He must have been endowed with some force and talent to do that.  His whole life and strength and talent had been devoted to making money and hoarding it.  That money was the whole output of the man’s life.  Then he died and the whole output of his life was left behind.  He passed out of this life stripped to the skin.  Into the other world, where wealth is reckoned otherwise than in gold, he entered a sheer pauper.  The purchasing power of his wealth stopped at the line of departure out of this world. It failed.

Foreign Exchange.

Exchange your gold into men.  Buy up some of the kind of coin they use in the homeland, so that you may have some wealth when you get there.  Suppose you should be over on the continent of Europe, shopping in Berlin.  You buy some goods in a store and lay down upon the counter a twenty-dollar gold piece in payment.  The salesman would say, “What sort of money is this?” and you would likely say, “That is good American gold, sir.”  And he would probably reply, “I have no doubt that is true, and that it is good money.  But it is not the sort we receive here.  You will have to go to the bankers and get it changed into German marks and then I’ll be pleased to complete this sale.”  And so you would be obliged to do if you had not thought to provide yourself with German money.

There are some people that will have an experience like that after a while, I’m thinking.  Some one thinks that that is not a very likely illustration.  A man going to Europe would provide himself with proper money to use.  Maybe it is not a very good illustration for Europe.  But how about some other strange lands to which folks go?  There seem to be several people who expect to go to a strange country, and yet do not provide any of its recognized coinage before going.

Here is a man who gets through his life down on the earth, and goes out into the other life.  Judging by the whole tenor of his life he will attempt to take some of his belongings with him.  Indeed so much are these belongings a part of his very life that they seem inseparable from him.  Here he comes up to the gateway of the upper world.  He is lugging along a farm or two, some town lots, and houses, and a lot of beautifully engraved paper, bank stock and railroad bonds and other bonds.  They are absorbing him completely as he puffs slowly along.

And as he gets up to the gateway, the gateman will say, “What’s all that stuff?” “Stuff!” he will say, astonished; “this is the most precious wealth of earth, sir.  I have spent my whole life, the cream of my strength in accumulating this.”  “Oh, well,” the reply will be, “I have no doubt that is so.  I am not disputing your word at all.  But that sort of thing does not pass current up in this land.  That has to be exchanged at the bankers’ offices for the sort of coinage we use here.”