"'There,' he said, 'that jacket just fits you. You are in Canaan now,
and must walk, oh, so straight and carefully! Why, if you make even ever
so little a mistake, you will be punished, I fear, dreadfully. But that
jacket will help you and keep you from doing anything far out of the
way.' And with that he left me.
"Well, I wanted anything that would help me, so I kept the jacket on.
It bothered me considerably. It was made of stiff, iron stays, woven in
with rough haircloth, both of which were made, so Mr. Legality said, by
one Mr. Over-Conscientious Scruple who lives in the town of Sensitive.
"Every move I made was retarded by that jacket. By and by sore places
appeared where the end of the stays engaged my flesh. I met Mr. Legality
once and told him how bad the jacket was treating me, but he said the
cure was to buckle it on tighter. Oh, my, how it did hurt! But he said
it would be dangerous to take it off. So I continued to suffer. I could
not act freely in any matter.
"Just about this time old Giant Doubt met me. He carried a book and a
big pencil. 'Sit down here while I give you an examination; that is my
business,' he said. 'My lord has commissioned me to do this work.
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