for the past year?’
“I answered proudly, ‘Yes, master, I have.’
“’That is good,’ he answered beaming upon me, ‘and what have you done with it?’
“’I have given it to Azmur, the brick maker, who told me he was traveling over the far seas and in Tyre he would buy for me the rare jewels of the Phoenicians. When he returns we shall sell these at high prices and divide the earnings.’
“’Every fool must learn,’ he growled, ‘but why trust the knowledge of a brick maker about jewels? Would you go to the breadmaker to inquire about the stars? No, by my tunic, you would go to the astrologer, if you had power to think. Your savings are gone, youth, you have jerked your wealth-tree up by the roots. But plant another. Try again. And next time if you would have advice about jewels, go to the jewel merchant. If you would know the truth about sheep, go to the herdsman. Advice is one thing that is freely given away, but watch that you take only what is worth having. He who takes advice about his savings from one who is inexperienced in such matters, shall pay with his savings for proving the falsity of their opinions.’ Saying this, he went away.
“And it was as he said. For the Phoenicians are scoundrels and sold to Azmur worthless bits of glass that looked like gems. But as Algamish had bid me, I again saved each tenth copper, for I now had formed the habit and it was no longer difficult.
“Again, twelve months later, Algamish came to the room of the scribes and addressed me. ‘What progress have you made since last I saw you?’
“’I have paid myself faithfully,’ I replied, ‘and my savings I have entrusted to Agger the shieldmaker, to buy bronze, and each fourth month he does pay me the rental.’
“’That is good. And what do you do with the rental?’
“I do have a great feast with honey and fine wine and spiced cake. Also I have bought me a scarlet tunic. And some day I shall buy me a young ass upon which to ride.’
“To which Algamish laughed, ‘You do eat the children of your savings. Then how do you expect them to work for you? And how can they have children that will also work for you? First get thee an army of golden slaves and then many a rich banquet may you enjoy without regret.’ So saying he again went away.
“Nor did I again see him for two years, when he once more returned and his face was full of deep lines and his eyes drooped, for he was becoming a very old man. And he said to me, ‘Arkad, hast thou yet achieved the wealth thou dreamed of?’
“And I answered, ‘Not yet all that I desire, but some I have and it earns more, and its earnings earn more.’
“’And do you still take the advice of brickmakers?’
“’About brickmaking they give good advice,’ I retorted.
“’Arkad,’ he continued, ‘you have learned your lessons well. You first learned to live upon less than you could earn. Next you learned to seek advice from those who were competent through their own experiences to give it. And, lastly, you have learned to make gold work for you.
“’You have taught yourself how to acquire money, how to keep it, and how to use it. Therefore, you are competent for a responsible position. I am becoming an old man. My sons think only of spending and give no thought to earning. My interests are great and I fear too much for me to look after. If you will go to Nippur and look after my lands there, I shall make you my partner and you shall share in my estate.’
“So I went to Nippur and took charge of his holdings, which were large. And because I was full of ambition and because I had mastered the three laws of successfully handling wealth, I was enabled to increase greatly the value of his properties. So I prospered much, and when the spirit of Algamish departed for the sphere of darkness, I did share in his estate as he had arranged under the law.”
So spake Arkad, and when he had finished his tale, one of his friends said, “You were indeed fortunate that Algamish made of you an heir.”
“Fortunate only in that I had the desire to prosper before I first met him. For four years did I not prove my definiteness of purpose my keeping one-tenth of all I earned? Would you call a fisherman lucky who for years so studied the habits of the fish that with each changing wind he could cast his nets about hem? Opportunity is a haughty goddess who wastes no time with those who are unprepared.”
“You had strong will power to keep on after you lost your first year’s savings. You are unusual in that way,” spoke up another.
“Will power!” retorted Arkad. “What nonsense. Do you think will power gives a man the strength to lift a burden the camel cannot carry, or to draw a load the oxen cannot budge? Will power is but the unflinching purpose to carry a task you set for yourself to fulfillment. If I set for myself a task, be it ever so trifling, I shall see it through. How else shall I have confidence in myself to do important things? Should I say to myself, ‘For a hundred days as I walk across the bridge into the city, I will pick from the road a pebble and cast it into the stream,’ I would do it. If on the seventh day I passed by without remembering, I would not say to myself, ‘Tomorrow I will cast two pebbles which will do as well.’ Instead, I would retrace my steps and cast the pebble. Nor on the twentieth day would I say to myself, ‘Arkad, this is useless. What does it avail you to cast a pebble every day? Throw in a handful and be done with it.’ No, I would not say that nor do it. When I set a task for myself, I complete it. Therefore, I am careful not to start difficult and impractical tasks, because I love leisure.”
And then another friend spoke up and said, “If what you tell is true, and it does seem as you have said, reasonable, then being so simple, if all men did it, there would not be enough wealth to go around.”
“Wealth grows wherever men exert energy,” Arkad replied. “If a rich man builds him a new palace, is the gold he pays out gone? No, the brickmaker has part of it and the labourer has part of it, and the artist has part of it. And everyone who labours upon the house has part of it. Yet when the palace is completed, is it not worth all it cost? And is the ground upon which it stands not worth more because it is there? And is the ground that adjoins it not worth more because it is there? Wealth grows in magic ways. No man can prophesy the limit of it. Have not the Phoenicians built great cities on barren coasts with the wealth that comes from their ships of commerce on the seas?”
“What then do you advise us to do that we also may become rich?” asked still another of his friends. “The years have passed and we are no longer young men and we have nothing put by.”
“I advise that you take the wisdom of Algamish and say to yourselves, ‘A part of all I earn is mine to keep.’ Say it in the morning when you first arise. Say it at noon. Say it at night. Say it each hour of every day. Say it to yourself until the words stand out like letters of fire across the sky.
“Impress yourself with the idea. Fill yourself with the thought. Then take whatever portion seems wise. Let it be not less than one-tenth and lay it by. Arrange your other expenditures to do this if necessary. But lay by that portion first. Soon you will realize what a rich feeling it is to own a treasure upon which you alone have claim. As it grows it will stimulate you. A new joy of life will thrill you. Greater efforts will come to you to earn more. For of your increased earnings, will not the same percentage be also yours to keep?
“Then learn to make your treasure work for you. Make it your slave. Make its children and its children’s children work for you.
“Insure an income for thy future. Look thou at the aged and forget not that in the days to come thou also will be numbered among them. Therefore invest thy treasure with greatest caution that it be not lost. Usurious rates of return are deceitful sirens that sing but to lure the unwary upon the rocks of loss and remorse.
“Provide also that thy family may not want should the Gods call thee to their realms. For such protection it is always possible to make provision with small payments at regular intervals. Therefore the provident man delays not in expectation of a large sum becoming available for such a wise purpose.
“Counsel with wise men. Seek the advice of men whose daily work is handling money. Let them save you from such an error as I myself made in entrusting my money to the judgment of Azmur, the brickmaker. A small return and a safe one is far more desirable than risk.
“Enjoy life while you are here. Do not overstrain or try to save too much. If one-tenth of all you earn is as much as you can comfortably keep, be content to keep this portion. Live otherwise according to your income and let not yourself get niggardly and afraid to spend. Life is good and life is rich with things worthwhile and things to enjoy.”
His friends thanked him and went away. Some were silent because they had no imagination and could not understand. Some were sarcastic because they thought that one so rich should divide with old friends not so fortunate. But some had in their eyes a new light. They realized that Algamish had come back each time to the room of the scribes because he was watching a man work his way out of darkness into light. When that man had found the light, a place awaited him. No one could fill that place until he had for himself worked out his own understanding, until he was ready for opportunity.
These latter were the ones, who, in the following years, frequently revisited Arkad, who received them gladly. He counselled with them and gave them freely of his wisdom as men of broad experience are always glad to do. And he assisted them in so investing their savings that it would bring in a good interest with safety and would neither be lost nor entangled in investments that paid no dividends.
The turning point in these men’s lives came upon that day when they realized the truth that had come from Algamish to Arkad and from Arkad to them.
A PART OF ALL YOU EARN IS YOURS TO KEEP
