Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/1881pilgrim00bunyrich 
 
THE 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 
 
 FROM 
 
 THIS WO ELD, 
 
 TO 
 
 THAT WIIIGII IS TO COME 
 
 BY JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 Wi^iilx ^llu^ixixiimx^ htj ^nrujuul m& (^iktx^. 
 
 New York 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK EXCHANGE 
 
 7 64: Broadway 
 
 1881 
 
Printed by Thomas Holman, 
 
 Cor. Centre & White Sts., 
 
 New York. 
 
M 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 
 
 FOK HIS BOOK, 
 
 When at the first I took my pen in hand 
 Thus for to write, I did not understand 
 That I at all should make a little book 
 In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook 
 To make another ; which, when almost done, 
 Before I was aware, I thus begun. 
 
 And thus it was : I, writing of the way 
 And race of saints, in this our gospel day, 
 Fell suddenly into an allegory 
 About their journey, and the way to glory, 
 In more than twenty things which I set down. 
 This done, I twenty more had in my crown; 
 And they again began to multiply. 
 Like sparks that from tlie coals or fire do fly. 
 Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, 
 I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
 Should prove ml iiijinitum, and eat out 
 The book that I already am about. 
 
 Well, so I .did ; but yet I did not think 
 To show to all the world my pen and ink 
 In such a m.ocle; I only thought to make 
 I knew not what : nor did I undertake 
 Thereby to please my neighbour: no, not I; 
 I did it my own self to gratify. 
 
 Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
 In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 
 (3) 
 
 269495 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 
 
 But to divert myself, in doing this, 
 
 From worser thoughts which make me do amiss. 
 
 Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 
 And quickly had my thoughts in black and white; 
 For, having now my method by the end, 
 Still as I pulled, it came ; and so I penned 
 It down : until it came at last to be, 
 For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 
 
 Well, when I had thus mine ends together, 
 I showed thcxU others, that I might see whether 
 They would condemn them, or them justify : 
 And some said, Let them live; some. Let them die: 
 Some said, John, print it; others said. Not so: 
 Some said. It might do good ; others said, No. 
 
 Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
 Which was the best thing to be done by me: 
 At last I thought. Since you aie thus divided, 
 I print it will, and so the case decided. 
 
 For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done, 
 Though others in that channel do not run: 
 To prove, then, who advised for the best, 
 Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 
 
 I further thought, if now I did deny 
 Tliose that would have it, thus to gratify, 
 I did not know but hinder them I might 
 Of that which would to them be great delight. 
 
 For those which were not for its coming forth, 
 I said to them. Offend you I am loath. 
 Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be, 
 Forbear to judge till you do. further see. 
 
 If that thou wilt not read, let it alone; 
 Some love the meat, some love to pick a bone. 
 Yea, that I might them better palliate, 
 I did too with them thus expostulate : — 
 
 May I not write in such a style as this ? 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 
 
 In such a method, too, and yet not miss 
 
 My end — thy good ? Why may it not he done ? 
 
 Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. 
 
 Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
 
 Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, 
 
 Gives praise to both, and carpcth not at either, 
 
 But treasures up the fruit they yield together; 
 
 Yea, so commixes both, that in her fruit 
 
 None can distinguish this from thit; they suit 
 
 Her well when hungry ; but, if she be full. 
 
 She spews out both, and makes their blessings null. 
 
 You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
 To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make ! 
 Behold how he engageth all his wits; 
 Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets; 
 Yet fish there be, that neither hook, nor line, 
 Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine: 
 They must be groped for, and be tickled, too, 
 Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. 
 
 How does the fowler seek to catch his game 
 By divers means ! all which one cannot name : 
 His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell; 
 He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell 
 Of all his postures ? Yet theie's none of these 
 Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
 Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this ; 
 Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss, ^^ 
 
 If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 
 And may be found too in an oyster-shell • 
 If things that promise nothing do contain 
 What better is than gold; who will disdain, 
 That have an inkling of it, th erto look. 
 That they may find it ? Now, my little book 
 "(Though void of all these paintings that may make 
 It with this or the other man to take) 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 
 
 Is not without those things that do excel 
 What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 
 
 "Well, yet I am not fully satisfied 
 That this your book will staud, when soundly tried.*' 
 
 Why, what's the matter? " It is dark. " What though? 
 ^* But it is feigned." What of that? I trow 
 Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine, 
 Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine. 
 "But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. 
 "They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind." 
 
 Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
 Of him that writeth things divine to men ; 
 But must I needs want solidness, because 
 By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's lawa^ 
 Ilis gospel laws, in olden times held forth 
 By types, shadows, and metaphors ? Yet loath 
 Will any sober man be to find fault 
 With them, lest he be found for to assault 
 The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops. 
 And bceks to find out what by pins and loops, 
 By calves and sheeps, by heifers and by rams, 
 By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
 God speaketh to liim ; and liappy is he 
 That finds the light and grace that in them be. 
 
 Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
 That I want solidness — that I am rude ; 
 All things solid in show not solid be ; 
 All things in parables despise not we; 
 Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive. 
 And things that good are, of our souls bereave. 
 My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold 
 The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. 
 
 The prophets us^d much by metaphors 
 To set forth truth ; yea, whoso considers 
 Christ, his Apostles too, shall plainly see, 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 
 
 That truths to this day in such mantles be. 
 
 Am I afraid to say that Holy Writ, 
 Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, 
 Is everywhere so full of all these things — 
 Park figures, allegories ? Yet there springs 
 From that same book that lustre, and those rays 
 Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. 
 
 Come, let my carper to his life now look. 
 And find there darker lines than in my book 
 He findeth any ; yea, and let him know. 
 That in his best things there are worse lines too. 
 
 May we but stand before impartial men, 
 To his poor one I dare adventure ten, 
 That they will take my meaning in these lines 
 Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
 Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find, 
 Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind. 
 Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
 Su])mit ; the memory too it doth fill 
 With what doth our imaginations please ; 
 Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 
 
 Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, 
 And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; 
 But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid 
 The use of parables; in which lay hid 
 That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were 
 Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 
 Let me add one word more. O man of God, 
 Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
 Put forth my matter in another dress? 
 Or that I had in things been more express? 
 Three things let me propound ; then I submit 
 To those that are my betters, as is fit. 
 
 1. I find not that I am denied the use 
 Of this my method, so I no abuse 
 
THE AUTHORVS APOLOGY. 
 
 Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude 
 lu handling figure or similitude. 
 In application ; but, all that I may. 
 Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
 Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave 
 (Example too, and that from them that have 
 God better pleased, by their words or ways, 
 Than any man that breathetli now-a-days) 
 Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
 Things unto thee that excellentest are 
 
 2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write 
 Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight 
 For writing so: indeed, if they abuse 
 
 Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they us© 
 To that intent ; but yet let truth be free 
 To make her sallies upon thee and me. 
 Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how, 
 Better than he that taught us first to plough. 
 To guide our mind and pens for his design? 
 And he makes base things usher in divine. 
 
 3. I find that Holy Writ in many places 
 
 Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
 Do call for one thing, to set forth another ; 
 Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother 
 Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may 
 Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 
 
 And now before I do put up my pen, 
 I'll show the profit of my book, and then 
 Commit both thee and it unto that Hand 
 That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 
 
 This book it chalketh out before thine eyes 
 The man that seeks the everlasting prize ; 
 It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes; 
 What he leaves undone, also what he does; 
 It also shows you how he runs and runs. 
 
THE AUTHOR'S AVOLOGY. 9 
 
 Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 
 
 It shows, too, who set out for life amain, 
 As if the lasting crown they would obtain ; 
 Here also you may see the reason why 
 They lose their labour, and like fools do die. 
 
 This book will make a traveller of thee, 
 If by its counsel thou wait ruled be; ^ 
 It w^ill direct thee to the Holy Land, 
 If thou wilt its directions understand : 
 Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; 
 The Ulind also delightful things to see. 
 
 Art thou for something fair and profitable? 
 Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable? 
 Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember 
 From New Year's day to the last of December? 
 Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burs, 
 And may be, to the helpless comforters. 
 
 This book is w^'it in such a dialect 
 As may the minds of listless men affect: 
 It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
 Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 
 
 Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy? 
 Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly? 
 Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation? 
 Or elsQ be drowned in thy contemplation? 
 Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see 
 A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee? 
 Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep? 
 Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep? 
 Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, 
 And find thyself again without a charm? 
 Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know est not what? 
 And yet know whether thou art blest or not. 
 By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither, 
 And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 
 
 John Bunyan. 
 
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lij?hted 
 6n a certain place where was a Den ; and I laid me down in 
 that place to sleep : and as I slept I dreamed a dream. I 
 dreamed, and behold I saw a man clothed with rags, standing 
 in a certain place, vath his face from his own house, a Book 
 in his hand, and a great "burden upon his back. (Isa. Ixiv. G; 
 Luke xiv. 34 ; Psa. xxxviii. 4.) I looked, and saw him open 
 the Book, and read therein ; and, ii9 he read, he wept and 
 trembled ; and not being able longer to contain, he brake out 
 with a lamentable cry, saying, *'What shall I do?" (Acts 
 ii. 37.) 
 
 In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained him- 
 self as long as he could, that his wife and children sh<^i>ld net 
 perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent long, because 
 that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his 
 mind to his wife and children ; and thus he began to talk to 
 them: '*0 my dear wife," said he, '*and, you the children 
 of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by 
 reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am 
 for certain informed that this our city will be burned with fire 
 from heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with 
 thee, my wife, and you, my sweet babes, shall miserably 
 come to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of 
 escape can be found, whereby we maybe delivered." At this 
 his relations were sore amaacd; not for that they believed 
 
 (11) 
 
12 THE MAN MEETS EVANGELIST. 
 
 that what he had said to them was true, but because they 
 thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his head ; 
 therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that 
 sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to 
 bed. But the night was as troublesome to him as the day: 
 wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. 
 So when the morning was come, they would know how he 
 did; he told them, *' Worse and worse." He also set to talk- 
 ing to them again; but they began to be hardened. They 
 also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly 
 carriages to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes 
 they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect 
 him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, 
 to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; 
 he would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, 
 and sometimes praying; and thus for some days he spent his 
 time. 
 
 Now, I saw upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, 
 that he was, as he was wont, reading in his Book, and greatly 
 distressed in his mind ; and as he read, he burst out, as he 
 had done before, crying, *'What shall I do to be saved?'' 
 (Acts^xvi. 30, 31.) 
 
 I also saw that he looked this way and that way, as if he 
 would run; yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, he 
 could not tell which way to go. I looked then, and saw a 
 man named Evangelist coming to him, who asked, ** Where- 
 fore dost thou cry ? " 
 
 He answered, *'Sir, I perceive by the Book in my hand, 
 that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to judg- 
 ment (Heb. ix. 27), and I find that I am not willing to do 
 the first (Job. xiv. 21, 22), nor able to do the second." 
 (Ezek. xxii. 14.) 
 
 Then said Evangelist, *' Why not willing to die, since this 
 life is attended with so many evils? " The man answered, 
 ** Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will 
 
HE BEGINS TO RUN. 13 
 
 sink me lowef than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet. 
 (Isa. XXX. 33.) And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am 
 not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution; and 
 the thoughts of these things make me cry." 
 
 Then said Evangelist, *'If this be thy condition, why 
 standest thou still?" He answered, *• Because I know not 
 whither to go.'' Then he gave him a parchment roll, and 
 there was written within, "Flee from the wrath to come." 
 (Matt. iii. 7.) 
 
 The man, therefore, read it, and, looking upon Evangelist 
 very carefully, said, ^ ' Whither must I fly ? " Then said Evan- 
 gelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field, "Do 
 you see yonder wicket-gate ?" (Matt. vii. 13, 14.) The man 
 said, " No." Then said the other, "Do you see yonder shin- 
 ing light ? " (Psa. cxix. 105; 2 Pet. i. 19.) He said, "I 
 think I do." Then said Evangelist, "Keep that light in 
 your eye, and go up directly thereto; so shalt thou see the 
 gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee 
 what thou shalt do." 
 
 So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, 
 he had not run far from his own door, but his wife and chil- 
 dren perceiving it, began to cry after him to return ; but the 
 man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on crying, "Life I 
 life ! eternal life ! " (Luke xiv. 26.) So he looked not behind 
 him, but fled towards the middle of the plain. (Gen. xix. 
 17.) 
 
 The neighbours also came out to see him run (Jer. xx. 10), 
 and, as he ran, some mocked, others threatened; and some 
 cried after him to return. Now among those that did so, 
 there were two ^hat resolved to fetch him back by force : the 
 name of the one was Obstinate, and the name of the other 
 Pliable. Now, by this time, the man was got a good dis- 
 tance from them ; but, however, they were resolved to pur- 
 sue him, which they did, and in a little time they overtook 
 him. Then said the man, "Neighbours, wherefore are you 
 
14 OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE. 
 
 come ?" They said, **To persuade you to go back with us." 
 But he said, ** That can by no means be ; you dwell," said he, 
 *' in the City of Destruction (the place also where I was born) ; 
 I see it to be so ; and, dying there, sooner or later, you will 
 sink lower than the grave, into a place that. burns with fire 
 and brimstone: be content, good neighbours, and go along 
 with me." 
 
 *'What! " said Obstinate, **and leave our friends and com- 
 forts behind us ?" 
 
 *'Yes," said Christian — for that was his name — '* because 
 that ALL which you sliall forsake is not worthy to be com- 
 pared with a little of that that I am seeking to enjoy (2 Cor. 
 iv. 17, 18) ; and, if you will go along with me, and hold it, 
 you shall fare as I myself ; for there, where I go, is enough 
 and to spare. (Luke xv. 17.) Come away, and prove my 
 words." 
 
 Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the 
 world to find them ? 
 
 Chk. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and 
 that fadeth not away (1 Pet. i. 4), and it is laid up in heaven, 
 and safe there (Heb. xi. 16), to be bestowed at the time ap- 
 pointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you 
 will, in my Book. 
 
 '' Tush ! " said Obstinate, ** away with your Book ; will you 
 go back with us or no ? " 
 
 '* No, not I," said the other, ^' because I have laid my hand 
 to the plough." (Luke ix. 62.) 
 
 Obst. Come then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again and 
 go home • without him ; there is a company of these crazed- 
 headed coxcombs that, when they take a fancy by the end, 
 are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a 
 reason. (Pro v. xxvi. 16.) 
 
 Then said Pliable, *' Don't revile; if what the good Chris- 
 tian says is true, the things he looks after are better than 
 ours; my heart inclines to go with my neighbour." 
 
PLIABLE YIELDS TO CHRISTIAN. 15 
 
 Obst. What ! more fools still ? Be ruled by me, and go 
 back ; who kiltows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead 
 you ? Go back, go back, and be wise. 
 
 Chr. Nay, but do thou come with me, neighbour Pliable ; 
 there are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many 
 more glories besides. If you believe not me, read here in this 
 Book ; and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, 
 all is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it. (Heb. ix. ' 
 17-22; xiii. 20, 21). 
 
 '*Well, neighbour Obstinate," said Pliable, "I begin to 
 come to a point ; I intend to go along with this good man, 
 and to cast in my lot with him : but, my good companion, do 
 you know the way to this desired place ? " 
 
 Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, 
 to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall re- 
 ceive instructions about the way. 
 
 Pli, Come, then, good neighbour, let us be going. 
 
 Then they went both together. 
 
 *'And I will go back to my place," said Obstinate. "I 
 will be no companion of such misled, fantastical fellows." 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate was gone 
 back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain ; and 
 thus they began their discourse. 
 
 Chr. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do ? I am 
 glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had even Ob- 
 stinate himself but felt what I have felt of the powers and 
 terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have 
 given us the back. 
 
 Pli. Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none but 
 us two here, tell me now further what the things are, and how 
 to be enjoyed, whither we are going. 
 
 Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind, than 
 speak of them with my tongue: but yet, since you are desir- 
 ous to know, I will read of them in my Book. 
 
 Pli. And do you think that the words of your Book are 
 certainly true ? 
 
16 CHRISTIAN AND PLIABLE DISCOURSE. 
 
 Chb. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that cannot 
 he. (Titns i. 2). • 
 
 Pli. Well said; what things are they? 
 
 Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and 
 everlasting life to be given us; that we may inhabit that 
 kingdom for ever, (Isa. xlv. 17; John x. 27, 29.) 
 
 Pli. Well said ; and what else ? 
 
 Chr. There are crowns ot glory to be given us, and gar- 
 ments that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament 
 of heaven. (2 Tim. iv. 8; Rev. iii. 4; Matt. xiii. 43.) 
 
 Pli. This is very excellent; and what else ? 
 
 Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow: for He 
 that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes. 
 (Isa. XXV. 6-8; Rev. vii. 16, 17; xxi. 4.) 
 
 Pli, And what company shall we have there ? 
 
 Chr. There we shall be with seraphim and cherubim, 
 creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. (Isa. vi. 
 2.) There also you shall meet with thousands and ten thou- 
 sands that have gone before us to that place; none of them 
 are hurtful, but loving and holy ; every one walkmg in the 
 sight of God, and standing in his presence with acceptance 
 forever. (1 Thess. iv. 16, 17; Rev. v. 11.) In aw^ord, there 
 .we shall see the elders with their golden crowns (Rev. iv. 4.) ; 
 there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps 
 (Rev. xiv. 1-5.) ; there we shall see men that by the world were 
 cut in pieces, burned in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in 
 the seas, for the love that they bare to the Lord of the place, 
 all weil^ and clothed with immortality as with a garment. 
 (John XII. 25; 2 Cor. v. 2, 3, 5.) 
 
 Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. 
 But are these things to be enjoyed ? How shall we get to be 
 sharers thereof ? 
 
 Chr. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded 
 that in this Book ; the substance of which is. If we be truly 
 willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us freely. (Isa. Iv. 
 1, 2; John vi. 37; vii. 37; Rev. xxi. 6; xxii. 17.) 
 
BOTH FALL INTO A BOG. 17 
 
 Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these 
 things: come on, let us mend our pace. 
 
 • Chr, I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this bur- 
 den that is upon my back. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this 
 talk they drew near to a very miry slough, that was in the 
 midst of the plain ; and they, being heedless, did both fall 
 suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. 
 Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously 
 bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the burden 
 that was on his back, began to sink in the mire . 
 
 Then said Pliable, "Ah ! neighbour Christian, where are 
 you now ? '* 
 
 *' Truly, "said Christian, "I do not know." 
 
 At this. Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to 
 his fell ow,^ *' Is this the happiness you have told me all this 
 while of ? If we have such ill speed at our first setting out, 
 what may we expect betwixt this and our journey's end ! May 
 I get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave coun- 
 try alone for me." And with that he gave a desperate strug- 
 gle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough 
 which was next to his own house. So away he went, and 
 Christian saw him no more. 
 
 Wherefore Christian w^as left to tumble in the Slough of 
 Despond alone : but still he endeavoured to struggle to that 
 side of the slough that was still further from his own house, 
 and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not 
 get out, because of the burden that was upon his back: but I 
 beheld in my dream that a man came to him, whose name was 
 Help, and asked him what he did there. 
 
 *' Sir,'- said Christian, '*! was bid go this way by a man 
 called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that 
 I might escape the wrath to come : and as I was going thither, 
 I fell in here." 
 
 Help. But why did you not look for the steps ? 
 
18 HELP LIFTS CHRISTIAN UP 
 
 Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way 
 and fell in. 
 
 Then said he, '* Give me thy hand." So he gave him his 
 hand, and he drew him out, and set him upon sound ground* 
 and bid him go on his way, (Psa. xl. 2.) 
 
 Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, 
 *' Sir, wherefore (since over this place is the way from the 
 City of Destruction to yonder gate) is it that this plat is not 
 mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more 
 security ? " And he said unto me, *' This miry slough is such 
 a place as cannot be mended ; it is the descent whither the 
 scum and filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually 
 run, and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for 
 still, as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there 
 ariseth in his soul many fears, and doubts, and discouraging 
 apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in 
 this place. And this is the reason of the badness of this 
 ground. 
 
 *'It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should 
 remain so bad. (Isa. xxxv. 3, 4.) His labourers also have, by 
 the direction of His Majesty's surveyors, been for above these 
 sixteen hundred years * employed about this patch of ground, 
 if perhaps it might have been mended : yea, and to my knowl- 
 edge," said he, *'here have been swallowed up at least 
 twenty thousand cart-loads, y^a, millions of wholesome in- 
 structions, that have at all seasons been brought from all 
 places of the King's dominions (and fliey that can tell, say 
 they are the best materials to make good ground of the place), 
 if so be it might have been mended ; but it is the Slough of 
 Despond still, and so will be, when they have done what they 
 can. 
 
 "True, there are, by the direction of the Law-giver, certain 
 good and substantial steps, placed even through the midst of 
 
 * The first part of Pilgrim's Progress was written between the years 1660 an<? 
 1672. 
 
MR. WORLDLY WISEMiliA. 19 
 
 tills slough ; but at such time as this phice doth much spew 
 out Its filth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps 
 are liardly seen; or, if they be, men, through the dizziness of 
 their heads, step beside; and then they are bemired to pur- 
 pose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the ground is 
 good when they are once got in at the gate." (1 Sam. xii. 23.) 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got 
 home to his house again ; so that his neighbours came to visit 
 him; and some of them called him wise man for coming back ; 
 and some called him fool for hazarding himself with Chris- 
 tian: others again did mock at his cowardliness, saying, 
 " Surely, since you began to venture, I would not have been 
 so base as to have given out for a few difficulties." So Pliable 
 sat sneaking among them. But at last he got more confidence, 
 and then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor 
 Christian behind his back. 
 
 And thus mur-h concerning Pliable. 
 
 Now, as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he 
 espied one afar off, come crossing over the field to meet him; 
 and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing the way 
 of each other. The gentleman's name that met him was Mr. 
 Worldly Wiseman : he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a 
 very great town, and also hard by from whence Christian 
 came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having 
 some inkling of him — for Christian's setting forth from the 
 City of Destruction was much noised abroad, not only in the 
 town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town-talk in 
 some other places — Master Worldly Wiseman, therefore, hav- 
 ing some guess of him, by l)eholding his laborious going, by 
 observing his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to 
 enter into some talk with Christian. 
 
 World. How now, good fellow, whither away after this 
 burdened manner ? 
 
 Chr. a burdened manner, indeed, as ever, I thiiil:, j^oor 
 creature had ! And whereas you ask me. Whither away ? I 
 
20 MR. WORLDLY WISEMAN'S TALK. 
 
 tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket-gate before me ; for 
 there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of 
 my heavy burden. 
 
 World. Hast thou a wife and children ? 
 
 Cur. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that I can- 
 not take that pleasure in them as formerly ; methinks I am as 
 if I had none. (1 Cor. vii. 29.) 
 
 World. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee counsel ? 
 
 Chr. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of good 
 counsel.* 
 
 World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed 
 get thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt never be settled 
 in thy mind till then ; nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the 
 blessing which God hath bestowed upon thee till then. 
 
 Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this 
 heavy burd<3n ; but get it off myself I cannot : nor is there 
 any man in our country that can take it off my shoulders-; 
 therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be 
 rid of my burden. 
 
 World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden? 
 
 CiiR. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and 
 honourable person ; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist. 
 
 World.. I beshrew him for his counsel I there is not a more 
 dangerous and troublesome way in the world, than is that 
 unto which he hath directed thee ; and- that thou shalt find if 
 thou will be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with some- 
 thing, as I perceive, already ; for I see the dirt of the Slough 
 of Despond is upon thee ; but that slough is tlie beginning of 
 the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. 
 Hear me, I am older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in 
 the way which thou goest, wearisomencss, painfulness, hunger, 
 perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a 
 word, death, and what not! These things are certainly true, 
 having been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should 
 a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed to u 
 stranger 'i 
 
AN OBJECTION TO BIBLE READING 21 
 
 Chr. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible 
 to me than are all these things which you have mentioned; 
 nay, methinks I care not What I meet with in the way, if so be 
 I can also meet with deliverance from my burden. 
 World. How camest thou by the burden at first ? 
 Chr. By reading this Book in my hand. 
 World. I thought so; and it is happened unto thee, as to 
 other weak men, who, meddling with things too high foi 
 them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions; which distrac- 
 tions do not only unman men, as thine, I perceive, has done 
 thee, bnt they run them upon desperate ventures, to obtain 
 they know not what. 
 
 CiiR. I know v/hat I would obtain ; it is ease for my heavy 
 burden. 
 
 World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing 
 so many dangers attend it ? Especially since, hadst thou but 
 patience Lo hear me, I could direct thee to the obtaining of 
 what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way 
 wilt run thyself into ; yea, and the remedy is at hand. Be- 
 sides, I will add that, instead of those dangers, thou shalt 
 meet watli much safety, friendship, and content. 
 Chr. Pray, sir, open this secret to me. 
 World. Why, in yonder village — the village is named 
 Morality — there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a 
 very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, that has 
 skill to help men off with such burdens as thine are from their 
 shoulders: yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal 
 of good this way; ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those 
 that are somewhat crazed in their wits v/ith their burdens. 
 To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped 2:)resently. 
 His house is not quite a mile from this place ; and if he should 
 noc be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man to his 
 son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on). as 
 well as the old gentleman himself: there, I say, thou mayest 
 be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not minded to go 
 
23 CHRISTIAN TURNS OUT OF HIS WAY. 
 
 back to thy former habitation, as indeed I would not wish 
 thee, thou may est send for thy wife and children to thee to 
 this village, where there are houses now stand empty, one of 
 which thou mayest have at reasonable rates ; provision is there 
 also cheap and good ; and that which will make thy life the 
 more happy is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest 
 neighbours, in credit and good ashion. 
 
 Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he 
 concluded. If this be true which this gentleman hath said, 
 my wisest course is to take his advice: and with that he thus 
 further spoke : — 
 
 Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house? 
 
 World. Do you see yonder high hill ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, very well. 
 
 World. By that hill you must go, and the first house you 
 come at is his. 
 
 So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's 
 house for help: but behold, when he was got now hard by the 
 hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next 
 the way-side did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid 
 to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head ; where- 
 fore there he stood still, and wotted not what to do. Also his 
 burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was in his 
 way. There came also flashes 'of fire out of the hill, that 
 made Christian afraid that he should be burned. (Ex. xix. 16, 
 18.) Here therefore he did sweat, and quake for fear. (Heb. 
 xii. 21.) 
 
 And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. World- 
 ly Wiseman's counsel. And with that he saw Evangelist 
 coming to meet him; at the sight also of whom he began to 
 blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and 
 coming up to him, he looked upon him with a severe and 
 dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason with Christian. 
 
 "What doest thou here, Christian?" said he; at which 
 words Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore, at pre* 
 
A MAN WHO LOOKED LIKE A GENTLEMAN. 23 
 
 ent he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist 
 further, " Art not thou the man that I found crying without 
 the walls of the City of Destruction ? '^ 
 
 Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 
 
 Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket- 
 gate ? 
 
 *' Yes, dear sir," said Christian. 
 
 Evan. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned 
 aside ? for thou art now out of the way. 
 
 Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the 
 Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that I might in the 
 village before me find a man that could take off my burden. 
 
 Evan. What was he ? 
 
 Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, 
 and got me at last to yield; so I came hither: but when I be- 
 held this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly 
 made a stand, lest it should fall on my head. 
 
 Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? 
 
 Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going ; and I told him. 
 
 Evan. And what said he then ? 
 
 Chr. He asked me if I had a family ; and I told him. But, 
 said I, I am so loaden with the burden that is on my back, 
 that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly. 
 
 Evan. And what said he then ? 
 
 Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I 
 told him it was ease that I sought : and, said I. I am therefore 
 going to yonder gate, to receive further direction how I may 
 get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would 
 show me a better way, and short, not so attended with diffi- 
 culties as the way, sir, that you set me ; which way, said he, 
 will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take 
 off these burdens: so I believed him, and turned out of that 
 way into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. 
 But when I came to this place, and beheld things as they\are, 
 I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger : but I now know not 
 what to do. 
 
24 THE HAZARD CHRISTIAN HAS RUN. 
 
 Hien said Evangelist, ' ' Stand still a little, that I may sho^v 
 thee the words of God." So he stood, trembling. Then said 
 Evangelist, " See that ye refuse not Him that speak eth. For 
 if they escaped not who refused Him that spake on earth, 
 much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him 
 that speaketh from heaven. (Heb. xii. 25.) He said, more- 
 over, *'Now the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw 
 back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him." (Heb. x. 38.) 
 He also did thus apply them : '' Thou art the man that art run- 
 ning into this misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel 
 of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of 
 peace, even almost to the hazard of thy perdition." 
 
 Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, **Woe 
 is me, for I am undone ! " At the sight of which, Evangelist 
 caught him by -the right hand, saying, "All manner of sin and 
 blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men. (Matt. xii. 31 ; Mark 
 iii. 28.) Be not faithless, but believing." (John xx. 27.) 
 Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trem- 
 bling, as at first, before Evangelist. 
 
 Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, "Give more earnest 
 heed to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now show 
 thee who it was that deluded thee and who it was also to 
 whom he sent thee. The man that met thee is one Worldly 
 Wiseman, and rightly is he so called : partly because he savour- 
 eth only the doctrine of this world (1 Johniv. 5.), therefore 
 \e always goes to the town of Morality to church; and partly 
 because he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from 
 the cross. (Gal. vi. 12.) And because he is of this carnal 
 jemper, therefore he seekethto prevert my ways, though right. 
 Now there are three things in this man's counsel that thou 
 must utterly abhor. 
 
 " 1. His turning thee out of the way. 
 
 *' 2. His labouring to render the cross odious to thee. 
 
 '*3. And his setting thy feet in that way that lead eth unto 
 the administration of death. 
 
FRIENDLY ADVICE. 25 
 
 ** First, thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; 
 yea, and thine own consenting thereto : because this is to re- 
 ject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of a World- 
 ly Wiseman. The Lord says, ' Strive to enter in at the strait 
 gate' (Luke xiii. 24), the gate to which I send thee; 'for 
 strait is the gate which leadeth unto life, and few there be 
 that find it.' (Matt. vii. 14.) From this little wicket-gate, 
 and from the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, 
 to the bringing of thee almost to destruction ; hate, therefore, 
 his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for heark- 
 ening to him. 
 
 "Secondly, thou must abhor hi^ labouring to render the 
 cross odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it 'before the 
 treasures in Egypt.' (Heb. xi. 25, 26.) Besides, the King of 
 glory hath told thee, that he that will cave his life shall lose 
 it (Matt. X. 39; Mark. viii. 35; John xii. 25), and he that 
 comes after Him, and hates not his father, and mother, and 
 wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his 
 own life also, 'he cannot be my disciple.' (Luke xiv. 26.) 
 i say, therefore, for a man to labour to persuade thee that that 
 shall be thy death, without which, the Truth hath said, thou 
 canst not have eternal life, this doctrine thou must abhor. 
 
 *' Thirdly, thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the 
 way that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this 
 thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also how un- 
 able that person was to deliver thee from thy burden. 
 
 "He to whom- thou wast sent for ease, being by name Le- 
 gality, is tho son of the bond-woman which now is, and is in 
 bondage with her children (Gal.^. 21-27), and is, in a mys- 
 tery, this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy 
 head. Now, if she with her children are in bondage, hoW 
 canst thou expect by them to be made free ? This Legality, 
 therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No 
 man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him ; no, nor ever is 
 Like to be : ye cannot be justified by the works of the law ; for 
 
26 CHRISTIANAS SELF-REPROACH 
 
 by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his bur- 
 den: therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. 
 Legality is a cheat ; and for his son Civility, notwithstanding 
 his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help 
 thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou 
 hast heard of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee 
 of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had 
 set thee." 
 
 After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for con- 
 firmation of what he had said: and with that there came 
 T 3rds and fire out of the mountain under which poor Chris- 
 tian stood, that made the hair of his flesh stand up. The 
 words were thus pronounced : '* As many as are of the works 
 of the law are under the curse : for it is written. Cursed is 
 every one that continueth not in all things which are written 
 in the book of the law to do them." (Gal. iii. 10.) 
 
 Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to 
 cry out lamentably ; even cursing the time in wliich he met 
 with Mr. Worldly Wiseman; still calling himself a thousand 
 fools for hearkening to his counsel; he also was greatly 
 ashamed to think that this gentleman's arguments, flowing 
 only from the flesh, should have that prevalency with hi;n as 
 to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he applied 
 himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows : 
 
 Chr. Sir, what think you ? Is there hope ? May I now 
 go back and go up to the wicket-gate ? Shall I not be aban- 
 doned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed ? I am 
 sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel ; but may my sin 
 be forgiven ? 
 
 ' Then said Evangelist to him : *^ Thy sin is very great, for 
 by it thou hast committed two evils ; thou hast forsaken the 
 way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths: yet will the 
 man at the gate receive thee, for he has good-will for men; 
 only," said he, ''take heed that thou turn not aside again, 
 'lest thou pprish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but 
 a little.'" v^sa. ii. 12.) 
 
CHRISTIAN RETURNS TO THE RIGST PATH. 27 
 
 Then did Christian address himself to go back: and Evan* 
 gelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid 
 him God-speed. So he went on with haste; neither spake he 
 to any man by the way; nor, if any asked him, would he 
 vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the 
 while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means 
 tliink himself safe, till again he was got into the way which 
 he left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel. So in pro- 
 cess of time Christian got np to the gate. Now, over the 
 gate there was written, "Knock, and it shall be opened unto 
 you." (Matt. vii. 7.} 
 
 He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying — 
 
 " May I now enter here ! Will he within 
 Open to sorry me, though I have been 
 An undeserving rebel? Then shall I 
 Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high. " 
 
 At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good- 
 will, who asked who was there, and whence he came, and 
 what he would have. 
 
 Chr. Here is a poor burdened, sinner. I come from the 
 City of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may 
 be delivered from the wrath to come. I would therefore, sir, 
 since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know 
 if you are willing to let me in. 
 
 "I am willing with all my heart," said he; and with that 
 he opened the gate. 
 
 So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a 
 pull. Then said Christian, *' What means that ? " The other 
 told him, "A little distance from this gate there is erected a 
 strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain ; from thence, 
 both he and them that are with him shoot arrows at those 
 that come up to this gate, if haply they may die Before they 
 can enter in." 
 
 Then said Christian, ** I rejoice and tremble." So when he 
 
28 CHRISTIAN AND GOOD- WILL. 
 
 was got in, the man of the gate asked him who directed him 
 thither. 
 
 Cnii. Evangelist bid me come hither, and knock (as I did) ; 
 and he said that you, sir, would tell me what I must do. 
 
 Good-will. An open door is set before thee, and no man 
 can shut it, 
 
 Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards. 
 
 Good- WILL. But h ow is it that you came alone ? 
 
 Chr. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger as I 
 saw mine. 
 
 Good-will. Did any of them know of j^our coming ? 
 
 Chr. Yes ; my wife and children saw me at the first, and 
 called after me to turn again ; also, some of my' neighbours 
 stood crying and calling after me to return ; but I put my 
 fingers in my ears, and so came on my way. 
 
 Good-will. But did none of them follow you, to persuade 
 you to go back ? 
 
 Gnu. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable ; but when they saw 
 that they could not prevail. Obstinate went railing back, but 
 Pliable came with me a little way. 
 
 Good-will. But why did he not come through ? 
 
 Chr. Wc indeed came both together, until we came at the 
 Slough of Despond, into tlie which we also suddenly fell. 
 And then was my neighbour Pliable discouraged, and would 
 not adventure further. Wherefore, getting out again on that 
 side next to his own house he told me I should possess the 
 brave country alone for him ; so he went his way, and I catne 
 mine — he after Obstinate, and I to this gate. 
 
 Then said Good- will, *'Alas, poor man ! is the celestial 
 glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not 
 worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it ? '' 
 
 ^' Truly," said Christian, " I have said the truth of Pliable, 
 and if I sl^uld also say all the truth of myself, it will appear 
 there is no betterment betwixt him and myself. It is true, he 
 went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go in 
 
CHRISTIAN'S NARROW ESCAPE. 29 
 
 the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argu- 
 ments of one ]Mr. Worldly Wiseman." 
 
 Good-will. Oh ! did he light upon you ? What ! he would 
 have had you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr Legality. 
 They are, botli of them, a very cheat. But did you take his 
 counsel ? ^ 
 
 Ciin. Yes, so far as I durst : I went to find out Mr. Legality, 
 until I thought that the mountain that stands by his house 
 would have fallen upon my head; wherefore, there I was 
 forced .to stop. 
 
 Good-will. That mountain has been the death of many, 
 and will be the death of many more ; it is well you escaped 
 being by it dashed in pieces. 
 
 Cnii. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me 
 there, had not Evangelist happily met me again, as I was 
 musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was God's mercy 
 that he came to me again, for else I had never cojn.e liither. 
 But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit, indeed, for 
 death, by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my 
 Lord; but, oh, what a favour is this to me, that yet I am ad- 
 mitted entrance liere ! 
 
 Good-will. We make no objections against any, notwith- 
 standing all that they have done before they came hither. 
 They are "in no wise cast out" (John vi, 37), and therefore, 
 good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach 
 thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; dost 
 thou see this narrow way ? That is the way thou must go; it 
 was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and hi^ 
 apostles ; and it is as straight as a rule can make it. This is 
 the way thou must go. 
 
 "But," said Christian, "are there no turnings or windings, 
 by which a stranger may lose his way ? " 
 
 Good-will. Yes, there are many ways butt* down upon 
 
 * Abut,. or border upon. 
 
30 HOW TO GET RID OF THE BURDEN. 
 
 this, and they are crooked and wide. But thus thou mayest 
 distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being 
 straight and narrow. (Matt. vii. 14.) 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further 
 if he could not help him off with his burden that was upon 
 his back; for as yet he liad not got rid thereof, nor could he 
 by any means get it off without help. 
 
 He told him, '*As to thy burden, be content to bear it, 
 until thou comest to the place of deliverance; for there it will 
 fall from thy back of itself." 
 
 Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address 
 himself to his journey. So the other told him that by that he 
 Was gone some distance irom the gate, he would come at the 
 house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and 
 he would show him excellent things. Then Christian took 
 his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God-speed. 
 
 Then he went on till he came at the house of the Interpre- 
 ter, where he knocked over: at last one came to the door, and 
 asked who was there. 
 
 Cur. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquain- 
 tance of the good-man of this house to call here for my profit ; 
 I would therefore speak with the master of the house. 
 
 So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little 
 time, came to Cnristian, and asked him what he would have. 
 *' Sir," said Christian, ''I am a man that am come from the 
 City of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion ; and I 
 was told by the man that stands at the gate, at the head of 
 this way, that if I called here, you would show me excellent 
 things, such as would be a help to me in my journey," 
 
 Then said the Interpreter, "Come in; I will show thee that 
 which will be profitable to thee." So he commanded his man 
 to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him^ So he had 
 him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the 
 which when he had done, Christian saw the pictureof a very 
 grave person hang up against the wall; and this was the 
 
ONE OF A THOUSAND. 31 
 
 fashion of it. It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best ol 
 books in his hand, the law of truth was written upon his lips, 
 the world was behind his back ; it stood as if it pleaded with 
 men, and a crown of gold did hang over his head. 
 
 Then said Christian, '* What means this ? " 
 
 Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand ; 
 he can beget children (1 Cor. iv. 15), travail in birth with 
 children (Gal. iv. 19), and nurse them himself when they are 
 born. And \^hereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to 
 heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth 
 writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know 
 and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him 
 stand as if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou seest 
 the world as cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over his 
 liead, that is to show thee that slighting and despising the 
 things that are present, for the love that he hath to his Mas- 
 ter's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to have 
 glory for his reward. 
 
 ''Now," said the Interpreter, *'Ihave showed thee this 
 picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the 
 only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going 
 hath authorized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou 
 mayest meet with in the way : wherefore, take good heed to 
 what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what 
 thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with some that 
 pretend to lead the right, but their way goes down to death." 
 
 Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very 
 large parlour that was full of dust, because never swept; the 
 which after he had reviewed a little while, the Interpreter 
 called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, 
 the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had 
 almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to 
 a damsel that stood by, " Bring hither the water, and sprin- 
 kle the room;" the which when she had done, it was swept 
 and cleansed with pleasure. 
 
32 THE PARLOUR AND THE DUST. 
 
 Then said Christian, '' What means this ? " 
 
 The Interpreter answered, ''This parlour is the heart of a 
 man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gos- 
 pel; the dust is his original sin and inward corruptions that 
 have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first 
 is the Law; but she that brought water and did sprinkle it 
 is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest that so soon as the 
 first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the room 
 by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast choked 
 therewith; this is to show thee that the law, instead of cleans- 
 ing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put 
 strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth 
 discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to 
 subdue. (RouK vii. 9; 1 Cor. xv. 50; Rom. v. 20) 
 
 " Again-, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with 
 water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure ; this is to 
 show thee that when the gospel comes in the sweet and pre- 
 cious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou 
 sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with 
 water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made 
 clean through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the 
 King of glory to inhabit." (John xv. 3; Eph. v. 26; Acts 
 XV. 9; Rom. xvi. 25, 26.) 
 
 I saw, moreover, in my dream, that the Interpreter took 
 him by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat 
 two little children, each one in his chair. The name of the 
 eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. 
 Passion seemed to be much discontent, but Patience was very 
 quiet. Then Christian asked, "What is the reason of the dis- 
 content of Passion ? " The Interpreter answered, '' The gov- 
 ernor of them would have him stay for his best things till the 
 beginning of the next year; but he will have all now; but 
 Patience is willing to wait." 
 
 Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a 
 bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the which he 
 
THE MAl^ IN THE lEON nAGE.-^Pace 36. 
 
THE TWO LITTLE CHILDREN. 83 
 
 took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience 
 to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all 
 away, and had nothing left him but rags. 
 
 Then said Christian to the Interpreter, "Expound this mat- 
 ter more fully to me."* 
 
 So he said, ''These two lads are figures; Passion, of the 
 men of this world ; and Patience, of the men of that which 
 is to come; for as here thou seest Passion will have all now, 
 this year, that is to say, in this world, so are the men of this 
 world; they must have all their good things now; they can- 
 not stay till next year, that is, until the next world, for their 
 portion of gooql. That proverb, ' A bird in the hand is 
 worth two in the bush,* is of more authority with them than 
 are all of the divine testiQionies of the good of the world 
 to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished 
 all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags, so 
 will it be with all such men at the end of this world." 
 
 Then said Christian, " Now I see that Patience has the best 
 wisdom; and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays 
 for the best things. 2. And also because he will have the 
 glory of his, when the other has nothing but rags." 
 
 Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, The glory of the 
 next world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. 
 Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience 
 because he had his good things first, as Patience will have to 
 laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; for 
 first must give place to last, because last must have his time 
 to come; but last gives place to nothing; for there is nothing 
 ,to succeed. He, therefore, that hatli his portion first must 
 needs have a time to spend it; but he that hath his JDortion 
 last must have it lastingly; therefore it is said of Dives, 
 "Thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things and like- 
 wise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou 
 
 art tormented." (Luke xvi. 25.) 
 p. r.— '2. 
 
84 THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN. 
 
 dm. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that 
 are now, but wait for things to come. 
 
 Inter. You say the truth: *' For the things which are seen 
 are temporal; but the tilings which are not seen are eternal." 
 (2 Cor. iv. 13.) But though this be ^, yet since things pres- 
 ent and our fleshly appetite are such near neighbours one to 
 another; and again, because things to come and carnal sense 
 are such strangers one to another; therefore it is that the first 
 of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so 
 continued between the second. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Christian 
 by the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burn- 
 ing against a wall, and one standing by it always, casting 
 much water upon it to quench it : yet did the fire burn higher 
 and hotter. 
 
 Then said Christian, *' What means this ? " 
 
 The Interpreter answered, ^'Tliis fire is the work of grace 
 that is wrought in the heart: he that casts water upon it, to 
 extinguish it and put it out, is the Devil ; but in that thou 
 seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou 
 shalt also see the reason of that." So he had him about to 
 the backside of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel of 
 oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast, but 
 secretly, into the fire. 
 
 Then said Christian, ''What means this ? " 
 
 The Interpreter answered, "This is Christ, who continual- 
 ly, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work already be- 
 gun in the heart, by the means of which, notwithstanding 
 what the Devil can do, the souls of his people prove gracious 
 still. (2 Cor. xii. 9.) And in that thou sawest that the man 
 stood behind the wall to maintain the fire, that is to teach 
 thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of 
 grace is maintained in the soul." 
 
 I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, 
 and led him into a 'pleasant place, where was buildc^ a state- 
 
THE VALIANT MAN. 85 
 
 ly palace, beantifiil to beliold ; at the sight of which Christian 
 Wi.s greatly delighted. He saw also, upon the top thereof, 
 certain persons walking, who were clothed all in gold. 
 Then said Christian, "May we go in thither ? " 
 Then the Interpreter took liiin and led him up towards the 
 door of the palace; and behold, at the door stood a great 
 company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There 
 also sat a men at a little distance from the door, at a table- 
 side, witli a book and his iukhorn before, to take the name of 
 him that should cuter therein; he saw also that in the door- 
 way stood many meu in armour, to keep it, being resolved to 
 do the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they 
 could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, 
 when every man started back for fear of the armed men, 
 Christian saw a man of very stout countenance come up to the 
 man that sat there to write, saying, "Set down my name, 
 sir: " the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his 
 sword, and put an helmet upon his head, and rush towards the 
 door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly 
 force ; but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and 
 hacking most fiercely. So, after he had received and given 
 many wounds to those that had attempted to keep him out, he 
 cut his way through them all (Acts xiv. 22), and pressed for- 
 wai-d into the palace, at which there was a pleasant voice 
 heard from those that were within, even of those that walked 
 upon the top of the palace, saying : 
 
 ** Come in, come in ; 
 Eternal glory thou slialt win/> 
 
 So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. 
 Then Christian smiled and said, "I think verily I know the 
 meaning of this." 
 
 " Now," said Christian, " let me go hence." *' Nay, stay," 
 said the Interpreter, "till I have showed thee a little more, 
 and after that thou shalt go on thy way." So he took him by 
 
36 A MAN IN A^T IRON CAGE. 
 
 the hand again, and led him into a very dark room, where 
 there sat a man in an iron cage. 
 
 Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad: he sac with his 
 eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded together; 
 and he sighed as if he woald break his heart. Then said 
 Christian, ''What means this?" At v/hich the Interpreter 
 bid liim talk with the man. 
 
 Then said Christian t^ tiis man, "What art thou?" The 
 man answered, " I am wj.at I was not once^" 
 
 Chr. What wast thou once ? 
 
 The man said, " I was once a fair and flourishing professor, 
 both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I once 
 was, as I thought, fair for the Celestial City, and had then 
 even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither." (Luke 
 viii. 13.) 
 
 Chr. Well, but what art thou now? 
 
 Man. I am now a man of despair, and T am shut up in it, 
 as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot ! 
 
 CiiR. But how camest thou in this condition ? 
 
 Man. I left off to watch and be sober ; 1 laid the reins upon 
 the neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the Word, 
 »nd the goodness of God ; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is 
 gone^ I tempted the devil, and he is come to me; I have pro- 
 voked God to anger, and he has left me : I have so hardened 
 my heart that I cannot repent. 
 
 Then said Christian to the Interpreter, "But is there no 
 hope for such a man as this?" "Ask him," said the Inter- 
 preter. 
 
 Then said Christian, " Is there no hope, but you must be 
 kept in the iron cage of despair ? " 
 
 Man. No, none at all. y^ 
 
 Chr. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful, 
 
 Man. I have crucified Him to myself afresh (Heb. vi. 6) ; I 
 have despised His person (Luke xix. 14) ; I have despised Tlis 
 righteousness; I have "counted his blood an unholy tiling ;" 
 
MISERY OF UNBELIEF AND DESPAIR. 37 
 
 I have '* done despite unto the Spirit of grace." illeb. x. 28, 
 29.) Tlieiefore have I shut myself out of all tlie promises, 
 and there now remains to me nothing but tbreatenings, dread- 
 ful threatenings, fearful tbreatenings of certain judgment and 
 fiery indignation, wliich sball devour me as an adversary. 
 
 Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this condition ? 
 
 Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; 
 in the enjoyment of which I did tlieu promise myself much 
 delight ; but now every one of those things also bite me, and 
 gnaw me like a burning worm. 
 
 Chr. But canst thou not repent and turn ? 
 
 Man. God hath denied me repentance. His word gives me 
 no encouragement to believe ; yea, himself hath shut me up 
 in this iron cage ; nor can all the men in the world let me out. 
 O eternity, eternity ! how shall I grapple with the misery 
 that I must meet with in eternity !/ 
 
 Then said the Interpreter to Christian, "Let this man's 
 misery be remembered by the§, and be an everlasting caution 
 to thee." 
 
 "Well," said Christian, "this is fearful ! God help me to 
 watch and be sober, and to pray that 1 may shun the cause of 
 this man's misery ! Sir, is it not time for me to go on my 
 way now ? " 
 
 Inter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and 
 then thou shalt go on thy way. 
 
 So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into 
 a chamber, wliere there was one rising out of bed ; and as he 
 put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Chris- 
 tian, "Why doth this man thus tremble ? " The Interpreter 
 then bid liim tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So 
 he began and said, "This night, as I was in my sleep, I 
 dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceedingly black; 
 also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that i'. 
 put me into au agony. So I looked up in my dream and snYi 
 
38 THE JUDGMENT. 
 
 the clouds rack* at an unusual rate, upon which 1 heard ^ 
 great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a Man sit upon a 
 cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven ; they were all 
 in flaming flre : also the heavens were on a burning flame. I 
 heard then a voice saying, 'Arise, ye dead, and come to judg- 
 ement;' and with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and 
 *the dead that were therein came forth. Some of them were 
 exceedingly glad, and looked upward; and some sought to 
 hide themselves under the mountains. (1 Cor. xv. 52; 1 Thess. 
 iv. 16; Jude 14; John v. 28: 2 Thess. i. 8; Rev. xx. 11-14; 
 Isa. xxvi. 21; Micah vii. 16, 17; Psa. xcvi. 1-3; Dan. vii. 10.) 
 Then I saw the Man that sat upon the cloud open the book, 
 and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a 
 fierce flame which issued out and came before him, a conve- 
 nient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and 
 the prisoners at the bar. (Mai. iii. 2, 3; Dan. vii. 9, 10.) I 
 heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the Man 
 that sat on the cloud, ' Gather together the tares, the chaff, 
 and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake. (Matt. iii. 
 12; xiii. 30; Mai. iv. 1.) And with that, the bottomless pit 
 opened, just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of which 
 there came, in abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, 
 with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, 
 * Gather my wheat into the garner.' (Luke iii. 17.) And 
 wdth that I saw many catched up and carried away into the 
 clouds, but I was left behind. (1 Thess. iv. 16,17.) I also 
 sought to hide myself, but I could not ; for the Man that sat 
 upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me: my sins also came 
 'into my mind; and my conscience did accuse me on every 
 side. (Rom. ii. 14, 15.) Upon this I awaked from my sleep." 
 
 Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of this 
 sight ? 
 
 Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come^ 
 and that I was not ready for it ; but this frightened me most, 
 * Driven by the wind. 
 
CHRISTIAN GOES ON HIS WAY. 39 
 
 that the angels gathered np several, and left me behind ; also 
 the ])it ©f hell opened her mouth just wliere I stood : my con- 
 science, too, afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had 
 always his eye upon me, showing indignation in his counte- 
 nance. • 
 
 Then said the Interpreter to Christian, *'Hast thou con- 
 sidered all these things ? " 
 
 Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 
 
 Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may 
 be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way 
 thou must go. 
 
 Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address 
 himself to his journey. Then said the Interpreter, ''The 
 Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee 
 in the way that leads to the City." 
 
 So Christian went on his way, saying — 
 
 *' Here I have seen things rare and profitable ; 
 Things pleasant, dreaOfiil, things to make me stable 
 In what I have began to take in liand ; 
 Then let me think on them, and understand 
 Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be 
 Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee." 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that-th3 highway up which Chris- 
 tian was to go was fenced on either side with a wall, and that 
 wall was called salvation. (Isa. xxvi. 1.) Up this way, 
 therefore, did burdened Christian ruu, but not without great 
 difficulty, because of the load on his bacK 
 
 He ran on thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending;, 
 and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in thel 
 bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just a^ 
 Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off 
 his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble 
 and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of thesejjui#» ^ , .- 
 chre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. _^..****''*'''***''^|/p'^*^ 
 
 Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said witn a 
 
40 CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS BURDEN. 
 
 merry heart, ^' He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life 
 by his death." Then he stood still awhile to look and won- 
 der; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the 
 cross should thus ease him of his burden He looked there- 
 fore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his 
 head sent the waters down his cheeks. (Zech. xii. 10.) Now 
 as he stood looking and weeping, behold three Shining Ones 
 came to him and saluted him with ^' Peace be to thee." So 
 the first said to him, ^' Thy sins be forgiven thee " (Mark ii 5) ; 
 the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him "with 
 change of raiment " (Zech. iii. 4.) ; the third also set a mark 
 in his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal Upon it, which 
 he bade him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in 
 at the Celestial Gate. (Eph. i. 13.) So they went their way. 
 Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on, sing- 
 ing: 
 
 *' Thus far I did come laden with my sin ; 
 Nor could ought ease the grief that I was in 
 Till I came hither. What a place is this ! 
 Must here be the be^innine: of my bliss ? 
 Must here the burden fall from off my ba.ck ? 
 Must here the strino^s that bound it to me crack ? 
 Bless'd cross ! bless'd sepulchre ! l)less'd rather be 
 The man that there w^as put to shame me ! " 
 
 I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even until he 
 came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three 
 men fast asleep, witii fetters upon their heels. The name cf the 
 one was Simple, another Sloth, and the third Presumption. 
 
 Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, if 
 peradventure he might awake them, and cried, "You are 
 like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the Dead Sea is 
 under you, a gulf that hath no bottom. (Pro v. xxiii. 34.) 
 Awake, therefore, and come away, be willing also, and I will 
 help you off with your irons." He also toldthem, " K he that 
 ' goeth about like a roaring lion ' comes by, you will certainly 
 become a prey to his teeth." (1 Pet. v. 8.) With that thpy 
 
CLIMBINa UP SOME OTHER WAY. 41 
 
 looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple 
 said, " I see no danger ; " Sloth said, ''Yet a little more sleep ;" 
 and Presumption said, ' ' Every fat * must stand upon its own 
 bottom ; what is the answer else that I should give thee ? " 
 And so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on 
 his way. 
 
 Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should 
 80 little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to 
 help them, both by awakening of them, counselling of them, 
 and proffering to help them off with their irons. And as he 
 was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling 
 over the wall, on the left hand of the narrow way; and they 
 made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, 
 and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they 
 drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into dis- 
 course : 
 
 Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and wliitlier go you ? 
 
 Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, 
 and are going for praise to Mount Sion. 
 
 Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at 
 the beginning of the way ? Know you not that it is written 
 that he that cometh not in by the door, "but climbeth up 
 some other way, the 'same is a thief and a robber " ? (John 
 
 X. 1.) 
 
 They said that "to go to the gate for entrance was, by all 
 their countrymen, counted too far about; and that therefore 
 their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb 
 over the wall as they had done." 
 
 Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord 
 of the city whither we are bound thus to violate his revealed 
 will ? 
 
 They told him that "as for that he needed not to trouble 
 his head thereab')ut; for what they did they had custom for, 
 and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness 
 
 it for more than a thous and years." 
 
 ♦Vat or tub. 
 
42 SELF-bECEPTION. 
 
 " But," said Christian, "will your practice stand a trial at 
 law ? " 
 
 They told him that *' custom, it being of so long a stand- 
 ing as above a thousand years, would doubtless now be ad- 
 mitted as a thing legal by any impartial judge; and, besides," 
 said they, "so be we get into the way, what's matter which 
 way we get in ? if we are in, we are in; thou art but in the 
 way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate ; and we arc 
 also in the way, that came tumbling over the wall ; wherein 
 now is thy condition better than ours ? " 
 
 Cnii. I walk by the rule of my Master ; you walk by the 
 rude working of your fancies. You are counted thieves al- 
 ready, by the Lord of the way ; therefore, I doubt you will 
 not be found true men at the end of the way. You come in 
 by yourselves, without his direction, and shall go out by your- 
 Bclves, without his mercy. 
 
 To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him 
 look to himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in 
 his way, without much conference one with another; save 
 that these two men told Christian that, as to laws and ordi- 
 nances, they doubted not but they should as conscientiously 
 do them as he; therefore, said they, "We see not wherein 
 thou differest from us but by the coat tliat is on thy back, 
 which was, as we trow,* given thee by some of thy neigh- 
 bours, to hide the shame of thy nakedness. 
 
 Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since 
 fyou came not in by the door. (Gal. ii. 16.) And as for this 
 coat that is on my back, it was given me by the Lord of the 
 place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my naked- 
 ness with. And I take it as a token of his kindness to me ; 
 for I had nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I com- 
 fort myself as I go : Surely, think I, when I come to the gate 
 of the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I 
 iiave his coat on my back — a coat that he gave me freely in 
 * As we believe. 
 
A REFRESHING SPRING. 43 
 
 tne day that he stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, 
 a mark in my forehead, of which, perhaps, you have taken no 
 notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed 
 there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will 
 tell you, moreover, that Iliad then given me a roll, sealed, to 
 comfort me by reading as I go on the way; I was also bid to 
 give it in at the Celestial Gate, in token of my certain going 
 in after it; all which things I doubt you want, and want them 
 bczause you came not in at the gate. 
 
 To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked 
 upon each other and laughed. Then I saw that they went on 
 all, save that Christian kept before, who had no more talk 
 but with himself, and that sometimes sighingly, and some- 
 times comfortably ; also he would be often reading in the roll ' 
 that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he was re- 
 freghed. 
 
 I l)eheld then that they all went on till they came to the 
 foot of the Hill DithcuUy; at the bottom of which was a 
 spring. There were also in the same place two other ways 
 besides that which came straight from the gate ; one turned 
 to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the bottom of 
 the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill (and the 
 name of the goitig up the side of the hill is called DifHculty). 
 Christian now went to the spring, and drank thereof to re- 
 fresh himself (Isa. xlix. 10), and then began to go up the hillj 
 saying — 
 
 ' The hill, though high, I covet to ascend. 
 The difficulty will not me olfend ; 
 For I perceive the way to life lies here. 
 Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear; 
 Better, though difficult, the right way to go, 
 Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe." 
 
 vThe other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when 
 they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there were 
 two other ways to go ; and supposing also that these two waya 
 
44 TIMOROUS AND MISTRUST. 
 
 might meet again, with that up which Christian went, on the 
 other side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in 
 those ways. Now the name of one of those ways was Danger, 
 and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took the way 
 which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood ; and 
 •the other took directly up the way to Destruction, which led 
 Jhim into a wide field full of dark mountains, wdiere he stum- 
 bled and fell, and rose no more. 
 
 I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, 
 where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from 
 going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of 
 the steepness of the place. Now about the midway to the top 
 of the hill was a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the 
 hill for the refreshing of weary travellers. Thither therefore 
 Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. Then he 
 pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his com- 
 fort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat 
 or garment that was given him as he stood by the cross. Thus 
 pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a slumber, and 
 thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place un- 
 til it was almost night ; and in his sleep his roll fell out of his 
 hand. Now, as he was sleeping/ there came one to him, and 
 awaked him, saying, '' Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider 
 her ways, and be wise." (Prov. vi. 6.) And with that Chris- 
 tian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went 
 apace till he came to the top of the hill. 
 
 Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came 
 two men running to meet him amain ; the name of the one 
 was Timorous, and the name of the other Mistrust ; to whom 
 Christian said, " Sirs, what's the matter ? You run the wrong 
 way." Timorous answered that '*they were going to the 
 City of Zion, and had got up that difficult place; but," said 
 he, ''the further we go, the more danger we meet with; 
 /herefore we turned, and are going back again." 
 
 "Yes," said Mistruist, "for just before us lie a couple oi 
 
THE LOST ROLL. 45 
 
 lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not^ 
 and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they 
 would presently pull us in pieces." 
 
 Then said Christian, ''You make me afraid, but whither 
 shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to mine own country, that 
 is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly per* 
 ish there. If I can get totlie Celestial City, I am sure to be 
 in safety there. I must venture. To go back is nothing but 
 death ; to go forward ia fear of death, and life everlasting be- 
 yond it. I will yet go forward." So Mistrust and Timorous 
 ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But, 
 thiuking again of what he had heard from the men, he felt in 
 his bosom for his roll, that lie might read therein and be com- 
 forted ; but he felt, and found it not. Then was Christian in 
 great distress, and knew not what to do ; for he wanted that 
 which used to relieve him, and that which should have^een 
 his pass into the Celestial City. Here therefore he began to 
 be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he be- 
 tliought himself that he had slept in the arbour that is on the 
 side of the hill; and, falling down upon his knees, he asked 
 God's forgiveness for that foolish act, and then went back to 
 look for his roll. But all the way he went back, who can 
 sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart ! Some- 
 times he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he 
 chid himself for being so foolish to fair asleep in that place, 
 which was erected only for a little refreshment for his weari- 
 ness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on 
 this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily lie 
 might find his roll, that had been his comfort so many times in 
 his journey. He went thus till he came again within sight of 
 the arbour where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his 
 sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of 
 sleeping into his mind. (Rev. ii.5; l.Thess. v. 7, 8.) Thus, 
 therefore, he now went on bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, " 
 wretched man that I am, that I should sleep in tho day-time 
 
46 WALKING IN DARKNESS. 
 
 that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty ! that I should so 
 indulge the flesh as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which 
 the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the 
 spirits of pilgrims ! 
 
 " How many steps have I took in vain ! Thus it happened 
 to Israel, for their sin ; they were sent back again by the way 
 of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sor- 
 row which I might have. trod with delight, had it not been for 
 this sinful sleep. How far might I have been on my way by 
 this time! I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which 
 I needed not to have trod but once ; yea, now also I am like 
 to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh, that I had not 
 slept!" 
 
 Now by this time he was come to the arbour again, wlicre 
 for awhile he sat down and wept; but at last (as Christian 
 would have it), looking sorrowfully down under the settle, 
 there he espied his roll ; the which he, with trembling haste, 
 catched up, and put it into his bosom. But who can tell how 
 joyful this man was when he had gotten his roll again! for 
 this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the 
 desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave 
 thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, 
 and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journey. 
 But, oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill ! 
 Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian; 
 and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to 
 his remembrance ; and thus he again began to condole with 
 himself: " O thou sinful sleep: how for thy sake am I like to 
 be benighted in my Journey ! I must walk without the sun; 
 darkness must cover the path of my feet; and I must hear the 
 noise of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep." 
 (1 Thess. V. 6, 7.) Now also he remembered the story that 
 Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they were frightened 
 with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself 
 again, *' These beast^ rani^e in the night for their prey ; and if 
 
THE PORTER AT THE LODGE. 47 
 
 they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift 
 them ? How should I escape being by them torn in pieces ? '* 
 Thus he went on his way. But while he was thus bewailing 
 his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there 
 was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was 
 Beautiful; and it stood just by the highway side. 
 
 So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward, 
 that if possible he might get lodging there. Now before he 
 had gone far,* he entered into a very narrow passage, which 
 was about a furlong off the porter's lodge ; and, looking very 
 narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the 
 way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and 
 Timorous were driven back hy. (The lions were chained, but 
 he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought 
 also himself to go back after them, for he thought nothing 
 but death was before him. But the porter at the lodge, whose 
 name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt as if 
 he would go back, cried unto him, saying, "Is thy strength 
 so small ? (Mark xiii. 34; xiv. 37.) Fear not the lions, for 
 they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where 
 it is, and for discovery of those that had none. Keep in the 
 midst of the patl^ and no hurt shall come unto thee." 
 
 Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions; 
 but taking good heed to the directions of the porter, he heard 
 them roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped his 
 hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate 
 where the porter was. Then said Christian to the porter, 
 " Sir, what house is this ? And may I lodge here to-night ? " 
 The porter answered, "This house was built by the Lord of 
 the hjM, and he built it for the relief and security of. pil- 
 grims." The porter also asked whence he was, and whither 
 he was going. 
 
 Cim. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am going 
 to Mount Zion ; but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I 
 may, to lodge here to-night. 
 
48 CHRISTIAN AND DISCRETION. 
 
 PoR. What is your name ? 
 
 Cur. My name is now Christian, but my name at tlie first 
 was Graceless; I came of the racQ of Japheth, whom God will 
 persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem. (Gen. ix. 27.) 
 
 PoR. But how doth it happen you came so late ? The sun 
 is set. 
 
 Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, *' wretched man that 
 I am ! " I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill-side ; nay, 
 I had, notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that, 
 in my sleep, I lost my evideuce, and came without it to the 
 brow of the hill; and then feeling for it, and finding it not, 
 I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the place 
 wliere I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come. 
 
 PoR. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, 
 who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of 
 the family, according to the rules of the house. 
 
 So Watchful, the porter, rang a bell, at the sound of which 
 came out at the door of the house a grave and beautiful dam- 
 sel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called. The 
 porter answered, "This man is on a journey from the City of 
 Destruction to Mount Zion, but, being weary and benighted, 
 he asked me if he might lodge here to-night; so I told him I 
 would call for thee, who, after discourse liad with him, 
 mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law 
 of the house." 
 
 Then she asked him whence he was come and whither he was 
 going; and he told her. She asked him also how he got into 
 the way; and he told her. Then she asked him what he had 
 seen and met with in the way ; and he told her. And last she 
 asked his name; so he said, "It is Christian, and I>l)ave 
 so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night because, by, 
 what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill, 
 for the relief and security of pilgrims." So" she smiled, but 
 the water stood in her eyes ; and after a little pause, she said, 
 "I will call forth two or three more of the family." So she 
 
CHRISTIAN'S EXPERIENCE. 49 
 
 ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, 
 who, after a little more discourse with him, had him into the 
 family; and many of them, meeting him at the threshold of 
 the house, said, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this 
 house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to enter- 
 tain such pilgrims in." Then he bowed his head, and follow- 
 ed them into the house. So when he was come in and sat 
 down, they gave him something to drink, and consented to- 
 gether that, until supper was ready, some of them should 
 have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best 
 improvement of time; and they appointed Piety, and Prud- 
 ence, and Charity, to discourse with hitn; and thus they be- 
 gan:— 
 
 Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving 
 to you, to receive you in our house this night, let us, if per- 
 haps we may better ourselves thereby, talk with you of all 
 things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage. 
 
 Chr. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so 
 well disposed. 
 
 Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pil- 
 grim's life ? 
 
 Cur. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful 
 sound that was in mine ears, to wit, that unavoidable destruc- 
 tion did attend me, if I abode in that place where I was. 
 
 Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of your 
 country this way ? 
 
 Chr. It was as God would have it; for when I was under 
 the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to go ; but 
 by chance there came a man, even to uie, as I was trembling 
 and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me 
 to the wicket-gate, which else T should never have found, and 
 so set me into the way that hatli led me directly to this house. 
 
 Piety. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter? 
 
 Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance 
 of which will stick by me as long as I live ; especially three 
 
50 CHRISTIAN'S EXPERIENCE. 
 
 things : to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his 
 work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himselt 
 quite out of hopes of God's mercy; and also the dream of hinji 
 that thought in his sleep the day of' judgment was come. 
 
 Piety. Why ! did you hear him tell his dream ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought it made 
 my heart ache as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad 1 
 heard it. 
 
 Piety. Was that all that you saw at the house of the Inter- 
 preter ? 
 
 Chr. No ; he took me and had me where he showed me a 
 stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were 
 in it; and how there came a venturous man and cut his 
 way through the armed men that stood in. the door to keep 
 him out : and how he was bid to come in, and win eternal 
 glory. Methought those things did ravish my heart; I would 
 have stayed at that man's house a twelve-month, but that I 
 knew I had further to go. 
 
 Piety. And what saw you else on the way ? 
 
 Chr. Saw ! why, I went but a little further, and I saw One, 
 as I thought, in my mind, hang bleeding upon the tree ; and 
 the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back (for I 
 groaned under a very heavy burden, but then it fell down 
 from off me). It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw 
 such a thing before: yea, and while I stood looking up (for 
 then I could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came 
 to me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; 
 another stripped me of my rags, and gave me this broidered 
 coat which you see ; and the third set the mark which you see 
 in my forehead, aud gave me this sealed roll. 
 
 And with that he plucked it out of his bosom. 
 
 Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not ? 
 
 Chr. The things that I have told you were the best; yet 
 some other matters I saw, as, namely: I saw three men. 
 Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep a little out of the waj; 
 
V 
 DESIRES AFTER HOLINESS. 51 
 
 lis I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I 
 could awake them ? I also saw Formalist and Hypocrisy come 
 tumblhig over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion, 
 but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them ; 
 but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard 
 work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' 
 mouths ; and truly, if it had not been for the good man, the 
 porter that stands at the gate, I do not know but that after 
 all I might have gone back again : but now, I thank God I 
 am here, and T thank you for receiving of me. 
 
 Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, 
 and desired his answer to them. 
 
 Prud. Did you not think sometimes of the country from 
 whence you came ? 
 
 Cira. Yes. but with much shame and detestation: "truly, 
 if I had been mindful of that country from whence I oame 
 out, I might have had opportunity to have returned ; but I 
 now desire a better country, that is, an heavenly." (Heb. xi. 
 15, 16.) 
 
 Prud. Do you not yet bear away with you some of tlie 
 things that then you were conversant withal ? 
 
 CiiR . Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially my in- 
 ward and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, 
 as well as myself, were delighted ; but now all those things 
 are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I 
 would choose never to think of those things more ; but when 
 I would be doing of that which is best, that which is worst is 
 with me. (Rom. vii. 15-25.) 
 
 Prud. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were 
 vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me golden 
 hours, in which such things happen to me. 
 
 Prud. Can you remember by what means you find your an 
 noyances at times as if they were vanquished ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will 
 
52 CHRISTIAN'S LOVE TO HIS FAMILY. 
 
 do it' and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do 
 it; also when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, 
 that will doit; and when my thoughts wax warm about 
 whither I am going, that will do it. 
 
 Prud. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to 
 Mount Zion ? 
 
 Che. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang dead 
 on the cross ; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that 
 to this day are in me an annoyance to me ; there they say there 
 is no death; and there I shall dwell with such company as I 
 like brst. (Isa. xxv. 8; Rev. xxi. 4.) For, to tell you the 
 truth, I love him, because I was by him eased of my burden; 
 and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be 
 where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall 
 continually cry, "Holy, Holy, Holy!" 
 
 Then said Charity to Christian, '' Have you a family ? Are 
 you a married man ? " 
 
 Cnu. I have a wife and four small children. 
 
 CiiAK. And why did you not bring them along with you ? 
 
 Then Christian wept, and said, "Oh, how willingly would 
 I have done it! but they were all of them uttc'rly averse to 
 my going on pilgrimage." 
 
 CiiAii. But you should have talked to them, and have en- 
 deavoured to have shown them the danger of being Dehind, 
 
 Chr. So I did ; and told them also what God had shown tc 
 me of the destruction of our city; " but I seemed to them as 
 one that mocked," and they believed me not. (Gen. xix. 14. j 
 
 Char. And did you pray to God that he wou^d bless yom 
 counsel to them ? 
 
 Cirr. Yes, and that with much affection : for you must think 
 that my wife and poor cliildren were very dear unto io me. 
 
 Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear 
 of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction was visible 
 enough to you. 
 
 Cnii. YeSy over, and over, and over. They might also see 
 
, CHRISTIAN'S CONDUCT BEFORE HIS FAMILY. 55 
 
 my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my 
 trembling under the apprehension of the judgment that did 
 hang over our heads; but all was not sufficient to prevail with 
 them to come with me. 
 
 Char. But what could they say for themselves, why they 
 came not ? 
 
 Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and 
 my children were given to the foolish delights of youth: so, 
 what by one thing and what by another, they left me to wan- 
 der in this manner alone. 
 
 Char. But did you not with your vain life damp all tliat 
 you by words used by way of persuasion to bring them away 
 with yon ? 
 
 CiiR. Indeed, I cannot commend my life; for I am con- 
 scious to myself of many failings therein :\ I know also, that a 
 man by his conversation may soon overthrow what by argu- 
 ment or persuasion he doth labour to fasten upon others for 
 their good. Yet, this I can say, I was very wary of giving 
 them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse 
 to going on pilgrimage. Yet, for this very thing they would 
 tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things 
 for their sakes, in wliich they saw no evil. Nay, I think I 
 may say, that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was 
 my gre-at tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any 
 wrong to my neiglibour. 
 
 CiiAR. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, *' because his own 
 works were evil, and his brother's righteous " (1 John iii. 12), 
 and if thy wife and children have been olfended with thee 
 for this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to 
 good, and "thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood." 
 (Ezek. iii. 19.) 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking togeth- 
 er untd supper was ready. So, when they had made ready, 
 they sat down to meat. Now the table was furnished " vvdth 
 fat things, and with wine that was well refined ; " and all 
 
54 RECORDS OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill; as, 
 namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did what 
 he did, and why he had builded that house : and by what 
 they said I perceived that he had been a great warrior, and 
 had fought with and slain "him that had the power of death," 
 but not without great danger to himself which made me love 
 him the more. (Heb. ii. 14, 15.) 
 
 For, as they said, and " as I believe," said Christian, " he 
 did it with the loss of much blood ;*but that which put glory 
 of grace into all he did was, that he did it out of pure love 
 to his country." And besides, there was some of them of the 
 household that said they had been and spoke with him since 
 he did die on the cross; and they have attested that they had 
 it from his own lips, that lie is such a lover of poor pilgrims, 
 that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. 
 
 They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, 
 and that was, he had stripped himself of his glory, that he might 
 do this for the poor; and that they heard him say and affirm 
 "that he would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone." 
 They said, moreover, that "he had made many pilgrims 
 princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their 
 original had been the dunghill." (1 Sam. ii.'8; Psa. cxiii. 
 
 7.) 
 
 Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after 
 they had committed themselves to their Lord for protection, 
 they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a 
 large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun- 
 rising; the name of the chamber was Peace; where he slept 
 till break of day, and then he awoke and sang — 
 
 ** Where am I now? Is this the love and care 
 Of Jesus for the men that l)ilgrims are? 
 Thus to provide ! that I should be forgiven ! 
 And dwell already the next door to heaven ! " 
 
 So in the morning they all got up; and after some more 
 
THE CHRISTIAN ARMOUR. 55 
 
 discourse, they told him that he should not depart .till they 
 had shown him the rarities of that place. And first they had 
 him into the study, where they showed him records of the 
 greatest antiquity; in which, as I remember my dream, they 
 showed him first the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he 
 was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by that eternal 
 generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts tliat 
 he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had 
 taken into his service ; an^ how he had placed them in such 
 habitations that could neither by length of days, nor decay of 
 nature, be dissolved. 
 
 Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some 
 of his servants had done : as how they had "subdued king- 
 doms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the 
 mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the 
 edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed 
 valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens." 
 (Heb. xi. 33, 34.) 
 
 Then they read again in another part of the records of the 
 house, where it was shown liow willing their Lord was to re- 
 ceive into his favour any, even any, tliough they in time past 
 had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. 
 Here also were several other histories of many other famous 
 things, of all which Christian had a view ; as of things both 
 ancient and modern ; together with prophecies and predic- 
 tions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both 
 to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and 
 solace of pilgrims. 
 
 The next day. they took him and had him into the armoury, 
 where they sliowed him all manner of furniture, which their 
 Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, 
 breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. 
 And there was here enough of this to harness out as many 
 men for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the 
 heaven for multitude. 
 
bt$ THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 They also showed him some of the engines with which some 
 of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed 
 him Moses' rod ; the hammer and nail with which Jael slew 
 Sisera; th« pitchers, trumpets, and lamps, too, with which Gide- 
 on put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him 
 also the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. 
 They showed him also the jawbone with which Samson did 
 such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling 
 and stone with which David slew Goliath of Gatl^ ; and the 
 sword also, with which their Lord will kill the Man of Sin, 
 in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They showed 
 him, besides, many excellent things, with which Christian 
 was much delighted. Tliis done, they went to their rest 
 again. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to 
 go forwards ; but they desired him to stay till the next day also ; 
 *'And then," said they, "we will (if the day be clear) show 
 you the Delectable Mountains," which, they said, would yet 
 further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the de- 
 sired haven than the place where at present he was. So he 
 consented and stayed. "When the morning was up, they had 
 him to the top of the house, and bid him look south ; so he 
 did: and behold, at a great distance he saw a most pleas- 
 ant mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, 
 fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, 
 very delectable to behold. (Isa. xxxiii. 16, 17.) Then he 
 asked the name of the country. Shey said it was Immanuel's 
 Land; "And it is as common," said they, "as this hill is, to 
 and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from 
 thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the 
 shepherds that live there will make appear." 
 
 Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were 
 willing he should. "But first," said they, "let us go again 
 into the armoury." So they did, and when they came there, 
 they harnessed him from head to foot with what was proof 
 
CHRISTIAN PURSUES HIS JOURNEY. 57 
 
 lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. He be- 
 ing therefore thus accoutred walketh out with his friends to 
 the gate, and there he asked the porter if he saw any pilgrim 
 paes by. Then the porter answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Pray did you know him ? " said he. 
 
 PoK. I asked him his name, and he told me it was Faith- 
 ful. 
 
 ''Oh," said Christian, "I know him; he is my townsman, 
 my near neighbour; he comes from the place where I was 
 born. How far do you think he may be before ? " 
 
 PoR. He is got by this time below the hill. . 
 
 "Well," said Christian, "good porter, the Lord be with 
 thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase, for the kind- 
 ness that thou hast showed to me." 
 
 Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety, Char- 
 ity and Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of 
 the hill. So they went on together, reiterating their former 
 discourses till they came to go down the hill. Then said 
 Christian, "As it was difficult coming up, so (so far as I can 
 see) it is dangerous going down." "Yes," said Prudence, 
 "so it is; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into 
 the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no 
 slip by the way; therefore," said they, " are we come out to 
 accompany thee down the hill." So he began to go down, 
 but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that these good companions (when 
 Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill) gave him 
 a loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine, and a cluster of rasins ; 
 and then he went on his way. 
 
 But now in this Valley of Humiliation poor Christian was 
 hard put to it; for he had gone but a little way before he 
 espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him ; his 
 name is ApoUyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and 
 to cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. 
 But he considered again that he had no armour for his back; 
 
58 FAIR PROMISES. 
 
 and therefore thought that to turn the back to Mm might 
 give him the greater advantage with ease to pierce him with 
 his darts. Therefore he resolverl to venture and stand his 
 ground ; for, thought he, had no more in mine eye than the 
 saving of my life, it would be the best way to- stand. 
 
 So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster 
 was hideous to behold ; he was clothed with scales, like a 
 fish (and they are his pride), he had wings like a dragon, feet 
 like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his 
 mouth was as the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to 
 Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and 
 thus began to question with him : 
 
 ''Whence come you, and whither are you bound ?" 
 
 Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the 
 place of all evil, and am going to the City of Zion. 
 
 Apol. By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects, for 
 all that country is mine ; and I am the prince and god of it. 
 How is it then that thou hast run away from thy king ? Were 
 it not that I hope thou mayest do me more service, I would 
 strike thee now at one blow to the ground. 
 
 Chr. I was born indeed in your dominions, but your service 
 was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on, 
 ''for the wages of sin is death" (Ilom. vi. 23); therefore, 
 when I was come to years, I did as other considerate pe-rsons 
 do, look out, if perhaps I might mend myself. 
 
 Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his sub- 
 jects, neither will I as yet lose thee. But since thou corn- 
 plainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back: 
 what our country will afford I do here promise to give thee. 
 
 Chr. But I iiave let myself to another, even to the King 
 of princes, and how can I w^ith fairness go back with thee ? 
 
 Apol. Thou hast done in this, according to the proverb, 
 *' Changed a bad for a worse;" but it is ordinary for those 
 that have-professed themselves his servants, after a while to 
 give him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, 
 and all shall be well. 
 
ATTEMPTS TO DETER CHRISTIAN. 59 
 
 Cttk. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance 
 to him; how then can I go back from this and not be hanged 
 as a traitor? 
 
 Apol. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to 
 pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn and go back. 
 
 Ckr. What I promised thee was m my nonage ; and besideC; 
 [ count that the Prince under whose banner now I stand is 
 able to a1)solve me; yea, and to pardon also what I did as to 
 my compliance with tliee; and besides, O thou destroying 
 Apollyon ! to speak the truth, I like his service, his wages, 
 liis government, his company and country, better than thine; 
 and therefore leave off to persuade me further; I am his ser- 
 vant, and I will follow him, 
 
 Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what 
 thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou 
 knowest that for the most part his servants come to an ill end, 
 because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How 
 many of them have been put to shameful deaths ! and besides, 
 thou countest his service better than mine, whereas he never 
 came yet from the place where he is to deliver any that served 
 him out of their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all 
 the workl very well knows, have I delivered, either by power 
 or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and 
 his, though taken by them 1 and so I will deliver thee. 
 
 Cur. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose 
 to try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end; 
 and as for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most 
 glorious in their account; for, for present deliverance, they 
 do not much expect it; for they stay for their glory, and then 
 they shall have it, wdien their Prince comes in his glory and 
 the glory of the angels. 
 
 Apol, Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to 
 him ; and how dost thou think to receive wages of him ? 
 
 Ciin. Wherein, O Apollyon, have 1 been unfaithful to him ? 
 
 Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast 
 
60 APOLLYON IN A RAGE. 
 
 almost choked in the Gulf of Despond; thou didst attempt 
 wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldest 
 have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off; thou didst sinfully 
 sleep and lose thy choice thing; tliou wast also almost 'per- 
 suaded to go back at the sight of the lions ; and when thou 
 talkest of thy journey, and of what tliou hast heard and seen, 
 thou art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest 
 or doe St. 
 
 Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left 
 out; but the Prince whom I serve and honour is merciful, and 
 ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmities possessed mo 
 in thy country, for there I sucked them in ; and I have groaned 
 under them, been so cy for them, and have obtained pardon 
 of my Prince. 
 
 Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, *' I 
 am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, his laws, and 
 people; I am come out on purpose to withstand thee." 
 
 Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do; fori am in the King's 
 highway, the way of holiness; therefore take heed to your- 
 self. 
 
 Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of 
 the way, and said, " I am void of fear in this matter; prepare 
 thyself to die ; for I swear by my infernal den that thou shalt 
 go no further; here will I spill thy blood: " and with that he 
 threw a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian had a shield 
 in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the 
 danger of that. Then did Christian draw, for .he saw it was 
 time to bestir him; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throw- 
 ing darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstanding al^ 
 that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in 
 his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a 
 little back. Apollyon therefore followed his work amain, and 
 Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he 
 •iould. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even 
 till Christian was almost quite spent i for you must know that 
 
APOLLYON WOUNDED. 61 
 
 Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker 
 and weaker. 
 
 Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather 
 up close to Christian, and. wrestling with him, gave him a 
 dreadful fall ; and with that Christian's sword flew out of hia 
 hand. Then said Apollyon, "I am sure of thee now." And 
 with that he had almost pressed him to death, so that Chris- 
 tian began to despair of life. But as God would have it, 
 wliile Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, thereby to make a 
 full end of this good man, Cliristian nimbly stretched out liia 
 hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not 
 against me, O mine enemy ; when I fall I shall rise " (Micah 
 vii. 8. ) ; and witii that gave him a deadly thrust, which made 
 him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound. 
 Christian, perceiving that, made at him again, sajang, "Nay, 
 in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him 
 that loved us." (Rom. viii. 37, 38,) And with that Apollyon 
 spread forth his dragon's wings, and s^ied him away, that 
 Christian saw him no more. (James iv. 7.) 
 
 In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and 
 heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon 
 made all the time of the light — he spake like a dragon; and, 
 on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's 
 heart! I never saw him all the while give so much as one 
 pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with 
 his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile and look up- 
 ward; but it was the dreadfuUest sight that I ever saw. 
 
 So when the battle was over. Christian said, "1 will here 
 give thanks to Him that delivered me out of the mouth of the 
 lion, to him that did help me against Apollyon: " and so ho 
 did, saying: 
 
 ** Gieat Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, ^ 
 
 Desigii'd my ruin ; therefore to this end 
 He sent him harn(?ss'd out ; and he, with rage 
 That hellish was, did fiercely me engage. 
 
63 CHRISTIAN HEALED OF HIS WOUNDS. 
 
 But blessed Michael helped me, and I, 
 By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly ; 
 Therefore to him let me give lasting praise, 
 And thank and bless his holy name always." 
 
 Then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves nf 
 the tree of life, the which Christian took and applied to tno 
 wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed 
 immediately. He also sat down in tliat place to eat breadv 
 and to drink of the bottle that was given him a little before: 
 so being refreshed he addressed himself to his journey, with 
 his sword drawn in his hand ; for he said, ''I know not but 
 some other enemy may be at hand." But he met with no 
 other affront from ApoUyon quite through this valley. 
 
 Now at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley 
 _ of the Shadow of Death, and Christian must needs go through 
 it, because the way to the Celestial City lay through the 
 midst of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place. The 
 prophet Jeremiah thus describes it: *' A wilderness, a land of 
 deserts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the shadow of. 
 death, a land that no man " (but a Christian) "passed through, 
 and where no man dwelt.*' (Jer. ii. 6.) 
 
 Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight 
 
 with Apollyon : as by the sequel you shall see. 
 
 i| I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to 
 
 I the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him two men, 
 
 ' children of them that brought up an evil report of the hmO 
 
 (Num. xiii.), making haste to go back; to whom Christian 
 
 spake as follows : "Whither are you going ? " 
 
 They said, "Back! back! and we would have you to do so 
 too, if either life or peace is prized by you." 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ?" said Christian. 
 
 "Matter!" said they; "we were going that way as you 
 are going, and went as far as we durst ; and indeed we were 
 almost past coming back; for had we gone a little further, we 
 had a. tt been here to bring the news to ther " 
 
TWO MEN DESCRIBE THE VALLEY. 63 
 
 **But what have you met with ? " said Christian. 
 
 Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of 
 Death; but that by good hap we looked before us, and saw 
 the danger before we came to it. (Psa. xliv. 19; cvii. 10.) 
 
 *'But what have you seen ? " said Christian. 
 
 Men. Seen! Why, tlie valley itself, which is as dark as 
 pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons 
 of the pit: we heard also in that valley a continual howling 
 and yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who 
 there sat bound in affliction and irons ; and over that valley 
 hang the discouraging clouds of confusion. Death also doth 
 always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit 
 dreadful, being utterly without order. (Job iii. 6; x. 22.) 
 
 "Theu," said Christian, "I perceive not yet, by what you 
 have said, but that this is my way to the desired haven.'* 
 (Jer. ii. 6.) 
 
 Men. Be it thy way ; we will not choose it for ours. 
 
 So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still 
 with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be 
 assaulted. 
 
 I saw then in my dream, so far as tliis valley reached, there 
 was on ihe right hand a very deap ditch ; that ditch is it into 
 which the blind hav»e led the blind in all ages, and have both 
 there miserably perished. (Psa. Ixix. 14.) Again, behold, 
 on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, into which, 
 if even a good man falls, he can find no bottom for his foot 
 to stand on. Into that quag King David once did fall, and 
 had no doubt therein been smothered, had not He that is able 
 plucked him out. 
 
 The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore 
 go^d Christian was the more put to it; for when he sought 
 in the dark to shun the ditch on tlie one hand, he was ready 
 to tip over into the mire on the other; also when he sought 
 tQ escape the mire, without great carefulness he would be 
 ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on, acd I hearoJ 
 
64 BANGERS OF THE WAT. 
 
 him here sigh bitterly: for, besides tlie dangers mentioned 
 above, the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes when he 
 lift up his foot to set forward, he knew not where or upon 
 what he should set it next. 
 
 About the midst of this valley, I perceived the mouth of 
 hell to be, and it stood also hard by the way-side. Now, 
 thought Christian, what shall I do ? And ever and anon the 
 fiame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with 
 sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for Chris- 
 tian's sword, as did ApoUyon before), that he was forced to 
 put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, 
 called all-prayer. (Eph. vi. 18.) So he cried in my hearing, 
 *'0 Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul!" (Psa. cxvi. 4.) 
 Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be 
 reaching towards him : also he heard doleful voices, and rush- 
 ings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be 
 torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. 
 This frightful sight w^as seen, and these dreadful noises were 
 heard by him for several miles together: and coming to a 
 place where he thouglit he heard a company of fiends coming 
 to meet him, he stopped, and began to muse whcit he had best 
 to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back : then 
 again he thought he might be half way through the valley: 
 he remembered also how he liad already vanouished many a 
 danger, and that the danger of going back might be much 
 more than for to go forward ; so he resolved to go on. Yet 
 the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer; but when they 
 were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehe- 
 ment voice, '*I will walk in the strengtli of the Lord God ! " 
 So they gave back, and came no further. 
 
 One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now 
 poor Christian was so confounded that he did not know his 
 ow^n voice; and thus I perceived it. Just when he w^as come 
 over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked 
 ones got behind him, and stept up softly to him, and whis- 
 
#v 
 
 
 TAT^ITATTVF. .Paoa 7fl. 
 
CHRISTIAN DISCONSOLATE. 65 
 
 l^eringly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which 
 he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This 
 put Christian more to it than anything that he met with be- 
 fore, even to think that he should now blaspheme him that he 
 loved so much before; yet, if he could have helped it, he 
 would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either 
 to stop his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies* 
 came. 
 
 When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition 
 
 some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a 
 
 man, as going before him, saying, " Though I walk through 
 
 ^the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for 
 
 thou art with me." (Psa. xxiii. 4.) 
 
 Then he was glad, and that for these reasons: — 
 
 First. Because he gathered from thence, that some who 
 feared God w(;re in this valley as well as himself. 
 
 Secondly. For that he perceived God was with them, though 
 in that dark and dismal state; and- why not, thought he, with 
 me ? though by reason of the impediment that attends this 
 place, I cannot perceive it. (Job ix. 11.) 
 
 Thirdly. For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to 
 have company by apd by. So he went on, and called to him 
 that was before ; but he knew not what to answer ; for that he 
 also thought himself to be alone. And by and by the day 
 broke: then said Christian, " He hath turned ' the shadow of 
 death into the morning.' " (Amos v. 8.) 
 
 Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of de- 
 sire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, what 
 hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw more 
 perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand and the quag 
 that was on the other ; also how narrow the way was which 
 led betwixt them both ; also now he saw the hobgoblins, and 
 satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for, after break 
 of day, they came not nigh ; yet they were discovered to him, 
 according to that which is written, *'He discovereth deep 
 
66 THE TWO GIANTS. 
 
 things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow 
 of death." (Job xii. 22.) 
 
 Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from 
 all the dangers of his solitary way ; which dangers, though 
 he feared them more before, yet he saw them more clearly 
 now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to 
 him. And about this time the sun was rising, and this waF' 
 another mercy to Christian; for you must note, that though, 
 the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dan- 
 gerous, yet this second pai-t which he had to go was, if possi- 
 ble, far more dangerous: for from the place where he now 
 stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all along, 
 set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of 
 pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down there, that, had 
 it not been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the 
 way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been 
 cast away; but, as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then 
 said he, '*His candle shineth upon my head, and by his light 
 I walk through darkness." (Job xxix. 3.) 
 
 In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. 
 Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of this valley lay 
 blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of pil- 
 grims that had gone this way formerly : and while I was mu- 
 sing what should be the reason, I espied a little before me a 
 cave, where two giants. Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old time ; 
 by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, 
 ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put to death. But by this 
 place Christian went without much danger, whereat I some- 
 what v/ondered: but I have learned since, that Pagan has 
 been dead many a day; and as for the other, though he be 
 yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd 
 brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy I 
 and stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more than sit 
 in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and 
 biting his nails because he cannot come at them. 
 
STRONG IN THE LORD. 67 
 
 So I saw that Christian went on his way ; yet, at the sight 
 of the okl man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he could 
 not tell what to think, especially because he spake to him, 
 though he could not go after him, saying, ''You will never 
 mend till more of you be burned." But he held his peace, 
 and set a good face on it, and so went by and catched no^ 
 hurt. Then sang Christian — 
 
 ** O world of wonders ! (I can say no less !) 
 That I should he preserved in that distress 
 That I have met with here ! Oh, blessed be 
 That hand that from it hath delivered me ! 
 Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin 
 Did compass me, while I this vale was in : 
 Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 
 My path about, that worthless, silly I 
 Might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down ; 
 But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown." 
 
 Kow as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent, 
 which was cast up on purpose that ])ilgrims might see before 
 them. Up therefore Christian went, and looking forward, he 
 saw Faithful before him, upon his journey. Then said Chris- 
 tian aloud, "Ho, ho, so-ho! stay, and I will be your com- 
 panion!" At that, Faithful looked behind ; to whom Chris- 
 tian cried agaiu, "Stay, stay, till I come up to you." But 
 Faithful answered, " No, I am upon my life, and the avenger 
 of blood is behind me." At this, Christian was somewhat 
 moved, and, putting to all his strength, he quickly got up 
 with Faithful, and did also overrun him; so tlie last was first. 
 Then did Christian vain-gloriously smile, because he had got- 
 ten the start of his brother; but not taking good heed to J 
 his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise 
 again until Faithful came up to help him. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on to- 
 gether, and had sweet diycourse of all things that had hap- 
 
68 PLIABLE AND HIS NEIGHBOURS. 
 
 pened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus Christian "b • 
 gan: 
 
 Chii. My honoured and well-beloved brother Faithful, I an 
 glad that I have overtaken you ; and that God has so temper 
 ed our spirits that we can walk as companions in this so pleas 
 ant a path. 
 
 ' Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your com 
 pany quite from our town ; but you did get the start of me^ 
 wherefore I was forced to come this much of the way alone. 
 
 Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction, 
 before you set out after me on your pilgrimage ? 
 
 Faith. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great 
 talk presently after you were gone out, that our city would, 
 in a short time, with fire from heaven be burned down to the 
 ground. 
 
 Chr. What ! did your neighbours talk so ? 
 
 Faith. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth. 
 
 Chr. What! aad did no more of them but you come out 
 to escape the danger ! 
 
 Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk there- 
 about, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. For 
 in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them deridingly 
 speak of you and of your desperate journey (for so they 
 called this your pilgrimage) ; but I did believe, and do still, that 
 the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from above ; 
 and therefore I have made mine escape. 
 
 Chr. Did you hear no talk of netghbour Pliable ? 
 
 Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he 
 came at the Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell 
 in; but he would not be known to have so done; but I am 
 sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt. 
 
 Chr. And what said the neighbours to him ? 
 
 Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in 
 derision, and that among all sorts of people : some do mock 
 and despise him ; and scarce will any set him on work. He 
 
IBAITHFUL MEETS WANTON. 69 
 
 is now seven times worse than if lie had never gone out of the 
 city. 
 
 Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since they 
 all despise the way that he forsook ? 
 
 1 Faith. Oh, they say, ''Hang him, he is a turncoat! he was 
 not true to his profession." I think God has stirred up even 
 his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because^ 
 he hath forsaken the way. (Jer. xxix. 18, 19.) 
 
 Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came out ? 
 
 Faith. I met him once in tlie streets, but he leered away on 
 the other side, as one ashamed of what he had done ; so I 
 spake not to him. 
 
 Chr. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man ; 
 but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city ; for 
 it is happened to him according to the true proverb: ''The 
 dog is turned to his own vomit again ; and the sow that was 
 washed to her wallowing in the mire." (2 Pet. ii. 22.) 
 
 Faith. They are my fears of him too ; but who can hinder 
 that which will be ? 
 
 *' Well, neighbour Faithful," said Christian, "let us leave 
 him and talk of things that more immediately concern our- 
 selves. Tell me now what you have met with in the way as 
 you came; for I know you have met with some things, or else 
 it may be writ for a wonder." 
 
 Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceived you fell into,' 
 and got up to the gate without that danger: only I met with 
 one whose name was Wanton, that had liked to have done me 
 a mischief. 
 
 Chr. It was well you escaped her net. Joseph was hard put 
 to it by her, and he escaped her as you did; but it had liked 
 to have cost him his life. (Gen. xxxix. 11-13.) But what 
 did she do to you ? "'' 
 
 Faith. You cannot think (but that you know something) 
 what a flattering tongue she had; she lay at me hard to turn 
 aside with her, promising me all manner of content. 
 
70 ADAM THE FIRST. 
 
 Chu. I^ay, she did not promise you the eontent of a good 
 cofiscience. 
 
 Faith. You know what I mean — all carnal and fleshly con- 
 tent. 
 
 Chk. Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of 
 the Lord shall fall into her ditch. (Prov. xxii. 14.) 
 
 Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or 
 no. 
 
 Chb. Why, I trow* you did not consent to her desires ? 
 
 Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old 
 writing that I had seen, which said, " Her steps take hold on 
 Hell." (Prov. v. 5.) So I shut mine eyes, because I would 
 not be bewitched with her looks. (Job. xxxi. 1.) Then she 
 railed on me, and I went my way. 
 
 Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you came ? 
 
 Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, 
 I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and 
 whither bound. I told him that I was a pilgrim, going to the 
 Celestial City. Then said the old man, "Thou lookest liko 
 an honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell with me foi 
 the wages tliat I shall give thee ? " Then I asked him his 
 name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the 
 First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit, (Eph. iv. 22.) 
 I asked him then what was his work, and what the wages 
 that he would give. He told me that his work was many de- 
 lights; aud his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I 
 further asked him what house he kept, and what other ser- 
 vants he had. So he told me that his house was maintained 
 with all the dainties iu the world, and that his servants were 
 those of his own begetting. Then I asked him how many 
 children he had. He said that he had but three daughters: 
 the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of 
 Life, and that I should many them if I would. (1 John ii. 
 
 ♦BelieTc, 
 
TJIE FRIEND OF SINNERS.. 71 
 
 !8.) Then I asked how long time he would have me live 
 with him. And he told me, as long as he lived himself. 
 
 Chr. "Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you 
 to at last ? 
 
 Faith. WTiy, at first I found myself somewhat inclined to 
 go with the man, for I thought he spake very fair; but look- 
 ing in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw there written,! 
 "Put off the old man with his deeds.'' 
 
 Chr. And how then ? 
 
 Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever 
 he said and however he flattered, when he gOt me home to his 
 house he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to 
 talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then 
 he reviled me, and told me he would send such a one after mc, 
 that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to 
 go away from him; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I 
 felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly 
 twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after 
 himself. This made me cry, "O wretched man !" (Rom. 
 vii. 24.) So I went on my way up the hill. 
 
 Now when I had got about half way up, 1 looked behind, 
 and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind ; so he over- 
 took me just about the place where the settle stands. 
 
 "Just there," said Christian, "did I sit down to rest me; 
 but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my 
 bosom." 
 
 Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the 
 man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down 
 he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a 
 little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served 
 me so. He said, because of my secret inclining to Adam the 
 First; and with that he struck me another deadly blow on the 
 breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot as 
 dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him 
 mercy; but he said, " I know not how to show mercy; " and 
 
72 DISCONTENT. 
 
 with that knocked mt down again. He had doubtless made 
 an end of me, but that One came by and bid him forbear. 
 
 Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear ? 
 , Faith. I did not know him at first, but as he went by I per- 
 ceived the holes in his hands and in his side; Jien I concluded 
 that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill. 
 
 Chu. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth 
 none, neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that 
 transgress his law. 
 
 Faith. I know it very well; it was not the 'first time that 
 he has met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt 
 securely at home, and that told me he would burn the house 
 over my head if I stayed there. 
 
 Chr. But did you not see the house that stood there on the 
 top of the hill, on the side of which Moses inet you ? 
 
 Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it : but for 
 the lions, I think they were asleep, for it was about noon ; 
 and because I had so much of the day before me, I passed by 
 the porter, and came down the hill. 
 
 Chr. He told me, indeed, that' he saw you go by, but I 
 wish you had called at the house, for they would have showed 
 you many rarities, that you would scarce have forgot them to 
 the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet no- 
 body in the Valley of Humility ? 
 
 Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would will- 
 ingly have persuaded me to go back again with him : his rea- 
 son was, for that the valley was altogether without honour. 
 He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to dis- 
 obey all my friends, as Pride, Arrogance, Self-conceit, World- 
 ly-glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would be very 
 ^uch offended, if I made such a fool of myself as to wade 
 thj'ough ^this valley. 
 
 Chr. Well, and how did you answer him ? 
 
 Faith. I told him that although ail these that he named 
 might claim kindred of me, and that rightly (for indeed they 
 
FAITHFUL WITHSTANDS SHAME. 73 
 
 were my relations according to the flesh), yet since I became a 
 pilgrim, they have disowned me, as I also have rejected them ; 
 and therefore they were to me now no more than if they had 
 never been of my lineage. I told him, moreover, that as to 
 this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing; "for be- 
 fore honour is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall." 
 *• Therefore," said I, *'I had rather go through this valley to 
 the honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose 
 that which he esteemed most worthy our affections." 
 
 Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley ? 
 
 Faith. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men that I 
 met with in my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong 
 name. The others would be said nay, after a little argumen- 
 tation (and somewhat else), but this bold face Shame would 
 never have done. 
 
 Chr. Why, what did he say to you ? 
 
 Faith, What! why, he objected against religion itself ; he 
 said it was a pitiful, low. sneaking business for a man to 
 mind religion; he said that a tender conscience was an un 
 manly thing; and that for a man to watch over his words and 
 ways, so as to tie up himself from that hectoring liberty that 
 the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, 
 would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also 
 that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my 
 opinion ; nor any of them neither, before they were persuaded 
 to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the 
 loss of all, for nobody else knows what. (1 Cor. 1. 26 ; iii. 
 18; Phil. iii. 7, 8; John vii. 48.) He moreover objected to 
 the base and low estate and condition of those that were 
 chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived, also their 
 ignorance and want of understanding in all natural science. 
 Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate about a great many 
 more things than here I relate; as, that it was a shame to sit 
 whining and mourning under a sermon, and a sliame to come 
 iighing and groaning home ; that it was a shame to ask my 
 
74 SHAME IS SHAKEN OFF. 
 
 neighbour forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution 
 where I had taken from any. He said also that religion made 
 a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices 
 (which he called by finer names), and made him own and re- 
 spect the base, because of the- same religious fraternity. 
 "And is not this," said he, *' a sliamef " 
 
 Che. And what did you say to him ? 
 
 Faith. Say ! I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he 
 put me so to it, that my blood came up in my face : even this 
 Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me quite off. But 
 at last I began to consider, 'Hhat which is highly esteemed 
 among men is abomination in the sight of God." (Luke xvi. 
 15.) And I thouglit again, this Shame tells me what men are ; 
 but he tells me nothing what God or the Word of God is. 
 And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall 
 not be doomed to death or life according to the hectoring 
 spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of 
 the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best in- 
 deed is best, though all the men in the world are against it. 
 Seeing, then, that God prefers his religion; seeing God pre- 
 fers a tender conscience; seeing they that make themselves 
 fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest; and that the 
 poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the .greatest man in 
 the world that hates him: Shame, depart; thou art an enemy 
 to my salvation ! Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign 
 Lord ? How then shall I look him in the face at his coming ? 
 Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants, hov/ can 
 I expect the blessing ? (Mark viii. 3S.) But, indeed, this 
 Shame was a bold villain; I could scarce shake him out 
 of my company; yea, he would be hunting of me, and 
 continually whispering me in the ear, with some one or 
 other of the infirmities that attend religion ; but at last I told 
 him it was but in vain to attempt further in this business; for 
 those things that he disdained, in those did -I see most glory; 
 and so. at last I got past this importunate one. And when I 
 bad shaken him off, then I began to sing — 
 
THE FIGHT WITH APOLLYON. 75 
 
 '■ The trials that those men do meet withal, 
 That are obedient to the heavenly call, 
 Are manifold, and suited to the fiosh, 
 And come, and come, and come again afresh ; 
 That now, or sometime else, we by them may 
 Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 
 Oh let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims, then. 
 Be vigilant, and quit tli mselves like men." 
 
 Cim. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this 
 villain so bravely; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has 
 the wrong name ; for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, 
 and to attempt to put us to shame before all men: that is, to 
 make us ashamed of that which is good, but if he was not 
 himself audacious, he would never attempt to do as he does; 
 but let us still resist him ; for, notwithstanding all his brava- 
 does, he promoteth the fool, and none else. ''The wise shall 
 inherit glory," said Solomon ; "but shame shall be the promo- 
 tion of fools." (Prov. iii. 35.) 
 
 Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against 
 Shame that would have us be valiant for truth upon the 
 earth. 
 
 Cbr. You say true. But did you meet nobody else in that 
 valley ? 
 
 Faith. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the 
 way through that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow 
 of Death. 
 
 Chr. It was well for you; I am sure it fared far otherwise 
 with me. I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered 
 into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apol- 
 lyon ; yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especial- 
 ly when he got me aown and crushed me under him, as if he( 
 would have crushed me to pieces: for as he threw me, my 
 sword flew out of my hand; nay, he told me he was sure of 
 me : but I cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me 
 out of all my troubles. Then I entered into the Valley of 
 the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the 
 
76 A GREAT TALKER. 
 
 way through it. I thought I should have been killed thew, 
 over and over; but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and 1 
 went through that which was behind with far more ease and 
 quiet. 
 
 Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on. Faith- 
 ful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name 
 is Talkative, walking at a distance beside them (for in this 
 place there was room enough for them all to walk). He was 
 a tall man, and something more comely at a distance than at 
 hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this man- 
 ner: 
 
 *' Friend, whither away ? Are you going to the heavenly 
 country ? ■' 
 
 Talk. I am going to the same place. 
 
 Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have jour good 
 company. 
 
 Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion. 
 
 Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us 
 spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable. 
 
 Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very accept- 
 able, with you or with any other; and I am glad that I have 
 met with those who incline to so good a work : for, to speak 
 the truth, there are but few that care thus to spend their 
 time as they are in their travels, but choose much rather to be 
 speaking of things to no profit ; and this hath been a trouble 
 to me. 
 
 Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; for what 
 things so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men 
 »n earth, as are the things of the God of heaven ? 
 * Talk . I like you wonderful well, for your sayings are full 
 of conviction : and I will add, what thing is so pleasant, and 
 what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God ? What 
 things so pleasant (that is, if a man hath any delight in things 
 that are wonderful)? For instance, if a man doth delight of 
 the history or the mystery of things ; or if a man doth delight 
 
TALKATIVE'S NOTIONS. 77 
 
 to talk of «^iracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find 
 things rc^^^ ded so delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in 
 the Holy 'Scripture ? 
 
 Faith That is true ; but to be profited by such things in 
 our talk should be that which we design. 
 
 Talf. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is 
 "most profitable ; for, by so doing, a man may get knowledge 
 of many things; as of the vanity of earthly things, and the 
 benefit of things above. Thus in general ; but more particu- 
 larly, by this a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, 
 the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteous- 
 ness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to re- 
 pent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like ; by this also a 
 man may learn what are the great promises and consolations 
 of the gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man 
 may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and 
 also to instruct the ignorant. 
 
 Faith. All this is true, and glad am I to hear these things 
 from you. 
 
 T.^LK. Alas ! the want of this is the cause why so few under- 
 stand the need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace 
 in tlieir souls, in order to eternal life ; but ignorantly live in 
 the works of the law, by which a man can by no means ob- 
 tain the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is 
 the gift of God; no man attainethto them by human industry, 
 or only by the talk of them. 
 
 Talk. All this I know very well ; for a man can receive notli- 
 ing, except it be given him from heaven ; all is of grace, not of 
 works. I could give you a hundred Scriptures for the confir- 
 mition of this. 
 
 '* Well, then," said Faithful, " what is that one thing that 
 W3 shall at this time found our discourse upon ? " 
 
 Talk. Wliat you will. I will talk of things heavenly, or 
 tl.iugs earthly; things moral, or things evangelical: tinngs 
 
78 FAITHFUL BEGUILED." 
 
 •acred, or things profane; things past, or things to come; 
 things foreign, or things at home ; things more essential, or 
 things circumstantial; provided that all be done to our pro- 
 fit. 
 
 Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and, stepping to Chiis- 
 tian (for he walked all this while by himself), he said to him 
 (iDut softly), *' What a brave companion have we got! Surely 
 this man will make a very excellent pilgrim." 
 
 At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, "This man, 
 with whom you are so taken, will beguile with that tongUe of 
 his twenty of them that know hiui not.'' j 
 
 Faith. Do you know him, then ? i 
 
 Chr. Know him! Yes, better than he knows himself. 
 
 Faith. Pray, wliat is he ? 
 
 Chr. His name is Talkative ; he dwelletli in our towi]. I 
 wonder that you should be a stranger to him; only I consider 
 that our town is large. 
 
 Faith Whose son is he ? And whereabout does he dvell ? 
 
 Chr. He is the son of one Say-well ; he dwelt in Prating 
 Row; and he is known of all that are acquainted with hila by 
 the name of Talkative in Prating Row; and, notwithstaufling 
 his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow. * | 
 
 Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 
 
 Chr. That is, to them who have not thorough acquainjance 
 with him, for he is best abroad; near home, he is ugly enojagh. 
 Your saying that he is a pretty man brings to my mind vhat 
 I. have observed in the work of the painter, whose pic^res 
 show best at a distance, but, very near, more unpleasing.l 
 
 Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because 
 you smiled. \ 
 
 Chr. God forbid that I should jest (although I smiled! in 
 this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely ! I will ave 
 you a further discovery of him. This man is for any compapy, 
 or for any talk ; as he talketh now with you, so will he t^lk 
 ^hen he is on the alebench: and the more drink he hath in 
 
TALKATIVE'S TRUE CHARACTER 79 
 
 his crowD, the more of these things he hath in his mouth: re- 
 ligion hath no place m his heart, or house, or conversation; 
 all he hath lieth m Ms tongue, and his religion is to make a 
 aoise therewith. 
 
 Faith. Say you so! then I am in this man greatly deceived. 
 
 Ohu. Deceived! you may (L»e sure of it; remember the pro- 
 rcrb, "They say and do not." (Matt, xxiii. 3.) But the 
 ♦•-kingdom of God is not in word, but in power." (1 Cor. iv. 
 •iJu.) He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the 
 aewbh'th; but ho knows but only to talk of them. I have 
 Ooen In his family, and have observed him both at home and 
 abroad; and I know what I say ol him is the truth. His 
 house is as empty of religion as the white of an egg is of 
 savour. There is there neither prayer nor sign of repentance^ 
 for sm; yea, the brute in his kind serves God far better than 
 he. He is the very stain, reproach, and sname of religion, to 
 all that know him; it can hardly have a good word in all that 
 end of the town where he dwells, through mm. (Rom. ii. 24, 
 25.) Thus say the common people that know him, "A saint 
 ahroad, and a devil at home." His poor family finds it so; 
 he is sich a churl, such a railer at and so unreasonable with 
 his servants, that they neither know how to do for or speak to 
 Inm. Men that have any dealings with him say it is better to 
 deal with a Turk than with hiin; for fairer dealing tbey shall 
 ha^G et their hands. This Talkative, if it be possible, will go 
 beyond them, defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, 
 he K^rings up his sons to follow his steps ; and if he findeth in 
 any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first 
 appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and 
 blocxheads, and ])y no means will employ thetn in much or 
 speak: to their commendation before others. For my part, I 
 am of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, caused many 
 to stumble and fall ; and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin 
 of many more. 
 
 FiiTH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you ; not 
 
80 SAYING AND DOING. 
 
 only because you say you know him, but also because like a 
 Christian you make your reports of men. For J cannot think 
 that you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is eren 
 sjo as you say. 
 
 Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might perliaps 
 have thought of him as at the first you did; yea, had lie re- 
 ceived this report at their hands only that are enemies to re- 
 ligion, I should have thought it had been a slander (a lot that 
 often falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's names 
 and professions); but all these things, yea, and a great many 
 more as bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. 
 Besides, good men are ashamed of him; they can neither call 
 him brother nor friend ; the very naming of him among them 
 makes them blush, if they know him. 
 
 Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and 
 hereafter I shall better observe this distinction. 
 
 Chr. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are 
 the soul and the body; for as the body withont the soulis but 
 a dead carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead circass 
 also. The soul of religion is the practical part: *'Pure re- 
 ligion and undefiled before God and the Father is this : To 
 visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep 
 himself unspotted from the world." (James i. 27; see ver. 
 22-26.) This Talkative is not aware of; he thinks that hear- 
 ing and saying will make a good Christian, and thus he de- 
 ceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the 
 seed ; talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in 
 the heart and life ; and let us assure ourselves, that at the day 
 of doom men shall be judged according to their fruits. 
 (Matt, xiii; also xxv.) It will not be said then, *'DiO you 
 believe ?" but, "Were you doers, or talkers only ?" and ac- 
 cordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is 
 compared to our harvest ; and you know men at harvest re- 
 gard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted 
 that is not of faith, but I speak this to show you how insig- 
 nificant the profession of Talkative will be at that day. 
 
 I 
 
CHRISTIAN'S ADVICE TO FAITHFUL. 81 
 
 Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he 
 clesicribeth the beast that is clean. (Lev. xi. 1-9 ; Deut. xiv. 
 1-8.) He is such a one that parteth the hoof and cheweth 
 the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the 
 cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, be- 
 cause he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth 
 Talkative; he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he 
 cheweth upon the Word, but he divideth not the hoof, he* 
 ,parteth not with the way of sinners; but, as the hare, he re- 
 taineth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean. 
 
 Chr. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel 
 sense of those texts; and I will add another thing. Paul 
 calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers too, "sound- 
 ing brass and tinkling cymbals,"— that is, as he expounds 
 them in another place, "things without life, giving sound." 
 (1 Cor. xiii. 1-3; xiv. 7.) Things without life — that is, with- 
 out the trne faith and grace of the gospel ; and, consequently 
 things that shall never be placed in the kingdom of heaven 
 among those that are the children of life; though their 
 sound, by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of 
 an angel. 
 
 Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but 
 I am sick of it now. What sliall we do to be rid of him ? 
 
 Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall 
 find that he will soon be sick of your company too, except 
 God shall touch his heart, and turn it. 
 
 Faith. What would you have me to do ? 
 
 Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some seifbus dis- 
 course about the power of religion; and ask him plainly 
 (when he has appoved of it, for that he will) whether this 
 thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation. 
 
 Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talka- 
 tive, "Come, what cheer ? How is it now ? " 
 
 Talk. Thank you, well. I thought we should have had a 
 great deal of talk by this time. 
 
82 THE SIGN OF OflACE. 
 
 FAiTn. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and since 
 you left it with me to state the question, let it be this: ilow 
 (loth the saving grace of God discover itself, when it is in the 
 heart of man ? 
 
 Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the 
 power of things. "Well, it is a very good question, and I 
 shall be willing to answer you. And take my answer in brief, 
 thus: First, Where the grace of God is in the heart, it 
 causeth there a great outcry against sin. Secondly — 
 
 Faith. Nay, hold ; let us consider of one at once. I think ' 
 you should rather say, it shows itself by inclining the soul to 
 abhor its sin. 
 
 Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out 
 against, and abhorring of sin ?* 
 
 Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin 
 of policy, but he cannot abhor it but by virtue of godly antip- 
 athy against it. I have heard many cry out against sin in 
 the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, 
 house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a 
 loud voice, as if she had been very holy; but she would will- 
 ingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanncss 
 with him. (Gen. xxxix. 15.) Some cry oat against sin, even 
 as the mother cries out against her child iu her lap, when she 
 calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and 
 kissing it. 
 
 Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 
 Faith. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right. But 
 what is Ac second thing whereby you would prove a discovery 
 of a work of grace in the lieart ? 
 Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. 
 Faith. This sign should have been first ; but, first or last, 
 it is also false ; ' for knowledge, great knowledge, may be ob. 
 tained in the mysteries of the gospel, and yet no work ol 
 grace in the soul. (1 Cor. xiii.) Yea, if a man have all 
 knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so consequently be 
 
A WORK OF GRACE. 83 
 
 no child of God. When Christ said, *'Do you know all these 
 things ? " and the disciples had answered yes, he addeth, 
 "Blessed are ye if ye do them." He doth not lay the bless- 
 ing in the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For 
 there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: "He 
 that knoweth his master's will and doeth it not." A man may 
 know like an ange], and yet be no Christian; therefore your 
 sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing that pleaseth 
 talkers and boasters; hxit to do A^ that which pleaseth God. 
 Not that the heart can be good v/ithout knowledge; for with- 
 out that the heart is naught. There is, therefore, knowledge 
 and knowledge : knowledge that resteth in the bare speculation 
 of things, and knowledge that is accom])anied with tlie grcice 
 of faith and love, which puts a man upon doing even tlie will 
 of God from the heart: the first of these will serve the talker; 
 but without the other the true Christian is not content. " Give 
 me understanding, and I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall ob- 
 serve it with my whole heart." (Psa. cxix. 34.) 
 
 Talk. You lie at the catch again; this is not for edifi- 
 cation . 
 
 Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this 
 work of grace discovereth itself where it is. 
 
 Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 
 
 Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to 
 doit? 
 
 Talk. You may use your liberty. 
 
 Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself either 
 to him that hath it, or to standers by. 
 
 - To him that hath it, thus: It gives him conviction of sin, 
 especially of the defilement of his nature and the sin of unbe- 
 lief (for the sake of which he is sure to he damned, if he 
 findeth not mercy at God's hand, by faith in Jesus Christ.) 
 (John xvi. 8; Rom. vii. 24; John xvi. 9; Mark xvi. 16.) 
 This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and 
 nhame for sin; he findeth, moreover, revealed in him tho 
 
84 HOW IT IS DISCOVERED. 
 
 Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing 
 with him for life, at the which he lindeth hungerings and 
 thirstings aftar him ; to which hungerings, etc., the promise 
 is made. (Psa. xxxviii. 18; Jer. xxxi. 19; Gal. ii. 16; Acts 
 iv. 12; Matt. v. 6; Rev. xxi. 6.) Now, according to the 
 strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour, so is his joy 
 and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know 
 him more, and also to serve him in this world. But,^ though 
 I say it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom 
 that he is able toconclude that this is a work of grace; be- 
 cause his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make his 
 mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore, in him that hath 
 this work there is required a very sound judgment before he 
 can, with steadiness, conclude that this/is a work of grace. 
 To others, it is thus discovered :^ v 
 
 1. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ. 
 (Rom. X. 10; Phil. i. 27; Matt. v. 19.) 
 
 2. By a life answerable to that confession; to wit, a life of 
 holmess, heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath a family), 
 and by conversation-holiness in the world; which, in the 
 general, teach eth him inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself 
 for that, in secret ; to suppress it in his family, and to promote 
 holiness in the world ; not by talk only, as a hypocrite or 
 talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection, in faith 
 and love, to the power of the Word. (John xiv. 15; Psa. 1. 
 23; Job xlii; o, 6; Ezek. xx. 43.) And now, sir, as to this 
 brief description of the work of grace, and also the discovery 
 of it, if you have aught to object, object; if not, then give 
 me leave to propound to you a second question. 
 
 Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear; let 
 me therefore have your second question. 
 
 Faith. It is this: Do you experience the first part of thi;i 
 description of it ? and doth your life and conversation testify 
 the same ? or standeth your religion in word or tongue, and 
 not in deed and truth ? Pray, if you incline to answer me in 
 
TALKATIVE DISPLEASED. 85 
 
 this, say no more than you know the God above will say 
 Amen to; and also nothing but what your conscience can 
 justify you in: "for, not he that commendeth himself is ap- 
 proved, but whom the Lord commendeth " Besides, to say I 
 am thus and thus, when my conversation and all my neigh- 
 bours tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 
 
 Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering 
 himself, thus he replied : *' You come now to experience, to 
 conscience, and God ; and to appeal to him for justification 
 of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect; 
 nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, be- 
 cause I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon 
 you to be a catecliiser, and, though you should so do, yet I 
 may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you 
 tell me why you ask me such questions ? " 
 
 Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I 
 knew not that you had aught else but notion. Besides, t^ 
 tell you all the truth, I have heard of you, that you are a man 
 whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives 
 this your mouth -profession the lie. They say you are a spot 
 among Christians: and that religion fareth tlie worse for your 
 ungodly conversation: that some have already stumbled at 
 your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being de- 
 stroyed thereby : your religion, and an alehouse, and covetous- 
 ness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain 
 company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is 
 true of you which is said of a whore, to wit, that she is a 
 shame to all women ; so you are a shame to all professors. 
 
 Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge 
 so rashly as yo%ido, I cannot but conclude you are some peev- 
 ish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with, and so 
 adieu. 
 
 Then came up Christian and said to his brother, ''I told 
 you how it would happen. Your words and his lusts could 
 not %gree; he had rather leave your company than reform his 
 
86 HEART-WORK. 
 
 life. But he is gone, as I said. Let him go; the loss is nci 
 man's but his own. He has saved us the trouble of go n^ 
 from him ; for he continuing (as X suppose he will do) as he 
 is, he would have been but a blot in our company : besides, 
 the Apostle says, ' From such withdraw thyself.' " 
 
 Faith. But I am glad we liad this little discourse with him: 
 it may happeif that he will think of it again : however, I have 
 dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his blood, if he 
 perish eth. 
 
 Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did ; 
 there is but little of this faithful dealing with men now-a- 
 days, and that makes religion to stink oo in the nostrils of 
 many, as it doth; for they are these talkative fools whose re- 
 ligion is only in words, and are debauched and vain in their 
 conversation, that (being so much admitted into the fellow- 
 ship of the godly) do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, 
 and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with 
 such as you have done; then should they either be made more 
 conformable to religion, or the company of saints would be 
 too hot for them. 
 
 Then did Faithful say— 
 
 * How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes ! 
 How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
 To drive down all before him ! But so soon 
 As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
 That's past the full into the wane he goes. 
 And so will all but he that heart- work knows." 
 
 Thus they went on talking of what they had seen by the 
 way; and so made that way easy which would otherwise, no 
 doubt, have been tedious to them, for now they went through 
 »• wilderness. 
 
 Now when they were got almost quite out of this wilder- 
 ness. Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one 
 coming after them, and he knew him. " Oh ! " said Faithful 
 to his brother, ''who comes yonder ? '' Then Christian look 
 
EVANGELIST ENCOURAGES THEM. 87 
 
 ed, and said, "It is my good friend Evangelist." "Ay^ and 
 my good friend, too," said Faithful, " for it was he that set 
 me the way to the gate." Now was Evangelist come to them, 
 and thus saluted them : 
 
 " Peace be with you, dearly beloved; and peace be to your 
 helpers. " 
 
 Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist; the .sight of 
 thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kind- 
 ness and unwearied labouring for my eternal good. 
 
 "And a thousand times welcome," said good Faithful; 
 "thy company, O sweet Evangelist, how desirable it is to us 
 poor pilgrims! " 
 
 Then said Evangelist, " How hath it fared with you, my 
 friends, since the time of our last parting ? What have you 
 met with, and how have you behaved yourselves ? " 
 
 Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had 
 happened to them in the way; and how and with what diffi- 
 culty tlicy had arrived to that place. 
 
 "Right glad ami," said Evangelist, "not that you have 
 met with trials, but that you have been victors, and for that 
 you have (notwithstanding many weaknesses) continued in 
 the way to this very day. I say, right glad am I of this thing, 
 and that for mine own sake and yours. I have sowed and 
 you have reaped ; and the day is coming when ' both he that 
 sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together; ' that is, if 
 you hold out: 'for in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint 
 not.' (John iv. 36; Gal. vi. 9.) The crown is before you, 
 and it is an incorruptible one ; * ?o run, that you may obtain 
 it.' (1 Cor. ix. 24-27.) Some tliere be that set out for this 
 crown, and after they have gone far for it, another comes in- 
 and takes it from them: hold fast, therefore, that you have; 
 let no man take your crown. (Rev. iii. 11.) You are not 
 yet out of the gun-shot of the devil ; you have not resisted 
 unto blood, striving against sin; let the kingdom be always 
 before you, and believe steadfastly concerning things that aire 
 
88 EVANGELIST FORETELLS OF TRIALS. 
 
 inyisible. Let nothing that is on this side the other world 
 get within you ; arjd, above all, look well to your own hearts, 
 and to the lusts thereof, ' for they are deceitful above all 
 things, and desperately wicked.' Set your faces like a flint; 
 you have all power in heaven and earth on youi' side.'' 
 I Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation; but told 
 liim, wijthal, that they would have him speak further to thcpa 
 for their help the rest of the way ; and the rather, for that 
 they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell them 
 of things that might happen unto them, and also how they 
 might resist an(3 overcome them. To which request Faithful 
 also consented. So Evangelist began as foUoweth : 
 "^ ''My sons, you have heard in the words of the truth of the 
 gospel, that you must through many tribulations enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven. And again, that in every city bonds and 
 afflictions abide you ; and therefore you cannot expect that you 
 should go long on your pilgrimage without them, in some 
 sort or other. You have found something of the truth of 
 these testimonies upon you already, and more will immediate- 
 ly follow : for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wil- 
 derness, and therefore you will soon come into a town that 
 you will by and by see before you ; and in that town you will 
 be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they 
 will kill you ; and be you sure that one or both of you must seal 
 the testimony which you now hold with blood; but be 
 you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown 
 of life. He that shall die there, although his death will he 
 unnatural, and his pain pei'haps great, he will yet have the 
 better of his fellow ; not only because he will be arrived at 
 the Celestial City soonest, but because he will escape many 
 miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his jour- 
 ney. But when you are come to the town, and shall find ful- 
 filled what I have here related, then remember your friend, 
 and quit yourselves like men, and- commit the keeping of your 
 souls to your God 'in well-doing,' as unto a faithful Cre* 
 ator.'^ 
 
VANITY FAIR. 89 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got ont of 
 the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and 
 the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the town there is a 
 fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long; it 
 beareth the name of Vanity Fair because the town where it is- 
 ke^Dt is lighter than vanity; and also because all that is there 
 sQld, or that cometh thither, is vanity. As is the saying of 
 the wise, "All that cometh is vanity." (Eccles. xii. 14; ii. 
 11, 17; Isa. xl. 17.) 
 
 Tins fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient 
 standing; I will show you the original of it. 
 
 Almost ^ve thousand years agone, there were pilgrims walk- 
 ing to the Celestial City as these two honest persons are ; and 
 Beelzebub, Ayollyon, and Legion, with their companions, 
 perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made, that their way 
 to the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived 
 here to set up a fair, a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of 
 vanity, and that it should last all the year long; therefore at 
 this fair are all such merchandise Sv.ld, as houses, lands, 
 trades, places, lionours, preferments, titles, countries, king- 
 doms, lu&ts, pleasures, and delights of all sorts, as whores, 
 bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, 
 blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and 
 what not. And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times to 
 be seen juggimg, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, 
 and rogues, i^nd that of every kind. Here arc to be seen, too, 
 and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false swear- 
 ers, and that of a blood-red colour. 
 
 And as in other fairs of less moment tljere are the several 
 rows and streets, under their proper names, where such and 
 such wares are vended; so here likewise you have the proper 
 places, rows, streets (namely, countries and kingdoms), where 
 the wares of this fair arc soonest to be found. Here is the 
 Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish 
 Row, the German Bow, where several sorts of vamtiei 
 
90 THE PILGRIMS ENTER THE FAIR. 
 
 arc to be sold. But as iu other fairs some one commodity ia 
 as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her mer- 
 chandise is greatly promoted in this fair; only our English 
 nation, with some others, have taken a dislike thereat. 
 • Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just 
 through this town where this lusty fair is kept; and he that 
 will go to the city, and yet not go through this town, must 
 needs '* go out of the world." (1 Cor v. 10.) The Prince of 
 princes liimself, when here, went through this town to his 
 own countiy, and that upon a fair day too ; yea, and as I 
 think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that in- 
 vited him to buy of his vanities; yea, would have made him 
 lord of the fair, would he but have done him reverence as he 
 went through the town. (Matt, iv, 8; Luke iv. 5-7.)" Yea, be- 
 cause he was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had him 
 from street to street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the 
 world in a little time, that he might (if possible) allure the 
 Blessed One to cheapen and buy some of his vanities; but he 
 had no mind to the mcrcliaudise, and therefore left the town, 
 without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vani- 
 ties. This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing, of long stand- 
 ing, and a very great fair. 
 
 Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this 
 fair. -Yf ell, so they did: but, behold ! even as they entered 
 into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the 
 town itself as it were in a hubbub about them ; and that for 
 several reasons : for — 
 
 First, the pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment 
 as was diverse froiji the raiment of any that traded in that 
 fair. The people, therefore, of the fair made a great gazing 
 upon them : some said they were fools, some they were bed- 
 lams, and some they were outlandish men. (1 Cor. ii. 7^ 8.) 
 
 Secondly, and as they wondered at their apparel, so they 
 did likewise at their speech ; for few could understand what 
 they said : they naturally spoke the language of Canaan, lat 
 
THE PILGRIMS EXAMINED. 91 
 
 *-hey that kept the fair were the men of this world; so that, 
 froiii one end of the fair to the other, they seemed barbarians 
 each to the other. 
 
 ^^lirdly, but that which did not a little amuse the mer- 
 chandisers was, that these pilgrims set very light by all their 
 wares ; they cared not so much as to look upon them ; and if 
 they called upon them to buy, they would put their fingers m 
 their ears, and cry, "Turn away mine eyes from beholding 
 vanity," and look upwards, signifying that their trade anc^ 
 traffic was in heaven: (Psa. cxix. o7 ; Phil. iii. 20.) 
 
 One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, 
 to say unto them, "What will ye buy ? " But they, looking 
 gravely upon him, said, '*We buy the truth." (Prov. xxiii. 
 23. ) At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men 
 the more; some mocking, some taunting, some speaking re- 
 proachfully, and some calling upon others to smite them. At 
 last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, inso- 
 much that all order was confounded. Now was word pres- 
 ently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came 
 down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take 
 these men into examination, about whom the fair was almost 
 overturned. So the men were brought to examination, and 
 they that sat upon them asked them whence they came, 
 whither they went, and wliat they did there in such an unusual 
 garb. The men told them that they were pilgrims and 
 strangers in the world, and that they were going to their own 
 country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem (Heb. xi. 13-10), 
 and that they had given no occasion to the men of the town, 
 nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, and to let* 
 them in their journey; except it was for that, when one asked 
 them what they would buy, they said they would buy., the 
 truth. But they that were appointed to examine them did 
 not believe them to be any other than bedlair.s and mad, or 
 else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. 
 
 " *ninclcr. 
 
92 CONDUCT OF THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 Therefore they took them and beat them, and besmeared them 
 with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they might 
 be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, there- 
 fore, they lay for some time, and were made the objects of 
 any man's sport, or malace, or revenge ; the great one of the 
 fair laughing still at all that befell them. But the men being 
 patient, and not rendering railing for railing, but contrari- 
 wise, blessing, and giving good words forbad, and kindness 
 for injuries done, some men in the fair, that were more ob- 
 serving and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and 
 blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them 
 to the men. They, therefore, in an angry manner, let fly at 
 them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, 
 and telling them that they seemed confederates, and should 
 be made partakers of their misfortunes. The others replied 
 that for aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober, 
 and intended nobody any harm ; and that there were many 
 that traded in their fair that were more worthy to be put into 
 the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men they had 
 abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides 
 (the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and 
 soberly before them), they fell to some blows among them- 
 selves, and did harm one to another. Then were these two 
 poor men brought before their examiners again, and there 
 charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in 
 the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon 
 them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an 
 example and a terror to others, lest any should speak in their 
 behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Christian and 
 Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received 
 the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them, with so 
 much meekness and patience that it won to their side (though 
 but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the 
 fair. This put the other party yet into a greater rage, inso- 
 much that they concluded the death of these two men. 
 
FAITHFUL'S ANSWER. 93 
 
 Wherefore they threatened that the cage nor irons should serve 
 their turn, but that they should die, for the abuse they had 
 done, and for deluding the men of the fair. 
 
 Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further 
 order should be taken with them. So they put them in, and 
 made their feet fast in the stocks. 
 
 Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had 
 heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were the 
 more confirmed in their way and sufferings by what he told 
 them would happen to them. They also comforted each other, 
 that whose lot it was to suffer, even he should have the best 
 of it; therefore, each man secretly wished that he might have 
 that preferment : but committing themselves to the all-wise 
 disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content 
 they abode in the condition in which they were, until they 
 should bo otherwise disposed of. 
 
 Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought 
 them forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. 
 When the time was come, they were brought before their en- 
 emies and arraigned. The judge's name was Lord Hate-good. 
 Their indictment was one and the same in substance, though 
 somewhat varying in form; the contents whereof were these: 
 
 *'That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade; 
 that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, 
 and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions, in 
 contempt of the law of their prince." 
 
 Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself 
 against that which had set itself against Him that is higher 
 than the highest. '*And," said he, "as for disturbance, I 
 make none, being myself a man of peace; the parties that 
 were won to us were won by beholding our tijuth and inno- 
 cence, and they are only turned from the worse to the better. 
 And as to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the 
 enemy of our Lord, I defy him and all his angels." 
 
 Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say 
 
94 ENVY'S ACCUSATION. 
 
 for tlieirlord the king, against the prisoner at the bar, should 
 forthwith appear and give in their evidence. So there came 
 in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Picktliank. 
 They were then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar, 
 and what they had to say for their lord the king against him. 
 
 Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect: ''My lord, 
 I have known this man a long time, and will attest upon my 
 oath before tliis honourable bench that he is " — 
 
 Judge. Hold! Give him his oath. 
 
 So tiiey sware him. Then he said, "My lord, this man, 
 notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the vilest men 
 in our country. He neither regardeth prince nor people, law 
 nor custom; but doth all that he can to possess all men with 
 certain of his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls 
 principles of faith and holiness. And, in particular, I heard 
 him once myself aflSrm^ that Christianity and the customs of 
 our town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not 
 be reconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at once not 
 only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of 
 them." 
 
 Then did the judge say to him, "Hast thou anymore to 
 say." 
 
 Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not 
 be tedious to the court. Yet, if need be, when the other 
 gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than anything 
 shall be wanting that will dispatch him, I will enlarge my 
 testimony against him. 
 
 So he was bid to stand by. Then they called Superstition, 
 and bid him look upon the prisoner. They also asked what 
 he could say for their lord the king against him. Then they 
 sware him ; so he began : 
 
 "My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor 
 do I desire to have further knowledge of him; however, this 
 I know, that he is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse 
 that the other day I had with him in this town; for then talk- 
 
PICKTHxiNK'S TALE. 95 
 
 ing with him, I heard him say that our religion was naught, 
 and such by which a man could by no means please God : 
 which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows 
 what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that wc do still 
 worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be 
 damned ; and this is that which I have to say." 
 
 Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew in 
 fcehalf of their lord and king, against the prisoner at the bar. 
 
 *'My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have known 
 of a long time, and have heard him speak things that ought 
 not to be spoke ; for he hath railed on our noble prince Beelze- 
 bub, and hath spoken contemptibly of his honourable friends, 
 whose names are the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, 
 the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old 
 Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of our 
 nobility; and he hath said, moreover, 'That if all men were 
 of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these noblemen 
 should have any longer a being in this town.' Besides, h3 
 hath not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, who are now ap- 
 pointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, with 
 many other such like vilifying terms, Avith which he hath Ioq- 
 spattered most of the gentry of our town. 
 
 When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed 
 his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, " Thou runagate, 
 heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what these honest gentle- 
 men have witnessed against thee ? " 
 
 Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defence ? 
 
 Judge. Sirrah ! Sirrah ! thou deservest to live no longer, 
 but to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet, that all men 
 may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear what thou, 
 vile runagate, hast to say. 
 
 Faith. 1. I say then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath 
 spoken, I never said auglit but this. That what rule, or laws, 
 or customs, or people were flat against the Word of God are 
 diametrically opposite to Christianity. If I have said amiss 
 
96 "The charge to the jury. 
 
 in this, convince me of my error, and I am ready here before 
 you to make my recantation. 
 
 2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his charge 
 against me, I said only this. That in the worship of God there 
 is required a divine faith ; but there can be no divine faith 
 withont a divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore, 
 whatever is thrust into the worship of God, that is not agreea- 
 ble to divine revelation, cannot be done but by a human faith, 
 which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. 
 
 3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding 
 terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that the prince 
 of this town, with all tlie rabblemcnt, his attendants, by this 
 gentleman named, are more fit for being in hell than in this 
 town and country: and so the Lord have mercy upon me ! 
 
 Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood 
 by to hear and observe) : "Gentlemen of the jury, you see this 
 man about whom so great an uproar hath been made in this 
 town ; you have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have 
 witnessed against him: also you have heard his reply and con- 
 fession. It lieth now in your breasts to liang him or save his 
 life ; but yet I think meet to instruct you into our law. 
 
 '' There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, 
 servant to our prince, that lest those of a contrary religion 
 should multiply and grow too strong for him, their males 
 should be thrown into the river. (Ex. i.) There was also an 
 act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another 
 of his servants, that whosoever would not fall down and wor- 
 ship his golden image should be thrown into a fiery furnace. 
 (Dan. iii.) There was also an act made in the days of Darius, 
 that whoso, for some time, called upon any god but him, 
 should be cast into the lions' den. (Dan. vi.) Now the sub^ 
 stance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only in thougl t 
 (which is not to be borne), but also in word and deed ; which 
 must therefore needs be intolerable. 
 
 *'For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposi- 
 

 1^-' 
 
''FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH." 97 
 
 tion, to prevent mischief, no crime being yet apparent ; but 
 here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, you see 
 he disputeth against our religion ; and for the treason he hath 
 confessed, he deserveth to die the death." 
 
 Then weut the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blind-man, 
 Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. 
 Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, 
 Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable, who every one gave la 
 his private verdict against him among themselves, and after- 
 wards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before 
 the judge. And first, among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, the 
 foreman, said, "I see clearly that this man is a heretic." 
 Then sajd Mr. No-good, *' Away with such a fellow from the 
 earth. '^ ''Ay," said Mr. Malice, "for I hate the very looks 
 of him." Then said Mr. Love-lust, '' I could never endure 
 him." "Nor I," said Mr. Live-loose, "for he would always 
 be condemning my way." " Hang him, hang him," said Mr. 
 Heady. "A sorry scrub," said Mr. High-mind. 'My heart 
 riseth against him," said Mr. Enmity. " He is a rogue," said 
 Mr. Liar. " Hanging is too good for him," said Mr. Cruelty. 
 " Let's despatch him out of the way," said Mr. Hate-light. 
 Then said Mr. Implacable, "Might I have all the world given 
 me, I could not be reconciled to him; therefore let us forth- 
 with bring him in guilty of death." And so they did; there- 
 fore he was presently condemned to be had from the place 
 where he was to the place from whence he came, and there xo 
 be put to the most cruel death that could be invented. 
 
 They therefore brought him out, to do with him according to 
 their law; and first they scourged him, then they buffeted him,, 
 then they lanced his flesh with knives; after that they stoned 
 him with stones, then pricked him with their swords ; and, 
 last of all, chey burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came 
 Faithful to his end. 
 
 Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot 
 
 and a couple of horses, waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as 
 p. r.-4. 
 
98 A NEW COMPANION. 
 
 his adversaries had despatched him) was taken up into it, and 
 straightway was carried up through the clouds, with sound 
 of trumpet, the nearest way to the Celestial Gate. . 
 
 But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remand- 
 ed back to prison. So he there remained for a space ; but He 
 that overrules all things, having the power of their rage in 
 I his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for that 
 jtimc escaped them, and went his way. And as he went, h^ 
 sang, saying — 
 
 *' Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully professed 
 Unto thy Lord ; with whom thou shalt bo bless'd^ 
 When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 
 Are crying out under their hellish plights : 
 Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; 
 For, though they killed thee, thou art yet alive." 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went lot forth 
 alone ; for there was one whose name was Hopeful (being 
 made so by the beholding of Christian and Faithful "in their 
 words and behaviour, in their sufferings at the fair), wlio 
 joined himself unto him, aud entering into a brotherly cov- 
 enant, told him that he would be his companion. Thus, one 
 died to bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out of 
 his ashes to be a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. 
 • This Hopeful also told Christian that there were many more 
 of the ru^nin the fair that would take their time and follow 
 after^j^^^ 
 
 t'l saw that quickly after they were got out of the fair, 
 [ley overtook one that was going before them, whose name 
 was By-ends: so they said to him '*What countryman, sir? 
 And how far go you this way ?" He told them that he cams 
 from the town of Fair-speech, and he was^oing to the Celes- 
 tial City, but told them not his name. 
 
 ^'From Fair-speech! " said Christian. "Is there any good 
 jfiat lives there ? " (Prov. xxvi. 35.) 
 
 '* Yes," said By-ends, '*I hope." 
 
BY-ENDS* RELATIONS. 99 
 
 *'Pray, sir, what may I call you," said Christian. 
 
 By-ends. I am a stranger to you, and you to me : if you 
 be going this way, I shall be glad of your company; if not, I 
 must be content. 
 
 "This town of Fair-speech," said Christian, "I have heard 
 of; and, as I remember, they say it is a wealthy place." 
 
 By-ends. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have ver 
 many rich kindred there. 
 
 Chr. Pray, who are your kindred there ? if a man may be 
 so bold. 
 
 By-ends. Almost the whole town; and, in particular, my 
 Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair-speech 
 (from whose ancestors that town first took its name), also Mr. 
 Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything: and the 
 parson of our parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own 
 brother by father's side ; and, to tell you tlie truth, I am be- 
 come a gentleman of good quality, yet my great grandfather 
 was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing another; 
 and I got most of my estate by the same occupation. 
 
 Chr. Are you a married man ? 
 
 By-ends. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the 
 daughter of a virtuous woman: she was my Lady Feign- 
 ing's daughter; therefore she came of a very honourable 
 family, and is ariived to such a pitch of breeding, that she 
 knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and peasant. 
 It is true we somewhat differ in religion from those of 
 the stricter sort, yet but in two small points: we never 
 strive against wmd and tide; secondly we are always most 
 zealous when religion goes in his silv6r slippers: we love 
 much to walk with him in the streets, if the sun shines, and 
 the people applaud him. 
 
 Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow. Hopeful, 
 saying, " It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair- 
 speech ; and if it be he, we have as very a knave in our com- 
 pany as dwelleth in all these parts." Then said Hopeful, 
 *' Ask him; methinks he should not be ashamed of his nama" 
 
100 HOW BY-ENDS GOT HIS NAME. 
 
 So Christian came up with him again, and said, " Sir, you 
 talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth; 
 and, if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess 
 of you. Is not your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech ? " 
 
 By-ends. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nickname 
 that is given me by some that cannot al)ide me ; and I must 
 be content to bear it as a reproach, as other good men havf 
 borne theirs before me. 
 
 Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to call 
 you by this name ? 
 
 By-ends. Never, never! The worst that ever T did to give 
 them an occasion to give me this name was, that I had al- 
 ways the luck to jump in my judgment with the present way 
 of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to get 
 thereby; but if things are thus cast upon me, let me count 
 them a blessing, but let not the malicious load me therefore 
 with reproach. 
 
 Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard 
 of; and, to tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to 
 you more properly than you are willing we should think it 
 doth. 
 
 By-ends. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it. 
 You shall find me a fair company-keeper, if you will still ad- 
 mit me your associate. 
 
 Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and 
 tide: the which, T perceive, is against your opinion; you 
 must also own religion in his rags, as well as when in his 
 silver slippers ; and stand by him, "too, when bound in irons, 
 as well as when he wMketh the streets with applause. 
 
 By-ends. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith ; 
 leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 
 
 Chr. Not a step further, unless you will do in what I pro- 
 pound as we. 
 
 Then said By-ends, " I shall never desert my old principles, 
 since they are harmless and profitable. If I may not go with 
 
THE SCHOOLFELLOWS. 101 
 
 you, I must do as I did before you overtook me, even go by 
 myself, until some overtake me that will be glad of my com- 
 pany, y 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful for- 
 sook him, and kept their distance before him; but one of 
 them, looking back, saw three men following Mr. By-ends, 
 and beheld, as they came up with him, he made them a very; 
 low conge ; and they also gave him a compliment. The men's 
 names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. 
 Save-all — men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been acquainted 
 with; for in their minority they were schoolfellows, and were 
 taught by one Mr. Gripe-man, a schoolmaster in Love-gain, 
 which is a market town in the county of Coveting, in the 
 north. This schoolmaster taught them the art of getting, 
 either by violence, cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting on 
 a guise of religion, and these four gentlemen had attained 
 much of the art of their master, so that they could each of 
 them have kept such a school themselves. 
 
 Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, 
 Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By-ends, '*Who are they upon 
 the road before us ? " for Christian and Hopeful were yet with- 
 in view. 
 
 By-ends. They are a couple of far-countrymen that, after 
 their mode, are going on pilgrimage. 
 
 MoNEY-LOVE. Alas ! why did they not stay, that we might 
 have had their good company ? for they and we and you, sir, 
 I hope, are all going on a pilgrimage. 
 
 By-ends. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so 
 rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do also so 
 lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a man be never 
 so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things, they 
 thrust him quite out of their company. 
 
 Save-all. That's bad; but we read of some that are righte- 
 ous overmuch; and such men's rigidness prevails with them 
 to judge and condemn all but themselves. But, I pray, what 
 and how many were the things wherein you differed. 
 
103 FAIR WEATHER CHRISTIANS. 
 
 By-ends. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, con- 
 clude that it is their duty to rush on their journey all weath- 
 ers ; and I am for waiting for wind and tidt3. They are for 
 hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am for taking all ad- 
 vantages to secure my life and estate. They are for holding . 
 their notions, though all other men are against them; but I 
 am for religion m what and so far as the times and my safety 
 will bear it. They are for religion when in rags and con- 
 tempt ; but I am for him when he walks in his golden slippers 
 in the sunshine, and with applause. 
 
 HoLD-THE- WORLD. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. 
 By-ends; for, for my part, I can count him but a fool that, 
 having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so unwise as 
 to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents; it is best to make hay 
 when the sun shines; you see how the bee lielh still all win- 
 ter, and bestirs her only when she can liave profit witli pleas- 
 ure. God sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine ; if 
 they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be con- 
 tent to take fair weather along with us. For my part, I like 
 that religion best that will stand with the security of God's 
 good blessings unto us ; for who can imagine that is ruled by 
 his reason, since God has bestowed upon us the good things 
 of this life, but that he would have us keep them for liis 
 sake ? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion. And 
 Job says that a good man shall lay up gold as dust. But he 
 must not be such as the men before us* if they be as you have 
 described them. 
 
 Save-all. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and 
 therefore there needs no more words about it. 
 
 MoNEY-LOVE. No, there needs no more words about tliis 
 matter indeed; for he that believes neither Scripture nor' 
 reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither 
 knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 
 
 By-ends. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on 
 pilgrimage; and, for our better diversion from things that 
 are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this question ; 
 
MONEY-LOVE'S ARGUMENTS. 103 
 
 Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, etc., should 
 have an advantage lie before him to get the good bless- 
 ings of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by 
 them, except in appearance at least he becomes extraordinarily 
 zealous in some points of religion that he meddled not with 
 before ; may he not use this means to attain his end, and yet 
 be a right honest man ? 
 
 Money-love. 1 see the bottom of your question ; and, with 
 these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape you 
 an answer. And first, to speak to your question as it con- 
 cerns a minister himself. Suppose a minister, a worthy man, 
 possessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his eye a 
 greater, more fat and plump by far; he has also now an op- 
 portunity of getting of it, yet so as by being more studious, 
 by preaching more frequently and zealously, and, because the 
 temper of the people requires it, by altering of. some of his 
 principles ; for my part I see no reason but a man may do this 
 (provided he has a call), ay, and more a great deal besides, 
 and yet be an honest man. For why — 
 
 1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot be 
 contradicted), since it is set before him by Providence; so 
 then, he may get it if he can, making no question for con- 
 science' sake. 
 
 2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more 
 studious, a more zealous preacher, etc., and so makes him a 
 better man ; yea, makes him better improve his parts, which 
 is according to the mind of God. 
 
 3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people, « 
 by dissenting,* to serve them, some of his principles, this, 
 argueth (1) that he is of a self-denying temper; (2) of a sweet 
 and winning deportment ; and so (3) more fit for the minis- 
 terial function. 
 
 4. I conclude, then, that a minister tljat changes a small for 
 a great should not for so doing be judged as covetous; but 
 
 * Or dissembling, playing the hypocrite or disguising his eal intentions. 
 
104 MONEY-LOVE'S ARGUMENTS. 
 
 rather, since he has improved in his parts and industry there- 
 by, be counted as one that pursues his call, and the oppor- 
 tunity put into his hand to do good. 
 
 And now to the second part of the question, which concerns 
 the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such an one to have 
 but a poor employ in the world, but, by becoming religious, 
 lie may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wdfe, or more and 
 far better customers to his shop ; for my part, I see no reason 
 but that this may be lawfully done. For why— 
 
 1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever 
 a man becomes so: 
 
 2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to 
 my shop. 
 
 3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious 
 gets that which is good of them that are good, by becoming 
 good himself ; so then here is a good wife, and good customers, 
 and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, which is 
 good. Therefore, to become religious to get all these is a 
 good and profitable design. 
 
 This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money-love to Mr. By- 
 ends' question, was highly applauded by them all ; wherefore 
 they concluded, upon the whole, that it was most wholesome 
 and advantageous. And because, as they thought, no man 
 was able to contradict it, and because Christian and Hopeful 
 were yet within call, they jointly agreed to assault them with 
 the question as soon as they overtook them; and the rather 
 because they had opposed Mr By-ends before. So they called 
 after them, and they stopped, and stood still till they came 
 (up to them ; but they concluded, as they went, that not Mr. 
 ty-ends but old Mr. Hold-the-world should propound the 
 question to them, becauie, as they supposed, their answer to 
 him would be without the remainder of that heat that wa^ 
 kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them at their parting a little 
 before. 
 
 So they came up to each other, and, after a short sail ta- 
 
CHRISTIAN'S ANSWER. 105 
 
 tion, Mr. Hold-the-world propounded the question to Christian 
 and his fellow, and bid them to answer it if they could. 
 
 Then said Christian, ." Evena babe in religion may answer 
 ten thousand such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow 
 Christ for loaves, as it is (John vi.), how much more abomi- 
 nable is it to make of him and religion a stalking-horse to get 
 and enjoy the world! Nor do we find any other than heath- 
 ens, hypocrites, devils, and witches, that are of this opinion. 
 
 "1. Heathens; for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind 
 to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was 
 no way for them to come at them but by becoming circum- 
 cised, they say to their companions, ' If every male of us be 
 circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not their cattle, 
 and their substaujce, and every beast of theirs, be ours ? ' 
 Their daughter and their cattle were that which they sought 
 to obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse they made use 
 of to come at them.* 
 
 ''2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion; 
 long prayers were their pretence, but to get widows' houses 
 was their intent: and greater damnation was from God their 
 judgment. (Luke xx. 46, 47.) 
 
 '' 3. Judas, the devil, was also of this religion; he was re- 
 ligious for the bag,.that he might be possessed of what was 
 therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and tiie very son of per- 
 dition. 
 
 *'4. Simon, the witch, was of this religion too; for he 
 would have had the Holy Ghost, that lie might have got 
 money therewith ; and his sentence from Peter's mouth was 
 according. (Acts viii. 19-32.) 
 
 *' 5. Neither will it out of my mind but that that man who 
 takes up religion for the world will throw away religion for 
 the world ; for, so surely as Judas designed the world in becom- 
 ing religious, so surely did he also sell religion and his Master 
 for the same. To answer the question, t herefore, affirmatively^ 
 
 I * Read the whole story, Gen. xxxiv. 30-23. 
 
106 CHRISTIAN FIRM TO HIS PRINCIPLES. 
 
 as I perceive you have done, and to accept of, as authentic, 
 such answers, is heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish ; and 
 your reward will be according to your. works." 
 
 Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not 
 wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved of 
 the soundness of Christian's answer; so there was a great 
 silence among them. Mr. By-ends and his company also stag- 
 gered and kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might 
 outgo them. Then said Christian to his fellow, "If these 
 men cannot stand before the sentence of men, what will they 
 do wnth the sentence of God ? And if they are mute when 
 dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they do when they 
 shall be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire ? " 
 
 Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went 
 till they came at a delicate plain called Ease, where they 
 went with much content; but that plain was but narrow, so 
 they were quickly got over it. Now at the further side of 
 that plain was a little hill called Lucre, and in that hill a 
 silver mine, which some of them that had formerly gone that 
 way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see ; but 
 going too near the brink of the pit, the ground, being de- 
 ceitful under them, broke, and they were slain ; some also had ■ 
 l)een maimed there, and could not to their.dying d^y be their 
 own men again. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that a liltlo off tlie road, over 
 against the silver mine, stood Dcmas (gentleman-like) to call 
 to passengers to come and see, who said to Christian and hig 
 fellow, "Ho! turn aside hither, audi will show you a thing.'' 
 
 Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us oat of the way 
 to see it ? 
 
 Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it foi 
 treasure; if you will come, with a little pains you may richly 
 provide for yourselves. 
 
 Then said Hopeful, "Let us go se^." 
 
 " Not I, " said Christian ; "I have heard of this place be* 
 
DEMAS' PEDIGREE. 107 
 
 fore now, and how many have there been slain ; and besides^ 
 that treasure is a snare to those that seek it, for it liindereth 
 them in their pilgrimage." Then Christian called to Demas, 
 saying, "Is not the place dangerous ? Hath it not hindered 
 many in their pilgrimage ? " (Hosea xiv. 8, 9.) 
 
 Demas. ISTot very dangerous, except to those that are care 
 less. (But, withal, he blushed as he spake). 
 
 Then said Christian to Hopeful, "Let us not stir a step, but 
 still keep on our way." 
 
 Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he 
 hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in thither to see. 
 
 Chk. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that 
 way, and a hundred -to one but he dies there. 
 
 Then Demas called again, saying, "But will you not come 
 over and see?" Then Christian roundly answered, saying, 
 "Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of 
 this way, and hast been already condemned for thine own 
 turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges (2 Tim. iv. 10), 
 and why seekcst thou to bring us into the like condemnation ? 
 Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will cer- 
 tainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame where we 
 would stand with boldness before him." 
 
 Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fraternity, 
 and that if they would tarry a little he also himself would 
 walk with them. 
 
 Then said Christian, "What is thy name? Is it not the 
 same by the which I have called thee ? " 
 
 Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham. 
 
 Chr. I know you ; Gehazi was your great grandfather, and 
 Judas your father; and you have trod in their steps. (2 Kings 
 V. 20; Matt. xxvi. 14, 15; xxvii. 1-5.) It is but a devilish 
 prank that thou usest: thy father was hanged for a traitor, 
 and thou deservest no better reward. Assure thyself, that 
 wiien. we come to the Kiug, we will do him word of this thy be- 
 haviour. 
 
108 '* REMEMBER LOT'S WIFE." 
 
 Thus they went their way. 
 
 By this time By-ends and his companions were come again 
 within sight, and they, at the first beck, went over to Demas. 
 Now, whether they fell into the pit by looking over the brink 
 thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or whether they 
 were smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly 
 arise, of these things I am not certain ; but this I observed, 
 thac they never were seen again in the way. Then sang 
 Christian — 
 
 *' By-ends and Silver- Demas both agree ; 
 One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
 A sharer in his hicre : so these do 
 Take up in this world, and no further go." 
 
 Now I saw that just on the other side of this plain, the pil- 
 grims came to a place where stood an old monument, hard 
 by the highway side, at the sight of which they were both 
 concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof: 
 for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman transformed 
 into the shape of a pillar. Here therefore they stood looking 
 and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they 
 should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied, written above 
 upon the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he, 
 being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) to 
 see if he could pick out the meaning; so he came, and after 
 a little laying of letters together, he found the same to be 
 this: *' Remember Lot's wife." So he read it to his fellow; 
 after which they both concluded that that was the pillow of 
 salt into which Lot's wife was turned for her looking back 
 with a covetous heart, when she was going from Sodom for 
 safety (Gen. xix. 26) : which sudden and amazing sight gave 
 them occasion of this discourse : — 
 
 Chr. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight; it came 
 opportunely to us after the invitation which Demas gave us to 
 come over to view the hill Lucre ; and had we gone over as 
 he desired us, and as thou wast inclining to do, my brother, 
 
A SAD BUT JUST CONCLUSION. 109 
 
 we had, for aught I know, been made ourselves, like this 
 woman, a spectacle for all those that shall come after to 
 behold . 
 
 Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to 
 wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife ; for wherein was the 
 difference betwixt her sin and mine ? She only looked back; 
 and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be adored, and let me 
 be ashamed that ever such a thing should be in mine heart. 
 
 Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help 
 for time to come. This woman escaped one judgment, for she 
 fell not by the destruction of Sodom; yet she was destroyed 
 by another, as we see ; she is turned into a pillar of salt. 
 
 Hope. True ; and she may be to us both caution and ex- 
 ample : caution, that we should shun her sin ; or a sign of 
 what judgment will overtake such as shall not be prevented by 
 this caution ; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hun- 
 dred and fifty men that perished in their sin, did also become 
 a sign or example to others to beware. (Num. xxvi. 9, 10.) 
 But, above all, I muse at one thing ; to wit, how Demas and his 
 fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that trea- 
 sure, which this woman but for looking behind her after (for 
 we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way) was 
 turned into a pillar of salt; especially since the judgment 
 which overtook her did make her an example within sight of 
 where they are ; for they cannot choose but see her, did they 
 but lift up their eyes. 
 
 Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that 
 their hearts are grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell 
 who to compare ti)em to so fitly as to them that pick pockets 
 in the presence of the judge, or that will cut purses under the 
 gallows. It is said of the men of Sodom, that they were sin- 
 ners exceedingly, because they were sinners before the Lord ; 
 that is, in his eyesight, and notwithstanding the kindnesses 
 that he had showed them (Gen. xiii. 13) ; for the land of 
 Sodom was now like the garden of Eden heretofore. (Gen. 
 
110 ''THE RIVER OF GOD.'' 
 
 xiii. 10.) This, therefore, provoked him the more to jealousy, 
 and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of 
 heaven could make it. And it is most rationally to be conclud- 
 ed that sueh, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, 
 yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set con- 
 tinually before them, to caution them to the contrary, must 
 be partakers of severest judgment. 
 
 Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth ; but what a mercy 
 is it, that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself 
 this example! This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, 
 to fear before him, and always to remember Lot's wife. 
 
 I saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river, 
 which David the king called "the river of God," but John 
 "the river of the water of life." Now their way lay just 
 upon the bank of the river; here therefore Christian and his 
 companion walked with great delight; they drank also of the 
 water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their 
 weary spirits. Besides, on the bank of this river, on either 
 side, were green trees, that bore all manner of fruit ; and the 
 leaves of the trees were good for medicine ; with the fruit of 
 these trees they were also much delighted; and the leaves 
 they ate to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are inci- 
 dent to those that heat their blood by travels. (Psa. Ixv. 9; 
 Rev. xxii. 1, 3; Ezek. xlvii.) On either side of the river was 
 also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies; and it was 
 green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down and 
 slept, for here they might lie down safely. When they awoke, 
 they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again 
 of the water of the river, and then lay down again to sleep. 
 (Psa. xxiii. 2; Isa. xiv, 30.) Thus they did several days and 
 nights. Then they sang — 
 
 " Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, 
 To comfort pilgrims by the highway side. 
 The meadows green, beside their fragrant smell, 
 
BY-PATH MEADOW. Ill 
 
 Yield dainties for them : and lie that can tell 
 
 What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, 
 
 Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field." 
 
 So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not, as 
 yet, at their journey's end), tbey ate and drank, and departed. 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed 
 far, but the river and the way for a time parted ; at which 
 they were not a little sorry, yet they durst not go out of the/ 
 way. Now the way from the river was rough, and their feet 
 tender, by reason of their travels; ''so the souls of the pil- 
 grims were much discouraged because of the way." (Num. 
 xxi. 4.) Wherefore, still as they went on, -they wished for bet- 
 ter way . Now a little before them, there was on the left hand of 
 the road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it ; and that 
 meadow was called By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to 
 his fellow, " If this meadow lieth along our wayside, let's go 
 over into it." Then he went to the stile to see, and behold a 
 path lay along by the way on the other side of the fence. " It 
 is according to my wish," said Christian. "Here is the 
 easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over." 
 
 Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of the way ? 
 
 "That's not like," said the other. "Look, doth it not go 
 along by the wayside ? " So Hopeful, being persuaded by his 
 fellow, went after him over the stile. When they were gone 
 over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy to 
 their feet; and withal they, looking before them, espied a 
 man walking as tlicy did (and his name was Vain-confidence) ; 
 so they called after him, and asked him whither that way 
 led. He said, "To the Celestial Gate." "Look," said 
 Christian, "did not I tell you so ? By this way you may see 
 We are right." So they followed, and he went before them. 
 But behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark ; so that 
 they that were behind lost the sight of him tliat went before. 
 
 He therefore that went before (Vain-confidence by name), 
 not seeing the way befop> him, fell into a deep pit (Isa. ix. 
 
112 FALL OF VAIN-CONFIDENCE. 
 
 16), which was on purpose there made by the prince of those 
 grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and was dashed 
 in pieces with his fall. 
 
 Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they 
 called to know the matter, but there was none to answer, 
 only they heard a groaning. Then said Hopeful, "Where 
 are we now ? " Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting 
 that he had led him out of the way. And now it began to 
 rain, and thunder and lighten in a very dreadful manner, and 
 the water rose amain. 
 
 Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, ' ' Oh, that I had 
 kept on my way? " 
 
 Chr. "Who could have thought that this path should havb 
 led us out of tlie way ? 
 
 Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore gave 
 you that gentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but 
 that you are older than I. 
 
 Chr. Good brother, be not offended ; I am sorry I have 
 brought thee out of the way, and that I have put thee into 
 such imminent danger; pray, my brother, forgive me; I did 
 not do it of an evil intent. 
 
 Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; and 
 believe, too, that this shall be for our good. 
 
 Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother: but we 
 must not stand thus ; let us try to go back again. 
 
 Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 
 
 CiiR No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any 
 danger I may be first therein, because by my means we are 
 both gone out of the way. 
 
 "No," said Hopeful, "you shall not go first; for your 
 mind being troubled may lead you out of the way again." 
 
 Then, for their encouragement, they heard the voice of One 
 saying, " Set thine heart towards the highway, even the way 
 which thou wentest: turn again." (Jer. xxxi. 21.) But by 
 this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which 
 
/ M-W:~ ^"■■-"v^^^ 
 
DOUBTING CASTLE. 113 
 
 the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought 
 that it is easier going out of the way when we are in, than go- 
 ing in when we are ou];.) Yet they adventured to go back, 
 but it was so dark, and the flood, was so high, that in their 
 going back they had liked to have been drowned nine or ten 
 times. 
 
 Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to 
 the stile that night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under a lit- 
 tle shelter, they sat down there until the day brake ; but, be- 
 ing weary, they fell asleep. Now there was, not far from the 
 place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the 
 owner whereof was Giant Despair ; and it was in his grounds 
 they now were sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up in the 
 morning early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught 
 Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then, witli a 
 grim aild surly voice, he bid them awake ; and asked them 
 whence they were, and what they did on his grounds. They 
 told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their 
 way. Then said the giant, ''You have this night trespassed 
 on me, by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and 
 therefore you must go along with me." So they were 
 forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also 
 had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. 
 The giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them 
 into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stink- 
 ing to the spirits of these two men. (Psa. Ixxxviii. 8.) 
 Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday 
 night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, 
 or any to ask how they did. They were, therefore, here 
 in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. 
 Now in this place Christian had double sorrow, because it was 
 through his uuad vised counsel that they were brought into 
 this distress. 
 
 Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. 
 So when he was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had 
 
114 DESPAIR ILL-USES THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 done ; to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners and 
 cast them into his dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. 
 Then he asked her also what he had best do further to them. 
 So she asked him what they were, whence they came, and 
 whither they were bound ; and he told her. Then she coun- 
 selled him that when he arose in the morning he should beat 
 them witl>out any mercy. So, when he arose, he getteth him 
 a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon 
 to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if they were 
 dogs, although they gave him never a word of distaste ; then 
 he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that 
 they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon 
 the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there 
 to condole their misery and to mourn under their distress. 
 So all that day they spent the time. in nothing but sighs and 
 bitter lamentations. The next night, she, talking with her 
 husband about them further, arud understanding they were 
 yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away them- 
 selves. So, when morning was come, he goes to them in a, 
 surly manner, as before, and perceiving them to be very sore 
 with the stripes that he had given, them the day before, he 
 told t?liem, that since they were never like to come out of th'at 
 place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of 
 themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison. ^'Forwhy," 
 said he, "should you choose life, seeing it is attended with, 
 so much bitterness ! " But they desired him to let them go. 
 With that he looked ugly upon them, and, rushing to them, 
 had doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell 
 into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sunshiny weather, 
 fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hand; where- 
 fore he withdrew, and left them as before, to consider what to 
 do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, 
 whether it was best to take his counsel or no ; and thus they 
 began to discourse; — 
 
 "Brother," said Christian, " what shall we do ? The life 
 
HOPEFUL'S WISE COUNSEL. 115 
 
 that we now live is miserable. For my part, I know not 
 whether is best, to live thus, or to die out of hand. 'My 
 ^Koul choeseth strangling rather than life,' and the grave is 
 more easy for me than this dungeon. (Job vii. 15.) Shall 
 we be ruled by the giant ? " 
 
 Hope. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death 
 would be far more welcome to me than thus forever to abide;' 
 but yet, let us consider, the Lord of the country to which we 
 are going hath said, "Thoushalt do no murder: " no, not to 
 another man's person ; much more, then, are we forbidden to 
 take his counsel to kil\ ourselves. Besides, he that kills an- 
 other can but commiv murder upon his body; but for one 
 to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. And more- 
 over, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast 
 thou forgotten the hell whither for certain the murderers go ? 
 For " no murderer hath eternal life.-' And let us consider 
 again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair. 
 Others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by him, 
 as well as we; and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who 
 knows but that God that made the world may cause thAt Giant 
 Despair may die? or that at some time or other he may forget to 
 lock us in? or that he may in a short time have another of his 
 fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs? — and if ever 
 that should come to pass again, for my part I am resolved to 
 pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from 
 under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it be- 
 fore ; but, however, my brother, let's be patient, and endure 
 a while; the time may come that may give us a happy release: 
 but let us not be our own murcferers. 
 
 With these words, Hopeful at present did moderate the 
 mind of his brother; so they continued together (in the dark) 
 that day, in their sad and doleful condition. 
 
 Well, towards evening, the giant goes down into the dun- 
 geon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel ; but 
 when he came there he found them alive; and, truly, alive 
 
116 THE EXHORTS TO PATIENCE. 
 
 was all, for now, wliat for want of bread and water, and" by 
 reason of the wounds they received when he beat them, they 
 could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them alive; 
 at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that, 
 seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with 
 them than if they had never been born. 
 
 At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian 
 fell into a swoon; but, coming a little to hims^jlf again, they 
 renewed their discourse about the giant's counsel; and wheth- 
 er yet they had best to take it or no. Nov/ Christian again 
 seemed to be for doing it, but Hopeful made his second reply 
 as followeth : 
 
 *' My brother," said he, ^' rememberest thou not how valiant 
 thou hast been heretofore ? Apollyon could ^\ot crush thee, 
 nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel, in the Val- 
 ley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror, and 
 amazement hast thou already gone through! and art thou now 
 notliing but fears ? Thou seest that I am in +he dungeon 
 with thee, a far weaker man by nature than t\i<^n art : also, 
 this giant has wounded me as well as thee, and ha^h also cut 
 off the bread and water from my mouth; r.nd wiUi thee I 
 mourn without the light. But let's exercise a little more pa- 
 tience: remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, 
 and wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of 
 bloody death. Wherefore, let us (at least to avoid tlie shame, 
 that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with pa- 
 tience as well as we can." 
 
 Now night being come again, and the giant and his wife 
 being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, ami if 
 they had taken his counsel. To which he replied, '' They are 
 sturdy rogues : they choose rather to bear all hardship, than to 
 make away with themselves." Then said she, "Take them into 
 the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and 
 skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, and make 
 them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear 
 them in pieces as thou hast done their fellows before them.' 
 
THE PILGRIMS ESCAPE. 117 
 
 So, when the morning was come, the giant goes to them 
 again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them 
 as liis wife liad bidden him. *' These," said he, " were pil- 
 grims as you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, 
 as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in 
 pieces ; and so within ten days I will do you. Go, get you down 
 to your den again;" and with that he beat them all the way 
 thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lament- 
 able case, as before. Now when night was come, and when 
 Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the giant, were got to bed, 
 they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and, 
 withal, the old giant wondered that he could neither by his 
 blows nor his counsel bring them to an end. And with that 
 his wife replied, "I fear," said she, "that they live in hope 
 that some will come to relieve them, or that they have pick- 
 locks about them, by the means of which they hope to es- 
 cape." *'And sayest thou so, my dear?" said the giant; "I 
 will therefore search them in the morning." 
 
 Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, 
 and continued in prayer till almost break of day. 
 
 Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half 
 amazed, brake out in this passionate speech: "What a fool," 
 quoth he, "am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I 
 may as well walk at liberty ! I have a key in my bosom, called 
 Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubt- 
 ing Castle." Then said Hopeful, "That is good news; good 
 brother, pluck it out of thy bosom, and try." 
 
 Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try 
 at the dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave 
 back, and the door flew. open with ease, and Christian and 
 Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door 
 that leads into the castle-yard, and, with his key, opened that 
 door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that must be 
 opened too ; but that lock went damnable hard, yet the key \ 
 did (•pen it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their 
 
118 THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 escape with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a' 
 creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to 
 pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him 
 again, so that he could by rio means go after them. Then they 
 went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, 
 because they were out of his jurisdiction. '^*' 
 
 Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to 
 contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile, to 
 prevent those that should come after from falling into the 
 hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a 
 pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence: 
 ' ' Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept 
 by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial 
 Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many 
 therefore that followed after read wliat was written, and es- 
 caped the danger. This done, they sang as follows: 
 
 *' Out of the way we went, and then we found 
 What 't was to tread upon forbidden ground ; 
 And let them that come after have a care, 
 Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare. 
 Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are, 
 Whose castle 's Doubting, and whose name 's Despair." 
 
 They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, 
 which mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we 
 have spoken before; so they went up to the mountains, to be- 
 hold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains 
 of water; where also they drank and washed themselves, and 
 did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the tops 
 of these mountains Shepherds feeding their flocks, and they 
 stood by the highway side. The pilgrims therefore went to 
 them, and leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary 
 pilgrims, when they stand to talk with any by the way), they 
 asked, "Whose Delectable Mountains are these ? And whoso 
 be ,the sheep that feed upon them ? " 
 
 Shep. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they are 
 
THE SHEPHERDS. 119 
 
 within sight of his city ; and the sheep also are his, and he 
 iaid down his life for them. 
 
 Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City ? 
 
 Shep. You are just in your way. 
 
 Chr. How far is it thither ? 
 
 Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither in- 
 deed. 
 
 Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous ? 
 
 Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; "but the 
 transgressors shall fall therein." (Hosea xiv. 9.) 
 
 Chr. Is there, in this place, any relief for pilgrims that are 
 weary and faint in the way ? 
 
 Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge 
 not to be "forgetful to entertain strangers" (Heb. xiii. 2), 
 therefore the good of the place is before you. 
 
 I saw also in my dream that, when the Shepherds perceived 
 that they were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them 
 (to which they made answer as in other places), as, " Whence 
 came you? "'and, "How got you into the way?" and, "By 
 what means have you persevered therein ? for but few of them 
 that begin to come hither do show their face on these moun- 
 tains." But when the Shepherds heard their answers, being 
 pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and 
 said, "Welcome to the Delectable Mountains." 
 
 The Shepherds, I say (whose names were Knowledge, Ex- 
 perience, Watchful, and Sincere), took them by the hand, and 
 nad them to their tents, and made them partake of that Avhich 
 was ready at present. They said, moreover, "We would that 
 ye should stay here a wliile, to be acquainted with us; and 
 yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these Delecta- 
 ble Mountains." Tliey then told them that they were content 
 to stay; so they went to their rest that night, because it was 
 veiy late. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the Shepherds 
 called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the 
 
120 A VIEW FROM MOUNT CAUTION. 
 
 mountains; so they went forthwith them, and walked awhile^ 
 having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the Shep- 
 herds one CO another, "Shall we show these pilgrims some 
 wonders ? " So, when they had concluded to do it, they had 
 them first to the top of a liill called Error, which was very 
 steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the 
 bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at 
 the bgttom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they 
 had from the top. Then said Christian, "What meaneth 
 this?." The Shepherds answered, "Have you not heard of 
 them tliat were made to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and 
 Philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of the 
 body ?" (2 Tim. ii. 17, 18.) They answered, "Yes." Then 
 said the Shepherds, "Those that you see lie dashed in pieces 
 at the bottom of this mountain are they; and they have con- 
 tinued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to 
 others to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they 
 come too near the brink of this mountain." 
 
 Then I saw that they had them to the top of arrother moun- 
 tain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar 
 o3; which when they did, they perceived, as they thought, 
 several men walking up and down among the tombs that were 
 there ; and they perceived that the men were blind, because 
 they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they 
 could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, 
 "What means this?" 
 
 The Shepherds then answered, "Did you not see a little 
 below these mountains a stile, that led into a meadow on the 
 left hand of this way ? " They answered, "Yes." Then said 
 the Shepherds, ''From that stile there goes a path that leads 
 directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair ; 
 and these (pointing to them among the tombs) came once on 
 pilgrimage, as you do now, even till they came to that same 
 Btile; and, because the right way was rough in that place, 
 they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were 
 
THE BY-WAY TO HELL. 121 
 
 taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle; where, 
 after they had been awhile kept in the dungeon, he at last 
 did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, 
 where he has left them to wander to this very day, that the 
 saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, * The man that 
 wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain in 
 the congregation of the dead.'" (Prov. xxi. 16.) Then 
 Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears 
 gushing out, but yet said nothing to the Sheplierds. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to 
 another place, in a bottom, where was a door in the side of 
 a hill; and they opened the door and bid them look in. They 
 looked in, therefore, and saw that w-ithin it was very dark 
 and smoky: they also thought that they heard there a rum- 
 bling noise as of fire, and a cry of some tormented, and that 
 they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, ' ' What 
 means this ? " The Shepherds told them, "This is a by-way 
 to hell, a way that hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell 
 their birthright, with Esau; such as sell their master, with 
 Judas; such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander, and 
 that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife." 
 
 Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, " I perceive that these 
 had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we 
 have now, had they not ? " 
 
 Shep. Yes, and held it a long time, too. 
 
 Hope. How far might they go on pilgrimage in their day, 
 since they notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away ? 
 
 Shep, Some further, and some not so far as these moun- 
 tains. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims one to another, '* We have need to 
 cry to the Strong for strength." 
 
 Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when you have 
 it, too. 
 
 By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and 
 the Shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked together 
 
122 A VERY BRISK LAD. 
 
 towards the end of the mountains. Then said the Shepherds 
 one to another, "Let us here show to the pilgrims the gates 
 of the Celestial City, if ihey have skill to look through our 
 perspective glass." The pilgrims then lovingly accepted tlie 
 motion ; so they had them to the top of a high hill, called 
 Clear, and gave them their glass to look. Then they essayed 
 to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that the 
 Shepherds had shown them made their hands shake ; by means 
 of which they could not look steadily through the glass ; yet 
 they thought they saw something like the gate, and also some 
 of the glory of the place. Then they went away, and sang 
 this song : 
 
 ■'Thus, by the Shepherds, secrets are reveal'd, 
 Which from all other men are kept conceard. 
 Come to the Shepherds, then, if you would see 
 Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be." 
 
 When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave 
 them a note of the way. Another of them bid them beware 
 of the Flatterer. The third bid them take heed that they 
 sleep not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid 
 them God-speed. 
 
 So I awoke from my dream. 
 
 And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two pil- 
 grims going down the mountains along the highway towards 
 the city. Now a little below these mountains, on the left 
 hand, lieth the country of Conceit; from which country there 
 comes, into the way in which the pilgrims walked, a little 
 crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met with a very brisk 
 lad, that came out of that country; and his name was Igno- 
 rance. So Christian asked him from what parts he came, and 
 whither he was going. 
 
 Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there, a 
 little on the left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City. 
 
IGNORANCE. 123 
 
 Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate ? for you 
 may find some difficulty there. 
 
 *' As other good people do,'^ said Ignorance. 
 
 Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that may 
 cause that the gate should be opened to you ? 
 
 Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good 
 liver; I pay every man his own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and 
 give alms, and have left my country for whither I am going. 
 
 Chr. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate that is at 
 che head of this way; thou camest in hither through that 
 same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, however tliou mayest 
 think of thyself, when the reckoning day shall come, thou 
 wilt have laid to thy charge that thou art a thief and a robber, 
 instead of getting admittance into the city. 
 
 Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter jtrangers to me ; I know you 
 not. Be content to follow the religion of your country, and 
 I will follow the religion of mine. I hope all will be well. 
 And as for the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that 
 that is a great way off of our country. I cannot think that 
 any man in all our parts doth so much as know the way to it ; 
 nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we have, 
 as you see, a fine, pleasant green lane, that comes down from 
 our country, the next way into the way. 
 
 When Christian saw that the man was "wise in his own 
 conceit," he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, "There is more 
 hope of a fool than of him." (Prov. xxvi. 12.) And said, 
 moreover, " ' When he that is a fool walketh by the way, his 
 wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one that he is a 
 fool.' (Eccles. X. 3.) What, shall we talk further with him. 
 or outgo him at present, and so leave him to think of what 
 he hath heard already ; and then stop again for him afterwards, 
 and see if by degrees we can do any good to him ? " Then 
 saic' Hopeful — 
 
 ** Let Ignorance a little while now muse 
 On what was said, and let him not refuse 
 
124 STORY OF LITTLE-FAITH. 
 
 Good counsel to embrace, lest lie remain 
 Still ignorant of what 's the chietVst gain. 
 God saitli, Those tliat no understanding have 
 (Although he made them), them he will not save." 
 
 He further added, "It is not good, I think, to say aU to 
 him at once ; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him 
 anon, ^ven as he is able to bear it." 
 
 So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. JSTow 
 when they had passed him a little way, they entered into a 
 very dark lane, where they met a man whom seven devils had 
 bound with seven strong cords, and were carrying of him 
 back to the door that they saw on the side of tlie hill. (Matt, 
 xii. 45; Prov. v. 22.) Now good Christian began to tremble, 
 and so did Hopeful, his companion ; yet as the devils led away 
 the man, Christian looked to see if he knew liim; and he 
 thought it might be one Turnaway, that dwelt in the town of 
 Apostasy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for he did 
 hang his head like a thief that is found. But being gone 
 past. Hopeful looked after him, and espied on his back a paper 
 with this inscription, " Wanton professor and damnable apos- 
 tate.'' Then said Christian to his fellow, " Now I call to re- 
 membrance that which was told me of a thing that happened 
 to a good man hereabout. The name of the man was Little- 
 faith, but a good man, and he dwelt in the town of Sincere. 
 The thing was this: At the entering in of this passage, there 
 comes down from Broad-way Gate a lane called Dead INIan's 
 Lane, so called because of the murders tliat are commonly 
 done there : and this Little-faith going on pilgrimage, as we 
 do now, chanced to sit down there, and slept. Now there 
 happened, at that time, to comedown that lane, from Broad- 
 way Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their namss were Faint- 
 heart, Mistrust, and Guilt (three brothers), and they, espying 
 Little-faith where he w^as, came galloping up with speed. 
 Now the good man was just awake from his sleep, and was 
 getting up to go on his journey. So they came up all to him, 
 
LITTLE-FAITH'S CERTIFICATE. 125 
 
 and with threatening language bid him stand. At this Little- 
 faith looked as white as a clout, and had neither power to 
 fight nor fly. Then said Faint-heart, 'Deliver thy purse.' 
 But he making no haste to do it (for he was loath to lose his 
 money), Mistrust ran up to him, and, thrusting his hand into 
 his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried 
 out, 'Thieves! Thieves!' With that Guilt, with a great club 
 that was in his hand, struck Little-faith on the head, and with 
 that blow felled him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding 
 as one that would bleed to death. All this while the thieves 
 stood by. But at last, they hearing that some were upon the 
 road, and fearing lest it should be one Great-grace, that dwells 
 in the city of Good-confidence, they betook themselves to 
 their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now 
 after a wliile. Little-faith came to himself, and getting up 
 made shift to scrabble"^'- on his way." Tliis was the story. 
 
 Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had ? 
 
 Chr. No; *he place where his jewels were they never ran- 
 sacl^ed, so those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good 
 man was much afldicted for his loss, for the thieves got most 
 of his spending money. That whicli they got not (as I said) 
 were jewels; also he had a little odd money left, but scarce 
 enough to bring him to his journey's end (1 Pet. iv. 18) ; nay, 
 if I was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to 
 keep himself alive ; for his jewels he might not sell. But beg, 
 and do what he could, he went (as we say) with many a 
 hungry belly, the most part of the rest of the way. 
 
 Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his 
 certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at the 
 Celestial Gate ? 
 
 Chii. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they 
 missed it not through any good cunning of his; for he, being 
 dismayed with their coming upon him, had neither power nor 
 
 * An old word, meaning to go on all fours. 
 
126 HIS SAD PLIGHT. 
 
 skill to hide anything; so it was more by good Providence 
 than by his endeavour that they missed of that good thing. 
 
 Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got 
 not this jewel from him. 
 
 Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used 
 it as he should ; but they that told me the story baid that he 
 made but Itttle use of it all the rest of the way, and that be- 
 cause of the dismay that he had in the taking away his money; 
 indeed, he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey; 
 and besides, when at any time it came into his mind, and he 
 began to be comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts 
 of his loss come again upon him, and those thoughts would 
 swallow up all. , (2 Pet. i. 9.) 
 
 Hope. Alas, poor man ! This could not but be a great grief 
 to him. 
 
 Chr. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been 
 so to any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed and 
 wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he Vas ? It is a 
 wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart ! I was told 
 that he scattered almost ail the rest of the way with nothing 
 but doleful and bitter complaints ; telling also to all that over- 
 took him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where 
 he was robbed, and how; who they were that did it, and what 
 he lost; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped 
 with his life. 
 
 Hope. But it Is a wonder that his necessity did not put him 
 upon selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he might 
 have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey. 
 
 ChrI Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to 
 this very day. : For what should he pawn them ? or to whom 
 should he sell them ? In all that country where he was rob- 
 bed, his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that 
 relief which could from thence be administered to him. Be- 
 sides, had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial 
 City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded 
 
ESAU AND LITTLE-FAITH. 127 
 
 from an inheritance there ; and that would have been worse to 
 him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand thieves. 
 
 Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother ? Esau sold his 
 birthright, and that for ^, mess of pottage ; and that birth- 
 right was his greatest jewel; and if he, why might not Little- 
 faith do so too ? (Heb. xii. 16.) 
 
 Chr. Esau did sell bis birthright, indeed, and so do many 
 besides, and by so doing exclude themselves from the chief 
 blessing, as also that catiff did. But you must put a differ- 
 ence betwixt Ei^au and Little-faith, and also betwixt their es- 
 tates. Esau's birthright was typical, but Little-faith's jewels 
 were not so; Esau's belly was his god, but Little-faith's belly 
 was not so ; Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite, Little- 
 faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to 
 the fulfilling of his lusts; *' Behold, I am at the point to die 
 (said he) ; and what profit shall this birthright do to me ? '* 
 (Gen. XXV. 32.) But Little-faith, though it was his lot to 
 have but a little faith, was by his little faith kept from such 
 extravagancies, and made to see and prize his jewels more 
 than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not 
 anywhere that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a little; 
 therefore no marvel if, where the flesh only bears sway (as it 
 will in the man where no faith is to resist), if he sells his 
 birthright, and his soul and all, and that to the devil of hell; 
 for it is with such, as it is with the ass, who in her occasion 
 cannot be turned away. (Jer. ii. 24.) When their minds^re 
 set upon their lusts, they will have them, whatever they cost. 
 But Little-faith was of another temper: his mind was on 
 things divine ; his livelihood was upon things that were spirit- 
 ual, and from above. Therefore, to what end should he that 
 is of such a temper sell his jewels (iiad there been any that 
 would have bought them), to fill his mind with empty things ? 
 Will a man give a penny^to fill his belly *vith hay ? or can you 
 persuade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion like the crow ? 
 Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, 
 
128 IT IS EASIER TO TALK THAN TO DO. 
 
 or sell what they have, and sell themselves outright to boot, 
 yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, 
 cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake. 
 
 Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflection had 
 almost made me angry. 
 
 Chr. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds 
 that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in un- 
 trodden paths with the shell upon their heads. But pass by 
 that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall be 
 well betwixt thee and me. 
 
 Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded 
 in my heart, are but a company of cowards; would they have 
 run else, think you, as they did, at the noise of one that was 
 coming on the road ? Why did not Little-faith pluck up a 
 greater heart ? He might, methinks, have stood one brush 
 with them, and have yielded when there had been no remedy. 
 
 Chr. That they are cowards, many have said, but few have 
 found it so in the time of trial. As for a great heart. Little- 
 faith had none; and I perceive by thee, my brother, hadst 
 thou been the mail concerned, thou art but for a brush, and 
 then to yield. And verily since this is the height of thy 
 stomach now they are at a distance from us, should they 
 appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to 
 second thoughts. But consider again, they are but journey- 
 men thieves: they serve under the king of the botfomless pit, 
 wjio, if need be, will come in to their aid himself, and his 
 voice is as the roaring of a lion. (Psa. vii. 2; 1 Pet. v. 8.) 
 I myself have been engacred as this Little-faith was, and I 
 found it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon me, 
 and I beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave but a 
 call, and in came their master. I would, as the saying is, 
 have given my life for a penny, but that, as God would have 
 it, I was clothed with armour of proof. Ay, and yet, though 
 I was so harnessed, I found it hard work to quit myself like a 
 man. No man can tell what in that combat attends us, but 
 he that hath been in the battle himself. 
 

 laf, 
 
 ^' ( 
 
 UTTLE FAITH ROBBED.— Page 125. 
 
WHAT CAN A MAN DO? 129 
 
 Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but sup- 
 pose that one Great-grace was in the way. 
 
 Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and their mas- 
 ter, when Great-grace hath but appeared ; and no marvel ; 
 for he is the King's Champion. But I trow you will put some 
 difference betwixt Little-faith and the King's Champion 
 All the King's subjects are not his champions ; nor can they, 
 when tried, do such feats of war as he. Is it meet to think 
 that a little child should handle Goliath as David did ? or 
 that there should be the strength of an ox in a wren ? Some 
 are strong, some are weak; some have great faith, some 
 have little. This man was one of the weak, and therefore 
 he went to the wall. 
 
 Hope. I would it had been Great-grace,. for their sakes. 
 
 Chr. If it had been, he might have had his hands full ; for 
 I must tell you that, though Great grace is excellent good at 
 his weapons, and has, and can, so long as he keeps tliem at 
 sword's point, do well enough with them ; yet, if they get 
 within him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall 
 go hard but they will throw up his heels. And when a man 
 is down, you know, what can he do ? 
 
 Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face shall see those 
 scars and cuts there, that shall easily give demonstration of 
 what I say. Yea, once I hearcl that he should say (and that 
 when in the combat), " We despaired even of life." How 
 did these sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, 
 mourn, and roar? Yea, Heman and Hezekiah, too, though 
 champions in their day, were forced to bestir them when by 
 these assaulted; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their 
 coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a time, would 
 go try what he could do ; but, though some do say of him that 
 he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him so, that 
 they made him at last afraid of a sorry girl . 
 
 B(isidcs, their king is at their whistle. He is never out of 
 
 hearing; and if at anytime tliey be put to the worst, he, if 
 p. V.~5. 
 
130 BECOMING CONDUCT. 
 
 possible, comes in to help them: and of him it is said, *' The 
 word of him that layeth at him 'cannot hold: the spear, tho 
 dart, nor the habergeon. He csteemeth iron as straw, and 
 brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee; 
 sling stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are 
 counted as stubble : he laugheth at the shaking of a spear." 
 (Job. xli. 26-29.) What can a man do in this case ? It is 
 true, if a man could, at every turn, have Job's horse, and had 
 skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable things; 
 *' for his neck is clothed with thunder. Canst thou make him 
 afraid as the grasshopper ? the glory of his nostrils is terrible. 
 He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he go- 
 eth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is 
 not affrighted; neither turnethhe back from the sword. The 
 quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear, aud the 
 shield. He swalloweth tlie ground with fierceness and rage; 
 neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He 
 saitli among the trumpets, Ha, ha! and he smelleth the bat- 
 tle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting." 
 (Job. xxxix. 19-25.) 
 
 But, for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire 
 to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, 
 when we hear of others that they have ' been foiled, nor be 
 tickled at the thoughts of oirr own manhood ; for such com- 
 monly come by the worse when tried. Witness Peter, of 
 whom I made mention before. He would swagger, ay, he 
 would. He woufd, as his vain mind prompted him to say, 
 do better, and stand more for his Master than all men ; but 
 who so foiled and run down by these villains as he ? 
 
 Wlien, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on 
 the King's highway, two things become us to do: 1. To go 
 out harnessed, and to l)e sure to take a shield with us; for it 
 was for want of that that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan 
 could not make him yield : for, indeed, if that be wanting, he 
 fears us not at all. Therefore, he that had skill hath said, ' 'Above 
 
THE FLATTERER. * 131 
 
 all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to 
 queuch all the fiery darts of the wicked." (Eph. yi. 16.) 
 
 2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy, 
 yea, that he will go with us himself. This made David re- 
 joice when in the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and Moses 
 was rather for dying where he stood, than to go one step with- 
 out his God. (Ex. xxxiii. 15.) O my brother, if he will but 
 go along with us, what need we be afraid of ten thousands 
 that shall set themselves against us ? (Psa. iii. 6-8; xxvii. 1- 
 3.) But without him, the proud helpers "fall under the 
 slain." 
 
 I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and though 
 (through the goodness of Him that is best) I am, as you see, 
 alive, yet I cannot boast of my manhood. Glad shall I be, if 
 I meet with no more such brunts; though I fear we are not got 
 beyond all danger. However, since the lion and the bear 
 have not as yet devoured me, I hope God will also deliver us 
 from the next uncircumcised Philistine. Then sang Christian, 
 
 ''Poor Little-faith ! Hast been among the thieves? 
 Wast robb'd? Remember this, whoso believes. 
 And gets mote faitli, shall then a victor be 
 Over ten thousand — else scarce over three." 
 
 So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till 
 they came at a place where they saw a way put itself into their 
 way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they 
 should go: and here they knew not which way to take, for 
 both seemed straight before them ; therefore here they stood 
 still to consider. And as they were thinking about the way, 
 behold a man, black of flesh but covered with a very light 
 robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there. 
 They answered they were going to the Celestial City, but 
 knew not which of these ways to take. "Follow me," said 
 the man, "it is tliither that I am going." So they followed 
 him in the way that but now came into the road, which by 
 degrees turned and turned them so from the city that they de- 
 
132 A SHINING ONE APPEARS. 
 
 sired to go to, that in little time their faces were turned 
 away from it ; yet they followed him. But by and by, before 
 they were aware, he led them both within the compass of a 
 net, in which chey were both so entangled that they knew not 
 what to do; and with that the white robe fell off the black 
 /man's back. Then they saw where they were. Wherefore 
 there they lay crying some time, for they could not get them- 
 selves out. 
 
 Then said Christian to his fellow, "Now do I see myself in 
 error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers? 
 As in the saying of the wise men, so we have found it this 
 day : ' A man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for 
 his feet.'" (Prov. xxix. 5.) 
 
 Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, 
 for our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also 
 forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves from the paths 
 of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we; for saitli 
 he, "Concerning the works of men, by the word of Thy lips 
 I have kept me from paths of the destroyer." (Psa. xvii. 4.) 
 
 Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the ne*:. At last they 
 espied a Shining One coming toward th'em, with a whip of 
 small cord in his hand. When he was come to the place 
 where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what 
 they did there. 
 
 They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, 
 but were led out of their way by a black man, clothed in 
 white, " who bid us," said- they, "follow him, for he was 
 going thither too." Then said he with the whip, " It is Flat- 
 terer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an 
 angel of light." (Prov. xxix. 5; Dan. xi. 32; 2 Cor. xi. 13, 
 14.) So he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he 
 to them, " Follow me, that I may set you in your way again.'' 
 So he led them back to the way which they had left to follow 
 the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, "Where did you 
 lie the last nigbt ?" They said, "With the Shepherds upon 
 
A MAN WITH HIS BACK TO ZION. 133 
 
 the Delectable Mountains." He asked tliem then, if they had 
 not of those Shepherds a note of direction for the way. 
 They answered, ''Yes." *'But did you," said he, "when 
 you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note ? " They 
 answered ''No." He asked them, ''Why ? " They said, they 
 forgot. He asked, ii-oreover, if the Shepherds did not bid 
 them beware of the Flatterer. They answered, "Yes, but 
 we did not imagine," said they, " tliat this fine-spoken man' 
 had been be." (Rom, xvi. 18.) 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie 
 down ; which when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach 
 them the good way wherein they should walk (Deut. xxv. 3; 
 2 Chron. vi. 26, 27); and as he chastised them, he said, "As 
 many as J love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous, therefore, 
 and repent." (Rev. iii. 19.) This done, he bid them go on 
 their way, and take good lieod to the other directions of the 
 Shepherds. So they thanked him for all his kindness, and 
 went softly along the right ^ ay, singing — 
 
 *' Come hither, you that walk along the way ; 
 See how the pilgrims fare that go astray ! 
 They catched are in an entangling net, 
 'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget : 
 'T is true they rescued were, but yet you see 
 They 're scourged to boot. Let this your caution be." 
 
 Now after a while they perceived, afar off, one coming softly 
 and alone, all along the highway to meet them. Then said 
 Christian to his fellow, "Yonder is a man with his back to- 
 ward Zion, and he is coming to meet us." 
 
 Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he 
 should prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer, 
 and at last came up unto them. His name was Atheist, and 
 he asked them whither they were going. 
 
 Chr. We are going to Mount Zion. Then Atheist fell into 
 at very great laughter. 
 
 Chr. What is the meaning of your laughter ? 
 
134 ATHEIST. 
 
 Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to 
 take upon you so tedious a journey, and you are like to have 
 nothing but your travel for your pains. ♦ 
 
 Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received ? 
 
 •Atheist. Received ! There is no such place as you dream of 
 in all this world. 
 
 Chr. But there is in the world to come. 
 
 Atheist. When I was *at home in mine own country, I 
 heard as you now affirm; and from that hearing went out to 
 see, and have been seeking this city this twenty 'years, but 
 find no more of it than I did the first day I set out. (Jer. 
 xxii. 12; Eccles. x. 15.) 
 
 Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is such a 
 place to be found. 
 
 Atheist. Had not I, when at honxe, believed, I had not 
 come thus far to seek; but finding none (and yet I should, 
 had there been such a place to be found, for I have gone to 
 seek it further than you), I am going back again, and will 
 seek to refresh myself with the things that I then cast away 
 for hopes of that which, I now see, is not. 
 
 Then said Christian to Hopeful, his fellow, "Is it true which 
 this maQ hath said ? " 
 
 Hope. Take heed; he is one of the flatterers; remember 
 what it hath cost us once already, for our hearkening to such 
 kind of fellows. What ! no Mount Zion ? Did we not see 
 from the Delectable Mountains, the gate of the city ? Also, 
 are we not now to walk by faith ? (2 Cor. v. 7.) Let us 
 go on, lest the man with the whip overtake us again. You 
 should have taught me that lesson, which I will round you in 
 the ears with all: "Cease, my son, to hear the instruction 
 that causeth to err from the words of knowledge." (Prov. 
 xix. 27.) I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us 
 "believe to the saving of the soul." (Heb. x. 39.) 
 
 Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for 
 that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself; but to prove 
 
HOPEFFL GROWS DROWSY. 135 
 
 thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy 
 heart. As for this man I know that he is blinded by the god 
 of this world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we have 
 belief of the truth, '* and no lie is of the truth.'* (1 John ii. 
 21.) 
 
 Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 
 
 So they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at) 
 them, went his way. ' 
 
 I saw then in my dream, tliat they went till they came into 
 a certain country whose air naturally tended to make one 
 drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful be- > 
 gan to be very dull and heavy of sleep ; wherefore he said 
 unto Christian, ''I do now begin to grow so drowsy that I 
 can scarcely hold up mine eyes; let us lie down here and take 
 one nap." 
 
 *'By no means," said the other; "lest, sleeping, we never 
 awake more." 
 
 Hope. Why, my brother ? Sleep is sweet to the labouring 
 ' man; we may be refreshed if we take a nap. 
 
 CnR. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us 
 beware of the Enchanted Ground ? He meant by that, that 
 we should beware of sleeping. "Therefore let us not sleep, 
 as do others; but let us watch and be sober." (1 Thess. v. 6.) 
 
 Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault; and had I been 
 here alone, I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see 
 it is true that the wise man saith, "Two are better than one." 
 (Eccles, iv. 9.) Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy; 
 and thou shalt have a good reward for thy labour. / 
 
 "Now then," said Christian, "to prevent drowsiness inj 
 this place, let us fall into good discourse." 
 
 Hope. With all my heart. 
 
 Chr. Where shall we begin ? 
 
 Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if 
 you please. 
 
 Gnu. I will sing you first this song : 
 
136 A SENSE OF SINFULNESS. 
 
 " When saints do sleepy grow, let tliem come hither 
 And hear how these two pilgrims talk together ; 
 Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise. 
 Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumb'ring eyes, 
 Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
 KeeY)S them awake, and that in spite of hell." 
 
 Then Christian began, and said, '*I will ask you a question. 
 How came you to think at first of doing what you do now ? 
 
 Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the 
 good of my soul ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, that is my meaning. 
 
 Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those 
 things wliicli were seen and sold at our fair; things which, I 
 believe now, would have (had I continued in them still) 
 drowned me in perdition and destruction. 
 
 Chr. "What things are they ? 
 
 Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also 1 
 delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, 
 lying, uncleanness. Sabbath breaking, and what not, that 
 tended to destroy the soul. But I found at last, by hearing 
 and considering of things that are divine, which indeed I 
 heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful that was put to death 
 for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that *'the end 
 of these things is death." (Rom. vi. 21-23.) And that for 
 these things' sake "cometh the wrath of God upon the chil- 
 dren of disobedience." (Eph. v. 6.) 
 
 Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this 
 conviction ? 
 
 Hope. No ; I was not willing presently to know the evil of 
 sin, nor the damnation that follows upon the commission of 
 it ; but endeavouerd when my mind at first began to be shaken 
 witli the Word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof. 
 
 Chr. But w^hat was the cause of your carrying of it thus to 
 the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon you ? 
 
 Hope. The causes were — 1. I was ignorant that this was the 
 work upon me. I never thought that, by awakenings for sin, 
 
A SENSE OF SINFULNESS. 137 
 
 God at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sii^ was 
 yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loath to leave it. 3. I 
 could not tell how to part with mine old companions, their 
 presence and actions were so desirable unto me. 4. The 
 hours in which convictioas were upon me were such trouble- 
 some and such hcart-affrigliting hours, that I could not bear, 
 no, not so much as the remembrance of them, upon my heart. 
 
 Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your 
 trouble. 
 
 Hope. Yes, verily; but it would come into my mind again, 
 and then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I was before. 
 
 Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind 
 again ? 
 
 Hope. Many things ; as — 
 
 1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or, 
 
 2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 
 
 3. If mine head did begin to ache ; or, 
 
 4. If I were told that some of my neighbours were sick ; or, 
 
 5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or, 
 
 6. If I thought of dying myself; or, 
 
 7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others; 
 
 8. But, especially, when I thought of myself, that I must 
 quickly come to judgment. 
 
 Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the 
 guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came upon you ? 
 
 Hope. No, not I, for then they got faster hold of my con- 
 science ; and then, if I did but think of going back to sin 
 (though my mind was turned against it), it would be double, 
 torment to me. 
 
 Chr. And how did you do then ? 
 
 Hope. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life; for 
 else, thought I, I am sure to be damned. 
 
 Chr. And did you endeavour to mend ? 
 
 Hope. Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but sinful com- 
 pany, too; and betook me to religious duties, as praying, 
 
138 THE LAW WILL NOT JUSTIFY. 
 
 reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbours, 
 etc. These things did I, and many others, too much here to 
 relate . 
 
 Chr. And did you think yourself well then ? 
 
 Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last, my trouble came 
 tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck of ail my ref- 
 ormation. 
 
 Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed ? 
 
 Hope. There were several things brought it upon me, espe- 
 cially such sayings as these: ''All our righteousnesses are as 
 filthy rags. " (Isa. Ixiv. 6.) * ' By the works of the law shall no 
 flesh be justified." (Gal. ii. 16.) *' When ye shall have done 
 all those things, say, We are unprofitable " (Luke xvii. 10) ; 
 with many more such like. From whence I began to reason 
 with myself thus : If all my righteousnesses are filthy rags ; 
 if by the deeds of the law no man can be justified; and if, 
 when we have done all, we are yet unprofitable ; then it is but 
 a folly to think of heaven by the law. I further thought 
 thus: If a man runs a hundred pounds into the shopkeeper's 
 debt, and after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch, yet 
 if this old debt stands still in the book uncrossed, for that 
 the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison till he 
 shall pay the debt. 
 
 Chr. Well, and liow did you apply this to yourself ? 
 
 Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have, by my 
 sins, run a great way into God's book, and that my now re- 
 forming will not pay off that score ; therefore I should think 
 still, under all my present amendments, But how shall I be 
 freed from that damnation that I have brought myself in dan- 
 ger of, by my former transgressions ? 
 
 Chr. A very good application : but pray go on. 
 
 Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since my 
 late amendments, is that if I look narrowly into the best of 
 what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the 
 best of that I do ; so that now I am forced to conclude, thai. 
 
HOPEFUL HAS FEARS. 139 
 
 notwithstanding mj former fond conceits of myself and du- 
 ties, I have committed sin enough in one duty to send me to 
 hell, though my former life had been faultless. 
 
 Chr. And what did you do then ? " 
 
 Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, until I brake my 
 mind to Faithful, for he and I were well acquainted. And 
 he told me that unless I could obtain the righteousness of a 
 man that never had sinned, neither mine own, nor all the 
 righteousness of the world, could save me. 
 
 Chr. And did you think he spake true ! 
 
 Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied 
 with mine own amendments, I had called him fool for his 
 pains; but now, since I see my own infirmity, and the sin that 
 cleaves to my best performance, I have been forced to be of 
 his opinion. 
 
 Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to 
 you, that there was such a man to be found, of whom it 
 might justly be said that he never committed sin t 
 
 Hope. I must confess at first the words sounded strangely, 
 but alter a little more talk and company with him, I had full 
 conviction about it. 
 
 CiiR. And did you ask him what man this was, and how 
 you must be justified by 'him. 
 
 Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that 
 dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High. " And thus,'' 
 said he, "you must be justified by him, even by trusting to 
 what he hath done by himself, in the days of his flesh, and 
 suffered when he did hang on the tree." I asked him further, 
 how that Man's righteousness could be of that eflftcacy to jus-j » 
 tify another before God ? And he told me he was the mightyi 
 God, and did what he did, and died the death also, not for 
 himself, but for me; to whom his doings, and the worthiness 
 of them, should be imputed, if I believed on him. (Heb. x. ; 
 Rom, iv. ; Col. i. ; 2 Pet. i.) 
 
 Chr. And what did you do then ? 
 
140 ENCOURAGED TO COME TO CHRIST. 
 
 Hope. I made my objections against my believing, for that 
 I thought he was not willing to save me. 
 
 Chr. And what said Faithful to you then ? 
 
 Hope. He bid me go to him and see. Then T said it was 
 presumption ; but he said, No, for I was invited to come. 
 (Matt, xi, 28.) Then he gave me a Book of Jesus, his indit- 
 ing, to encourage me the more freely to come ; and he said, 
 concerning that Book, that every jot and tittle thereof stood 
 firmer than heaven and earth. (Matt. xxiv. 35.) Then I 
 asked him what I must do when I came ; and he told me I 
 must entreat upon my knees, with all my heart and soul, the 
 Father to reveal him to me. (Psa. xcv. 6; Dan. vi. 10; Jer. 
 xxix. 12, 13.) Then I asked him further, how I must make 
 my supplication to him. And he said, "Go, and thou shalt 
 find him upon a mercy-seat, where he sits all the year long, to 
 give pardon and forgiveness to them that come." I told him 
 that I knew not what to say when I came; and he bid me say 
 to this effect: God be merciful to me a sinner, and make me 
 to know and believe in Jesus Christ ; for I see that if his 
 righteousness had not been, or I have not faith in that right- 
 eousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, I have heard that 
 thou art a merciful God, and hast ordained that thy Son Jesus 
 Christ should be the Saviour of the world ; and, moreover, 
 that thou art willing to bestow him upon such a poor sinner 
 as I am (and I am a sinner indeed) ; Lord, take therefore this 
 opportunity, and magnify thy grace in the salvation of my 
 soul, through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen. (Ex. xxv. 22; 
 Lev. xvi. 2; Num. vii. 89; Heb. iv. 16.) 
 
 Chr. And did you do as you were bidden ? 
 
 Hope. Yes; over, and over, and over. 
 
 Chr. And did the Father reveal his Son to you ? 
 
 Hope. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, 
 nor fifth; no, nor at the sixth time, neither. 
 
 Chr, What did you do then ? 
 
 Hope, What ! why, I could not tell what to do, 
 
IMPORTUNATE PRAYER IS ANSWERED. 141 
 
 Chr. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying ? 
 
 Hope. Yes; an hundred times twice told 
 
 Chr. And what was the reason you did not ? 
 
 Hope. I believed that that was true which he had told me ; 
 to wit, that without the righteousness of this Christ, all the 
 world could not save me ; and therefore, thought I with my- 
 self, if I leave off I die, and I can but die at the throne of 
 grace. And withal, this came into my mind, *' Though it 
 tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not 
 tarry." (Hab. ii. 3.) So I continued praying until the 
 Father showed me his Son. 
 
 Chr. And how was he revealed unto you ? 
 
 Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the 
 eyes of my understanding (Eph. i. 18, 19.) ; and thus it was: 
 One day I was very sad,. I think sadder than at any ono 
 time in my life, and this sadness was througli a fresh sight 
 of the greatness and vileness of my sins. And as I was then 
 looking for nothing but hell, and the everlasting damnation 
 of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus 
 Christ look down from heaven upon me, saying, "Believe on 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." (Acts xvi. 
 31.) 
 
 Buf I replied, "Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner." 
 And he answered, "My grace is sufficient for thee." (2 Cor. 
 xii.9.) I said, "But, Lord, what is believing?" And then I saw 
 from that saying, "He that cometh to me shall never hunger, 
 and he that believeth on me shall never thirst," that believing 
 and coming was all one; and that he that came, that is, ran 
 out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ, he 
 indeed believed in Christ. (John vi. 35.) Then the water 
 stood in mine eyes, and I asked further, "But, Lord, may 
 such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of thee, and be 
 saved by thee?" And I heard him say, "And him that 
 cometh to me I will in nowise cast out." (John vi. 37.) The© 
 I said, "But how, Lord, must I consider of thee in my com* 
 
142 CHRIST REVEALED TO HOPEFUL. 
 
 ing to thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon thee 
 Then he said, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sin- 
 ners. (1 Sim. i. 15.) He is the end of the law for righteous- 
 ness to everyone that believeth. (Rom. x. 4.) He died for 
 our sins, and rose again for our justification. (Rom. iv. 25.) 
 He loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood 
 (Rev. i. 5.) He is mediator betwixt God and us. (1 Tim. ii, 
 5.) He ever liveth to make intercession for us." (Heb. vii. 25.) 
 From all which I gathered that I must look for righteousness 
 in his person, and for satisfaction for my sins by his blood 
 that what he did in obedience to his Father's law, and in sub 
 mitting to the penalty thereof, was not for himself, but for 
 him that will accept it for his salvation and be thankful. And 
 now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, and 
 mine affections running over with. love to the name, people, 
 and ways ot Jesus Christ. 
 
 Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed; 
 but tell me particularly what effect this had upon your spirit. 
 
 Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding* 
 all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. 
 It made me see that God the Father, though he be just, can 
 justly justify the coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed 
 of the vileness of my former life, and confounded me with the 
 sense of mine own ignorance ; for there never came thought 
 into my heart before now that showed me so the beauty of 
 Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do 
 something for the honour and glory of the name of the Lord 
 Jesus; yea, I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of 
 blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord 
 Jesus. 
 
 I saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back and saw 
 Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming after. ' ' Look, " 
 said he to Christian, "how far yonder youngster loitereth be- 
 hind." 
 
 Chr. Ay, ay, I see him : he careth not for our company. 
 
IGNORANCE COMES UP AGAIN. 143 
 
 Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he kept 
 pace with us hitherto. 
 
 Che. That is true; but I warrant you he thinketh other- 
 wise. 
 
 Hope. That, I think, he doth; but, however, let us tarry 
 for him. 
 
 So they did. Then Christian said to him, "Come away, 
 man, why do you stay so behind ? " 
 
 Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a 
 great deal than in company, unless I like it the better. 
 
 Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), ' ' Did I not tell 
 you he cared not for our company ? But, however," said he, 
 *'come up, and let us talk away the time in this solitary 
 place." Then directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, 
 *'Come, how do you ? How stands it between God and your 
 soul now ? " 
 
 Ignor. I hope well ; for I am always full of good motions, 
 that come into my mind to comfort me as I walk. 
 
 Chr. What good motions ? pray tell us, 
 
 Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. 
 
 Chr. So do the devils and damned souls. 
 
 Ignor. But I think of them, and desire them. 
 
 Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. '* The 
 soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing." (Prov. 
 xiii. 4.) 
 
 Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 
 
 Chr. That I doubt; for leaving all is a hard matter; yea, a 
 harder matter than many are aware of. But why, or by what, 
 art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for God and heaven ? 
 
 Ignor. My heart tells me so. 
 
 Chr. The wise man says, "He that trusteth in his own 
 heart is a fool." (Prov. xxviii. 26.) 
 
 Ignor. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a good 
 one. 
 
 Chr. But how dost thou prove that ? 
 
144 HIS SELF-GONCEIT. 
 
 Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 
 
 Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness; for a man's 
 heart may minister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing 
 for which he has yet no ground to hope. ^ 
 
 Ignor. But my heart and life agree together, and therefore 
 my hope is well grounded. 
 
 Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together ? 
 
 Igkor. My heart tells me so. 
 
 Chr. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee 
 so ! Except the Word of God beareth witness in this matter, 
 other testimony is of no value. 
 
 Ignor. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts ? 
 and is not that a good life that is according to God's com- 
 mandments ? 
 
 Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, 
 and that is a good life that is according to God's command- 
 ments ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, and another 
 thing only to think so. 
 
 Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life ac- 
 cording to God's commandments ? 
 
 Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds: some re- 
 specting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other 
 things. 
 
 Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? 
 
 Chr. Such as agree with the Word of God. 
 
 Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the 
 Word of God ? 
 
 Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves 
 which the Word passes. To explain myself: the Word of 
 God saith of persons in a natural condition, "There is none 
 righteous, there is none that doeth good." (^om. iii. 10-12.) 
 It saith also, that every imagination of the heart of man is 
 only evil, and that continually. (Gen. vi. 5.) And again, 
 *'The imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth." 
 (Geu. viii. 21,) Now then, when we think thus of ourselves, 
 
GOOD THOUGHTS CONCERNING GOD. 145 
 
 having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, be- 
 cause according to the Word of God. 
 
 Tgnor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. 
 
 Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought con- 
 cerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on. As the Word 
 passeth a judgment upon our heart, so it passeth a judgment 
 upon our ways; and when our thoughts of our hearts and. 
 ways agree with the judgment which the Word giveth of 
 both, then are both good, because agreeing thereto. 
 
 Ignor. Make out your meaning. 
 
 Chr. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are 
 crooked ways; not good, but perverse. (Psa. cxxv. 5;,Prov. 
 ii. 15.) It saith they are naturally out of the good way, that 
 they have not known it. (Rom. iii. 17.) Now when a man 
 thus tbinketh of his ways — I say, when he doth sensibly, and 
 with heart-humiliation, thus think — then hath he good 
 thoughts of his own ways, because his thoughts now agree 
 with the judgment of the Word of God. 
 
 Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God ? 
 
 Chr. Even (as I have said concerning ourselves) when our 
 thoughts of God do agree with what ^he Word saith of him: 
 and that is, when we think of his being and attributes as the 
 Word hath taught, of which I cannot now discourse at large. 
 But to speak of him with reference to us: then we have right 
 thoughts of God, when we think that he knows us better than 
 we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we 
 can see none in ourselves; when we think he knows our in- 
 most thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, is al- 
 ways open unto his eyes: also, when we think that all our 
 righteousness stinks in his nostrils, and tnat therefore he can- 
 not abide to see us stand before him in any confidence, even 
 in all our best performances. 
 
 Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think God 
 can see no further than I ? or that I would come to God iu the 
 best of my performances ? 
 
146 THE FAITH OF IGNORANCE. 
 
 Chk. Why, how dost thou think in this matter ? 
 
 Ignor. Why^ to be short, I think I must believe in Christ 
 for justification. 
 
 Chr. How! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou 
 seest not thy need of him! Thou neither seest thy original 
 nor actual infirmities, but hast such an opinion of thyself, and 
 of what thou doest, as plainly renders thee to be one that did 
 never see a necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to 
 justify thee before God. How then dost thou say, I believe 
 in Christ ? 
 
 Ignor. I believe well enough for all that. 
 
 Chr. How dost thou believe ? 
 
 Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and that I 
 shall be justified before God from the curse, through his 
 gracious acceptance of my obedience to his law. Or thus, 
 Christ makes my duties that are religious acceptable to his 
 Father by virtue of his merits; and so shall I be justified. 
 
 Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith : 
 
 1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith is 
 nowhere described in the Word. 
 
 2. Thou, believest with a false faith ; because it taketh jus- 
 tification from the personal righteousness of Christ, and ap- 
 plies it to thy own. 
 
 3. This faith maketh not Christ a jnstifier of thy person, 
 but of thy actions ; and of thy person for thy actions' sake, 
 which is false. 
 
 4. Therefore, this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave 
 thee under wrath, in the day of God Almighty. For true 
 justifying faith puts the soul (as sensible of its lost condition 
 by the law) upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness 
 (which righteousness of his is not an act of grace, by which 
 he maketh for justification thy obedience accepted by God ; 
 but his personal obedience to the law in doing and suffering 
 for us what that required at our hands): this righteousness, I 
 say, true faith accepteth, under the skirt of which, the soul 
 
IGNORANCE JANGLES. r 147 
 
 being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, 
 it is accepted, and acquit from condemnation. 
 
 Ignor. What! would you have us trust to what Christ, in 
 his own person, has done without us ? This conceit would 
 loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate us to live as we list. 
 For what matter how we live, if we may be justified by 
 Christ's personal righteousness from all, when we believe it ? 
 I Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and. as thy name is, so art 
 thou: even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Igno- 
 rant thou art of what justifying righteousness is, and as igno- 
 rant how to secure thy soul, through the faith of it, from the 
 heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true 
 effects of saving faith in this righteousness of Christ, which 
 is, to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to love 
 his name, his word, ways, and people; and not as thou igno- 
 rantly imaginest. 
 
 Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from 
 heaven ? 
 
 Ignor. What! you are a man for revelations! I believe that 
 what both you, and all the rest of you, say about that matter 
 is but the fruit of distracted brains. 
 
 HoPE> Why, man! Christ is so hid in God from the natural 
 apprehensions of the flesh, that he cannot by any man be sav- 
 ingly known, unless God the Father reveals him to them. 
 
 Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine; yet mine, I doubt 
 not, is as good as yours, though I have not in my . head so 
 many whimsies as you. 
 
 Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so 
 slightly to speak of this matter; for this I will boldly affirm 
 (even as my good companion hath done), that no man can know 
 Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father (Matt. xi. 
 27; 1 Cor. xii. 3); yea, and faith too, by which the soul lay- 
 eth liold upon Christ (if it be right), must be wrought by 
 the exceeding greatness of his mighty power; the working of 
 Which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. 
 
148 THE PILGRIMS TALK OVER THE MATTER. 
 
 (Eph. i. 18, 19.) Be awakened, then; see thine own wretcho 
 ednsss, and fly to the Lord Jesus; and by his righteousness, 
 which is the righteousness of God (for he himself is God), 
 thou shall be delivered from condemnation. 
 
 Ignor. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do 
 you go on before ; I must stay awhile behind. 
 
 Then they said : 
 
 " Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish he, 
 To slight good counsel ten times given thee ? 
 And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know 
 Ere long the evil of thy doing so. 
 Remember, man, in time; stoop, do not fear; 
 Good counsel, taken well, saves : therefore hear. 
 But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
 The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee." 
 
 .Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow: 
 ''Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I 
 must walk by ourselves again." 
 
 So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and 
 Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian to his 
 companion, "It pities me much for this poor man: it will 
 certainly go ill with him at last." 
 
 Hope. Alas! there are abundance in our town in his con- 
 dition, whole families, yea, whole streets (and that of pil- 
 grims, too) ; and if there be so many in our parts, how many, 
 think you, must there be in the place where he was born ? 
 
 Chr. Indeed, the Word saith, ''He hath blinded their 
 eyes, lest they should see," etc. But now we are by ourselves, 
 what do you think of such men ? Have they at no time, think 
 you, convictions of . sin, and so consequently fears that their 
 state is dangerous ? 
 
 Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for your 
 are the elder man. 
 
 Chr. Thcnl say, sometimes (as I think) they may; but they, 
 being naturally ignorant, understand not that such con vie- 
 
THE FEAR OF THE LORD. 149 
 
 tions tend to their good; and therefore they do desperately 
 seek to stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter 
 themselves in the way of their own hearts. 
 
 Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to 
 men's good, and to make them right, at their beginning to go 
 on pilgrimage. 
 
 Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right ; for so says 
 the Word, "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." 
 (Prov. i. 7; ix. 10; Psa. cxi. 10; Job xxviii. 28.) 
 
 Hope. How will you describe right fear. 
 
 Chr. True or right, fear is discovered by three things : 
 
 1. By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions for sin. 
 
 2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salva- 
 tion. 
 
 3. Itbegetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence 
 bf God, his Word and ways, keeping it tender, and making it 
 afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or to the left, to 
 anything that may dishonour God, break its peace, grieve the 
 Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak reproachfully. 
 
 Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. Are 
 we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground ? 
 
 Chr. Why ? art thou weary of this discourse ? 
 
 Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we are. 
 
 Chr, We have not now above two miles further to go there*. 
 on. But let us return to our matter. Now the ignorant know 
 not that such convictions as tend to put them in fear are for 
 their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them. 
 
 Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ? 
 
 Chr. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the 
 devil (though Indeed they are wrought of God) ; and, thinking 
 so, they resist them as things that directly tend to their over- 
 throw. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoil- 
 ing of their faith (when, alas for them, poor men that they 
 are! they liave none at all), and therefore they harden their 
 hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to fear; 
 
150 THE MAN TEMPORARY. 
 
 and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously confi- 
 dent 4. They see that those fears tend to take away from 
 them their pitiful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist 
 them with all their might. 
 
 Hope. I know something of this myself; for before I knew 
 myself it was so with me. 
 
 CiiR. Well, we will leave at this time our neighbour Igno- 
 rance by himself, and fall upon another profitable question. 
 
 Hope. With all my heart, but you shall still begin. 
 
 Chr. Well, then, did you not know, about ten years ago, 
 one Temporary in your parts, who was a forward man in re« 
 ligion then ? , 
 
 Hope. Know him ! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a town about 
 two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turn- 
 back. 
 
 Chr. Right; he dwelt under the same roof with him. 
 Well, that man was much awakened once: I believe that 
 then he had some sight of his sins, and of the wages that were 
 due thereto. 
 
 Hope. I am of your mind, for (my house not being above 
 three miles from him) he would ofttimes come to me, and that 
 with many tears. Truly I pitied the man, and was not alto- 
 gether without hope of him ; but one may see it is not every 
 one that cries, "Lord, Lord." 
 
 Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrim- 
 age, as we go now ; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted 
 with one Save-self, and then he became a stranger to me. 
 
 Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little 
 inquire into the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and 
 such others. 
 
 Chr. It may be very profitable, but do you begin. 
 
 Hope. Well then, there are in my judgment four reasons 
 for it : 
 
 1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet 
 their minds are not changed; therefore, wKen the power of 
 
WHY SOME TURN BACK. 151 
 
 guilt weareth away, that wbich provoked tliem to be religious 
 ceaseth, wherefore they naturally turn to their own course 
 again: even as we see the dog that is sick of what he has 
 eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he vomits and casts up 
 all ; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog 
 has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach ; but now, 
 when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, his desire 
 being not at all alienate from his vomit, he turns him about 
 and licks up all; and so it is true which is written, "The dog 
 is turned to his own vomit again." (2 Pet. ii. 22.) Thus, I 
 say, being hot for heaven by virtue only of the sense and fear 
 of the torments of hell, as their sense of hell, and the fears of 
 damnation, chills and cools, so their desires for heaven and 
 salvation cool also. So then it comes to pass, that when their 
 guilt and fear is gone, their desires for heaven and happiness 
 die, and they return to their course again. 
 
 2. Another reason is, they have* slavish fears that do over- 
 master them. I speak now of the fears that they have of men, 
 for "the fear of man bringeth a snare." (Prov. xxix. 25.) 
 So then, though they seem to be hot for heaven so long as the 
 flames of hell are about their ears, yet when that terror is a 
 little over, they betake themselves to second thoughts; 
 namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they 
 know not what) the hazard of losing all, or, at least, of bring- 
 ing themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles; 
 and so they fall in with the world again. 
 
 3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block 
 in their way: they are proud and haughty, and religion in 
 their eye is low and contemptible; therefore, when they have 
 lost their sense of hell and wrath to come, they return again 
 t/j their former course. 
 
 4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to theai: 
 ■*,hey like not to see their misery before they come into it; 
 though perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that sight, 
 might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe. 
 
152 HOW THE APOSTATE GOES BACK. 
 
 But because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the 
 thoughts of guilt and terror, therefore, when once they are 
 rid of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God,^ 
 they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will 
 harden them more and more. 
 
 Chr. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of 
 all is, for want of a change in their mind and will. And there- 
 fore they are but like the felon that standeth before the 
 judge: he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most 
 heartily, but the bottom of all is the fear of the halter; not 
 that he hath any detestation of the offence, as is evident, be- 
 cause, let but this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, 
 and so a rogue still ; whereas, if his mind was changed, he 
 would be otherwise. 
 
 Hope. Now I have showed you the reasons of their going 
 back, do you show me the manner thereof. 
 
 Chr. So I will willingly. 
 
 1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the 
 remembrance of God, death, and judgment to come. 
 
 2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet 
 prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the 
 like. 
 
 3. Then they shun the company ol lively and warm Chris- 
 tians. 
 
 4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, 
 reading, godly conference, and the like. 
 
 5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of 
 some of the godly, and that devilishly, that they may have 
 'a seeming colour to throw religion (for the sake of some in- 
 firmity they have espied in them) behind their backs. 
 
 6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves 
 with, carnal, loose, and wanton men. 
 
 7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in 
 secret ; and glad are they if they can see such things^ in any 
 that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly do it 
 through their example. 
 
JOYS OF THE LAND. 153 
 
 8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly. 
 
 9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they 
 are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf of misery, un- 
 less a miracle of grace prevent it, they everlastingly perish in 
 their own deceivings. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the pilgrims 
 were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the 
 country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the 
 way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there 
 for a season. (Isa. Ixii. 4.) Yea, here they heard continual- 
 ly the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear 
 on the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the laud. 
 (Solomon's Song ii. 10-12.) In this country the sun shineth 
 night and day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair, 
 neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting 
 Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were 
 going to, also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; 
 for in this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because 
 it was upon the borders of heaven. In this land also, the con- 
 tract between the bride and the Bridegroom was renewed; 
 yea, here, "As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so 
 did their God rejoice over them." (Isa. Ixxii. 5, 8, 11, 12.) 
 Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place 
 they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all 
 their pilgrimage. Here they heard voices from out of the 
 city, loud voices saying, " Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Be- 
 hold, thy salvation cometli! Behold, his reward is with 
 him!" Here all the inhabitants of the country called them, 
 " The holy people," " The redeemed of the Lord," "Sought 
 out," etc. 
 
 Now, as they walked in this land, tlicy had more rejoicing 
 than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they 
 were bound; and, drawing near to the city, they had yet a 
 more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and pre- 
 
154 ^ MINISTERING SPIRITS. 
 
 cious stones, also the street thereof -was paved with gold ; so 
 that by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the re- 
 flection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell 
 sick ; Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease. 
 Wherefore, here they lay by it a while, crying out, because of 
 their pangs, *' If ye find my Beloved, tell him that I am sick 
 of love." 
 
 But, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their 
 sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and 
 nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and 
 their gates opened ii^to the highway. Now, as they came up 
 to these places, behold the gardener stood in the way, to 
 whom the pilgrims said, '* Whose goodly vineyards and gar- 
 dens are these ? " He answered, ^'They are the King's, and 
 are planted here for his own delight, and also for the solace 
 of pilgrims." So the garrlener had them into the vineyards, 
 and bid them refresh themselves with dainties. (Deut. xxiii. 
 24.) He also showed them there the King's walks, and the 
 arbours where he delighted to be; and here they tarried and 
 slept. 
 
 Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their 
 sleep at this time than ever they did in all their journey; and 
 being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me, 
 ''Wherefore musest thou at the matter ? It is the nature of 
 the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards to go down so 
 sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak." 
 
 So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves 
 to go up to the city ; but, as I said, the reflection of the sun 
 upon the city (for " the city was pure gold") (Rev, xxi. 18) 
 was so extremely glorious, that they could not, as yet, with 
 open face behold it, but through an instrument made for that 
 purpose. (2 Cor. iii. 18.) So I saw that as they went on, 
 there met them two men, in raiment that shone like gold ; also 
 their faces shone as the light. 
 
 These men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they 
 
A DEEP RIVER. 155 
 
 told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, 
 what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures, 
 they had met in the way ; and they told them. Then said the 
 men that met them, *' You have but two difficulties more to 
 meet with, and then you are in the city." 
 
 Christian then, and his companion, asked the men to go 
 along with them; so they told them they would. "But,'' 
 said they, "you must obtain it by your own faith." So T saw 
 in my dream that they went on together, till they came in 
 sight of the gate. 
 
 . ^ow I further saw, that betwixt them and tlie gate was a 
 river, but there was no bridge to go over: the river was very 
 deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river, the pilgrims 
 were much stunned ; but the men that went with them said, 
 "You must go through, or you cannot come at the gate." 
 
 The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other 
 way to the gate; to which they answered, "Yes; but there 
 hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been per- 
 mitted to tread that path, since the foundation of the world, 
 nor shall until the last trumpet shall sound." (1 Cor. xv. 51, 
 52.) The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to de- 
 spond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but no 
 way could be found by them by which they might escape the 
 river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of a 
 depth. They said, "No;" yet they could not help them in 
 that case ; "for," said they, "you shall find it deeper or shal- 
 lower, as you believe in the King of the pi ice." 
 
 They then addressed themselves to the water; and entering, 
 Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend 
 Hopeful, he said, "I sink in deep waters; the billows go over 
 my head, all his waves go over me! Selah." 
 
 Then said the other, "Be of good cheer, my brother; I feel 
 the bottom, and it is good." Then said Christian, "Ah! my 
 friend, ' the sorrows of death have compassed me about ; ' 1 
 shall not see the land that flows with milli and honey." And 
 
156 THE LAST CONFLICT. 
 
 with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so 
 that he could not see before him. Also here he in great meas- 
 ure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor 
 orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had 
 met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words 
 that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of 
 miud and heart, fears that he should die in that river, and 
 never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that 
 stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts 
 of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he 
 began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was 
 troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits ; for 
 ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. Hope- 
 ful therefore here had much ado to keep his brother's head 
 above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, 
 and then, ere a while, he would rise up again half dead. 
 Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, saying, 
 *' Brother, I see the gate, and men standiug by to receive 
 us;" but Christian would answer, *'It is you, it is you they 
 wait for; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you." 
 *'And so have you," said he to Christian. '*Ah, brother!" 
 said he, "surely if I was right he would now arise to help 
 me ; but for my sins he hath brought me into the snare, and 
 hath left me." Then said Hopeful, "My brother, you have 
 quite forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked, ' There 
 are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm. They 
 are not in trouble as othef men, neither are they plagued like 
 other men.' (Psa. Ixxiii. 4, 5.) These troubles and distresses 
 that you go through in these waters are no sign that God hath 
 forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call 
 to mind that which you have heretofore received of his good- 
 ness, and live upon him in your distresses," 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that Christian was as in a muse 
 awhile. To whom also Hopeful added this word, "Be of 
 good cheer^ Jesus Christ maketh thee whole ; " and with tha> 
 
WHAT THE SHINING ONES SAID. 157 
 
 Christian broke out with a loud voice, "Oh, I see him again 1 
 and he tells me, ' When thou passeth through the waters, I 
 will be with thee; and through the rivers, they siiall not over- 
 flows^ thet.'" (Isa. xliii. 2.) Then they both took courage, 
 and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they 
 were gone over. Christian, therefore, presently found ground 
 to stand upon; and so it followed that the rest of the river 
 was but shallow. Thus they got over. Now upon the bank 
 of the river, on the other side, they saw the two Shining Men 
 again, who there waited for them. Wherefore, being come 
 out of the river, they saluted them, saying, "We are minister- 
 ing spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs 
 of salvation." Thus they went along towards the gate. ^^ ^ 
 
 Now you must note that the City stood upon a mightyliill, 
 but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had 
 these two men to lead them up by the arms ; also, they had 
 left their mortal garments behind them in the river, for though 
 they went in with them, they came out without them. They 
 therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though 
 the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher 
 than the clouds. They therefore went up through the regions 
 of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, be- 
 cause they safely got over the river, and had such glorious 
 companions to attend them. 
 
 The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the 
 glory of the place; who told them that the beauty and glory 
 of it was inexpressible. "There," said they, " is the Mount 
 Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of 
 angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect. (Ileb. xii. 
 22-24.) You are going now," said they, " to the paradise of 
 God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never- 
 fading fruits thereof, and when you come there, you siiall have 
 white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every 
 day with the King, even all the days of eternity. (Rev. ii. 7; 
 iii. 4; xxii. 5.) There you shall not see again such things as 
 
158 WHAT THE SHIISFING ONES SAID. 
 
 you su^ v^>2n you were in the lower region upon the earth; 
 to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, *for the former 
 things are passed away.' You are now going to Abraham, to 
 Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets; men that God hath 
 taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting on 
 their beds, each odc walking in his uprightness." (Isa. l\ii. 
 1, 2.) The men then asked, '' What must we do in that holy 
 place ? " To whom it was answered, *' You must thera receive 
 the comforts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow? 
 you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your 
 prayers and tears, and sufferings for the King by th« way. 
 (Gal. vi. 7.) In that place you must wear crowns of go\c\ und 
 enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One- for 
 * there you shall see him as he is.' (1 John iii. 2.) There ulso 
 you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting and 
 thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world, thc^ngh 
 with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your fl^«h. 
 There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your *>.ar» 
 with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There 
 you shall enjoy your friends again that are gone thither be- 
 fore you; and there you shall with joy receive even every one 
 that follows into the holy place after you. There also shall 
 you be clothed with glory and majesty, and put into an equi- 
 page fit to ride out with the King of glory. When he shall 
 come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wiwga 
 of the wind, you shall come with him; and when he shall sit 
 upon the throne of judgment, you shall sit by him; yea, ?^nd 
 when he shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, 
 let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that 
 judgment, because they were his and your enemies (1 Thess. 
 iv. 13-17; Jude 14; Dan. vii. 9, 10; 1 Cor. vi. 2, 3.) Also, 
 when he^ shall again return to the city, you shall go too, with 
 sound of trumpet, and be ever with him." 
 
 Now while they were thus drawing towards the gate, be- 
 hold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet themj 
 
THE KING'S TRUMPETERS. 159 
 
 to whom it was said, by the other two Shining Ones, ** These 
 are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the 
 world, and that have left all for his holy name; and he hath 
 sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on 
 their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Re- 
 deemer in the face with joy." Then the heavenly host gave a 
 great shout, saying, *' Blessed are they which are called unto 
 the marriage supper of the Lamb." There came out also at 
 this time to meet them several of the King's trumpeters, 
 clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious 
 noises and loud, made even the heavens to echo with thoir 
 sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow 
 with ten thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they 
 did with shouting and sound of trumpet. 
 
 This done, they compassed them round on every sid^ ; some 
 went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some 
 on the left (as it were to guard them through the upper re- 
 gions), continually sounding as they went, with melodious 
 noise, in notes on high : so that the very sight was to them 
 that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to 
 meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and 
 as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with 
 joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and 
 gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother how wel- 
 come they were into their company, and with what gladness 
 they came to meet them. And now were these two men, as it 
 were, in heaven, before they came at it, being swallowed up 
 with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious 
 notes. Here also they had the city itself in view, and they 
 thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome 
 them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts 
 that they had about their own dwelling there, with such com- 
 pany, and that for ever and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen 
 can their glorious joy be expressed ? And thus they came up 
 to the gate. 
 
160 THE GATES OPENED. 
 
 Now "when they were come up to the gate, there was writ- 
 ten over it, in letters of gold, *' Blessed ure they that do His 
 commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, 
 and may enter in through the gates into the city.'' (Rev. 
 xxii. 14.) 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that the Shining Men bid them 
 call at the gate ; the which when they did, some from above 
 looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, etc., 
 to whom it was said, "These pilgrims are come from the City 
 of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this 
 place; " and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man 
 his certificate, which they had received in the beginning; 
 those, therefore, were carried in to the King, who, when he 
 had read them, said, "Where are the men?" To whom it 
 was answered, "They are standing without the gate." The 
 King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous 
 nation," said he, "which keepetli the truth may enter in." 
 (Isa. xxvi. 2.) 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the 
 gate: and lo! as they entered, they were transfigured, and 
 they had raiment put on them that shone like gold. There 
 was also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave 
 them to them — the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in 
 token of honour. Then I heard in my dream that all the 
 bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto 
 them, "Enter ye into the joy of your Lord." I also heard 
 the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, 
 "Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him 
 that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and 
 ever." (Rev. v. 18.) 
 
 Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I 
 looked in after them, and behold, the city shone like the sun ; 
 the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked 
 many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, 
 and golden harps to sing praises withal. 
 
•ir WAS A DREAM."— Page 161. 
 
THE AWFUL END OF IGNORANCE. 161 
 
 There were also of them that had wings, and they answered 
 one another without intermission, saying, ^^Ploly, holy, holy 
 is the Lord." And after that, they shut up the gates; which 
 when I had seen, I wished myself among them. 
 
 Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my 
 head to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the "iver 
 side; but he soon got over, and that without half that diffi- 
 culty which the other two men met with. For it happened 
 that there was then in that place one Vain-hope, a ferryman, 
 that with his boat helped him over; so he, as the others I saw, 
 did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate, only he came 
 alone ; neither did any man meet him with the least encour- 
 agement. When he was come up to the gate, he looked up 
 to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, sup- 
 posing that entrance should have been quickly administered 
 to him ; but he was asked by the men that looked over the 
 top of the gate, "Whence came you ? and what would you 
 have?" He answered, ''I have ate and dniuk in the pres- 
 ence of the King, and he has taught in our streets." Then 
 they asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and 
 show it to the King; so he fumbled iu his bosom for one, and 
 found none. Then saia they, "Have you none?" But the 
 man answered never a word. So they told the King, but he 
 would not come down to see him, but commanded the two 
 Shming Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful to tliP 
 city to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and 
 foot, and have him away. Then they took him up, and car- 
 ried him through the air, to the door that I saw in the sid(^ 
 of the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was 
 a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as well as from 
 the City of Destruction ! 
 
 So I awoke, and behold, it was a dream. 
 
 P. P.— 6. 
 
163 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION. 
 
 Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee; 
 See if thou canst interpret it to me, 
 Or to thyself, or neighbour; but take heed 
 Of misinterpreting; for that, instead 
 Of doing good, will but thyself abuse : 
 By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 
 
 Take heed also that thou be not extreme 
 In playing with the outside of my dream : 
 Nor let my figure or similitude 
 Put thee into a laughter or a feud. 
 Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee, 
 Do thou the substance of my matter see. 
 
 Put by the curtains, look within my veil, 
 Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail, 
 There, if thou scekest them, such things to find 
 As will be helpful to an honest mind. 
 
 What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 
 To throw away, but yet preserve the gold; 
 What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? 
 None throws away the apple for the core. 
 But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 
 I know not but 't will make me dream again. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST PART. 
 
THE AUTHOR'S WAY 
 
 OF SENDING FORTH HIS 
 
 SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM 
 
 Go now, my little book, to every place 
 Where my first pilgrim has but shown his face ; 
 Call at their door. If any say, * ' Who's there ? " 
 Then answer thou, '* Christiana is here." 
 If they bid thee come in, then enter thou 
 With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how, 
 Tell who they are, also from whence they came; 
 Perhaps they know them, by their looks, or name. 
 But if they should not, ask them yet again 
 If formerly they did not entertain 
 One Christian, a pilgrim. If they say 
 They did, and were delighted in his way, 
 Then let them know that those related were 
 Unto him ; yea, his wife and children are. 
 
 Tell them that they have left trieir house and home, 
 Are turned pilgrims, seek a world to come ; 
 That they have met with hardships in the way; 
 That they do meet with troubles night and day ; 
 That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils. 
 Have also overcome as many evils. 
 Yea, tell them also of the next, who have. 
 Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave 
 (163) 
 
164 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF 
 
 Defenders of that way, and how they still 
 Refuse this world, to do their Father's will. 
 
 Go, tell them also of those dainty things 
 That pilgrimage unto the pilgrim brings. 
 Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 
 Beloved of their King, under his care ; 
 What goodly mansions for them he provides : 
 Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides, 
 How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, 
 Who to their Lord, and by his ways, hold fast. 
 
 Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
 Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace 
 Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare 
 As show well they of pilgrims lovers are, 
 
 OBJECTION I. 
 
 But how if they will not believe of me 
 That I am truly thine ; 'cause some there be 
 That counterfeit the pilgrim and his name, 
 Seek by disguise to seem the very same, 
 And by that means have wrought themselves into 
 The hands and houses of I know not who ?. 
 
 'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit 
 My pilgrim, to their own my title set : 
 Yea, others half my name and title too 
 Have stitched to their book, to make them do; 
 But yet they by their features do declare 
 Themselves not mine to be, whose'er they are. 
 
 If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way 
 Before them all is to say out thy say. 
 In thin(^own native language, which no man 
 Now Qseth, nor with ease dissemble can. 
 If after all, they still of you shall doubt. 
 
SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 165 
 
 Thinking that you, like gipsies, go aoout 
 In naughty wise, the country to defile, 
 Or that you seek good people to beguile 
 With things unwarrantable, send for me, 
 And I will testify you pilgrims be. 
 Yea, I will testify that only you 
 My pilgrims are ; and that alone will do. 
 
 OBJECTION II. 
 
 But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him 
 Of those that wish him damned life and limb. 
 What shall I do, when I at such a door 
 For pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ? 
 
 Fright not thyself, my book, for such bugbears 
 Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
 My pilgrim's book has travell'd sea and land, 
 Yet could I never come to understand 
 That it was slighted, or turn'd out of door 
 By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 
 
 In France and Flanders, where men kill each other. 
 My pilgrim is esteemed a friend and biother. 
 
 In Holland too, 'tis said, as I am told, 
 My pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. 
 
 Highlanders and wild Irish can agree 
 My pilgrim should familiar with them be. 
 
 'Tis in New England under such advance, 
 Receives there so much loving countenance 
 As to be trimm'd, new clothed, and deck'd with gems, 
 That it may show its features and its limbs ; 
 Yet more, so comely doth my pilgrim walk 
 That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 
 
 If you draw nearer home, it will appear, 
 My pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear; 
 
166 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF 
 
 City and country will him entertain 
 
 With "Welcom?, Pilgrim;" yea, they can't i //f rain 
 
 From smiling, if my pilgrim be but by, 
 
 Or shows his head in any company. 
 
 Brave gallants do my pilgrim hug and love^ 
 Esteem it much, yea, value it above 
 Things of a greater bulk: yea, with delights, 
 Say, ^*My lark's leg is better than a kite." 
 
 Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, 
 Do no small kindness to my pilgrim show. 
 Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts 
 My pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts 
 His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains,- 
 As yields them profit double to their pains 
 Of reading; yea, I tliiuk I may be bold 
 To say some prize him far above their gold. 
 
 The very children that do walk the street, 
 K they do but my holy pilgrim meet, 
 Salute him will, will wish him well, and say, 
 He is the only stripling of the day. 
 
 They that have never seen him, yet admire 
 What they have heard of him, and much desire 
 To have his company, and hear him tell 
 Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 
 
 Yea, some who did not love him at the tirst, 
 But call'd him fool aud noddy, say they must, 
 Now they have seen and heard him, him commend, 
 And to those whom they love they do him send. 
 
 Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be 
 Afraid to show thy head ; none can hurt thee, 
 That wish but well to him that went before, 
 'Cause thou com'st after with a second store 
 Of things as good, as rich, as profitable. 
 For young, for old, for stagg'ring, and for stable. 
 
SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 167 
 
 OBJECTION III. 
 
 But some there be that say, "He laughs too loud ; " 
 And some do say, '*His head is in a cloud. '^ 
 Some say, *' His words and stories are so dark, 
 They know not how, by them, to lind his mark.'' 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries 
 May well be guess'd at by his watery eyes. 
 Some things are of that nature as to make 
 One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. 
 When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep. 
 He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 
 
 Whereas some say, *' A cloud is in his head," 
 That doth but show how wisdom's covered 
 With its own mantles, and to stir the mind 
 To a search after what it fain would find. 
 Things that seem to be hid in words obscure 
 Do but the godly mind the more allure 
 To study what those sayings should contain, 
 That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 
 
 I also know a dark similitude 
 Will on the fancy more itself intrude. 
 And will stick faster in the heart and head, 
 Than things from similes not borrowed. 
 
 Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement 
 Hinder thy travels. Behold, tliou art sent 
 To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place 
 To thee, thy pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 
 
 Besides, what my first pilgrim left conceal'd. 
 Thou, my brave second pilgrim, hast reveal'd ; 
 What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way. 
 Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 
 
168 THE AUTHOR'S WAY OF 
 
 OBJECTION IV. 
 
 But some love not the method of your first ; 
 Romance they count it, throw 't away as dust. 
 If I should meet with such, what should I say ? 
 Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ? 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 My Christiana, if with such thou meet, 
 By all means, in all loving wise, them greet ; 
 Render them not reviling for revile ; 
 But if they frown, I prithee on them smile ; 
 Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, 
 Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. 
 
 Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and sorbe 
 Love not their friends, nor their own house or home; 
 Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl 
 More than they love a cuckoo, or an owl: 
 Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice. 
 And seek those who to find thee will rejoice; 
 By no means strive, but in humble wise 
 Present thee to them in thy pilgrim's guise. 
 
 Go, then, my little book, and show to all 
 That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall, 
 What thou slialt keep close ; shut up from the rest, 
 And wish what thou slialt show them may be bless'd 
 To them for good, may make them choose to be 
 Pilgrims better by far than thee or me. 
 
 Go, then, I say, tell all men who thou art ; 
 Say, ' ' I am Christiana, and my part 
 Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
 It is for men to take a pilgrim's lot." 
 
 Go, also tell them who and what they be, 
 That now do go on pilgrimage with thee ; 
 
SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART. 169 
 
 Say, ''Here's my neighbour, Mercy, she is one 
 That has long time with me a pilgrim gone. 
 Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn 
 'Twixt idle ones and pilgrims to discern. 
 Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
 The world which is to come, in any wise. 
 When little tripping maidens follow God, 
 And leave old doting sinners to his rod, 
 'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried 
 Hosanna! to whom old ones did deride." 
 
 Next, tell them of old Honest, wiiom you found 
 With his white hairs, treading the pilgrim's ground. 
 Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, 
 .How after his good Lord he bare his cross ; 
 Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail 
 Witli Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 
 
 Tell them also how Master Fearing went 
 On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
 In solitariness, with fears and cries; 
 And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. 
 He was a good man, though much down in spirit, 
 He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 
 
 Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also. 
 Who not before, but still behind, would go. 
 Show them also how he had like been slain. 
 And how one Grcatheart did his life regain. 
 This man was true of heart, though weak in grace ; 
 One might true godliness read in his face. 
 
 Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt, 
 A man with crutches, but much without fault; 
 Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and lie 
 Did love, and in opinions much agree. 
 And let all know, though weakness was their chance, 
 Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 
 
 Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, 
 
170 THE AUTHOR'S WAY, ETC. 
 
 That man of courage, though a very youth. 
 Tell every one his spirit was so stout 
 No man could ever make him face about; 
 And how Greatheart and he could not forbear, 
 But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair. 
 
 Overlook not Master Despondency, 
 Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie 
 Under such mantles as may make them look 
 (With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
 They softly went, but sure, and at the end 
 Found that the Lord of pilgrims was their friend. 
 When thou hast told the world of all these things, 
 Then turn about, my book, and touch these strings, 
 Which, if but touched, will such music make, 
 They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 
 
 These riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast 
 Freely propound, expound; and for the rest 
 Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
 For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 
 Now may this little book a blessing be 
 To those who love this little book and me ; 
 And may its buyer have no cause to say 
 His money is but lost or thrown away ; 
 Yea, may this second pilgrim yield that fruit 
 As may with each good pilgrim's fancy suit! 
 And may it persuade some that go astray. 
 To turn their feet and heart to the right way, 
 
 Is the hearty prayer of the Author, 
 
 John Bunyan. 
 
SECOND PART OF 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 ^ Courteous Companions — Some time since, to tell you my 
 dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and of his danger- 
 ous journey towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, 
 and profitable to you. I told you tlien also what I saw con- 
 cerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they were to 
 go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch that he was forced to 
 go on his progress without them ; for he durst not run the 
 danger of that destruction which he feared would come by 
 staying with them in the City of Destruction. Wherefore, as 
 I then showed you, he left them, and departed. 
 
 Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of busi- 
 ness, that I have been much hindered and kept back from my 
 wonted travels into those parts whence he went, and so could 
 not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry 
 after whom he left behind, that I might give you an account 
 of them. But having had some concerns that way of late, I 
 went down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my 
 lodgings in a wood, about a mile off the place, as I slept I 
 dreamed again.* 
 
 And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman 
 came by where I lay ; and because he was to go some part of 
 
 * Bunyan wrote the Second Part in his own home, about a mile from the jail 
 in which he spent so many years of his valuable life. 
 
 (171) 
 
172 MR. SAGACITY. 
 
 the way that I was travelling, metliought 1 got up and wen 
 with him. So, as we walked, and as travellers usually do, I 
 was as if we fell into discourse, and our talk happened to be 
 about Christian and his travels ; for thus I began with the old 
 man: 
 
 "" Sir, ''said I, "what town is that there below, thatlieth on 
 the left hand of our way ? " 
 
 Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), " It is the 
 City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a 
 very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people." 
 
 " I thought that was that city," quoth I; "I went once my- 
 self through that town, and therefore know that this report 
 you give of it is true." 
 
 Sag. Too true ; I wish I could speak truth in speaking bet- 
 ter of them that dwell therein. 
 
 "Well, sir," quoth I, "then I perceive you to be a well- 
 meaning man ; and so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell 
 of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what hap- 
 pened to a man some time ago in this town, whose name was 
 Christian, that went on pilgrimage up towards the higher 
 regions ? " 
 
 Sag. Hear of him ! Ay, and I also heard of the molesta- 
 tions, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and 
 fears that he met with and had in his journey; besides, I 
 must tell you, all our country rings of him. There are but 
 few houses that have heard of him and his doings but have 
 sought after and got the records of his pilgrimage; yea, I 
 think I may say that his hazardous journey has got a many 
 well-wishers to his ways; for though, when he was here, he 
 was fool in every man's mouth, yet, now he is gone, he is 
 higlily commended of all. For, it is said, he lives bravely 
 where he is ; yea, many of them that are resolved never to run 
 his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains. 
 
 "They may," quoth I, "well think, if they think any- 
 thing that is true, tl^t he liveth well where he is ; for he 
 
CHRISTIAN'S GAINS. 173 
 
 now lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has 
 without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed there- 
 with. But pray, what talk have the people about him ? " 
 
 Sag. Talk ! the people talk strangely about him ; some say 
 that he now walks in white (Rev. iii. 4; vi. 11); that he has 
 a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold, 
 beset with pearls, upon his head. Others say that the Shin- 
 ing Ones, that sometimes showed themselves to him in his 
 journey, are become his companions, and that he is as famil- 
 iar with them in the place where he is, as here one neighbour 
 is with another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed concern- 
 ing him, that the King of the place where he is has bestowed 
 upon him already a very ricli and pleasant dwelling at court 
 (Zech. iii. 7), and that he every day eateth (Luke xiv. 15), and 
 drinketh, and walketh, and talketh with him ; and receiveth 
 of the smiles and favours of him that is judge of all there. 
 Moreover, it is expected of some that his Prince, the Lord of 
 that country, will shortly come into these parts, and will 
 know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours 
 set so little by him, and had him so much in derision, when 
 they perceived that he would be a pilgrim. (Jude 14, 15.) 
 For they say that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, 
 and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indigni- 
 ties that were cast upon Christian when he became a pilgrim, 
 that he will look upon all as if done unto himself ; and no 
 marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that 
 he ventured as he did. (Luke x. 16.) 
 
 *'I dare say," qnoth I; "I am glad on it; I am glad for 
 the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest from his labour 
 (Rev. xiv. 13), and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his 
 tears with joy (Psa. cxxvi. 5, 6) ; and for that he has got be- 
 yond the gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of 
 them that hate him. I also am glad for that a rumour of 
 these things is noised abroad in this country; who can tell 
 but that it may work some good effect on some that are left 
 
174 GOOD TIDINGS OF CHRISTIAN'S FAMILY. 
 
 behind ? But pray, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you 
 hear anything of his wife and children ? Poor hearts! I won- 
 der in my mind what they do." 
 
 Sag. Wlio ? Christiana and her sons ? They are like to do 
 as well as did Christian himself; for though they all played the 
 fool at the first, and would by no means be persuaded by 
 either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts 
 have wrought wonderfully with them ; so they have packed 
 up, and are also gone after him. 
 
 '' Better and better," quoth I. ''But what! wife, and chil- 
 dren, and all ? " 
 
 Sag, It is true ; I can give you an account of the matter, 
 for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly 
 acquainted with the whole affair. 
 
 "Then," said I, "a man, it seems, may report it for a 
 truth ? " 
 
 Sag. You need not fear to affirm it; I mean that they are 
 all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her four 
 boys. And being (we are, as I perceive) going some consid- 
 erable way together, I will give you an account of the whole 
 of the matter. 
 
 This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that 
 she, with her children, betook themselves to a pilgrim's life), 
 after her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear 
 of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind;* 
 first, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the lov- 
 ing bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt them. 
 "For you know," said he to me, "nature can do no less but 
 entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation in the re- 
 membrance of the loss of loving relations." This, therefore, 
 of her husband did cost her many a tear. But this was not 
 all; for Christiana did also begin to consider with liersclf 
 whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her husband was 
 not one cause that she saw him no m ore, and that in such sort 
 * See page 157. 
 
CHRISTIANA'S DREAM. 175 
 
 he was taken away from her. Ana upon this, came into her 
 mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly 
 carriages to her dear friend ; which also clogged her con- 
 science, and did load her with guilt. She w^as, moreover, 
 much broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, 
 brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how 
 she did harden her heart against all his entreaties and loving 
 persuasions (of her and her sons) to go with him ; yea, there was 
 not anything that Christian either said to her or did before 
 her, all tlie while that his burden did hang on his back, but 
 it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent the 
 caul of her heart in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of 
 his, ''What shall I do to be saved ? " did ring in her ears most 
 dolefully.* 
 
 Then said she to her children, " Sons, we are all undone. 
 I have sinned away your father, and he is gone ; he would 
 have had us with him, but I would not go myself. I also have 
 hindered you of life." With that the boys fell all into tears, 
 and cried out to go after their father. '' Oh ! " said Christiana, 
 ' ' that it had been but our lot to go with him, then had it fared 
 well with us, beyond what it is like to do now ; for though I for- 
 merly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your 
 father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or 
 for that he was overrun with melancholy humours ; yet now it 
 will not out of my mind, but that they sprang from another 
 cause, to wit, for that the Light of light was given him (John 
 viii. 12), by the help of which, as I perceived, he has escaped 
 the snares of death." Then they all wept again and cried out, 
 '' Oh, woe worth the day! " 
 
 The next night Christiana had a dream: and behold, slio 
 saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which 
 were recorded the sum of her ways, and the times, as she 
 thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out 
 aloud in her sleep, "Lord, have mercy upbn me a sinner!'' 
 
 (Luke xviii. 13), and the little chi ldren heard her. 
 
 * See pages 11, 12. 
 
176 A WELCOME VISITOR. 
 
 After this she thought she saw two very ill-favoured ones 
 standing by her bedside, and saying, "What shall we do 
 with this woman ? for she cries oat for mercy waking and 
 sleeping; if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall 
 lose her as we have lost her husband. Wherefore, we must, 
 by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts 
 of what sliall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help it 
 but she will become a pilgrim." 
 
 Now she awoke in a great sweaty also a trembling was upon 
 her; but after a while she fell to sleeping again. And then 
 she thought she saw Christian her husband in a place of bliss, 
 among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and 
 playing upon it before One that sat on a throne, with a rain- 
 bow about his head. She saw also as if he bowed his head, 
 with his face to the paved work that was under the Prince's 
 feet, saying, " I heartily thank my Lord and King for bring- 
 ing of me into this place." Then shouted a company of them 
 that stood round about, and harped with their harps; but no 
 man living could tell what they said, but Christian an-d his 
 companions. 
 
 Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and 
 talked with her children a while, one knocked hard at the 
 door, to whom she spake out, saying, " If thou comest in 
 God's name, come in." So he said, "Amen," and opened the 
 door, and saluted her with "Peace be to this house." The 
 which when he had done, he said, " Christiana, knowest thou 
 wherefore I am come ? " Then she blushed and trembled, 
 also her heart began to wax warm with desires to know 
 whence he came, and what was his errand to her. So he 
 said unto her, "My name is Secret; I dwell with those that 
 are high. It is talked of, where I dwell, as if thou hadst a 
 desire to go thither; also there is a report that thou art aware 
 of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy husband, in hard- 
 ening of thy lieart irgainst his way, and in keeping of these thy 
 babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent 
 
SLOUGH OF DESPOND.— Page 184. 
 
GOOD TIDINGS FOR CHRISTIA.NA. 177 
 
 me to tell thee that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he 
 taketh delight to multiply to pardon offenses. He also would 
 have thee know that he inviteth thee to come into his presence, 
 to Instable, and that he will feed thee with the fat of his house, 
 and with the hereitage of Jacob thy father. 
 
 "There is Christian thy husband, with legions more, his 
 companions, ever beholding that face that doth minister life 
 to beholders; and they will all be glad when they shall hear 
 the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold." 
 
 Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bow- 
 ing her head to the ground, this visitor proceeded, and said, 
 *' Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I have 
 brought from thy husband's King." So she took it, and 
 opened it, but it smelt after the manner of the best perfume 
 (Solomon's Song i. 3); also it was written in letters of gold. 
 The contents of the letter was. That the King would have her 
 do as did Christian her husband ; for that was the way to 
 come to his city, and to dwell in his presence with joy for 
 ever. At this the good woman was quite overcome ; so she 
 cried out to her visitor, " Sir, will you carry me and my chil- 
 dren with you, that we also may go and worship this King ? " 
 
 Then said the visitor, "Christiana, the bitter is before the 
 sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did he that went be- 
 fore thee, enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee 
 to do as did Christian thy husband. Go to the wicket-gate 
 yonder, over the plain, for that stands in the head of the way 
 up which thou must go, and I wish thee all good speed. Also 
 I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom; that thou read 
 therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have got it 
 by rote of heart, * for it is one of the songs that thou must 
 sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage. (Psa. 
 cxix. 54.) Also this thou must deliver in at the further gate." 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he told 
 me this story, did himself seem to be grea tly affec ted there- 
 * That is, until you fully understand Us meaning. 
 
178 CHRISTIANA AND HER NEIGHBOURS. 
 
 with. He moreover proceeded and said, So Christiana called 
 her sons together, and began thus to address herself unto 
 them: '^My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late 
 under much exercise in my soul, about the death of your 
 father; not for that I doubt at all of his happiness, for I am 
 satisfied now that he is well. I have also been much affected 
 with the thoughts of mine own state and yours, which I verily 
 believe is by nature miserable. My carriage, also, to your 
 father in his distress, is a great load to my conscience ; for I 
 hardened both my own heart and yours against him, and re- 
 fused to go with him on pilgrimage. 
 
 "The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, 
 but that for a dream which I had last night, and but for the en- 
 couragement that this stranger has given me this moruing. 
 Come, my children, let us pack up and be gone to the gate 
 that leads to the Celestial Country, that we may see your 
 father, and be with him and his companions in peace, accord- 
 ing to the laws of that land." 
 
 Then did her children burst out into tears for joy, that the 
 heart of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor bade 
 them farewell ; and they began to prepare to set out for their 
 journey. 
 
 But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the 
 women, that were Christiana's neighbours, came up to her 
 house, and knocked at her door. To whom she said as be- 
 fore, ''If you come in God's name, come in." At this the 
 women were stunned ; for this kind of language they used 
 not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana. 
 Yet they came in: but behold, they found the good woman 
 a-preparing to be gone from her house. 
 
 So they began and said, ' ' Neighbour, pray what is your 
 meaning by this ? " 
 
 Christiana answ^ered and said to the eldest of them, whose 
 name was Mrs. Timorous, ''I am preparing for a journey." 
 (This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon 
 
CHRISTIANA AND HER NEIGHBOURS. 179 
 
 the Hill Difficulty, and would have had him go back for fear 
 of the lions.) * 
 
 Timorous. For what journey, I pray you? 
 
 Christiana. Even to go after my good husband. And 
 with that she fell a-weeping. 
 
 Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour; pray, for your poor 
 children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself. 
 
 Chris. Nay, my children shall go with me; not one of 
 them is willing to stay behind. 
 
 Tim. I wonder, in my very heart, whot or who has brouglit 
 you into this mind. 
 
 Chris. Oh, neighbour, knew you but as much as I do, I 
 doubt not but that you would go with me. 
 
 Tim. Pritliee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that so 
 worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempteth 
 thee to go nobody knows where ? 
 
 Then Christiana replied, ''I have been sorely afflicted since 
 my husband's departure from me; but especially since he went 
 over the river. But that which troubleth me most is my 
 churlish carriage to him when he was under his distress. Be- 
 sides, I am now as he was then ; nothing will serve me but 
 going on pilgrimage. I was a-dreaming last night that I saw 
 him. Oh, that my soul was with him ! He dwelleth in the 
 presence of the King of the country; he sits and eats with 
 him at his table ; he is become a companion of immortals, and 
 has a house now given him to dwell in, to which tlie best palaces 
 on earth, if compared, seem to me but as a dung-hill. (2 Cor. 
 V. 1-4.) The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with 
 promise of entertainment if I shall come to him ; his messen- 
 ger was here even now, and has brought me a letter, whiclj 
 invites me to come." And with that she plucked out her let^ 
 ter, and read it, and said to them, "What now will ye say to 
 this ? " 
 
 Tim. Oh, the madness that has posses sed thee and thy hus- 
 * See page 44. 
 
180 WORLDLY ADVICE. 
 
 band, to run yourselves upon such dilSiculties ! You have 
 heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with, even, in 
 a manner, at the first step that he took on his way, as our 
 neighbour Obstinate can yet testify,* for he went along with 
 him; yea, and Pliable, too, until they, like wise men, were 
 afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and above, 
 how he met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, 
 and many other things. Nor is the danger that he met with 
 at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee ; for if he, though a 
 man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a 
 poor woman, do ? Consider, also, that these four sweet babes 
 are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wiierefore, tliough 
 thou shouldst be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet for the 
 sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home. 
 
 But Christiana said unto her, "Tempt me not, my neigh- 
 bour. I have noAV a price put into my hand to get gain, and 
 I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should have no 
 heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you 
 tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with in the 
 way, they are so far off from being to me a discouragement, 
 that they show I am in the right. ' The bitter must come 
 before the sweet,' and that also will make the sweet the sweet- 
 er. Wherefore, since you came not to my house in God's 
 name, as I said, I pray you be gone, and not disquiet me 
 further." . 
 
 Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow, 
 "Come, neighbour Mercy, let us leave her in her own hands, 
 since she scorns our counsel and company." But Mercy was 
 at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neigh- 
 bour, and that for a two fold reason. First, her bowels 
 yearned over Christiana. So she said within herself, " If my 
 neighbour will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her 
 and help her." Secondly, her bowels yearned over her own 
 soul; for what Christiana ha d said had taken so me hold upon 
 * See pages 13-19. 
 
MERCY'S RESOLUTIO^\ 181 
 
 her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, ''I will 
 yet have more talk with this Christiana, and if I find truth 
 and life in what she shall say, myself with my heart shall also 
 go with her." Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her 
 neighbour Timorous : 
 
 ''Neighbour, I did, indeed, come with you to see Christi- 
 ana this morning; and since she is, as you see, a-taking of her 
 last farewell of her country, I think to walk this sunshine 
 morning a little way with her, to help her on the way." But 
 she told her not of the second reason, but kept that to her- 
 self. 
 
 Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too ; but 
 take heed in time, and be wise. While we are out of dan- 
 ger, we are out; but when we are in, we are in. 
 
 So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana be- 
 took herself to her journey. But when Timorous was got 
 home to her house, she sends for some of }ier neighbours, to 
 wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and 
 Mrs. Know-nothing. So when they were come to her house, 
 she falls to telling of the story of Christiana, and of her in- 
 tended journey. And thus she began her tale: 
 
 '* Neighbours, having had little to do this morning, I went 
 to give Christiana a visit ; and when I came at the door, I 
 knocked, as you knov/ it is our custom. And she answered, 
 'If you come in God's name, come in.' So in I went, think- 
 ing all was well. But when I came in, T found her perparing 
 herself to depart the town, she and also her children. So I 
 asked her what v/as her meaning by that ; and she told me, in 
 short, that she was now of a mind- to go on pilgrimage, as did 
 her husband. She told me also a dream that she had, and 
 how the King of the country where her husband was had sent 
 her an inviting letter to come thither." 
 
 Tlien said Mrs. Know-nothing, "And what! do you think 
 she will go ? " 
 
 Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever come on't; and methink.s I 
 
182 MRS. TIMOROUS AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 know it by this ; for that which was my great argument to 
 persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the troubles she was like 
 to meet with in the way) is one great argument with her to 
 put her forward on her journey. For she told me in so many 
 words, "The bitter goes before the sweet." Yea, and for- 
 asmuch as it so doth, it "makes the sweet the sweeter." 
 
 Mrs. Bat's-eyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman! will 
 she not take warning by her husband's afflictions ? For my 
 part, I see, if he was here again, he would rest him content 
 in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing. 
 
 Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, "Away with such 
 fantastical fools from the town! A good riddance, for my 
 part, I say, of her. Should she stay where she dwells, and 
 retain this in her mind, who could live quietly by her ? for. 
 she will either be dumpish or unneighbourly, or talk of such 
 matters as no wise body can abide ; wherefore, for my part, 
 I shall never be sorry for her departure. Let her go, and let 
 better come in her room. It was never a good world since 
 these whimsical fools dwelt in it." 
 
 Then Mrs. Light-mind added as foUoweth: "Come, put 
 this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madam Wanton's,* 
 where we were as merry as the maids. For who do you think 
 should be there, but I and Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and three or 
 four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. 
 So there we had music and dancing, and what else was meet 
 to fill up the time with pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady 
 herself is an admirably wellbred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lech- 
 ery is as pretty a fellow." 
 
 By this time, Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy 
 went along with her. So, as they went, her children being 
 there also, Christiana began to discourse. "And, Mercy," 
 said Christiana, ' ' I take this as an unexpected favour, that 
 thou shouldst set foot out of doors with me, to accompany 
 me a little in my way." 
 
 * See page G9. 
 
CHRISTIANA ENCOURAGES MERCY. 183 
 
 Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), "If I 
 thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I would never 
 go near the town any more." 
 
 "Well, Mercy," said Christiana, " cast in thy lot with me. 
 I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage. My 
 husband is where he would not but be for all the gold in the 
 Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest 
 but upon my invitation. The King who hath sent for me and 
 my children is one that delighteth in meroy. Besides, if thou 
 wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me as my 
 servant; yet we will have all: things in common betwixt thee 
 and me; only, go along with me." 
 
 Mercy. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be 
 entertained ? Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I 
 would make no stick at all, but would go, being helped by 
 Him that can help, though the way was never so tedious. 
 
 Chris. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt 
 do: go with me to the wicket-gate, and there I will further 
 enquire for thee; and if there thou shalt not meet with en-' 
 couragement, I will be content that thou shalt return to thy 
 place. I also will pay thee for thy kindness which thou 
 showest to me and my children, in thy accompanying us in 
 our way, as thou dost. 
 
 Mercy. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall 
 follow ; and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall, even 
 as the King of hea,\ren shall have his heart upon me. 
 
 Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only that she had 
 a companion, but also for that she had prevailed with this 
 poor maid to fall in love Avith her own salvation. So they 
 went on together, and Merc^ began to weep. Then said 
 Christiana, "Wherefore weepeth my sister so ? " 
 
 **Alasl" said she, "who can but lament, that shall but 
 rightly consider what a state and condition my poor relations 
 are in that yet remain in our sinful town ? and that which 
 makes my grief the more heavy is because they have no in- 
 structor, nor any to tell them what is to come." 
 
184 CHRISTIANA'S PRAYERS ANSWERED. 
 
 Chris. Bowels becometh pilgrims ; and thou dost for thy 
 friends as my good Christian did for me when he left me ; he 
 mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him ; but his 
 Lord and ours did gather up his tears, and put them into hia 
 bottle ; and now both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, 
 are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, 
 these tears of thine will not be lost ; for the Truth hath said 
 that ''They that sow in tears shall reap in joy," in singing. 
 And '' He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious 
 seeds, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing h)S 
 Bheaves with him." (Psa. cxxvi: 5, 6.) 
 
 Then said Mercy : 
 
 *' Let the most Blessed be my guide, 
 If't bo his blessed will, 
 Unto his gate, into his fold. 
 Up to his holy hill. 
 
 ** And let him never suffer me 
 To swerve or turn aside 
 From his free p:race, and holy ways, 
 Whate'er shall me betide. 
 
 ** And let him gather them of mine. 
 That I have left behind ; 
 Lord, make them ])ray they may be thine. 
 With all their heart and mind." 
 
 Kow my old friend proceeded and said: " But when Chris- 
 tiana came up to the Slough of Despond,* she began to be at 
 a stand; 'for,' said she, ' this is the place in which my dear 
 husband had liked to have been smothered with mud.' She 
 perceived also that notwithstanding the command of the 
 King to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was rather 
 worse than formerly." So I asked if that was true. "Yes," 
 said the old gentleman "too true; for that many there be 
 that pretend to be the King's labourers, and that say they are 
 
 * See page 17. 
 
ASSAULTS TO BE EXPECTED. 185 
 
 for mending the King's highway, that bring dirt and dung 
 instead of stones, and so mar instead of mending. Here 
 Christiana, therefore, with her boys, did make a stand; but 
 said Mercy, 'Come, let us venture, only let us be wary.' 
 Then they looked well to tne steps, and made a shift to get 
 staggeringly over. 
 
 ** Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not 
 once nor twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they 
 thought they heard words that said unto them, ' Blessed is 
 she that believeth ; for there shall be a performance of those, 
 things which were told her from the Lord.' (Luke i. 45.) 
 
 " Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, 
 ' Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at the 
 wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond would dis- 
 courage me.' 'Well,' said the other, 'you know your sore, 
 and I know mine; and, good friend, we shall all have enough 
 evil before we come at our journey's end. For can it be im- 
 agined that the people that design to attain such excellent 
 glories as we do, and that are so envied that happiness as we 
 are, but that we shall meet with what fears and scares, with 
 what troubles and afflictions they can possibly assault us with, 
 that hate us ? ' " 
 
 And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by 
 myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana and Mercy, 
 and the boys, go all of them up to the gate ; to which when 
 they were come, they betook themselves to a short debate 
 about how they must manage their calling at tl^^e gate, and 
 what should be said to him that did open to them. So it was 
 concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that she should 
 knock for entrance, and that she should speak to him that 
 did open, for the rest. So Christiana began to knock ; and, 
 as her poor husband did,* she knocked, and knocked again. 
 But, instead of any that answered, they all thought that they 
 heard as if a dog came barking upon them; a dog, and a great 
 * See page 27. 
 
186 CHRISTIANA AT THE GATE. 
 
 one too, and this made the women and children afraid : nor 
 durst they, for a while, to knock any more, for fear the mas- 
 tiff sliould fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were greatly 
 tumbled up and down in their minds, and knew not what to 
 do; knock they durst not, for fear of the dog; go back they 
 durst not, for fear the Keeper of that gate should espy them 
 as they so went, and shoukl be offended with them. At last 
 they thought of knocking again, and knocked more vehement- 
 ly than they did at the first. Then said the Keeper of the 
 gate, '* Who is there ? " So the dog left off to bark, and he 
 opened unto them. 
 
 Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, "Let not 
 our Lord be offended with his hand-maidens, for that we have 
 knocked at his princely gate." Theh said the Keeper, 
 *' Whence come ye, and what is that you would have ? " 
 
 Christiana answered, '* We are come from whence Christian 
 did come, and upon the same errand as he ; to wit, to be, if 
 it shall please you, graciously admitted by this gate into the 
 way that leads to the Celestial City. And I answer, my Lord, 
 in the next place, that I am Christiana, once the wife of 
 Christian, that now is gotten above." 
 
 With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, 
 '* What! is she become now a pilgrim that, but a while ago, 
 abhorred that life ? " Then she bow^d her head, and said, 
 ''Yes, and so are these my sweet babes also." 
 
 Then he took her by the hand, and let her in, and said also, 
 "Suffer lifctle children to come unto me;" and with that he 
 shut up the gate. This done, he called to a trumpeter that 
 was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with shout- 
 ing and sound of trumpet for joy. So he obeyed, and sound- 
 ed, and filled the air with his melodious notes. (Luke xv. 7.) 
 
 Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling 
 and crying, for fear tliat she was rejected. But when Chris- 
 tiana had gotten admittance for herself and her boys, then 
 she began to make intercession for Mercy. And she said, 
 
MERCY FAINTS, BUT IS LIFTED UP. 187 
 
 *^ My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet with- 
 out, that is come hither upon the same account as myself; 
 one that is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, as 
 she thinks, without sending for ; whereas I was sent to by my 
 husband's King to come." 
 
 Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute was 
 as long to her as an hour; wherefore she prevented Christiana 
 from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate her- 
 self. And she knocked then so loud that she made Christiana 
 to start. Then said the Keeper of the gate, "Who is there ? ' 
 and said Christiana, "It is my friend." 
 
 So he opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was 
 fallen down without in a swoon, for she fainted, and was 
 afraid that no gate would be opened to her. 
 
 Tiien he took her by the hand, and said, "Damsel, I bid 
 thee arise." 
 
 "Oh, sir," said she, "lam faint; there is scarce life left 
 in me." But he answered that "one once said, 'When my 
 soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord; and my 
 prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy temple.' (Jonah ii. 
 7.) Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me wherefore 
 thou art come." 
 
 Mercy. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, 
 as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the King, mine 
 was but from her. Wherefore I fear I presume . 
 
 Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place ? 
 
 Mercy. Yes, and, as my Lord sees, I am come. And if 
 there is any grace or forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech 
 that I, thy poor handmaid, may be partaker thereof. 
 
 Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, 
 and said, "I pray for all them that believe on me, by what 
 means soever they come unto me." Then said he to those 
 that stood by, "Fetch something and give to Mercy to smell 
 on, thereby to stay her fainting." So they fetched her a bun- 
 dle of myrrh ; and a while after, she was revived. 
 
188 THE KIND RECEPTION. 
 
 And now was Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, received 
 of the Lord at the head of the way, and spoke kindly unto 
 by him. Then said they yet further unto him, ' ' We are sorry for 
 our sins, and beg of our Lord his- pardon, and further infor- 
 mation what we must do." 
 
 '^I grant pardon," said he, " by word and deed; by word, 
 in the promise of forgiveness ; by deed, in the way I obtain 
 it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss (Solomon's Song 
 i. 2), and the other as it shall be revealed." (John xx. 20.) 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that he spake many good words 
 unto them, whereby they were greatly gladded. He also had 
 them up by the top of the gate, and showed them by what 
 deed they were saved ; and told them withal, that that sight 
 they would have again, as they went along in the way, to 
 their comfort. 
 
 So he left them awhile in a summer parlour below, where 
 they entered into talk by themselves; and thus Christiana be- 
 gan : ** O Lord! how glad am I that we are got in hither." 
 
 Mercy. So you well may ; but I of all have cause to leap for 
 
 joy- 
 
 Chris. I thought one time as I stood at the gate (because I 
 had knocked and none did answer), that all our labour had 
 been lost, especially when that u-gly cur made such a heavy 
 barking at us. 
 
 Mercy. But my worst fear was after I saw that you were 
 taken into his favour, and that I was left behind. Now, 
 thought I, it is fulfilled what is written, ''Two women shall 
 be grinding together, the one shall be taken and the other 
 left." (Matt. xxiv. 41.) I had much ado to forbear crying 
 out, "Undone! undone!" And afraid I was to knock any 
 more; but when I looked up to what was written over the 
 gate, I took courage. I also thought that I must either knock 
 again or die ; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my 
 spirit now struggled betwixt life and death. 
 
 Chris. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am sure your 
 
TAKING THE KINGDOM BY STORM. 189 
 
 knocks were so earnest, that the very sound of them made me 
 start ; I thought I never heard such knocking in all my life ; I 
 thought you would have come in by violent hands or have 
 taken the kingdom by storm. (Matt, xi. 12.) 
 
 Mercy. Alas ! to be in my case, who that so was could but 
 have done so ? You saw that the door was shut upon me, 
 and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who, I say, 
 that was so faint-hearted as I, that would not have knocked 
 with all their might ? But pray, what said my Lord to my 
 rudeness ? Was he not angry with me ? 
 
 Chris. Wlien he heard your lumbering noise, he gave a 
 wonderful, innocent smile; I believe what you did pleased 
 him well enough, for he showed no sign to the contrary. But 
 I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog; had I known 
 that before, I fear I should not have had heart enough to have 
 ventured myself in this manner. But now we are in, we are 
 in ; and I am glad with all my heart. 
 
 Mercy. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes down, 
 why he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard. I hope he will 
 not take it amiss. 
 
 *' Ay, do," said the children, *'and persuade him to hang 
 him; for we are afraid he will bite us when we go hence." 
 
 So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy fell to 
 the ground on her face before him, and worshipped, and said, 
 "L^t my Lord accept of the sacrifice of praise which I now 
 offer unto him with the calves of my lips." 
 
 So he said unto her, "Peace be to thee; stand up." 
 
 But she continued on her face, and said, '^Righteous art 
 thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee: yet let me talk with 
 thee of thy judgments. (Jer. xii. 1.) Wherefore dost thou 
 keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, at the sight of which such 
 women and children as we are ready to fly from thy gate for 
 fear ? " 
 
 He answered and said, ''That dog has ^mother owner; he 
 also is kept close in another man's ground, only my pilgrims 
 
190 FEARS ABOUT THE DOG. 
 
 hear his barking. He belongs to the castle which you see 
 there at a distance, but can come up to the walls of this place. 
 He has frightened many an honest pilgrim from worse to bet- 
 ter, by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth 
 him doth not keep him of any good will to me or mine, but 
 with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that 
 they may be afraid to knock at this gate for entrance. Some- 
 times also he has broken out, and has worried some that I 
 love ; but I take all at present patiently. I also give my pil- 
 grims timely help, so they are npt delivered up to his power, 
 to do to them what his doggish nature would prompt him to 
 do. But what ! my purchased one, I trow, hadst thou known 
 never so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have been afraid 
 of a dog. The beggars that go from door to door will, rather 
 than they will lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of the 
 bawling, barking, and biting, too, of a dog ; and shall a dog 
 — a dog in another man's yard, a dog whose barking I turn 
 to the profit of pilgrims — keep any from coming to me ? I 
 deliver them from the lions, their darlings from the power of 
 the dog." 
 
 Then said Mercy, " I confess my ignorance; I spake what 
 I understood not ; I acknowledge that thou doest all things 
 well." 
 
 Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and to in- 
 quire after the way. So he fed them and washed their feet, 
 and set them in the way of his steps, according as he had dealt 
 with her husband before. * So I saw in my dream that they 
 walked on in their way, and had the weather very comfortable 
 to them. 
 
 Then Christiana began to sing, saying — 
 
 ''Bless'd be the day that I began 
 A pilgrim for to be ; 
 And blessed also be that man 
 Tli^t thereto moved me. 
 
 * See page 29. 
 
TWO ILL-FAVOURED ONES 191 
 
 *''Tis true, 't was long ere I began 
 To seek to live for ever : 
 But now I run fast as I can ; 
 'T is better late than never. 
 
 '* Our tears to joy, our fears to faitli, 
 Are turned, as we see ; 
 Thus our beginning, as one saith, 
 Shows what our end will be." 
 
 Kow there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced in 
 the way up which Christiana and her companions were to go, 
 a garden, and that garden belonged to him whose was that 
 barking dog of whom mention was made before. And some 
 of the fruit-trees that grew in that garden shot their branches 
 over the wall; and being mellow, they that found them did 
 gather them up, and oft ate of them to their hurt. So Chris- 
 tiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the 
 trees, and with the fruit that did hang thereon, did plash* 
 them, and began to eat. Their mother did also chide them 
 for so doing, but still the boys went on. 
 
 '* Well," said she, ''my sons, you transgress, for that fruit 
 is none of ours; " but she did not know that they did belong 
 to the enemy; I will warrant you, if she had, she would have 
 been ready to die for fear. But that passed, and they went 
 on their way. Now, by that they were gone about two bow- 
 shots from the place that led them into the way, they espied 
 two very ill-favoured ones coming down apace to meet them. 
 With that, Christiana and Mercy her friend covered them- 
 selves with their veils, and so kept on their journey; the chil- 
 dren also went on before, so that at last they met together. 
 Then they that came down to meet them came just up to the 
 women, as if they would embrace them: but Christiana said, 
 '* Stand back, or go peaceably by, as you should. " Yet these 
 two men, as men that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's 
 words, but began to lay hands upon them. At that, Christi- 
 
 * Beat the boughs, thus knocking off the fruit. 
 
193 ASSAULT THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 ana, waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her feet. 
 Mercy also, as well as she could, did what she could to shift 
 them. Christiana again said to them, "Stand back, and be 
 gone ; for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as you 
 see, and such, too, as live upon the chanty of our friends." 
 
 Then said one of the two men, " We make no assault upon 
 you for money, but are come out to tell you that if you will but 
 grant one small request, which we shall ask, we will make 
 women of you forever." 
 
 Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made 
 answer again, " We will neither hear, nor regard, nor yield to 
 what you shall ask. We are in haste, and cannot stay ; our 
 business is a business of life and death." So, again, she and 
 her companions made fresh essay to go past them; but they 
 letted them in their way. 
 
 And they said, "We intend no hurt to your lives; it is 
 another thing w© would have." 
 
 "Ay," quoth Christiana, "you would have us body and 
 soul, for I know it is for that you are come ; but we Will die 
 rather upon the spot than suffer ourselves to be brought into 
 such snares as shall hazard our well-being hereafter." And 
 with that they both shrieked out, and cried, "Murder! mur- 
 der! " and so put themselves under those laws that are pro- 
 vided for the protection of women. (Deut. xxii. 23, 26, 27.) But 
 the men still made their approach upon them, with design to 
 prevail against them. They therefore cried out again. 
 
 Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at 
 which they came, their voice was heard from where they were 
 thither;' wherefore some of the house came out, and knowing 
 that it was Christiana's tongue, they made haste to'her relief. 
 But by that they were got within sight of them, the women 
 were in a very great scuffle ; the children also stood crying 
 by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the 
 ruffians, saying, "What is that thing that you do ? Would 
 you make my Lord's people to transgress ? " He also attempt- 
 
TWO ILL F^VO"^^n ov^q «.'Dac^ 191. 
 
A CONFESSION. 193 
 
 ed to .take them, but they did make their escape over the wall 
 into the garden of the man to whom the great dog belonged; 
 so the dog became their protector. This Reliever then came 
 up to the women, and asked them how they did. So they 
 answered, ''We thank thy Prince, pretty well, only we have 
 been somewhat affrighted ; we thank thee also for that thou 
 camest in to our help, for otherwise we had ])een overcome." 
 
 So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as foUoweth : 
 *' I marvelled much when you were entertained at the gate 
 above, being ye knew that ye were but weak women, that you 
 petitioned not the Lord there for a conductor; then might 
 you have avoided these troubles and daiigois, for he would 
 have granted you one." 
 
 "Alas! " said Christiana, "we were so taken with our pres- 
 ent blessing, that dangers to come were forgotten by us; be- 
 sides, who could have thought that so near the King's palace 
 there should have lurked such naughty ones ? Indeed, it had 
 been well for us had we asked our Lord for one ; but, since 
 our Lord knew it would be for our profit, I wonder he sent 
 not one along with us." 
 
 Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked 
 for, lest, by so doing, they become of little esteem ; but when 
 the want of a thing is felt, it then comes under, in the eyes 
 of him that feels it, that estimate that pi'operly is its due, and 
 so, consequently, will be thereafter used . Had my Lord 
 granted you a conductor, you would not either so have be- 
 wailed that oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now 
 you have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and 
 tend to make you wary. 
 
 Chris. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our 
 folly, and ask one ? 
 
 Rel Your confession of your folly I will present him with. 
 
 To go back you need not ; for in all places where you shall 
 
 come, yoa will find no want at all ; for in every of my Lord's 
 
 lodgings which he has prepared for the reception of his pil- 
 
 r. P 7. 
 
194 CHRISTIANA CONFESSES HER FAFLT. 
 
 grims, there is sufficient to furnisli them against all attempts 
 whatsoever. But, as I said, '' He will be inquired of by 
 them, to do it for them." (Ezek. xxxvi. 37.) And it is a 
 poor thing that is not worth asking for. 
 
 "When he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the 
 pilgrims v/ent on their way. 
 
 Then said Mercy, ''What a sudden blank is here! I made 
 account we had now been past all danger, and that we 
 should never see sorrow more." 
 
 ''Thy iunocency, my sister," said Christiana to Mercy, 
 "may excuse thee much; but as for me, my fault is so much 
 the greater for that I saw this danger before I came out of the 
 doors, and yet did not provide for it, where provision might 
 have been had. lam therefore much to be blamed." 
 
 Then said Mercy, "How knew you this before you came 
 from home ? Pray open to me this riddle." 
 
 Chkis. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, 
 one night, as I lay in my bed, I had a dream about this; for, 
 raethought I saw two men, as like these as ever the world 
 they could look, stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they 
 might prevent my salvation. I will tell you their very words. 
 They said (it was when I was in my troubles), "What shall 
 we do with this woman ? for she cries out, waking and sleep- 
 ing, for forgiveness. If she be suffered to go on as she begins, 
 we shall lose her, as we have lost her husband." This, you 
 know, might have made me take heed, and have provided 
 when provision might have been had. 
 
 "Well," said Mercy, "as by this neglect we have an occa- 
 sion ininistercd unto us to beliold our own imperfections, so 
 our Lord has taken occasion thereby to make manifest the 
 riches of his grace ; for he, as we see, has followed us with 
 unasked kindness, and has delivered us from their hands, that 
 were stronger than we, of his mere good pleasure." 
 
 Thus now, when they had talked away a little more time, 
 they drew near to a house which stood in the way, which 
 
THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 195 
 
 house was built for the relief of pilgrims ; as you will find 
 more fully related in the First Part of these records of the 
 Pilgrim's Progress. So they drew on towards the house (the 
 house of the Interpreter), and when they came to the door, 
 they heard a great talk in the house. They then gave ear, 
 and heard, as they thought, Christiana roentioned by name. 
 For you must know that there went along, even before her, a 
 talk of her and her children's going on pilgrimage. And 
 this thing was the more pleasing to them because they had 
 heard that she was Christian's wife, that woman who was 
 some time ago so unwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage. 
 Thus, therefore, they stood still, and heard the good people 
 within commending her, who, they little thought, stood at 
 the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done at 
 the gate before. Now when she had knocked, there came to 
 the door a young damsel named Innocent, and opened the 
 door and looked, and behold, two women were there. 
 
 Then said the damsel to them, "With whom would you 
 speak in this place ? " 
 
 Christiana answered, "We understand that this is a privi- 
 leged place for those that are become pilgrims, and we now 
 at this door are such; wherefore we pray that we may be 
 partakers of that for which we at this time are come; for 
 the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and we are loath to- 
 night to go any further." 
 
 Damsel. Pray, what may I call your name, that I may tell 
 it to my Lord within ? 
 
 CiiRis. My name is Christiana; I was the wife of that 
 pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way, and these be 
 his four children. This maiden is also my companion, and is 
 going on pilgrimage too. 
 
 Then ran Innocent in (for that was her name), and said to 
 those within, "Can you think who is at the door? There is 
 Christiana and her children, and her companion, all waiting 
 for entertainment here." Then they leaped for joy, and v/ent 
 
196 GREAT REJOICING. 
 
 and told their master. So he came to the door, and, looking 
 upon her, he said, ''Art thou that Christiana whom Christian, 
 the good man, left behind him, when he betook himself to a 
 pilgrim's life ? " 
 
 Chris. I am that woman that was so hardhearted as to slight 
 my husband's troubles, and that left him to go on in his jour- 
 ney alone ; and these are his four children : but now I also am 
 come, for I am convinced that no way is right but this. 
 
 Inter. Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the 
 man that said to his son, " Go work to-day in my vineyard. 
 He answered and said, I will not: but afterward he repented, 
 and went." (Matt. xxi. 28, 29.) 
 
 Then said Christiana, ''So be it: Amen. God make it a 
 true saying upon me, and grant that T may be found at the 
 last of him in peace, without spot, and blameless! " 
 
 Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door ? Come in, 
 thou daughter of Abraham. We were talking of thee but 
 now ; for tidings have come to us before, how thou art become 
 a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ; come, maiden, come in. 
 So he had them all into the house. 
 
 So, when they were within, they were bidden sit down and 
 rest them ; the which when they had done, those that attended 
 upon the pilgrims in the house came into the room to see 
 them. And one smiled, and another smiled, and they all 
 smiled for joy that Christiana was become a pilgrim. They 
 also looked upon the boys. They stroked them over the faces 
 with the hand, in token of their kind reception of them. 
 They also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all wel- 
 come into their Master's house. 
 
 After a while, l)ecause supper was not ready, the Interpreter 
 took them into his significant rooms, and showed them^%vhat 
 Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen some time before.* 
 Here, therefore, they saw the man in the cage, the man and 
 his dream, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and 
 * See page 35, 
 
A CARNAL MIND. 197 
 
 the picture of the biggest of them all, together with the rest 
 of those things that were then so profitable to Christian. 
 
 This done, and after these things had been somewhat digest- 
 ed by Christiana and her company, the Interpreter takes 
 them apart again, and has them first into a room where was 
 a man that could look no way but downwards, with a 
 muck-rake in his hand. There stood also One over his head, 
 and a celestial crown in his hand, and proffered to give him 
 that crown for his muck-rake; but the man did neither look 
 up, nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small 
 sticks, and dust of the floor. 
 
 Then said Christiana, " I persuade myself that I know some- 
 what the meaning of this ; for this is a figure of a man of this 
 world, is it not, good sir ? " 
 
 ^'Thou hast said the right," said the Interpreter; *'and his 
 muck-rake doth show his carnal mind. And whereas thou 
 seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks, and 
 the dust of the floor, than to what He says that calls to him 
 from above with the celestial crown in his hand, it is to show 
 that heaven is but as a fable to some, and that things here are 
 counted the only things substantial. Now, whereas it Avas 
 also showed thee that the man could look no way but down- 
 wards, it is to let thee know that earthly things, when they 
 are with power upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts 
 away from God." 
 
 Then said Christiana, "Oh! deliver me from this muck- 
 rake! " 
 
 " That prayer," said the Interpreter, " has lain by till it is 
 almost rusty. ' Give me not riches ' (Prov. xxx. 8) is scarce 
 the prayer of one in ten thousand . Straws, and sticks, and 
 dust, with most, are the great things now looked after." 
 
 With that, Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, " It is, 
 alas! too true." 
 
 When the Interpreter had shown them this, he had them into 
 the very best room in the house ; a very brave room it was. 
 
198 A SPIDER ON THE WALL. 
 
 So he bid them look round about, and see if they could find 
 anything profitable there. Then they looked round and 
 round; for there was nothing thereto be seen but a very 
 great spider on the wall: and that they overlooked. 
 
 Then said Mercy, '' Sir, I see nothing; " but Christiana held 
 her peace, 
 
 ''But,'* said the Interpreter, "look again;" and she there- 
 fore looked again, and said, "Here is not anything but an 
 ugly spider wlio hangs by her hands upou the wall." Then 
 said he, "Is there but one spider in all this spacious room ?" 
 Then the water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a 
 woman quick of apprehension; and she said, "Yes, Lord, 
 there is here more than one. Yea, and spiders whose venom 
 is far more destructive than that which is in her." The Inter- 
 preter then looked pleasantly upon her, and said, "Thou hast 
 said the truth." This made Mercy blush, and the boys to 
 cover their faces, for they all began now to understand the 
 riddle. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again, "The spider taketh hold 
 with her hands (as you see), and is in kings' palaces. (Prov. 
 XXX. 28.) And wherefore is this recorded, to show you that 
 how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet you may, by 
 the hand of faith, lay hold of, and dwell in the best room that 
 belongs to the King's house above." 
 
 " I.thought," said Christiana, "of something of this; but I 
 could not imagine it all. I thought that we were like spiders, 
 and that we looked like ugly creatures, in what fine room 
 soever we were ; but that by this spider, this venomous and ill- 
 favoured creature, we were to learn how to act faith, that 
 came not into my mind. And yet she has taken hold with 
 her liands, as I see, and dwells in the best room in the house. 
 God has made nothing in vain." 
 
 Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood in 
 their eyes : yet they looked one upon another, and also bowed 
 before the Interpreter. 
 
PILGRIMS MUST LEARN TO SUFFER. 199 
 
 He liacl tbem then into another room, where was a hen and 
 chickens, and bid them observe a while. So one of the" chick- 
 ens went to the trough to drink, and every time she drank 
 she lift up her head and her eyes towards heaven. '' See," said 
 he, ''what this little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowl- 
 edge whence your mercies come, by receiving them with look- 
 ing up. Yet again," said he, "observe and look;" so they 
 gave heed, and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold 
 method towards her chickens. 1. She had a common call, 
 and that she hath all day long. 3. She had a special call, and 
 that she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note. 
 And, 4. She had an outcry. (Matt, xxiii. 37.) 
 
 ''Now," said he, "compare this hen to your King, and 
 these chickens to his obedient ones. For, answerable to her, 
 himself has his methods, which he walketh in towards his 
 people; by his^common call he gives nothing; by his special 
 call he always has something to giye ; he has also a brood- 
 ing voice, for them that are under his wing ; and he has an 
 outcry to give the alarm when he seeth the enemy come. I 
 choose, my darlings, to lead you into the room where such 
 things are, because you are women, and they are easy for you." 
 
 "And, 'sir," said Christiana, " pray let us see some more." 
 So he had them into the slaughter-house, where was a butcher 
 killing of a sheep; and behold, the sheep was quiet, and took 
 her death patiently. Then said the Interpreter, " You must 
 learn of this sheep to suffer, and to put up wrongs without 
 murmurmga and complaints. Behold how quietly she taketh 
 her death, and without objecting she suffereth her skin to be 
 pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you his sheep." 
 
 After this, he led them into his garden, where was great 
 variety of flowers ; and he said, " Do you see all these ? " So 
 Christiana said, "Yes." Then said he again, "Behold the 
 flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, and colour, and 
 smell, and virtue; and some are better than some; also where 
 the gardener hath set them, there they stand, and quarrel not 
 pne with another." 
 
300 PICTURE OF THE MERE PROFESSOR. 
 
 Again he had them into his field, which he had sowed with 
 wheat and corn; but when they beheld, the tops of all were 
 cut off, only the straw remained. He said again, ''This 
 ground was dunged, and ploughed, and sowed ; but what 
 sliall we do Vvdth the crop ? " Then said Christiana, " Burn 
 some, and make muck of the rest." Then said the Interpre- 
 ter again, "Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for, and 
 for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and to be trod- 
 den under foot of men; beware that in this you condemn not 
 yourselves." 
 
 Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a 
 little robiu, with a great spider in his mouth ; so the Intepre- 
 ter said, " Look here." So they looked, and Mercy wondered : 
 but Christiana said, "What a disparagement is it to such a 
 little pretty bird as the robin-red-breast is, he being also a 
 bird above many, that loveth to maintain a kind of sociable- 
 ness with man; I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of 
 bread, or upon other such harmless matter. I like him worse 
 than I did." 
 
 The Interpreter then replied, "This robin is an emblem 
 very apt to set forth some professors by ; for to sight they are, 
 as this robin, pretty of note, colour, and carriage ;*they seem 
 also to have a very great love for professors that are sincere ; 
 and, above all other, to desire to sociate with them, and to be 
 in their company, as if they could live upon the good man's 
 crumbs. They pretend also that therefore it is that they fre- 
 quent the house of the godly and the appointments of the 
 Lord ; but, when they are by themselves, as the robin, they 
 can catch and gobble up sjjiders, they can change their diet, 
 drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water. 
 
 So, when they were come again into the house, because sup- 
 per as yet was not ready, Christiana again desired that the In- 
 terpreter would either show or tell of some other things that 
 are profitable . 
 
 Then the Interpreter began and said, " The fatter the sow 
 
PROFITABLE SAYINGS. 201 
 
 is, the more she desires the mire; the fatter the ox is, the 
 more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and the more 
 healthy the lusty man is, the more prone he is unto eviL 
 
 ' ' There is a desire in women to go neat and fine, and it is 
 a comely thing to be adorned with that that in God's sight is 
 of great price. 
 
 ** It is easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a whole 
 year together ; so it is easier for one to begin to profess well, 
 tlian to hold out as he should to the end. 
 
 " Every shipmaster when in a storm, will willingly cast that 
 overboard that is of the smallest value in the vessel ; but who 
 "will throw the best out first ? None but he that feareth not 
 God. 
 
 " One leak will sink a ship; and one sin will destroy a sin- 
 ner. 
 
 '* He that forgets his friend is ungrateful unto him; but he 
 that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. 
 
 ''' He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness hereafter, is 
 like him that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with 
 wheat or barley. 
 
 "If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to 
 him, and make it always his company keeper. 
 
 " Whispering and change of thoughts prove that sin is in 
 the world. 
 
 " If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing 
 of that worth with men, what is heaven, wliicli God com- 
 mendeth ? 
 
 *'If the life that is attended with so many troubles is so 
 loath to be let go by us, what is the life above ? 
 
 "Everybody will cry up the goodness of men; but who is 
 there that is, as he should be, affected with the goodness of 
 God? 
 
 "We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and leave; so 
 there is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the 
 whole world has need of." 
 
202 CHRISTIANA'S EXPERIENCE. 
 
 When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his 
 garden again, and had them to a tree, whose inside was all rot- 
 ten and gone, and yet it grew and had leaves. Then said Mercy, 
 '* What means this ? " *' This tree," said he, ''whose outside 
 is fair, and whose inside is rotten, it is to w^hich many may 
 be compared that are in the garden of God ; who with their 
 mouth speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do no- 
 tliing for him ; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good for 
 nothing but to be tiuder for the devil's tinder-box." 
 
 Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set 
 on the board; so they sat down and did eat, when one had 
 given thanks. And the Interpreter did usually entertain those 
 that lodged with him, with music at meals; so the minstrels 
 played. There was also one that did sing, and a very fine 
 voice he had. His song was this: 
 
 " The Lord is only my support, 
 And he that doth me feed ; 
 How can I then want anything 
 Whereof I stand in need? " 
 
 When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked 
 Christiana what it was that at first did move her to betake 
 herself to a pilgrims's life. Christiana answered, ''First, the 
 loss of my husband came into my mind, at which I was hearti- 
 ly grieved*, but all that was but natural affection. .Then after 
 that, came the troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into 
 my mind, and also how like a churl I had carried it to him as 
 to that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have 
 drawn mo into the pond; but that opportunely I had a dream 
 of the well-being of my husband, and a letter sent me by the 
 King of that country where my husband dwells, to come to 
 him. The dream and the letter together so wrought upon 
 my mind that they forced me to this way." 
 
 Inter. But met you with no opposition before you set out 
 of doors ? 
 
 Chris. Yes ; a neighbour of mine, one Mrs. Timorous (she 
 
MERCY'S EXPERIENCE. 203 
 
 was akin to him that would have persuaded my husband to go 
 back, for fear of the lions). She all-to-befooled me for, as 
 she called it, my intended desperate adventure ; she also 
 urged what she could, to dishearten me to it, the hardship 
 and troubles that my husband met with in the way; but all 
 this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of two 
 ill-looked ones, tlixit*! thought did plot how to make me mis- 
 carry in my journey, that hath troubled me much ; yea, it still 
 runs in my mind, and makes me afraici of every one that I 
 meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, and to 
 turn me out of the way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I 
 would not have everybody know it, that between this and the 
 gate by which we got into the way we were both so sorely 
 assaulted that we were made to cry out "Murder! '' and the 
 two that made this assault U2)on us were like the two that I 
 saw in my dream. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter, ' * Thy bcglnniug is good, thy 
 latter end shall greatly increase." So he addressed himself 
 to Mercy, and said unto her, ''And what moved thee to come 
 hither, sweet heart ? '' 
 
 Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while con- 
 tinued silent. 
 
 Then said he, "Be not afraid, only believe, and speak thy 
 mind." 
 
 So she began, and said, "Truly, sir, my want of experi- 
 ence is that which- makes me covet to be in silence, and that 
 also that fills me with fears of coming short at last. I can- 
 not tell of visions and dreams, as my friend Christiana can; 
 nor know I what it is to mourn for my refusing of the counsel 
 of those that were good relations." 
 
 Inter. What was it then, dear heart, that hath prevailed 
 with thee to do as thou hast done ? 
 
 Mercy. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be 
 gone from our town, I and another went accidentally to see her ; 
 so we knocked at the door and went in. When we were ' 
 
204 MERCY'S EXPERIENCE. 
 
 within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what 
 was her meaning. She said she was sent for to go to her 
 husband ; and then she up and told us how she had seen him 
 in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, among immortals, 
 wearing a crown, playing upon a harp, eating and dnnkiug 
 at his Prince's table, and singing praises to him for bringing 
 him thither, etc. Now, methought, while she was telling 
 these things unto us, my heart burned within me ; and I said 
 in my heart, "If this be true, I will leave my father and my 
 mother, and the land of ray nativity, and will, if I may, go 
 along with Christiana." So I asked her further of the truth 
 of these things, and if she would let me go with her; for I 
 saw now that there was no dwelling, but with the danger of 
 ruin, any longer in our town. But yet I came away with a 
 heavy heart, not for that I was unwilling to come away, but 
 for that so many of my relations were left behind. And I am 
 come, with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, 
 with Christiana, unto her husband and his King. 
 
 Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thoU hast given credit 
 to the truth. Thou art a Ruth, who did, for the love that she 
 bare to Naomi, and to the Lord her God, leave father and 
 mother, and the land of her nativity, to come out, and go 
 with a people that she knew not heretofore. "The Lord 
 recompense thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the 
 Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to 
 trust." (Ruth ii. 12.) 
 
 Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed ; 
 the women were laid singly alone, and the boys by themselves. 
 Now when Mercy was in bed, she could not sleep for joy, for 
 that now her doubts of missing at last were removed further 
 from her than ever they were before. So she lay blessing 
 and ]3raising God, who had had such favour for her. 
 
 In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared them- 
 selves for their departure; but the Interpreter would have 
 them tarry awhile, "for," said he, "you must orderly go from 
 
s a:n ctific ation. 205 
 
 hence." Tlien said he to the damsel that first opened unto 
 them, *'Take them, and have them into the garden to the 
 bath, and there wash them, and make them clean from the 
 soil which they have gathered by travelling." Then Inno- 
 cent, the damsel, took them, and had them into the garden, 
 and brought them to the bath; so she told them that there 
 they must wash and be clean, for so her master would have 
 the women to do that called at his house as they were going 
 on pilgrimage. They then went in and washed, yea, they 
 and the boys and all; and they came out of that bath, not 
 only sweet and clean, but also much enlivened and strength- 
 ened in their joints. So when they came in, they looked 
 fairer a deal than when they went out to the washing. 
 
 When they were returned out of the garden, from the bath, 
 the Interpreter took them and looked upon them, and said 
 unto them, "Fair as the moon." Then he called for the seal, 
 wherewith they used to be sealed that were washed in his bath. 
 So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them, that 
 they might be known in the places whither they were yet to 
 go. Now the seal was the contents and sum of the passover 
 which the children of Israel did eat when they came out of 
 the land of Egypt, and the mark was set between their eyes. 
 This seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was an orna- 
 ment to their faces. (Ex. xiii. 8-10.) It also added to their 
 gravity, and made their countenances more like them q| 
 angels . 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited 
 upon these women, ' ' Go into the vestry and fetch out gar- 
 ments for these people ; " so she went and fetched out white 
 raiment, and laid it down before him; so he commanded 
 them to put it on. "It was fine linen, white and clean." 
 "When the women were thus adorned, they seemed to be a ter- 
 ror, one to the other; for that they could not see that glory 
 each one on herself which they could sec in each other. Now, 
 therefore, they began to esteem each other better than them- 
 
206 THE PILGRIMS GO ON THEIR WAY. 
 
 selves. *' For you are fairer than I am, " said one ; and, '' You 
 are more comely than I am," said another. The children also 
 stood amazed to see into what fashion they were brought. 
 
 The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, oHe 
 Greatheart, and bid him take sword, and hemlet, and shield; 
 *' And take these, my daughters," said he, *' and conduct them 
 to the house called Beautiful, at which place they will rest 
 next." So he took his weapons and went before them; and 
 the Interpreter said, '* God speed." Those also that belonged 
 to the family sent them away with many a good wish. So 
 they went on their way, and sung : 
 
 " This place has been our second stas^e; 
 Here we have lieard and seen 
 Those good things that, from age to age, 
 To others hid have been. 
 
 ** The dung-hill raker, spider, hen, 
 The chicken, too, to me 
 Hath taught a lesson ; let me then 
 Conformed to it be. 
 
 ** The butcher, garden, and the field, 
 T^ie robin and his bait, 
 Also the rotten tree doth yield 
 Me argument of weight. 
 
 ** To move me for to watch and pray, 
 «* To strive to be sincere ; 
 
 To take my cross up day by day. 
 And serve the Lord with fear." 
 
 Now T saw in my dream that they went on, and Greatheart 
 went before them: so they went and came to the place where 
 Christain's burden fell off his back, and tumbled into a sepul- 
 chre. Here, then, they made a pause ; and here, also, they 
 blessed God. ''Now," said Christiana, "it comes to my 
 mind what was said to us at the gate, to wit, that we should 
 have pardon by word and deed ; by word, that is, by the prom- 
 ise ; by deed, to wit, in the way it was obtained. What the prom^ 
 
ON BEING JUSTIFIED BY CHRIST. 207 
 
 ise is, of that I know something ; but what it is to have par- 
 don by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr. Great- 
 heart, I suppose you know ; wherefore, if you please, let us 
 hear you discourse thereof." 
 
 Greatheart. Pardon by the deed done is pardon obtained 
 by some one for another that hath need thereof: not by the 
 person pardoned, but in the way, ^ith another, in which I 
 have obtained it. So then, to speak to the question more at 
 large, the pardon that you, and Mercy, and these boys have 
 attained was obtained by another, to wit, by Him that let you 
 in at the gate; and he hath obtained it in this double way. 
 He has performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt blood 
 to wash you in. 
 
 Chris. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, what 
 will he have for himself ? 
 
 Greatheart. He has more righteousness than you have 
 need of, or than he needeth himself. 
 
 Chsis. Pray make that appear. 
 
 Greatheart. With all my heart; but first I must premise 
 that he of whom we are now about to speak is one that has 
 not his fellow. He has two natures in one person, plain to be 
 d'stinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto each of these 
 natures a righteousness belongeth, and each righteousness is 
 essential to that nature : so that one may as easily cause the 
 nature to be extinct, as to separate its justice or righteousness 
 from it. Of these righteousnesses, therefore, we are not 
 made partakers, so as that tliey, or any of them, should be 
 put upon us, that we might be made just, and live thereby. 
 Besides these, there is a righteousness which this person has, 
 as these two natures are joined in one; and this is not the 
 rigliteousness of the Godhead, as distinguished from the man- 
 hood; nor the righeousness of the manhood, as distinguished 
 from the Godhead: but a righteousness which standeth in tlie 
 union of both natures, and may probably be called tlic right- 
 eousness that is essential to his being prepared of God to the 
 
208 THE RIGHTEOUSNESS OF CHRIST. 
 
 capacity of the mediatory office which he was to be entrust- 
 ed with. If lie parts with his first righteousness, he parts 
 with his Godhead; if he parts with his second righteousness, 
 lie parts with tlie purity of his manhood ; if he parts with his 
 third, he parts with that perfection that capacitates him to 
 the office of mediation. He lias, therefore, another right- 
 eousness, which standeth* in performance, or obedience to a 
 revealed will ; and that is it that he puts upon sinners, and 
 that by which their sins are covered. Wherefore he saith, 
 *' As by one man's disobedicQce many were made sinners, so 
 by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous.'' 
 (Rom. V. 19 ) 
 
 Ciiras. But arc the other righteousnesses of no use to us ? 
 
 Gkeatheart. Yes ; for though they are essential to his na- 
 tures and office, and so cannot be communicated unto another, 
 yet it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that justifies 
 is, for that purpose, efficacious. The righteousness of his 
 Godhead giveth virtue to his obedience ; the righteousness of 
 his manhood giveth capability to his obedience to justify; and 
 the righteousness that standeth in the union of these two an- 
 tures to his office giveth authority to that righteousness to do 
 the work for which it is ordained. 
 
 So, then, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no 
 need for, for he is God without it ; here is a righteousness that 
 Christ, as man, has no need of to make him so, for he is per- 
 fect man without it ; again, here is a righteousness that Christ, 
 as God-man, has no need of, for he is perfectly so without it. 
 Here, then, is a righteousness that Christ, as God, as man, as 
 God-man, has no need of, with reference to himself, and 
 therefore he can spare it — a justifying righteousness, that 
 he for himself wanteth not, and therefore he giveth it 
 away; hence it is called "the gift of righteousness." (Rom. 
 v. 17.) This righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has 
 made himself under the law, must be given away; for 
 the law doth not only bind him that is under it "to do 
 
SHORT TTIND — Page 211, 
 
THE PRICE OF PARDON. 209 
 
 justly," but to use charity. Wherefore he must, he ought, by 
 the law, if he hath two coats, to give oue to him that hath none. 
 Now our Lord, indeed, hath two coats, one for himself, and 
 one to spare ; wherefore he freely bestows one upon those that 
 have none. And thus, Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you 
 that are here, doth your pardon come by deed, or by the 
 work of another man. Your Lord Christ is he that has 
 worked, and has given away what he wrought for the next 
 poor beggar he meets. 
 
 But, again, in order to pardon by deed, there must be some- 
 thing paid to God as a price, as well as something prepared 
 to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to the just curse 
 of a righteous law; now from this curse we must be justified 
 by way of redemption, a price being paid for the harms we 
 have done (Rom. iv. 25); and this is by the blood of your 
 Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and died 
 your death for transgressions. (Gal. iii. 13.) Thus has he 
 ransomed you from your transgressions by blood, and covered 
 your polluted and deformed souls with righteousness: for the 
 sake of which, God passeth by you, and will not hurt you 
 when he comes to judge the world. 
 
 Chris. This is brave ! Now I see there was something to 
 be learned by our being pardoned by word and deed. Good 
 Mercy, let us labour to keep this in mind ; and, my children, 
 do you remember it also. But, sir, was not this it that made 
 my good Christian's burden fall from off his shoulder, and 
 that made him give three leaps for joy ? 
 
 Greatheart. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut those 
 strings that could not be cut by other means; and it was to 
 give him a proof of the virtue of this that he was suffered to 
 carry his burden to the cross. 
 
 Chris. I thought so; for though my heart was lightful and 
 joyous before, yet it is ten times more lightsome and joyous 
 now. And I am persuaded by wh^t I have felt, though I have 
 felt but little as yet, that if the most burdened man in the 
 
210 SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION HANGED. 
 
 world was here, and did see and believe as I now do, it would 
 make bis heart the more merry and blithe. 
 
 Greatheart. There is not only comfort, and the ease of a 
 burden, brought to us by the sight and consideration of these, 
 but an endeared affection begot in us by it ; for who can, if 
 he doth but once think that pardon comes, not only by prom- 
 ise, but thus, but be affected by the way and means of his 
 redemption, and so with the man that hath wrought it for 
 him? 
 
 Chris. True ; methinks it makes nay heart bleed to think 
 that he should bleed for me. O thou loving One! thou bless- 
 ed One! Thou deservest to have me; thou hast bought me. 
 Thou deservest to have me all; thou hast paid forme ten 
 thousand times more than I am worth ! No marvel that this 
 made the water stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made 
 him trudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he wished me with 
 him ; but, vile wretch that I was, I let him come alone. Oh, 
 Mercy, that thy father and mother were here ; yea, and Mrs. 
 Timorous also ; nay, I wish now with all my heart that here 
 was Madam Wanton too. Surely, surely, their hearts would 
 be affected; nor could the fear of the one, nor the powerful 
 lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home again, and 
 to refuse to become good pilgrims. 
 
 Greatheart. You speak now in the warmth of your affec- 
 tions ; will it, think you, be always thus with you ? Besides, 
 tins is not communicated to every one, not to every one that 
 did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that 
 saw the blood run from his heart to the ground, and yet vrere 
 so far off this, that, instead of lamenting, they laughed at 
 him; and, instead of becoming his disciples, did harden their 
 hearts against him. So that all that you have, my daughters, 
 you have by a peculiar impression made by a divine coi^tem- 
 plating upon what I have spoken to you. Remember that it 
 was told you, that the hen, by her common call, gives no 
 meat to her chickens. This you have, therefore, by a special 
 grace. 
 
THEIR CRIMES. 211 
 
 Now I saw still in my dream, that tliey went on until they 
 were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and Presump- 
 tion lay and slept in, when Christian went by on pilgrimage, 
 and behold, they were hanged up in irons, a little way oli on 
 the other side. 
 
 Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, 
 "What are those three men ? and for what are they hanged 
 there ? " 
 
 Greatheart. These three men were men of very bad quali- 
 ties. They had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and v*^ho- 
 soever they could they hindered. They were for sloth and 
 folly themselves, and wlioever they could persuade with, they 
 made so too; and, withal, taught them to presume that they 
 should do well ut last. They were asleep when Christian 
 went by; and now you go by, they are hanged. 
 
 Mercy. But could they persuade any to be of their opinion? 
 
 Greatheart. Yes; they turned several out of the way. 
 There was Slow-pace, that they persuaded to do as they. 
 They also prevailed with one Short-wind, with one No-heart, 
 with one Lingcr-nfter-iust, and with one Sleepy-head, and 
 with a young woman, her name was Dull, to turn out of the 
 way, and become as they. Besides, they brought up an ill 
 report of your Lord, persuading others that he was a task- 
 master. They also brought up an evil report of the good 
 land, saying it was not half so good as some pretended it 
 was. They also began to vilify his servants, and to count the 
 very best of them meddlesome, troublesome busy-bodies. 
 Further, they would call the bread of God husks; the com- 
 forts of his children fancies ; the travel and labour of pilgrims 
 things to no purpose. 
 
 "Nay," said Christiana, "if they were such, they shall 
 never be bewailed by me. They have bat what they deserve ; 
 and I think it is well that they hang so near the highway, 
 that others may see and take warning. But had it not been 
 well if their crimes had been engraven on some plate of iron 
 
212 MERCY'S SONG. 
 
 or brass, and left here, even Tvhere tliey did their mischiefs, 
 for a caution to other bad men ? " 
 
 Greatheart. So it is, as you well may perceive, if you will 
 go a little to the wall. 
 
 Mercy. No, no; let them hang, and their names rot, and 
 their crimes live for ever against them. I think it a high 
 favour that they were hanged before we came hitlier; who 
 knows else what they might have done to such poor women 
 as we are ? 
 
 Then she turned it into a song, saying : 
 
 *' Now then, you three, hang there, and be a sign 
 To all that shall against the truth combine. 
 And let him that comes after fear this end. 
 If unto pilgrims he be not a friend. 
 And thou, my soul, of all such men beware, 
 That unto holiness opposers are." 
 
 Thus they went on, till they came at the foot of the Hill 
 Difficulty, where again their good friend, Mr. Greatheart, 
 took an occasion to tell them of what happened there when 
 Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the spring. 
 "Lo," said he, "this is the spring that Christian drank of, 
 before he went up this hill; and then it was clear and good, 
 but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not desirous 
 that pilgrims here shouhl quench their thirst." (Ezek. xxxiv. 
 18.) Thereat Mercy said, "And why so envious, trow?" 
 "But," said their guide, "it will do, if taken up and put 
 into a vessel that is sweet and good ; for then the dirt will 
 sink to the bottom, and the water will come out by itself more 
 clear." Thus, therefore, Christiana and her companions 
 were obliged to do. They took it up, and put it into an 
 earthern pot, and so let it stand till the dirt w^as gone to the 
 bottom, and then they drank thereof. 
 
 Next, he showed them the two by-ways that were at the 
 foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost them- 
 selves. "And, "said he, " these are dangerous paths. Two 
 
THE PRINCE'S aRBOUR. 213 
 
 were here cast away when Christian came by ; and although, 
 as you see, these ways are since stopped up with chains, 
 posts, and a ditch, yet there are that will choose to adventure 
 here,' rather than take the pains to go up this hill." 
 
 Chris. ''The way of transgressors is hard." (Prov. xiii. 
 15.) It is a wonder that they can get into those ways without 
 danger of breaking their necks. 
 
 Greatheart. They will venture. Yea, if at any time any 
 of the King's servants do happen to see them, and do call 
 unto them, and tell them that they are in the wrong ways, 
 and do bid them beware the danger, then they will railingly 
 return them ^answer, and say, "As for the word that thou 
 hast spoken unto us in the name of the Lord, we will not 
 hearken unto thee ; l)ut we will certainly do whatsoever thing 
 gocth forth out of our own mouth," 6tc. (Jer. xliv. 16, 17.) 
 Nay, if you look a little furtlier, you shall see that these ways 
 arc made cautionary enough, not only by these posts, and 
 ditch, and chain, but also by being hedged up; yet they will 
 choose to go there. 
 
 Chris. They arc idle; they love not to take pains; up-hill 
 way is unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled unto them as it 
 is written, "The way of the slothful man is as an hedge of 
 thorns." (Prov. xv. 19.) Yea, tjiey will rather choose to 
 walk upon a snare than to go up this hill, and the rest of this 
 way to the city. 
 
 Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and up 
 the hill they went ; but before they got to the top, Christiana 
 began to pant; and said, "I dare say this is a breathing hill. 
 No marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls 
 choose to themselves a smoother way." Then said Mercy, "I 
 must sit down;" also the least of the children began to cry. 
 "Come, come," said Greatheart, "sit not down here, for a 
 little above is the Prince's arbour." Then he took the little 
 boy by the hand, and led him up thereto. 
 
 When they were come to the arbour, they were very willing 
 
214 WHAT THE LITTLE BOY THOUGHT. 
 
 to sit down, for they were all in a pelting heat. Then said 
 Mercy, " How sweet is rest to them that labour! (Matt, xi, 
 28.) And how good is the Prince of pilgrims to provide such 
 resting-places for them! Of this arbour I have heard much; 
 but I never saw it before. But here let us beware of sleeping; 
 for, as 1 have heard, that cost poor Christian dear." 
 
 Then said Mr. Greatheart to the little ones, *' Come, my pretty 
 boys, how do you do ? What think you now of going on pil- 
 grimage ? " " Sir," said the least, *' I was almost beat out of 
 heart; but I t.iank you for lending me a hand in my need. 
 And I remember now what my mother has told me, namely, 
 that the way to heaven is as up a ladder, a»nd the way to hell 
 is as down a hill. Bat I had rather go up the ladder to life, 
 than down the hill to death." 
 
 Then said Mercy, "" But the proverb is. To go down the hill 
 is easy." But James said (for that was his name), -'' The day 
 is coming when, in my opinion, going down hill will be the 
 hardest of all." '' 'Tis a good boy," said his master, 'Hhou 
 hast given her aright answer." Then Mercy smiled; but the 
 little boy did blush. 
 
 ''Come," said Christiana, "will you eat a bit, a little to 
 sweeten your mouths, while you sit here to rest your legs ? 
 For I have a piece of pomegranate, which Mr. Interpreter put 
 in my hand just when I came out of his doors. He gave me 
 also a piece of honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits." "I 
 thought he gave you something," said Mercy, "because he 
 called you aside." "Yes, so he did," said the other. "But, 
 Mercy, it shall still be, as I said it should, when at first we 
 came from home, thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I 
 have, because thou so willingly didst become my companion." 
 Then she gave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the 
 boys. "And," said Christiana to Mr. Greatheart, "sir, will 
 you do as we ?" But he answered, "You are going on pil- 
 grimage, and presently I shall return. Much good may Avhat 
 you have do y^u. At home, J eat the same every day." Now 
 
THE FALSE TONGUE. 215 
 
 w^lien they had eaten and drank, and had chatted away a little 
 longer, their guide said to them, **The day wears away; if 
 you think good, let us prepare to be going." So they got up 
 to go, and the little boys went before. But Christiana forgot 
 to take her bottle of spirits with her; so she sent her little boy 
 hack to fetch it. Then said M-ercy, ''I think this is a;^losing 
 place. Here Christian lost his roll; and here Christiana left 
 lier bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this ? " So 
 their gujde made answer, and said, ''The cause is sleep or 
 forgetfulness. Some sleep when they should keep awake; 
 and some forget when they should remember; and this is the 
 very cause why often, at the resting-places, some pilgrims in 
 somethings came off losers. Pilgrims should watch, and re- 
 member what they have already received under their greatest 
 enjoyments; but for want of doing so ofttimes their rejoicing 
 ends in tears, and their sunshine in a cloud. Witness the 
 story of Christian at this place." 
 
 When they were come to the place where Mistrust and Tim- 
 orous met Christian to persuade him to go back for fear of the 
 lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and before it, towards 
 the road, a broad plate, with a copy of verses written there- 
 on, and underneath, the' reason of raising up of that stage in 
 that place, rendered. The verses were these : 
 
 " Let him who sees this stage take heed 
 Unto liis heart and tongue; 
 Lest if lie do not, here he speed 
 As some have long agone.'' 
 
 jfhe words underneath the verses were, ''This stage was built 
 to punish such upon who, through timorousness or mistrust, 
 shall be afraid to go further on pilgrimage; also on this btage 
 both Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the tongue 
 with a hot iron, for endeavouring to hinder Christian in his 
 journey." 
 Then said Mercy, '* This is much like to the saying of the 
 
216 OPPOSITION TO GIANT GRIM. 
 
 Beloved, * What shall be given unto thee? or what shall be 
 done unto thee, thou false tongue ? Sharp arrows of the 
 mighty, with coals of juniper.' " (Psa. cxx. 3, 4.) 
 
 So they went on, till they came within sight of the lions. 
 Now Mr. Greatheart was a strong man, so he was not afraid 
 of a lion ; but yet when they were come up to the place where 
 the lions were, the boys that went before were glad to cringe 
 behind, for they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped 
 back, and went behind. At this their guide smiled, j^d said, 
 *'How now, my boys, do you love to go before when no dan- 
 ger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon as the 
 lions appear ? " 
 
 Now as they went up, Mr. Greatheart drew his sword, with 
 intent to make a way for the pilgrims, in spite of the lions. 
 Tiien there appeared one that it seems had taken upon him to 
 back the lions; and he said to the pilgrims' guide, '' What is 
 the cause of your coming nither ? " Now the name of that 
 man vfas Grim, or Bloody-man, because of his slaying of pil- 
 grims, and he was of the race of giants. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims' guide, "These women and children 
 are going on pilgrimage; and this is the way they must go, 
 and go it they shall, in spite of thee and the lions." 
 
 Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. 
 I am come forth to withstand them, and to that end will back 
 the lions. 
 
 Now to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, 
 and of the grim carriage of him that did back them, this way 
 had of late lain much unoccupied, and was almost ail grown 
 over with grass. 
 
 Then said Christiana, *' Though the highways have been 
 unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers have been 
 made in times past to walk through by-paths, it must not be 
 so now I am risen. Now, 'I am risen a mother in Israel.' " 
 (Judges V. 6, 7,) 
 
 Then he (Grim) swore by the lions but it should ; and there* 
 
PASSING THE LIONS. 217 
 
 fore bid them turn aside, for they should not have passage 
 there. 
 
 But their guide made first his approach unto Grim, and 
 laid so heavily at him with his sword, that he forced him to 
 a retreat. 
 
 Then said he that attempted to back the lions, '^ Will you 
 slay me upon my own ground ? " 
 
 Greatiieart. It is the King's highway that we arc in, and 
 in his way it is that thou hast placed thy lions; but these 
 women and these children, though weak, shall hold on their 
 way in spite of thy lions. And with that he gave him again 
 a downright blow, and brought him upon his knees. With 
 this blow he also broke his helmet, and with the next he cut 
 oil' an arm. Then did the giant roar so hideously that his 
 voice frighted the w^omen, and yet they were glad to see 
 him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the lions were 
 chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. Wherefore, 
 when old Grim, that intended to back them, was dead, Mr. 
 Grcathcart said to the pilgrims, " Come now, and follow me, 
 and no hurt shall happen to you from the lions." They there- 
 fore went on, but the women trembled as they passed by 
 them ; the boys also looked as if they would die ; but they all 
 got by without further hurt. 
 
 Now then they were within sight of the Porter's lodge, and 
 they soon came up unto it; but they made more haste after 
 this to go thither, because it is dangerous travelling there in 
 the night. So when they were come to the gate, the guide 
 knocked, and the Porter cried, "Who is there?" But as 
 soon as the guide had said, "It is I," he knew his voice, and 
 came down (for the guide had oft before that come thither as 
 a conductor of pilgrims). When he was come down, he 
 opened the gate, and seeing the guide standing just before it 
 (for he saw not the women, for they were behind him), he said 
 unto him, "How now, Mr. Greatheart, what is your business 
 here so late to-night ? " "I have brought," said he, "some 
 
218 THE PORTER'S LODGE. 
 
 pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's commandment^ tiicy 
 mast lodge; I had been here some time ago, had I not been 
 op|30sed by the giant that did use to back the lions. But I, 
 after a long and tedious combat with him, have cut him off, 
 and have brought the piigrims hither in safety." 
 
 Porter. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ? 
 
 Greatheart. No, I will return to my Lord to-night. 
 
 Chris. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you should 
 leave us in our pilgnmage ; you have been so faithful and so 
 loving to us, you bave fought so stoutly for us, you have been 
 so hearty in counselling of us, that I shall never forget your 
 favour towards us. 
 
 Then said Mercy, ''Oh, that we might have thy company 
 to our journey's end ! How can such poor women as we hold 
 out in a way so full of troubles as this way is, without a friend 
 and defender?" 
 
 Then said James, the youngest of the boys, ''Pray, sir, be 
 persuaded to go with us, and help us, because we are so weak, 
 and the way so dangerous as it is." 
 
 Greatheart. I am at my Lord's commandment: if he shall 
 allot me to be your guide quite through, I will willingly wait 
 upon you. But here you failed at first ; for, when he bid me 
 come thus far with you, then you should have begged me of him 
 to have gone quite through with you, and he would have grant- 
 ed your request. However, at present I must withdraw ; and 
 so, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children, adieu. 
 
 Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her 
 country and of her kindred; and she said, "I came from the 
 City of Destruction ; I am a widow woman, and my husband 
 is dead ; his name was Christian the Pilgrim." "How ! " said 
 the Porter, " was he your husband ? " " Yes," said she, "and 
 these are his children ; and this (pointing to Mercy) is one of 
 my townswomen." 
 
 Then the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, 
 and there came to the door one of the damsels whose name 
 
THE PILGRIMS DESIRE REST. 219 
 
 was Humble-miiid; and to her the Porter said, " Go teil it 
 within, that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her chil- 
 dien, are come hither on pilgrimage." She went in, there- 
 fore, and told it. But oh, what noise for gladness was there 
 within, when the damsel did but drop that word out of her 
 mouth ! 
 
 So they came with haste to the Porter; for Christiana stood 
 still at the door. Then some of the most grave said unto her, 
 "Come in, Christiana; come in, thou wife of tliat good man; 
 come hi, thou blessed woman ; come in, with all that are witli 
 thee." So she went in, and they followed her that were her 
 children and her companions. Now when they were gone in, 
 they were had into a very large room, where they were bidden 
 1?o sit down; so they sat down, and the chief of the house 
 was called in to see and welcome the guests. Then they came 
 in, and, understanding who they were, did salute each other 
 with a kiss, and said, " Welcome, ye vessels of the grace of 
 God ; welcome to us your friends." 
 
 Now because it was somewhat late, and because the pil- 
 grims were weaiy with their journey, and also made faint 
 with the sight of the fight and of the terrible lions, therefore 
 they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to go to rest. 
 "Nay," said those of the family, "refresh yourselves first 
 with a morsel of meat ; " for they had prepared for them a 
 lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto (Ex. xii. 
 21-28; John i. 29); for the Porter liad heard before of their 
 coming, and had told it to them within. So when they had 
 supped, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired 
 they might go to rest. "But let us," said Christiana, "if 
 we may be so bold as to choose, be in that chamber that was 
 my husband's when he was here." So they had them up 
 thither, and they lay all in a room. * When they were at rest, 
 Christiana and Mercy entered into discourse about things that 
 
 were convenient. 
 
 * See page 54. 
 
220 MERCY'S DREAM. 
 
 Chris. Little did I think once, that when my husband went 
 on pilgrimage, I should ever have followed. 
 
 Mercy. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and 
 in his chamber, to rest, as you do now. 
 
 Chris. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face 
 with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the King witU 
 him, and yet now I believe I shall. 
 
 Mercy. Hark ! Don't you hear a noise ? 
 
 Chris. Yes; it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy 
 that we are here. 
 
 Mercy. Wonderful! Music in the house, music in the 
 heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here ! 
 
 Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to 
 sleep. So in the morning, when these were awake, Christiana 
 said to Mercy : 
 
 "What was the matter that you did laugh in your sleep to- 
 night ? I suppose you was in a dream." 
 
 Mercy. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you 
 sure I laughed ? 
 
 Chris. Yes, you laughed heartily ; but prithee, Mercy, tell 
 me thy dream. 
 
 Mercy. I was a-d reamed that I sat all alone in a solitary 
 place, and was bemoaning of the hasdness of my heart. Now 
 I had not sat there long, but methought many were gathered 
 about me, to see me and to hear what it was that I said. So 
 they hearkened, and I went on bemoaning the hardness of 
 my heart. At this, some of them laughed at me, some called 
 me a fool, and some began to thrust me about. With that, 
 methought I looked up, and saw One coming with wings to- 
 wards me. So he came directly to me, and said, "Mercy, 
 what aileth thee ? " Now when he had heard me make my 
 complaint, he said, "Peace be to thee." He also wiped mine 
 eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. 
 He put a chain about my neck, and ear-rings in my ears, and 
 a beautiful crown upon my head. (Ezek. xvi. 8-11.) Then 
 
MERCY'S DREAM. 221 
 
 he took me by the hand, and said, *' Mercy, come after me.'' 
 So he went up, and I followed, till we came to a golden gate. 
 Then he knocked ; and when they within had opened, the 
 man went in, and I followed him up to a throne, upon which 
 One sat, and he said to me, ''Welcome, daughter." The place 
 looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or ratliei like the 
 sun; and I thought that I saw your husband thero. So I 
 awoke from my dream. But did I laugh ? 
 
 Cimis. Laugh? ay, and well you might, to see yourself so 
 well. For yoa must give me leave to tell you that I believe it 
 was a good dream ; and that, as you have begun to find the 
 first part true, so yon shall find the second at last. *'Grod 
 speakcth once, yea, twice, y^^ma/iperceivethitnot. In a dream, 
 in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in 
 slumbrings upon the bed." (Job xxxiii. 14, 15.) We need 
 not, when a-bed, lie awake to talk with God. He can visit 
 us while we sleep, and cause us then to hear his voice. Our 
 heart ofttimes wakes when we sleep; and God can speak to 
 that, either by words, by proverbs, by signs and similitudes, 
 as well as if one was awake. 
 
 Mercy. Well, I am glad of my dream ; for I hope, ere long, 
 to see it fulfilled, to the making of me laugh again. 
 
 Chris. T think it is now high time to rise, and to know 
 what we must do. 
 
 Mercy. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us will- 
 ingly accept of the proffer. I am the willinger to stay a while 
 here, to grow better acquainted with these maids. Methinks 
 Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely and sober 
 countenances. 
 
 Cjiris. W(3 shall see what they will do. 
 
 So when they were up and ready, they came down, and they 
 asked one another of their rest, and if it was comfortable or 
 not. 
 
 ''Very good," said Mercy; "it was one of the best night's 
 lodgings that ever I had in my life." 
 
222 JAMES AND JOSEPH CATECHISED. 
 
 Then said Prudence and Piety, **If you will be persuaded 
 to stay here a while, you shall have what the house will 
 afford." 
 
 *' Ay, and that with a very good will," said Charity. So 
 they consented, and stayed there about a month or above, and 
 became very profitable one to another. And because Pru- 
 dence would see how Christiana had brought up her children, 
 she asked leave of her to catechise them. So she gave her 
 free consent. Then she began at the youngest, whose name 
 was James. 
 
 And she said, ' ' Come, James, canst thou tell me who made 
 thee ? " 
 
 James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell me who saves thee ? 
 
 James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 Prud* Good boy still. But how doth God the Father save 
 thee ? 
 
 James. By his grace. 
 
 Prud. How dotli God the Son save thee ? 
 
 James. By his righteousness, death, and blood, and life. 
 
 Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee ? 
 
 James. By his illumination, by his renovation, and by his 
 preservation. 
 
 Tlicn said Prudence to Christiana, "You are to be com- 
 mended for thus bringing up your children. I suppose I need 
 not ask the rest these questions, since the youngest of them 
 can answer them so well. I will therefore now apply myself 
 to the next youngest." 
 
 Then she said, "Come, Joseph (for his name was Joseph), 
 will you let me catechise you ? " 
 
 Joseph. With all my heart. 
 
 Prud. What is man ? 
 
 Joseph. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my 
 brother said. 
 
SAMUEL AND MATIHEW CATECHISED. 223 
 
 Prud. What is supposed by this word "saved " ? 
 
 Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into a state 
 of captivity and misciy. 
 
 Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity ? 
 
 JosEPn. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant that none 
 can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and that God is so 
 good and loving to man as to pull him indeed out- of this 
 miserable state. 
 
 Prud. What is God's design in saving of poor men ? 
 
 Joseph. Tlie glorifying of his name, of his grace and justice, 
 etc., and the everlasting liappiness of his creature. 
 
 Prud. Who are they that must be saved ? 
 
 Joseph. Those that accept of his salvation. 
 
 Prud. Good boy, Joseph; thy mother has taught thee well, 
 and thou hast hearkened to what she hath said unto thee. 
 
 Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest but one, 
 *'Come, Samuel, are j^ou willing that I should catechise you 
 also ? " 
 
 Samuel. Yes, 'forsooth, if you please. 
 
 Prud. What is heaven ? 
 
 Sam. a place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth 
 there. 
 
 Prud. What is hell ! 
 
 Sam. a place and state most woeful, because it is the 
 dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death. 
 
 Prud. Why wouldst thou go to heaven ? 
 
 Sam. That I may see God, and serve him without weariness ; 
 that I may see Christ, and love him everlastingly; that I may 
 have that fulness of the Holy Spirit in mc that I can by no 
 means here enjoy. 
 
 Prud. A very good boy also, and one that has learned well. 
 
 Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name was 
 Matthew; and she said to htm, "Come, Matthew, shall I also 
 catechise you ? " 
 
 Matthew. With a very good will. 
 
224 PRUDENCE'S ADVICE TO THE BOYS. 
 
 Prud. I ask, then, if there was ever anything that had a 
 being antecedent to, or before, God. 
 
 Matt. No: for God is eternal; nor is there anything ex- 
 cepting himself that had a being until the beginning of the 
 first day. *' For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, 
 the sea, and all that in them is." 
 
 Prud. What do you think of the Bible ? 
 
 Matt. It is the holy Word of God. 
 
 Prud. Is there nothing written therein, but what you un- 
 derstand ? 
 
 Matt. Yes ; a great deal. 
 
 Prud. What do you do when you meet with such places 
 therein that yon do not understand ? 
 
 Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that he will 
 please to let me know all therein that he knows will be for my 
 ^ood. 
 
 Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection of the 
 dead ? 
 
 Matt. I believe they shall rise, the sam6 that was buried; 
 the same in nature, though not in corruption. And I believe 
 this upon a double account: first, because God has promised 
 it; secondly, because be is able to perform it. 
 
 Then said Prudence to the boys, "You must still hearken 
 to your mother, for she can learn you more. You must also 
 diligently give ear to what good talk you shall hear from 
 others; for, for your sakes do they speak good things. Ob- 
 serve, also, and that with carefulness, what the heavens and 
 the earth do teach you ; but especially be much in the medita- 
 tion of that Book that was the cause of your father's becom- 
 ing a pilgrim. I. for my part, my children, will teach you 
 what I can while you are here, and shall be glad if you will 
 /ask me questions that tend to godly edifying," 
 
 Now, by that these pilgrims ha*d been at this place a week, 
 Mercy liad a visitor ihat pretended some good-will unto her, 
 and his name was Mr. Brisk, a man of some breeding, and 
 
1 i. 
 
 ^JK 
 
 ^^1.^ 
 
 .^^"^ 
 
 
 '^^:d: 
 
MR. BRISK TAKEN WITH MERCY. 2^ 
 
 that pretended to religion ; but a man that stuck very close to 
 the world. So he came once or twice or more, to Mercy, and 
 offered love unto her. I^ow Mercy was of a fair countenance, 
 and therefore the more alluring. 
 
 Her mind also was to be always busymg herself in doing; 
 for when she had nothing to do for herself, she would be 
 making of hose and garments for others, and would bestow 
 them upon them that had need And Mr. Brisk, not know- 
 ing where or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to 
 be greatly taken for that he found her never idle. *'Iwill 
 warrant her a good housewife," quoth he to himself. 
 
 Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that were 
 of the house, and inquired of them concerning him, for they 
 did know him better than she. So they told her that he was 
 a very busy young man, and one that pretended to religion; 
 but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power of that which 
 was good. "Nay, then," said Mercy, "I will look no more 
 on him; for I purpose never to have a clog to my soul." 
 
 Prudence tlien replied that there needed no great matter of 
 discouragement to be given to him ; her continuing so as she 
 had begun to do for the poor would quickly cool his courage. 
 
 So the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, 
 a-making of things for the poor. Then said he, "What! al- 
 ways at it?" ''Yes,',' said she, ''either for myself or for 
 others." "And what canst thou earn a-day ? " quoth he. "I 
 do these things," said she, " that I may be rich in good works, 
 laying up in store a good foundation against the time to come, 
 that I may lay hold on eternal life." (1 Tim. vi. 17-19.) 
 "Why, prithee, what dost thpu with them?" "Clothe the 
 naked," said she. With that his countenance fell. So he 
 forbore to come at her again ; and when he was asked the 
 reason why, he said that "Mercy was a pretty lass, but trou- 
 bled with ill conditions." 
 
 When he had left her. Prudence said, "Did I not tell thee 
 
 that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee ? yea, he will raise up 
 p. P.— 8. 
 
226 MERCY^S SISTER BOUNTIFUL. 
 
 an ill report of thee ; for, notwithstanding his pretence to re- 
 ligion, and his seeming love to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are 
 of tempers so different that I believe they will never come 
 together." 
 
 Mercy. I might have had husbands afore now, though I 
 spake not of it to any ; but they were sach as did not like my 
 conditions, though never did any of them find fault with my 
 person. So they and I could not agree. "^ ^ 
 
 Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by, any further than 
 as to its name: the practice^ wlyy^ is set forth by thy condi- 
 tions, there are but few that can abide. 
 
 "Well," said Mercy, ''if nobody will "have me, I will die a 
 maid, or my conditions shall be to me as a husband ; for I can- 
 not change my nature ; and to have one that lies cross to me 
 in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I live. I 
 had a sister, named Bountiful, that was married to one of 
 these churls ; but he and she could never agree ; but because 
 my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that is, to show 
 kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried her 
 down at the cross,* and then turned her out of his doors." 
 
 Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you. 
 
 Mercy. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the 
 world is now full ; bu^ I am for none of them all. 
 
 Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and 
 his sickness was sore upon him, for he was much pained in 
 his bowels, so that he was with it, at times, pulled as it were 
 both ends together. There dwelt also not far from thence 
 one Mr. Skill, an ancient and well approved physician. So 
 Christiana desired it, and they sent for him, and he came. 
 When he was entered the room, and had a little observed the 
 boy, he concluded that he was sick of the gripes. Then he 
 said to his mother, "What diet has Matthew of late fed 
 
 * Refers to the Market Cross, where, at that period, a husband announced 
 that he would not be answerable for his wife's debts, and then considered he 
 need not maintain her. 
 
MATTHEW'S SICKNESS. 227 
 
 upon ? " ^'Diet! " said Christiana, ''nothing but that which 
 is wholesome." The physician answered, ''This boy has been 
 tampering with something that lies in his maw undigested, 
 and tht*t will not away without means. And I tell you, he 
 must be purged, or else he will die." 
 
 Then said Samuel, "Mother, mother, what was that which 
 my brother did gather up and eat, so soon as we were come 
 from the gate that is at the head of this way ? You know that 
 there was an orchard on the left hand, on the other side of 
 the wall, and some of the trees hung over the wall, and my 
 brother did plash and did eat." 
 
 "True, my child," said Christiana, "He did take thereof, 
 and did eat; naughty boy as he was, I did chide him, and yet 
 he would eat thereof." 
 
 Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not whole- 
 some food ; and that food, to wit, that fruit, is even the most 
 hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's orchard. I do 
 marvel that none did warn you of it; many have died there- 
 of. 
 
 Then Christiana began to cry; and she said, "O naughty 
 boy! and O careless mother! What shall I do for my son ? " 
 
 Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected: the boy may 
 do well, but he must purge and vomit. 
 
 Cnuis. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, 
 whatever it costs. 
 
 Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. 
 
 So he made him a purge, but it was too weak. It was said 
 it was made of the blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer, and 
 with some of the juice of hyssop, etc. (Heb x. 1-4.) When 
 Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, he made him 
 one to the purpose ; it was made ex came et sanguine Christi * 
 (you know physicians give strange medicines to their pa- 
 tients) ; and it was made up into pills, with a promise or two, 
 
 * *' Of the flesh and of the blood of Christ,"— a sentence whicli Bunyan 
 modestly says he borrowed. (John vi. 54-57 ; Heb. ix. 14.) 
 
228 MATTHEW AND THE MEDICINE. 
 
 and a proportionable quantity of salt. (Mark ix. 49.) Now 
 he was to take them three at a time, fasting, in half a quar- 
 ter of a pint of the tears of repentance. When- this potion 
 was prepared, and brought to the boy, he was loth to take it, 
 though torn v/ith the gripes, as if he should be pulled in 
 pieces. " Come, come," said the physician, "You must take 
 it." ''It goes against my stomach," said the boy. (Zech. 
 xii. 10.) ''I must have you take it," said his mother. "I 
 shall vomit it up again," said the boy. ''Pray, sir," said 
 Christiana to Mr. Skill, '' how dose it taste ? " "It has no ill 
 taste," said the doctor; and with that she touched one of the 
 pills with the tip of her tongue. •' Oh, Matthew," said she, 
 "this potion is sweeter than honey. If thou lovest thy moth- 
 er, if thou lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou 
 lovest thy life, take it." So with much ado, after a short 
 prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it 
 wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge, it caused 
 him to sleep and rest quietly ; it put him into a fine heat and 
 breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes. So in 
 little time he got up, and would go from room to room, and 
 talk with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, and 
 how he was healed. 
 
 So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, 
 saying, "Sir, what will content you for your pains and rare 
 to and of my child?" And he said, "You must pay ^he 
 Master of the College of Physicians, accordihg to rules made 
 in that case and provided." (Heb. xiii. 11-16.) 
 
 "But, sir," said she, " what is this pill good for else ?" 
 
 Skill. It is an universal pill; it is good against all the dis- 
 eases that pilgrims are incident to ; and when it is well pre- 
 pared, it will keep good, time out of mind. 
 
 Chris. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them : for if 
 I can get these, I will never take other physic. 
 
 Skill. -These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as 
 to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, 
 
LESSONS FROM THE CLOUDS, ETC. 329 
 
 that if a man will but use this physic as he should, it will 
 make him live for ever. (John vi. 50.) But, good Christiana, 
 thou must give these pills no other way but as I have pre- 
 scribed; for if you do, they will do no good.' 
 
 So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself, and her boys, 
 and for Mercy ; and bid Matthew take heed how he ate any 
 more green plums, and kissed them, and went his way. 
 
 It was told you before that Prudence bid the boys that if at 
 any time they would, they should ask her some questions that 
 might be profitable, and she would say something to them. 
 
 Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her *'why, for 
 the most pact, physic should i)e bitter to our palates." 
 
 Prud. To show how-unwelcome the Word of God, and the 
 effects thereof, are to the carnal heart. 
 
 Matt. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and cause 
 that we vomit ? 
 
 Prud. To show that the Word, when it works effectually, 
 cleanseth the heart and mind. For look, what the one doth 
 to the body, the other doth to the soul. 
 
 Matt. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire 
 go upwards ? and by seeing the beams and sweet influences 
 of the sun strike downwards ? 
 
 Prud. By the going up of the fire, we are taught to ascend 
 to heaven by fervent and hot desires; and by the sun's send- 
 ing his heat, beams, and sweet influences downwards, we are 
 taught that the Saviour of the world, though high, reacheth 
 down with his grace and love to us below. 
 
 Matt. Where have the clouds their water ? 
 
 Prud. Out of the sea. 
 
 Matt. What may we learn from that ? 
 
 Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God. 
 
 Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth ? 
 
 Prud. To sliow that ministers should give out what they 
 know of God to the world. 
 
 Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun ? 
 
230 LESSONS FROM NATURE. 
 
 pRUD. To show that the covenant of God's grace is con- 
 firmed to us in Christ. 
 
 Matt. Wliy do the. springs come from the sea to us, through 
 the earth ? 
 
 Pkud. To show that tlie grace of God comes to us through 
 the body of Christ. 
 
 Matt. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops of 
 high hills ? 
 
 Prud. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up in 
 some that are great and mighty, as well as in many that are 
 poor and low. 
 
 Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick ? 
 
 Prud. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon the 
 heart, there will be no true light of life in us. 
 
 Matt. Why is the wick, and tallow, and all, spent to main- 
 tain the light of the candle ? 
 
 Prud. To show that body, and soul, and all, should be at 
 the service of, and spend themselves to maintain, in good 
 condition, that grace of God that is in us. 
 
 Matt. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with 
 her bill ? 
 
 Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood, and 
 thereby to show that Christ the blessed so loveth his young, 
 his people, as to save them from death by his blood. 
 
 Matt. What may one learn by hearing the cock crow ? 
 
 Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's repent- 
 ance. The cock's crowing shows also that day is coming on; 
 let then the crowing of the cock put thee in mind of that last 
 and terrible day of judgment. 
 
 Now, about this. time their month was out: wherefore they 
 signified to those of tlie house that it was convenient for them 
 to up and be going. 
 
 Then said Joseph to his mother, " It is convenient that you 
 forget not to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him 
 to grant that Mr. Greatheart should be sent unto us, that ho 
 
THE SIGHT OF SIN. 231 
 
 maybe our conductor tliB rest of our way." "Good boy," 
 said she, "I had almost forgot." So she drew up a petition, 
 and prayed Mr, Watchful, the Porter, to send it by some fit 
 man to her good friend Mr. Interpreter; who, when it was 
 come, and he had seen the contents of the petition, said to the 
 messenger, " Go tell them that I will send him." 
 
 When the family where Christiana was saw that they had a 
 purpose to go forward, they called the whole house together, 
 to give thanks to their King for sending of them such profit- 
 able guests as these. Which done they said to Christiana, 
 ** And shall we not show thee something, according as our 
 custom is to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate 
 when thou art upon the way ? " So they took Christiana, her 
 children, and Mercy into the closet and showed them one of 
 the apples that Eve did eat of, and that she also did give to 
 her husband, and that for the eating of which they both were 
 turned out of Paradise, and asked her what she thought 
 that was. Then Christiana said, "It is food or poison, I 
 know not which." So they opened the matter to her, and she 
 held up lier hands and wondered. (Gen. iii. 6; Rom. vii. 24.) 
 
 Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's lad- 
 der. Now at that time there were some angels ascending 
 upon it. So Christiana looked, and looked, to see the angels 
 go up; and so did the rest of the company. Then they were 
 going into another place, to show them something else ; but 
 James said to his mother, " Pray bid them stay here a little 
 longer, for this is a curious sight." So they turned again and 
 stood feeding their eyes with this, so pleasant a prospect. 
 (Gen. xxviii. 12; John i. 51.) After this, they had them into 
 a place where did hang up a golden anchor; so they bid 
 Christiana take it down ; "For," said they, "you shall have 
 it with you, for it is of absolute necessity that you should, 
 that you may lay hold of that within the veil and stand stead- 
 fast, in case you should meet with turbulent weather." So , 
 they V, ere glad thereof. (Heb. vi. 19.) Then the^ took them, 
 
233 A TOKEN FROM THE LORD. 
 
 and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father 
 had offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the 
 wood, the fire, and the knife, for they remain to be seen to 
 this very day. (Gen. xxii. 9.) When they had seen it, they 
 held up their hands and blessed themselves, and said, "Oh, 
 what a man for love to his master, and for denial to himself, 
 was Abraham ! " After they had showed them all these things, 
 Prudence took them into the dining-room, where stood a pair 
 of excellent virginals ; so she played upon them, and turned 
 what she had showed them into this excellent song, saying: 
 
 ^* Eve's apple we have showed you, 
 
 Of that be you aware ; 
 You have seen Jacob's ladder, too. 
 
 Upon which angels are. 
 An anchor you received have. 
 
 Bat let not these suffice, 
 Until, with Abr'am, you have gave 
 
 Your best, a sacrifice." 
 
 Now about this time, one knocked at the door. So the 
 Porter opened, and behold, Mr. Greatheart was there ; but 
 when he was come in, what joy was there! For it came now 
 fresh again into their mixids, how but a while ago he had slain 
 old Grim Bloodyman, the giant, and had delivered them from 
 the lions. 
 
 Then said Mr. Greatheart to Christiana and to Mercy, *' My 
 Lord hath sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also some 
 parched corn, together with a couple of pomegranates. He 
 has also sent the boys some figs aud raisins, to refresh you on 
 your way." 
 
 Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and Pru- 
 dence and Piety went along with them. When they came at 
 the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if any of late went by. 
 He said, *' No ; only one some time since, who also told me that 
 of late there had been a great robbery committed on the King's 
 highway, as you go ; but, he said, the thieves are taken, and 
 
TAKING LEAVE OF THE PORTER. 233 
 
 will shortly be tried for their lives." Then Christiana and 
 Mercy were afraid ; but Matthew said, ** Mother, fear nothing, 
 as long as Mr. Greatheart is to go with us, and to be our con- 
 ductor," 
 
 Then said Christiana to the Porter, '' Sir, lam much obliged 
 to you for all the kindnesses that you have showed me since I 
 came hither; and also for that you have been so loving and 
 kind to my children. I know not how to gratify your kind- 
 ness : wherefore, pray, as a token of my respects to you, ac- 
 cept of this small mite." So she put a gold angel in his hand ; 
 and he made her a low obeisance, and said, *'Let thy gar- 
 ments be always white, and let thy head want no ointment. 
 Let Mercy live, and not die, and let not her works be few." 
 And to the boys he said, " Do you fly youthful lusts, and fol- 
 low after godliness with them that are grave and wise ; so 
 shall you put gladness into your mother's heart, and obtain 
 praise of all that are sober-minded." So they thanked the 
 Porter, and departed. 
 
 Now, I saw in my dream that they went forward until they 
 were come to the brow of the hill, where Piety, bethinking 
 herself, cried out, "Alas ! I have forgot what I intended to be- 
 stow upon Christiana and her companions; I will go back 
 and fetch it." So she ran and fetched it. While she was 
 gone, Christiana thought she heard in a grove, a little way off, 
 on the right hand, a most curious, melodious note, with words 
 much like these : 
 
 ** Through all my life thy favour is 
 So frankly showed to me, 
 That ill thy house for ever more 
 My dwelling-place shall be." 
 
 And, listening still, she thought she heard another answer 
 it, saying— 
 
 *' For why ? The Lord our God is good ; 
 His mercy is for ever sure 
 His truth at all times firmly stood, 
 And shall from age to age endure." 
 
234 THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 
 
 So Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made those 
 curious notes. "They are," said she, "our country birds; 
 they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at the spring, 
 when the flowers appear, and the sun shines warm, and then 
 you may hear them all day long. (Solomon's Song ii. 11, 12.) 
 I often," said she, "go out to hear them; we also ofttimes 
 keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company 
 for us when we are melancholy ; also they make the woods, 
 and groves, and solitary places, places desirous to be in." 
 
 By this time. Piety was come again ; so she said to Chris- 
 tiana, "Look here; I have brought thee a scheme of all those 
 things that thou hast seen at our house, upon which thou 
 mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those 
 things again to remembrance for thy edification and comfort." 
 
 Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley of 
 Humiliation.* It was a steep hill, and the way was slippery; 
 but they were very careful, so they got down pretty well. 
 When they were down in the valley, Piety said to Christiana, 
 "This is the place where Christian your husband met with 
 the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they had that dreadful 
 fight that they had; I know you cannot but have heard there- 
 of. But be of good courage ; as long as you have here Mr. 
 Greatheart to be your guide and conductor, we hope you will 
 fare the better." So when these two had committed the pil- 
 grims unto the conduct of their guide, he went forward, and 
 they went after. 
 
 Then said Mr. Greatheart, "We need not to be so afraid of 
 this valley, for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we procure 
 it to ourselves. It is true. Christian did here meet with A})ol- 
 lyon, with whom he also had a sore combat ;t but that fray 
 was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going down the 
 hill; for. they that get slips there must look for combats here. 
 And hence it is that this valley has got so hard a name: for 
 t he common people, whe n they hear that some frightful thing 
 * See page 57. t See page 60, 
 
A PILLAR WITH AN INSCRIPTION. 235 
 
 has befallen such a one in such a place, are of opinion that 
 that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit ; when, 
 alas! it is for the fruit of their doing that such things do be- 
 fall them there. 
 
 *' This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place 
 as any the crow flies over; and I am persuaded, if we could 
 hit upon it, we might find somewhere hereabouts something 
 that might give us an account why Christian was so hardly 
 beset in this place."* 
 
 Then James said to his mother, " Lo, younder stands a pil- 
 lar, and it looks as if something was written thereon ; let us 
 go and see what it is." So they went and found there 
 writteii, "Let Christian's slips, before he came hither, and 
 the battles that he met with in this place, be a warning to 
 those that come after." "Lo," said their guide, "did I not 
 tell you that there was something hereabouts that would give 
 intimation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in 
 this place ? " Then turning himself to Christiana, he said, 
 "No disparagement to Christian, more than to many others 
 whose hap and lot his was; for it is easier going up than down 
 this hill ; and that can be said but of few hills in all these 
 ])arts of the world. But we will leave the good man; he is at 
 rest. He also had a brave victory over his enemy; let Him 
 grant that dwelleth above, that we fare no worse when ^ 
 come to be tried, than he. 
 
 "But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It 
 is the best and most useful piece of ground in all these parts. 
 It is fat ground, and, as you see, cansisteth much in meadows; 
 and if a man w-as to come here in the summer time, as we do 
 now, if he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also 
 delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that 
 that would be delightful to him. Behold how green this val- 
 ley is, also how beautified with lilies. (Solomon's Song ii. 1.) 
 I have also known many labouring men that have got good 
 estates in this Valley cf Humiliation ('for God resisteth the 
 
236 THE SHEPHERD BOY'S SONG. 
 
 proud, but gives grace unto the humble ') (James iv. 6 ; 1 
 Pet. V. 5) ; for indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring 
 forth by handfuls. Some also have wished that the next way 
 to their Father's house were here, that they might be troubled 
 no more with either hills or mountains to go over ; but the 
 way is the way, and there is an end." 
 
 Now, as they were going along, and talking, they espied a 
 boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy wns in very mean 
 clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favoured countenance; 
 and as he sat by himself he sang. " Hark!" said Mr. Great- 
 heart, ''to what the shepherd's boy saith." So they heark- 
 ened, and he said : 
 
 " He that is down needs fear no fall ; 
 He that is low, no pride; 
 He that is humble ever shall 
 Have God to be his guide.* 
 
 ** I am content with what I have, 
 Little be it, or much ; 
 And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 
 Because thou savest such. 
 
 ** Fulness to such a burden is, 
 That go on pilgrimage ; 
 Here little, and hereafter bliss, 
 Is best from age to age. " f 
 
 Then said the guide, "Do you hear him? I will dare to 
 say that this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of that 
 herb called heart's-ease in his bosom, than he that is clad in 
 silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our discourse. 
 
 "In this valley our Lord formerly had his country house; 
 beloved much to be here; he loved also to walk these mead- 
 ows, for he found the air was pleasant. Besides, here a man 
 shall be free from the noise and from the hurryings of this 
 life. All states are full of noise and confusion, only the Valley 
 
 * Phil iv. 12. 13. t Ileb. xiii. 5. 
 
FORGETFUL GREEN. 237 
 
 of Humilifition is that empty and solitary place. Here a man 
 shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation, as in 
 other places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody 
 walks in, but those that love a pilgrim's life. And though 
 Christian had the hard hap to meet here with ApoUyon, and 
 to enter with him a brisk encounter, yet I must tell you that, 
 in former times, men have met with angels here, have found 
 pearls here, and have in this place found the words of life. 
 (Hosea xii. 4, 5.) 
 
 *' Did I say our Lord had liere in former days his country 
 house, and that he loved here to walk ? I will add, in this 
 place, and to the people that love and trace these grounds, he 
 has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid them at cer- 
 tain seasons, for their maintenance by the way, and for their 
 further encouragement to go on in their pilgrimage. (Matt. 
 xi. 29.) 
 
 Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Greatheart, 
 '' Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father and Apollyon 
 had their battle ; but whereabout was the fight ? for I per- 
 ceive this valley is large." 
 
 Greatheart. Your father had that battle with Apollyon at 
 a place yonder, before us, in a narrow passage just beyond 
 Forgetful Green. And indeed that place is the most danger- 
 ous place in all these parts. For if at any time the pilgrims 
 meet with any brunt, it is when they forget what favours they 
 have received, and how unworthy they are of them. This is 
 the place also where others have been hard put to it. But 
 more of the place when we come to it ; for I persuade myself 
 that to this day there remains either some sign of the battle, 
 or some monument to testify that such a battle there was 
 fought. ^ 
 
 Then said Mercy, ' ' I think I am as well in this valley as I 
 have been anywhere else in all our journey; the place, me- 
 thiuks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places, 
 where there is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with 
 
238 SIGNS OF CEIRISTIAN'S COMBAT. 
 
 wheels. Methiuks here one may, without much jpolestation, 
 be thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has done, 
 and to what the King has called him. Here one may think, 
 and break at heart, and melt in ^ one's spirit, until one's eyes 
 become like ' the fish-pools of Heshbon.' (Solomon's Song 
 vii. 4.) They that go rightly through this Valley of Baca 
 make it a well; the rain that God sends down from heaven 
 upon them that are here also filleth the pools. (Psa. Ixxxiv. 
 6, 7.) This valley is that from whence also the King will 
 give to them their vineyards (Hosea ii. 5) ; and they that go 
 through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with 
 Apollyon.'^ 
 
 "It is true," said their guide, "I have gone through this 
 valley many a time, and never was better than when here. I 
 have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they have 
 confessed the same . ' To this man will I look (saith the King), 
 even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth 
 at my word.'" (Isa. Ixvi. 2.) Now they were come to the 
 place where the afore-mentioned battle was fought. Then 
 said the guide to Cliristiaua, her children, and Mercy, "This 
 is the place; on this ground Christian stood, and up there 
 came ApoUyon against him. And look, did I not tell you ? 
 Here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this 
 day; behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon 
 the place some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts; see 
 also how they did beat the ground with their feet as they 
 fought, to make good their places against each other; how, 
 also, with their by-blows, they did split the very stones in 
 pieces. Yerily, Christian did here play the man, and showed 
 himself as stout as could, had he been there, even Hercules 
 himself. When Ayollyon was beat, he made hiS* retreat to 
 the next valley, that is called the Valley of the Shadow of 
 Death, unto which we shall come anon. 
 
 "Lo, yonder also stands a monunient, on which is engraven 
 this battle, and Christian's victory, to iiis fame, throughout all 
 
THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 239 
 
 ages." So, because it stood just on the wayside before them, 
 they stepped to it, and read the writing, which, word for 
 word, was this : 
 
 " Hard by here was a battle fought. 
 
 Most strange, and yet most true ; 
 Christian and Apollyon sought 
 
 Each other to subdue. 
 The man so bravely play'd the man, 
 
 He made the fiend to fly ; 
 Of which a monument I stand, 
 
 The same to testify." 
 
 When they had passed by this place, they came upon the 
 borders of the Shadow of Death ; and tjiis valley was longer 
 than the other; a place, also, most strangely haunted with 
 evil things, as many are able to testify. But these women 
 and children went the better through it because they had day- 
 light, and because Mr. Greatbeart was their conductor. 
 
 When they were entered upon this valley, they thought 
 that they heard a groaning, as of dead* men; a very great 
 groaning. They thought, also, they did hear words of lamen 
 tation spoken, as of some in extreme torment. Tliese things 
 made the boys to quake, the women also looked pale and wan; 
 but their guide bid them be of good comfort. 
 
 So they went on a little further, and they thought that they 
 felt the ground begin, to shake under them, as if some hollow 
 place was here ; they heard also a kind of hissing, as of ser- 
 pents; but nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, 
 *' Are we not yet at the end of this doleful place ? " But the 
 guide also bid them, be of good courage, and look well to their 
 feet, ^' Lest haply," said lie, "you be taken in some snare." 
 
 Now James began to be sick, but I think the cause thereof 
 was fear; so his mother gave him some of that glass of spirits 
 that she had given her at the Interpreter's house, and three of 
 the pills that Mr. Skill had prepared, and the boy began to 
 
 ♦JRather, dying. 
 
240 GREATIIEART ENCOURAGES THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 revive. Thus they went on, till they came to abojjt the middle 
 of the valley, and then Christiana said, ^'Methinks I see some- 
 thing yonder upon the road before us, a thing of a shape such 
 as I have not seen.'? Then said Joseph, "Mother, what is 
 it?" "An ugly thing, child; an ugly thing," said she. 
 *'But, mother, what is it like ? " said he, " It is like I can- 
 not tell what," said she. And now it was but a little way off; 
 then said she, " It is nigh." 
 
 ** Well, well," said Mr. Greatheart, '*let them that are most 
 afraid keep close to me." So the tiend came on, and the con- 
 ductor met it; but when it was just come to him, it vanished 
 to all their sights. Then remembered they what had been 
 said some time ago, *' Resist the devil, and he will flee from 
 you." 
 
 They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed; but 
 they had not gone far, before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, 
 as she thought, something most like a lion, and it came a 
 great padding pace after ; and it had a hollow voice of roar- 
 ing; and at every roar that it gave it made all the valley echo, 
 and their hearts to ache, save the heart of him who was their 
 guide. So it came up ; and Mr. Greatheart went behind, and 
 put the pilgrims all before. The lion also came on apace, and 
 Mr. Greatheart addressed himself to give him battle. But 
 when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be 
 made, he also drew back, and came no further. (1 Pet. v. 8, 9.) 
 
 Then they went on again, and their conductor did go be- 
 fore them, till they came at a place where was cast up a pit 
 the whole breadth of the way; and, before they could be pre- 
 pared to go over that, a great mist and darkness fell upon 
 them, 80 that they could not see. Then said the pilgrims, 
 *'Alas! now what shall we do? But their guide made an- 
 swer, ''Fear not, stand still, and see what an end willbe put 
 to this also." So they staid there because their path was 
 marred. They then also thought that they did hear more ap- 
 parently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire, also, 
 
GIANT MAUL -Page 242 
 
THE PILGRIMS PRAY. 241 
 
 and the smoke of the pit, was much easier to be discerned. 
 Then said Christiana to Mercy, "Now I see what my poor 
 husband ^*ent through; I have heard much of this place, but 
 never was here before now. Poor man, he went here all alone 
 in the night : he had night almost quite through the way ; also, 
 these fiends were busy about him. as if they would have torn 
 him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but none can tell 
 what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean, uutil 
 they come in it themselves. ' The heart knows its own bitter- 
 ness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.' To be 
 here is a fearful things " 
 
 Greatheart. This is like doing business in great waters, or 
 like going down into the deep ; this is like being in the heart 
 of the sea, and like going down to the bottoms of the moun- 
 tains. Now it seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about 
 us for ever. But let them that walk in darkness, and have no 
 light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God. 
 (Isa. 1. 10.) For my part, as I have told you already, T have 
 gone often through this valley, and have been much harder 
 put to it than now I am, and yet you see I am alive. I would 
 not boast, for that I am not mine own saviour; but I trust we 
 shall have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to 
 him tliat can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke not 
 only these, but all the satans in hell. 
 
 So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliver- 
 ance, for there was now no let in their way ; no, not there 
 where but now they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were 
 not got through the valley ; so they went on still, and behold, 
 great stinks and loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of 
 them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, "There is not such 
 pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or 
 at the house where we lay last." 
 
 "Oh, but," said one of the boys, "it is not so bad to go 
 through as to abide here always ; and for aught I know, one 
 reason why we must go this way to the house prepared for us 
 is, that our home might be made the sweeter to us." 
 
243 AMONG THE SNARES. 
 
 ''Well said, Samuel," quoth the guide; " £hou hast now 
 spoke like a man," "Why, if ever I get out here again," 
 said the boy, "I think I shall prize light and good way better 
 than ever I did in all my life." Then said the guide, "We 
 shall be out by and by." 
 
 So on they went, and Joseph said, " Cannot we see to the 
 end of this valley as yet ? " Then said the guide, " Look to 
 your feet, for you shall presently be among the snares." So 
 they looked to their feet, and went on; but they were troubled 
 much with the snares. Now, when they were come among 
 the snares, they espied a man cast into the ditch on the left 
 hand, w^ith his flesh all rent and torn. Then said the guide, 
 " Tiiat is one Heedless, that was a-going this way ; he has lain 
 there a great while. Ther<3 was one Take-heed with him, when 
 he was taken and slain, but he escaped their hands. You 
 cannot imagine how many are killed hereabout, and yet men 
 are so foolishly venturous as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, 
 and to come withouc a guide. Poor Christian ! it was a 
 wonder that he here escaped; but he was beloved of his God, 
 also he had a good heart of his own, or else he could never 
 have done it." 
 
 Now they drew towards the end of the way ; and just there 
 where Christian had seen the cave wdien he went by, out 
 thence came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul did use to spoil 
 young pilgrims with sophistry ; and he called Greatheart by 
 his name, and said unto him, "How many times have you 
 been forbidden to do these things ? " Then said Mr. Great- 
 heart, "What things ? " " What things ? " quoth the giant; 
 " yoil know what things ; but I will put an end to your trade." 
 "But pray," said Mr. Greatheart, "before we fall to it, let us 
 understand wherefore we must fight." Now the women and" 
 children stood trembling, and knew not what to do. Quoth 
 the giant, "You rob the country, and rob it with the worst 
 of thefts." "'These are but generals," said Mr. Greatheart; 
 "come to particulars, man." Then said the giant, "Thou 
 
GREATHEART PRAYS. ^ 248 
 
 practisest the craft of a kidnapper; thou gatherest up women 
 and children, and carriest them into a strange country, to the 
 weakeuing of my master's kingdom." ''But now," Great- 
 heart replied, "I am a servant of the God of heaven; my 
 business is to persuade sinners to repentance; I am command- 
 ed to do my endeavour to turn men, women, and children, 
 ' from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
 God ; ' and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us 
 fall to it as soon as thou wilt." 
 
 Then the giant came up, and Mr. Greatheart went to meet 
 him; and as he went, he drew his sword, but the giant had a 
 club. So without more ado, they fell to it, and at the first 
 blow the giant struck Mr. Greatheart down upon one of his 
 knees; with that the women and children cried out. So Mr. 
 Greatheart, recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty 
 mauner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm; thus he 
 fought for the space of an hour, to that height of heat, that 
 the breath came out of the giant's nostrils as the heat doth 
 out of a boiling cauldron. 
 
 Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr. Greatheart be- 
 took him to prayer; also the women and children did nothing 
 but sigh and cry all the time that the battle did last. 
 
 When they had rested them and taken breath, they both 
 fell to it again, and Mr. Greatheart, with a full blow, fetched 
 the giant down to the ground. ' ' Nay, hold, and let me re- 
 cover," quoth he; so Mr. Greatheart fairly let him get up. 
 So to it they went again, and the giant missed but little of 
 •all-to-breaking Mr. Greatheart's skull with his club. 
 
 Mr. Greatheart, seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of 
 his spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib; with that the 
 giant began to faint, and could hold up his club no longer. 
 Tiien Mr. Greatheart seconded his blow,. and smote the head 
 of the giant from his shoulders. 
 
 Then the women and children rejqjlced, and Mr. Greatheart 
 also praised God for the deliverance he had wrought. 
 
244 TALK ABOUT THE FIGHT. 
 
 When this was done, they among them erected a pillar, and 
 fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote underneath, in 
 letters that passengers might read — 
 
 '' He that did wear this head was one 
 
 That pilgrims did misuse ; 
 He stopp'd their way, he spared none. 
 
 But did them all abuse : 
 Until that I, (xreatheart, arose, 
 
 The pilgrims' guide to be ; 
 Until that 1 did him oppose, 
 
 That was their enemy." 
 
 Now I saw that they went to the ascent that was, a little 
 way off, cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims (that was the 
 place from whence Christian had the first view of Faithful his 
 brother). Wherefore, here they sat down and rested ; they 
 also here did eat and drink, and make merry, for that they 
 had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an enemy. As 
 they sat thus, and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he 
 had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Greatheart, 
 "No, save a little on my flesh; yet that also shall be so far 
 from being to my detriment, that it is at present a proof of 
 my love to my Master and you, and shall be a means, by 
 grace, to increase my reward at last." (2 Cor. iv.) 
 
 Chris. Bat was you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him 
 come out with his club ? 
 
 "It is my duty," said Greatheart, "to distrust my own 
 ability, that I may have reliance on Him that is stronger than 
 all." • 
 
 Chris. But what did you think when he fetched you down 
 to the ground at the first blow ? 
 
 "Why, I thought," quoth he, "that so m^^ Master himself 
 was served, and yet he it was that conquered at the last." 
 
 Matt, When you all have thought what you please, I think 
 God has been wonderful good to" us, both in bringing us out 
 of this valley, and in delivering us out of the hand of this 
 
MISTAKES WHICH SAINTS MAKE. 245 
 
 enemy. For my part, I see no reason why we slijuld distrust 
 our God any more, since he has now, and in such a place as 
 this, given us such testimony of his love as this. 
 
 Then they got up and went forward. Now a little before 
 the n stood an oak ; and under it, when they came to it, they 
 found an old pilgrim fast asleep ; they knew that he was a 
 pilgrim by his clothes, and his staff, and his girdle. 
 
 So the guide, Mr. Greatheart, awaked him, and the old 
 gentleman, as he lift up his eyes, cried out, " What's the mat- 
 ter ? Who are you ? and what is your business here ? " 
 
 Grbatheaht. Come, man, be not so hot, here are none but 
 friends. 
 
 Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and 
 will know of them what they were. Then said the guide, 
 *' My name is Greatheart; I am the guide of these pilgrims, 
 which are going to the Celestial Country. 
 
 Then said Mr. Honest, " I cry you mercy; I feared that you 
 had been of the company of those that some time ago did rob 
 Little-faith of his money; but now I look better about me, I 
 perceive you are honester people." 
 
 Greatheart. Why, what would or could you have done to 
 have helped yourself, if we indeed had b^en of that com- 
 pany ? 
 
 Hon. Done ! why, I would have fought as long as breath 
 had been in me ; and had I so done, I am sure you could never 
 have given me the worst on it ; for a Christian can never be 
 overcome, unless he should yield himself. 
 
 " Well said, father Honest," quoth the guide; "for by this 
 I know thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said 
 the truth." 
 
 Hon. And by this, also, I know that thou knowest what 
 true pilgrimage is ; for all others do think that we are the 
 soonest overcome of any. 
 
 Greatheart. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me 
 crave your name, and the name of the place you came from. 
 
246 WHENCE MR. HONEST CAME. 
 
 Hon. My name I cannot ; But I came from the town of 
 Stupidity; it lietli about four degrees beyond the City of De- 
 struction. 
 
 Greatheart. Oh! arc you that countryman, then ? I deem 
 I have half a guess of you ; your name is Old Honesty, is it not ? 
 
 So the old gentleman blushed, and. said, "Not Honesty in 
 the abstract, but Honest is my name; and. I wish that my na- 
 ture shall agree to what I am called." 
 
 "But, sir," said the old gentleman, "how could you guess 
 that I am su3h a man, since I came from such a place ? " 
 
 Greatheart. I had heard of you before, by my Master; 
 for he knows all things that are done on the earth: but I have 
 often wondered that any should come from your place; for 
 your town is worse than is the City of Destruction itself. 
 
 Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more 
 cold and senseless; but was a man in a mountain of ice, .yet if 
 the Sun of Righteousness will arise upon him, his frozen heart 
 shall feel a thaw ; and thus it hath been with me. 
 
 Greatheart. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it ; for I 
 know the thing is true. 
 
 Then tlie old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a 
 holy kiss of charity; and asked them of their names, and how 
 they had fared since they set out on their pilgrimage. 
 
 Then said Christiana, "My name, I suppose, you have heard 
 of; good Christian was my husband, and these four are his 
 children." But can you think how the old gentleman was 
 taken, when she told him who she was ! He skipped, he 
 smiled, and blessed them with a thousand good wishes, say- 
 ing, "I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels 
 and wars, which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to 
 your comfort, the name of your husband rings over all these 
 parts of the world: his faith, his courage, his enduring, and 
 his sincerity under all, has made his name famous." Then he 
 turned him to the boys, and asked them of their names, which 
 they told him. And then said he unto them, "Matthew, bo 
 
MR. FEARIXG'S CHARACTER. 247 
 
 thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue. 
 (Matt. X. 3.) Samuel," said he, "be thou like Samuel the 
 prophet, a man of faith and prayer. (Psa. xcix. 6.) Joseph," 
 said he, " be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and 
 one that flies from, temptation. (Gen. xxxix.) And James, 
 be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of 
 our Lord." (Acts i. 13.) Then they told him of Mercy, and 
 how she had left her town and her kindred to come along 
 with Christiana and her sons. At that the old honest man 
 said, "Mercy is thy name; by Mercy shalt thou be sustained, 
 and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault 
 thee in the way, till thou phalt 'come thither where thou shalt 
 look the Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort." 
 
 All this while, the guide, Mr. Greatheart, was very much 
 pleased, and smiled upon liis companions. 
 
 Now, as they walked along together, tlie guide asked the 
 old gentleman if he did not know one Mr. Fearing, that came 
 on pilgrimage out of his parts. 
 
 "Yes, very well," said he; "he was a man that had the 
 root of the matter in him; but he was one of the most trouble- 
 some pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days." 
 
 Greatheaut. I perceive you knew him ; for you have given 
 a very righ^. character of him . 
 
 Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his; I was 
 with him most an end : when he first began to think of what 
 would come upon us hereafter, I was with him. 
 
 Greatheart. I was his guide from my master's house to 
 the gates of the Celestial City. 
 
 Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 
 
 Greatheat. I did so, but I could very well bear it; for 
 men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the conduct 
 of such as lift was. 
 
 Hon. Well, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how 
 lie managed himself under your conduct. 
 
 Greatheart. Why, he was always afraid that he should come 
 
248 MR. FEARING AT THE GATE. 
 
 short of whither he had a- desire to go. Everything fnghteiied 
 him that he heard anybody speak of that had but the least ap- 
 pearance of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the 
 Slough of Despond for about a month together; nor durst he, 
 for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though 
 they, many of them, offered to lend him their hand. He 
 would not go back again, neither. The Celestial City, he 
 said, he should die if he came not to it; and yet was dejected 
 at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that anybody 
 cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of De- 
 spond a great while, as I have told you, one sunshine morn- 
 ing, I do not know how, he ventured, and so got over; but 
 when he was over, he could scarce believe it. He had, I 
 think, a Slough of Despond in his mind : a slough that he 
 carried everywhere with him, or else he could never have been 
 as he was. So he came up to the gate — you know what I 
 mean — that stands at the head of this way; and there also he 
 stood a good while, before he would adventure to knock. 
 When the gate was opened, he would give back, and give 
 place to others, and say that he was not worthy. For, for all 
 he got before some to the gate, yet many of them went in be- 
 fore him. There the poor man would stand, shaking and 
 shrinking. I dare say it would have pitied one's heart to 
 have seen him; nor would he go back again. At last, he 
 took the hammer that hanged on the nail, and gave a small 
 rap or two ; then one opened to him, but he shrank back as 
 before. He that opened stepped out after him, and said, 
 * 'Thou trembling one, what wantest thou?" With that he 
 fell down to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to 
 see him so faint. So he said to him, "Peace be to thee; up, 
 fori have set open the door to thee. Come in, for thou art 
 blessed."'' With tliat he got up, and went in trembling; and 
 when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, 
 after he had been entertained there awhile, as you know the 
 manner is, he was bid to go on his way, and also told the way 
 
AT THE INTERPRETER'S DOOR. 249 
 
 he should take. So he came till he came to our house. But 
 as he behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my master the 
 Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in the cold a good 
 while, before he would adventure to call ; yet he would not 
 go back. And the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he 
 had a note of necessity in his bosom to my master, to receive 
 him and grant him the comfort of his house, and also to allow 
 him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself so 
 chicken-hearted a man ; and yet, for all that, he was afraid to 
 call at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, 
 poor man ! he was almost starved. Yea, so great was his de- 
 jection, that though he saw several others, for knocking, get 
 in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I think, I looked 
 out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down 
 about tlic door, I went out to him, and asked what he was; 
 but, poor man! the water stood in his eyes; so I perceived 
 what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in the 
 house, and we showed the thing unto our Lord. So he sent 
 me out again, to entreat him to come in ; but I dare say I had 
 hard work to do it. At last he came in; and I will say tluit 
 for my Lord, he carried it wonderfully lovingly to him. 
 There were but few good bits at the table, but some of it was 
 laid upon hisjrencher. Then he presented the note, and my 
 Lord looked thereon, and said his desire should be granted. 
 So, when he had been there a good while, he seemed to get 
 some heart, and to be a little more comfortable; for my 
 master, you must know, is one of very tender bowels, espe- 
 cially to them that are afraid; wlierefore he carried it so to- 
 wards him as might tend most to his encouragement. Well, 
 when he had had a sight of the things of the place, and was 
 ready to take his journey to go to the city, my Lord, as he did 
 to Christian before, gave him a bottle of spirits, and some 
 comfortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went 
 ])efore him ; but the man was but of few words, only he would 
 sigh aloud. 
 
250 MR. FEARING'S HUMILITY. 
 
 When we were come to where the three fellows were hang- 
 ed, he said that he doubted that that would be his end also. 
 Only he seemed glad when he saw the Cross and the Sepul- 
 chre. There, I confess, he desired to stay a little to look, and 
 he seemed, for a while after, to be a little cheery. When we 
 came at the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did 
 he much fear the lions ; for you must know that his trouble 
 was not about such things as those : his fear was about his ac- 
 ceptance at last. 
 
 I got him in at the House Beautiful, I think, before he was 
 willing. Also, when he was in, I brought him acquainted 
 with the damsels that were of the place; but he was ashamed 
 to make himself much for company. He desired much to be 
 alone, yet he always loved good talk, and often would get 
 behind the screen to hear it. He also loved much to see 
 ancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He 
 told me afterwards that he loved to be in those two houses 
 from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the 
 Interpreter, but that he durst not be so bold to ask. 
 
 When we went also from the House Beautiful, down the 
 hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as 
 ever I saw man in my life ; for he cared not how mean he was, 
 so he might be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind 
 of a sympathy betwixt that valley and him; for I never saw 
 him better in all his pilgrimage than when he was in that 
 valley. 
 
 Here he would lie dov/n, embrace the ground, and kiss the 
 very flowers that grew in this valley. (Lam. iii. 37-29.) He 
 would now be up every morning by break of day, tracing and 
 walking to and fro in this valley. 
 
 But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death, I thoi>ght I should have lost my man ; not 
 for that he had any inclination to go back; that he always 
 abhorred; but he was ready to die for fear.. "Oil! the hob- 
 goblins will have me! the hobgoblins will have me!" cried 
 
HIS BOLDNESS AT LAST. 251 
 
 he; and I could not beat him out on it. He made such a 
 noise and such an outcry here, that, had they but heard him, 
 it was enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us. 
 
 But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as 
 quiet while he went through it, as ever I knew it before or 
 since. I suppose these enemies here had now a special check 
 from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr. Fear- 
 ing was passed over it. 
 
 It would be too tedious to tell you of all. We will, there- 
 fore, only mention a passage or two more. When he was 
 come at Vanity Fair, I thought he would have fought with 
 all the men at the fair, I feared' there we should both 
 have been knocked on the head, so hot was he against their 
 fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was also very 
 wakeful. But when he was come at the river, where was no 
 bridge, tli^ere again he was in a heavy case. " Now, now," 
 he said, ^' he should be drowned forever, and so never see 
 that face with comfort that he had come so many miles to be- 
 hold." 
 
 And here, also, I took notice of what was very remarkable: 
 the water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw 
 it in all my life. So he went over at last, not much above 
 wet-shod. When he was going up to the gate, Mr. Greatheart 
 began to take his leave of him, and to wish him a good re- 
 ception above. So he said, ''I shall, I shall." Then parted 
 we asunder, and I saw him no more. 
 
 Hon. Then, it seems, he was well at last. 
 Greatheart. Yes, yes; I never had doubt about him; he 
 was a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept ver^ 
 low, and that made his life so burdensome to himself, and so 
 troublesome to others. (Psa, Ixxxviii.) He was, above 
 many, tender of sin. He was so afraid of doing injuries to 
 others, that he often would deny himself of that which was 
 lawful, because lie would not olBfend. (Bom. xiv. 21 ; 1 Cor. 
 viii. 13.) 
 
252 MR. FEARING'S TROUBLERS. 
 
 Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good man 
 should be all his days so much in the dark ? 
 
 Greatheart. There are two sorts of reasons for it: One 
 is, the wise God will have it so; some must pipe and some 
 must weep. (Matt. xi. 16-18.) Now Mr. Fearing was one 
 that played upon this bass, he and his fellows sound the sack 
 but, whose notes are more doleful than the notes of other 
 music are; though, indeed, some say the bass is the ground 
 of music. And, for my part, I care not at all for that profes- 
 sion that begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string 
 that the musician touches is the bass, when he intends to put 
 all in tune. God also plays upon this string first, when he sets 
 the soul in tune for himself. Only, here was the imperfection 
 of Mr. Fearing, he could play upon no other music but this, 
 till towards his latter end. 
 
 I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the ripening 
 of the wits of young readers; ttud because, in the Book of the 
 Revelation, the saved are compared to a company of musi- 
 cians that play upon their trumpets and harps, and sing their 
 songs before the throne. (Rev. v. 8; xiv. 2, 3.) 
 
 Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by what 
 relation you have given of him ; diflaculties, lions, or Vanity 
 Fair, he feared not at all. It was only sin, death, and hell 
 that was to him a terror, because he had some doubts about 
 his interest in that celestial country. 
 
 Greatheart. You say right. Those were the things that 
 were his troublers; and they, as you have well observed, 
 arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, not from 
 weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a pilgrim's life. 
 I dare believe that (as the proverb is) "he could have bit a fire- 
 brand had it stood in his way ; " but the things with which 
 he was oppressed no man ever yet could shake off with ease. 
 
 Then said Christiana, "This relation of Mr. Fearing has 
 done me good. I Jhought nobody had been like me; but I 
 see there was some semblance betwixt this good man and I; 
 
THE FEAR OF GOD. 253 
 
 only we differed in twd things ; his troubles were so great 
 tliey brake out, but m ne I kept within. His also lay so hard 
 upon him, they made him that he could not knock at the 
 houses provided for entertainment ; but my trouble was al- 
 ways such as made me knock the louder. '^ 
 
 Mercy. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that 
 something of him has also dwelt in me ; lor I have ever been 
 more afraid of the lake and the loss of a place in Paradise, 
 than I have been of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, 
 may I have the happiness to have a habitation there, it is 
 enough, though I part with all the world to win it! 
 
 Then said Matthew, "Fear was one tiling that made me 
 think that I was far from having that within me that accom- 
 panies salvation ; but if it was so with such a good man as 
 he, why may it not also go well with me ? " 
 
 " No fears, no grace," said James. '' Though there is not 
 always grace where there is the fear of hell ; yet, to be sure, 
 there is no grace where there is no fear of God." 
 
 Greatheart. Well said, James; thou hast hit the mark; 
 for " the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom; " and, to be 
 sure, they that want the beginning have neither middle nor 
 end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fear- 
 ing, after we have sent after him this farewell: 
 
 " Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 
 Thy God, and wast afraid 
 Of dohig anything, while here, 
 That would have thee betrayed, 
 
 *' And didst thou fear the lake and pit ? 
 Would others did so too ! 
 For as for them that want thy wit. 
 They do themselves undo." 
 
 Now I saw that they still went on in their talk ; for after 
 Mr. Greatheart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest 
 began to to tell them of another, but his name was Mr. Self- 
 will. *' He pretended himself to be a pilgrim," said Mr. Hon- 
 
254 SELF-WILL'S OPINIONS. 
 
 est; "but I persuade myself he nevef came in at the gate that 
 stands at the head of the way." 
 
 Greatheart. Had you ever any talk with him about it ? 
 
 Hon. Yes, more than once or twice ; but he would always 
 be like himself, self-willed. He neither cared for man, nor 
 argument, nor yet example ; what his mind prompted him to, 
 that he would do, and nothing else could he be got to do. 
 
 Greatheart. Pray, what principles did he hold ? for I sup- 
 pose you can tell. 
 
 Hon. He held that a man might follow the vices as well as 
 the virtues of the pilgrims; and that if he did both, he should 
 be certainly saved. 
 
 Greatheart. How ? if he had said, it is possible for the 
 best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of the vir- 
 tues, of pilgrims, he could not much have been blamed; for, 
 indeed, we are exempted from no vice absolutely, but on con- 
 dition that we watch and strive. But' this, I perceive, is not 
 the thing ; but if I understand you right, your meaning is that 
 he was of that opinion that it was allowable so to be. 
 
 Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean ; and so he believed and practised. 
 
 Greatheart. But what ground had he for his so saying ? 
 
 Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant. 
 
 Greatheakt. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few 
 particulars. 
 
 Hon. So I will. He said to have to do with other men's 
 wives had been practised by David, God's beloved ; and there- 
 fore he CO lid do it. He said to have more women than one 
 was a thing that Solomon practised; and therefore he could 
 do it. He said that Sarah and the godly midwives of Egypt 
 lied, and so did save Rahab; and therefore he could do it. 
 He said that the disciples went at the bidding of their Master, 
 and took away the owner's ass ; and therefore he could do so 
 too. "He said that Jacob got the inheritance of his father 
 in the way of guile aud dissimulation; and therefore he 
 could do so too. 
 
SELF-WILL'S OPINIONS. 255 
 
 GREATnEABT. Highly base, indeed ! And you are sure he 
 "Was of this opinion ? 
 
 Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, 
 bring argameilt for it, etc. 
 
 Greatheart. An opinion that is not nt to be with any al- 
 lowance in the world. 
 
 Hon. You must understand me rightly. He did not say 
 that any man might do this; but those that had the virtues of 
 those that did such things might also do the same. 
 
 Greatheart. But what more false than such a conclusion ? 
 For this is as much as to say, that because good men hereto- 
 fore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had allowance to 
 do it of a presumptuous mind ; or if, because a child by the 
 blast of the wind, or for that it stumbled at a stone, fell down, 
 and defiled itself in mire, therefore he might wilfully lie 
 down, and wallow like a boar therein. Who could have 
 thought that any one could so far have been blinded by the 
 power of lust? But wliat is written must be true: they 
 *' stumble at the word, being disobedient; whereunto also 
 they were appointed." (1 Pet. ii. 8.) 
 
 His supposing that such may have the godly men's virtues, 
 who addict themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as 
 strong as the oth^r. It is just as if the dog should say I have, 
 or may have, the qualities of the child, because I lick up its 
 stinking excrements. To eat up the sin of God's people is 
 no sign of one that is possessed of their virtues. (Hosea Iv. 
 8.) Nor can I believe that one that is of this opinion can at 
 present have faith or love in him. But I know you have made 
 strong objections against him ; prithee, what can he say for 
 himself ? • 
 
 Hon. Why, he says, " To do this by way of opinion seems 
 abundance more honest than to do it and yet hold contrary to 
 it in opinion." 
 
 Greatheart. A very wicked answer; for though to let 
 loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions arc against such 
 
256 FAULTS OF PILGRIMS. 
 
 tilings, is bad ; yet to sin, and plead a toleration so to do, is 
 worse. The one stumbles beliolders accidentally, the other 
 pleads them into the snare. 
 
 . Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have not 
 this man's mouth ; and that makes going on pilgrimage of so 
 little esteem as it is. 
 
 Greatheart. You have said the truth, and it is to be la- 
 mented ; but he that feareth the King of Paradise shall come 
 out of them all. 
 
 Chris. Tliere are strange opinions in the world ; I know 
 one that said, it was time enough to repent when they come 
 to die. 
 
 Greatheart. Such are not over wise. That man would 
 have been loath, might he have had a week to run twenty 
 miles in for his life, to have deferred that journey to the last 
 hour of that week. 
 
 Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them that 
 count themselves pilgrims do indeed do thus. I am, as you 
 see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this road 
 many a day ; and I have taken notice of many things. 
 
 I have seen some that have set out as if they would drive 
 all the world afore them, who yet have, in few days, died as 
 they in the wilderness, and so never got sight of the promised 
 land. 
 
 I have seen some that have promised nothing at first setting 
 out to be pilgrims, and that one would have thought could 
 not have lived a day, that have yet proved very good pil- 
 grims. 
 
 I have seen some who have run hastily forward, that again 
 have, after a little time, run just as fast back again. 
 
 I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's 
 life at first, that, after a while, have spoken as much against it. 
 
 I have heard some, when they first set out for Paradise, say, 
 positively, there is such a place, who, wlien they have been 
 almost there, have come back again, and said there is none. 
 
V: :,s^^;;r\ 
 
THE PILGRIMS DESIRE AN INN. 257 
 
 I have heard some vaunt what they would do, in case they 
 should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, 
 the pilgrim's way, and all. 
 
 Now, as they were thus in their way, there came one run* 
 ning to meet them, and said, *' Gentlemen, and you of the 
 weaker sort, if you love life, shift for yourselves, for the rob- 
 bers are before you." 
 
 Then said Mr. Greathcart, *' They be the Ihr 20 that set npon 
 Little-faith heretofore. Well," said he, ''we are ready for 
 them;" so tliey went on their way. Now they looked at 
 every turning, when they should have met with the villains; 
 but whether they heard of Mr. Greatheart, or whether they 
 had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims. 
 
 Christiana then wished for an inn for herself and her chil- 
 dren, because they were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, 
 "There is one a little way before us, where a very honour- 
 able disciple, one Gains, dwells." (Rom. xvi. 23.) So they 
 all concluded to turn in thither, and the rather, because the 
 old gentleman gave him so good a report. So, when they 
 came to the door, they went in, not knocking, for folks used 
 not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the 
 master of the house, and he came to them. So they asked if 
 they might lie there that night. 
 
 Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if ye be true men ; for my house is 
 for none but pilgrims. Then was Christiana, Mercy, and the 
 boys the more glad, for that the innkeeper was a lover of 
 pilgrims. So they called for rooms, and he showed them one 
 for Christiana and her children and Mercy, and another for 
 Mr. Greatheart and the old gentleman. 
 
 Then said Mr. Greatheart, "Good Gaius, what hast thou 
 for supper ? for these pilgrims have come far to-day, and are 
 weary." 
 
 "It is late," said Gains, "so we cannot conveniently go 
 out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be welcome 
 to, if that will content." 
 
 P. r.-9. 
 
258 CHRISTIAN'S ANCESTORS. 
 
 Greatheart. We wiH be content with what thou hast i?^ 
 the house, forasmuch as I have proved thee; thou art never 
 destitute of that which is convenient. 
 
 Then he went down and spaKC to the cook, whose name 
 Was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready supper for so many 
 pilgrims. This done, he comes up again, saying, "Come, 
 my good friends, you are welcome to me, and I am glad that 
 I have a.house to entertain you ; and while supper is making 
 ready, if you please, let us entertain one another with some 
 good discourse." So they all said, " Content." 
 
 Then said Gains, " Whose wife is this aged matron? and 
 whose daughter is this young damsel ? " 
 
 Greatiieart. The woman is the wife of one Christian, of 
 former times; and these are his four^ children. The maid is 
 one of her acquaintance ; one that she hath persuaded to come 
 with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, 
 and covet to tread in his steps ; yea, if they do but see any 
 place where the old pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, 
 it ministereth joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or 
 tread in the same. 
 
 Then said Gains, ''Is this Christian's wife ? and are these 
 Christian's children ? I knew your husband's father, yea, 
 also his father's father. Many have been good of this stock ; 
 their ancestors dwelt first at Antioch. (Acts xi. 26.) Chris- 
 tian's progenitors (I suppose you have heard your husband 
 talk of them) were very worthy men. They have, above any 
 that I know, showed themselves men of great virtue and 
 courage, for the Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that 
 loved him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations 
 that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, 
 that was one of the first of the family from whence your hus- 
 band sprang, was knocked on tlie head with stones. (Acts vii. 
 59, 60.) James, another of. this generation, was slain with 
 the edge of the sword. (Acts xii. 2.) To say nothing of 
 Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family from whence 
 
A MATCH CONCLUDED. 259 
 
 your husband came, there was Ignatius,''* who was cast 
 to the lions; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from 
 his bones; and Polycarp, that ployed the man in the fire. 
 There was he that hanged up in a basket in the sun, for 
 the wasps to eat; and he whom they put into a sack, and 
 cast him into the sea to be drowned. It would be utterly im- 
 possible to count up all of that family that have suffered in- 
 juries and death, for the love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I 
 but be glad to see that thy husband has left behind him four 
 such boys as these. I hope they will bear up their father's 
 name, and tread in their father's steps, and come to their 
 father's end." 
 
 Greatheart. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads; they seem 
 to choose heartily their father's ways 
 
 Gaius. That is it that I said. Wherefore Christian's family 
 is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the ground, and 
 yet to be numerous upon the face of the earth; wherefore let 
 Christiana look out some damsels for her sons, to whom they 
 may be bethrothed, etc., that the name of their father and the 
 house of his progenitors may never be forgotten in the 
 world. 
 
 Hon. It is a pity this family should fall and be extinct. 
 
 Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may; but let 
 Christiana take my advice, and that is the way to uphold it. 
 
 "And, Christiana," said this innkeeper, "I am glad to see 
 thee and thy friend Mer y together here, a lovely couple. 
 And, may I advise, take Mercy into a nearer relation to thee; 
 it she will, let her be given to Matthew, thy eldest son; it is 
 the way to preserve you a posterity in the earth." So this 
 match was concluded, and in the process of time they were 
 married ; but more of that hereafter. 
 
 Gaius also proceeded, and said, "I will now speak on the 
 behalf of women, to take away their rei)roach. For as death 
 and the curse came into the world by a woman (Gen. iii.), so 
 *0f Antioch. 
 
260 SUPPER RExiDY. 
 
 also did life and health ; ^ God sent forth his Son, made of a 
 woman.' (Gal. iv. 4.) Yea, to show how much those that 
 came after did abhor the act of the mother, this sex, in the 
 Old Testament, coveted children, if happily this or that wo- 
 man might be the mother of the Saviour of the world. 
 
 *' I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women 
 rejoiced in him before either man or angel. (Luke ii.) I 
 read not that ever any man did give unto Christ as much as 
 one groat; but the women followed him, and ministered to 
 him of tlioir substance. (Luke viii. 2, 3.) Tt was a woman 
 that washed his feet with tears, and a woman that anoint- 
 ed his body to the burial. (Luke vii. 37-50 ; John xi. 2 ; xii. 3.) 
 They were women that wept when he was going to the cross, 
 an^ women that followed him from the cross, and that sat by 
 his sepulchre when he was buried, (Luke xxiii. 27 ; Matt. 
 xxvii. 55, 50, 61.) They were women that were first with him 
 at his resurrection-morn; and women that brought tidings 
 first to his disciples that he was risen from the dead. (Luke 
 xxiv. 22, 23.) Women, therefore, are highly favoured, and 
 show by these things that they are sharers with us in the 
 grace of life." 
 
 Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost 
 ready, and sent one to lay thecioth, the trenchers, and to set 
 the salt and bread in order. 
 
 Then said Matthew, " The sight of this cloth, and of this 
 forerunner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite 
 to my food than I had before." 
 
 Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee, in this life, 
 beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the supper of the great 
 King in his kingdom ; for all preaching, books, and ordinan- 
 ces here are but as the laying of the trenchers, and as setting 
 of salt upon the board, when compared with the feast that 
 our Lord will make for us when we come to his house. 
 
 So supper came up ; and first, a heave-shoulder and a wave- 
 breast (Lev. vii. 32-34 ; x. 14, 15) were set on the table before 
 
A DISH OF APPLES. 261 
 
 them, to show that they must begin their meal with prayer 
 and praise to God. (Psa. xxv. 1; Heb. xiii. 15.) The heave- 
 shoulder David lifted his heart up to God with; and with the 
 wave-breast, where his heart lay, with that he used to lean 
 upon his harp when he played. Tliese two dishes were very 
 fresh and good, and they all ate heartily well thereof. 
 
 The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, red as blood. 
 (Deut. xxxii. 14.) So Gains said to them, "Drink freely; 
 this is the juice of the true Vine, that makes glad the heart of 
 God and man." (Judges ix. 18; John xv. 1.) So they drank 
 and were merry. 
 
 The next was a dish of milk well crumbed ; but Gains said, 
 "Let the boys have that, that they may grow thereby. "(1 Pet. 
 ii. 1, 2.) 
 
 Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. 
 Then said Gains, Eat freely of this ; for this is good to cheer 
 up, and strengthen your judgment and understandings. This 
 was our Lord's dish when he was a child: 'Butter and honey 
 shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil and choose 
 the good.'" (Isa. vii. 15.) 
 
 Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were 
 very good tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, "May we eat 
 apples, since they were such *by and with which the serpent 
 beguiled our first mother ? " 
 
 Then said Gains — 
 
 ** Apples were they with which we were beguiled ; 
 Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled. 
 Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood ; 
 To eat such, when commanded, does us good. 
 Drink of his flafi^ons, then, thou church, his dove, 
 And eat his apples, who are sick of love." 
 
 Then said Matthew, "I made the scruple, because I a while 
 since was sick with eating of fruit." 
 
 Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not what 
 our Lord has tolerated. 
 
262 A RIDDLE. 
 
 While they were thus talking, they were presented with 
 another dish, and it was a dish of nuts. (Solomon's Song 
 vi. 11.) 
 
 Then said some at the table, ''Nuts spoil tender teeth, es- 
 pecially the teeth of children ; " which, when Gains heard, 
 he said — 
 
 **Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
 Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters. 
 Ppe then the shells, and you shall have the meat ; 
 They here are brought for yoii to crack and eat." 
 
 Then were they very merry, and sat at the table along time, 
 talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman, "My 
 good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if you please, 
 do you open this riddle : — 
 
 " ' A man there was, though some did count him mad. 
 The more he cast away, the more he had.' " 
 
 Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gains 
 would say ; so he sat still awhile, and then thus replied : — 
 
 *' He that bestows his goods upon the poor 
 Shall have as much again, and ten times more. " 
 
 Then said Joseph, "I dare say, sir, I did not think you 
 could have found it." 
 
 "Oh! " said Gains, " I have been trained up in this way a 
 great while: nothing teaches like experience. I have learned 
 of my Lord to be kind; and have found by experience that I 
 have gained thereby. * There is that scattereth, and yet increas- 
 eth, and there is that withholdeth more than is meet; but it 
 tendeth to poverty. There is that maketh himself rich, yet 
 hath nothing; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath 
 great riches.' " (Prov. xi. 24; xiii. 7.) 
 
 Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, 
 "Mother, this is a very good man's house, let us stay here a 
 
GRACE MUST CONQUER. 263 
 
 good while, and let my brother Matthew be married here to 
 Mercy before we go any further." 
 
 The which Gains the host overhearing said, ''With a very 
 good will, my child." 
 
 So they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy was 
 given to Matthew to wife. 
 
 While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, would 
 be making coats and garments to give to the poor, by which 
 she brought up a very good report upon the pilgrims. 
 
 But to return again to our story. After supper, the lads de- 
 sired a bed, for that they were weary with travelling: then 
 Gaius called to show them their chamber; but said' Mercy, 
 "I will have them to bed." So she had them to bed, and they 
 slept well; but the rest sat up all night; for Gaius and they 
 were such suitable company, that they could not tell how to 
 part. Then after much talk of their Lord, themselves, and 
 their journey, old Mr. Honest, he that put forth the riddle to 
 Gaius, began to nod. Then said Greatheart, "What, sir! you 
 begin to be drowsy! come, rub up; now here is a riddle for 
 you." Then said Mr. Honest, "Let us hear it." 
 
 Then said Mr. Greatheart, — 
 
 *' He that will kill must first he overcome, 
 
 Who live abroad would, first must die at home." 
 
 *' Ha! "said Mr. Honest, ''it is a hard one, hard to ex- 
 pound, and harder to practise. But come, landlord," said he, 
 *'I wili, if you please, leave my part to you; do you expound 
 it, and I will hear what you say." 
 
 "No," said Gaius, "it was put to you, and it is expected 
 that you should answer it." 
 
 Then said the old gentleman, — 
 
 " He first by grace must conquered be, 
 That sin would mortify ; 
 And who, that lives, would convince me. 
 Unto himself must die." 
 
264 ' A QUESTION WORTH ANSWERING. 
 
 ''It is right," said Gaius, ''good doctrine and experience 
 teaches this. For, first, until grace displays itself, and over- 
 comes the soul with its glory, it is altogether without heart 
 to oppose sin ; besides, if sin is Satan's cords, by which the 
 soul lies bound, how should it make resistance before it is 
 loosed from that infirmity ? 
 
 " Secondly, nor will any, that knows either reason or grace, 
 believe that such a man can be a living monument of grace 
 that is a slave to his own corruptions. 
 
 " And now it comes in my mind, Twill tell you a story 
 worth the hearing. There were two men that went on pil- 
 grimage : the one began when he was young, the other when 
 he was old. The young man had strong corruptions to grap- 
 ple with; the old man's were decayed with the decays of na- 
 ture. The young man trod his steps as even as did the old 
 one, and was every way as light as he. Who now, or which 
 of them, i)ad their graces shining clearest, since both seemed 
 to be alike ? " 
 
 Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that which heads 
 it against the greatest opposition gives best demonstration 
 that it is strongest; especially when it also holdeth pace with 
 that that meets not with half so much ; as, to be sure, old age 
 does'not. Besides I have observed that old men have blessed 
 themselves with this mistake, namely, taking the^ decays of 
 nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and so have 
 been apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, old men that are 
 gracious are best able to give advice to them that are young, 
 because they have seen most of the emptiuess of things. But 
 yet,' for an old and a young [man] to set out together, the 
 young one has the advantage of the fairest discovery of a 
 work of grace within him, though the old man's corruptions 
 are naturally the weakest. 
 
 Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now. when the fam- 
 ily was up, Christiana bid her son James that he should read 
 a chapter; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he had 
 
ANOTHER QUESTION. 2G5 
 
 done, Mr. Honest asked why it was said that the Saviour is to 
 come "out of a dry ground ; " and also, that "he had no 
 form or comeliness in him." 
 
 Then said Mr Greatheart, ' ' To the first I answer, Because 
 the church of the Jew^s, of which Christ came, had then lost 
 all the sap and spirit of religion. To the second I say, The 
 w^ords are spoken in the person of the unbelievers, who, be- 
 cause they want that can see into our Prince's heart, therefore 
 they judge pf him by the meanness of his outside. Just like • 
 those that know not that precious stones are covered over with 
 a homely crust ; who, when they have found one, because 
 they know not what they have found, cast it again away, as 
 men do a common stone." 
 
 "Well," said Gains, "now you are here, and since, as I 
 know, Mr Greatheart is good at his weapons, if you please, 
 after we have refreshed ourselves, we will w^alk into the fields, 
 to see if we can do any good. About a mile from hence 
 there is one Slay-good, a giant that does much annoy the 
 King's highway in these parts ; and I know whereabout his 
 haunt is. He is master of a number of thieves. It would 
 be well if we could clear these parts of him." 
 
 So they consented, and v/ent, Mr. Greatheart with his sword, 
 helmet, and shield, and the rest with spears and staves. 
 
 AYhen they came to the place where he was, they found him 
 with one Feeble-mind in his hands, v/hom his servants had 
 brought unto liim, having taken him in the way. Now the 
 giant was rifling him, with a purpose, after that, to pick his 
 bones, for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters. 
 
 Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Greatheart and his friends at 
 the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded 
 what they wanted. 
 
 Greatheart. We want thee ; for we are come to revenge 
 the quarrel of tlie many that thou hast slain of the pilgrims, 
 when thou hast dragged them out of the Kmg's highway ; 
 wherefore, come out of thy cave. 
 
266 DEATH OF SLAY-GOOD. 
 
 So he armed himself and came out ; and to a battle they 
 went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood still to 
 take ^ind. 
 
 Then said the giant, " Why are you here on my ground ? " 
 
 Greatheart. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I also 
 told thee before. 
 
 So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. Greatheart 
 give back ; but he came up again, and in the greatness of his 
 'mind, he let fly with such stoutness at the giant'g head and 
 sides, that he made him let his weapon fall out of his hand ; 
 so he smote him, and slew him, and cut off his head, and 
 brought it away to the inn. He also took 'Feeble-mind, the 
 pilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings. When 
 they were come home, they showed his head to the family, 
 and then set it up, as they had done others before, for a terror 
 to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter. 
 
 Then they asked Mr Feeble-mind how he fell into his hands. 
 
 Then said the poor man, ''I am a sickly man, as you see ; 
 and because death did usually once a day knock at my door, 
 I thought I should never be well at home ; so I betook myself 
 to a pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the town 
 of Uncertain, where I and my father were born. I am a man 
 of no strength at all of body, nor yet of mind ; but w^ould, if 
 I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's 
 way. When I came at the gate that is at the head of the way, 
 the Lord of that pi e did entertain me freely ; neither ob- 
 jected he against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble 
 mind ; but gave me such things that were necessary for my 
 journey, and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the 
 house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness there ; and 
 because th Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was 
 carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found 
 much relief from pilgrims, though none are willing to go so 
 softly as I am forced to do ; yet still, as they came on, they 
 bid me be of good cheer, and said that it was the will of their 
 
MR. FEEBLE-MIND'S EXPERIENX'E. 237 
 
 Lord that comfort should bo given to the feeble-minded, and 
 so went on their own pace. (1 Thess. v. 14.) When I was 
 come up to Assault Lane, then this giant met with me, and 
 bid me prepare for an encounter ; but, alas ! feeble one that I 
 was, I had more need of a cordial. So he came up and took 
 me. I conceited he would not kill me. Also, when he had 
 got me into his den, since I went not with him willingly, I 
 believed I should come out alive egain ; for I have heard that 
 not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he 
 keep heart Vvholc towards his Master, is, by the laws of Provi- 
 dence, to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to 
 be, and robbed to be sure I am; but I am, as you see, escaped 
 with life; for the which I thank my King as author, and you 
 as the means. Other brunts I also look for; but this I have 
 resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot 
 run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank 
 Him that loves me, I am fixed. My way is before me, m»y 
 mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as 
 »yousee, but of a feeble mind.'' 
 
 Then said old Mr. Honest, '^ Have you not, some time ago, 
 been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim ? " 
 
 Feeble. Acquainted with him ! Yes ; he came from the 
 town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees to the northward 
 of the City of Destruction, and as many off of where I was 
 born; yet we were well acquainted, for, indeed, he was my 
 uncle, my father's brother. He and I have been much of a 
 temper. He was a little shorter than I, but yet we were much 
 of a complexion. 
 
 Hon. 1 perceive you know him ; and am apt to believe, also, 
 that you were related to one another; for you have his whitely 
 look, a cast like his with your eye, and your speech is much 
 alike. 
 
 Feeble. Most have said so that have known us both; and, 
 besides, what I have read in him, I have, for the most part, 
 found in myself. 
 
268 MR. NOT-RIGHT SLAIN. 
 
 "Come, sir," said good Gains, " be of good cheer; you are 
 welcome to me and to my house, and what thou hast a mind 
 to, call for freely; and what thou wouldest have my servants 
 do for thee, they will do it with a ready mind." 
 " Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, "This is unexpected favour, 
 and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. Did Giant 
 Slay- good intend me this favour when he stopped me, and re- 
 solved to let me go no further ? Did he intend that, after he 
 had rifled my pockets, I should go to Gains, mine host ? Yet, 
 so it is." 
 
 Now, just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gains were thus in talk, 
 there came one running, and called at the door, and told that, 
 about a mile and a half off, there was one Mr. Not-right, a 
 pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where he was with a 
 thunder-bolt. 
 
 "Alas! " said Mr. Feebk-mind, "is he slain ? He over- 
 took me some days before I came so far as liither, and would 
 be my company-keeper. He also was with me when Slay- 
 good, the giant, took me; but he was nimble of his heels, 
 and escaped. But, it seems, he escaped to die, and I was 
 took to live. . y 
 
 " ' What, one would think, doth seek to slay outright, 
 Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight ; 
 That very providence, whose face is death, 
 Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath. 
 I taken was, lie did escape and flee ; 
 Hands cross'd gives death to him, and life to me.* " 
 
 Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were married. 
 
 Also Gains gave his daughter Phoebe to James, Matthew's 
 
 ^\brother, to wife; after which time they yet stayed above t*en 
 
 days at Gains' house, spending their time, and the seasons, 
 
 like as pilgrims used to do. 
 
 When they were to depart, Gains made them a feast, and 
 they did eat and drink, and were merry. Now the hour was 
 come that they must be gone ; wherefore Mr. Greatheart called 
 
THE PARTING WITH GAIUS. 269 
 
 for a reckonini; ; but Gains told him that at his house it was 
 not the custom for pilgrims to pay for their entertainment. 
 He boarded them by the year, but looked for his pay from the 
 good Samaritan, who had promised him, at his return, what- 
 soever charge he was at with them faithfully to repay him. 
 (Luke X. 33-35.) Then said Mr. Greatheart to him, "Belov- 
 ed, thou dost faithfully whatsoever thou dost to tlie brethren, 
 and to strangers; which have borne witness of thy charity 
 before the church ; whom if thou (yet) bring forward on their 
 journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well." (3 John 5, 6.) 
 
 Tiien Gaius took his leave of them all, and of his children, 
 and particularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him some- 
 thing to drink by the way. 
 
 Now Mr Fceblc-mind, when they were going out of the 
 door, made as if he intended to linger: the which when Mr. 
 Greatlieart espied, he said, "Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, pray 
 do you go along with us ; I will be your conductor, and you 
 shall fare as the rest.'^ 
 
 Feeble. Alas ! I want a suitable companion ; you are all 
 lusty and strong; but I, as you see, am weak; I choose, there- 
 fore, rather to come behind, lest, by reason of my many in- 
 firmities, I should be both a burden to myself and to you. 
 I am, as I said, a man of a weak and feel)le mind, and shall 
 be offended and made weak at that which others can bear. I 
 shall like no laughing; I shall like no gay attire; I shall like 
 no unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be 
 offended with that which others have a liberty to do. I do 
 not yet know all the truth. I am a very ignorant Christian 
 man ; sometimes if I hear some rejoice in the Lord, it troubles 
 me because I cannot do so too. It is with me as it is with a 
 weak man among th& strong, or as with a sick man among 
 the healthy, or as a lamp despised. " He that is ready to slip 
 with his feet is as a lamp despised in the thought of him that 
 is at ease (Jobxii. 5) : " so that I know not what to do. 
 
 "But, brother,'' said Mr. Greatheart, "I have it in com- 
 
270 FEEBLE-MIND AND READY-TO-HALT. 
 
 mission to * comfort* the feeble-minded,' and to 'support the 
 weak.' (1 Thess. v. 14.) You must needs go along with us; 
 we will wait for you ; we will lend you our help (Rom. xiv. 1) ; 
 we will deny ourselves of some things, both opinionative and 
 practical, for your sake (1 Cor. viii. ) ; we will not enter into 
 doubtful disputations before you; we will be made all things 
 to you, rather than you shall be left behind." (1 Cor. ix. 22.) 
 
 Now all this while they were at Gains' door; and behold, 
 as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-to- 
 halt came by, with his crutches * in his hand (Psa. xxxviii. 
 17), and he also was going on pilgrimage. 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, ''Man, how camcst 
 thou hither ? I was but just now conplaining that I had not a 
 suitable companion, but thou art according to my wish. "Wel- 
 come, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt; I hope thee and I 
 may be some help." 
 
 '' I shall be glad of thy company," said the other; " and, 
 good Mr. Feeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are 
 thus happily met, I will lend thee one of my crutches." 
 
 "Nay," said he, " though T thank thee for thy good-will, I 
 am not inclined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think, 
 when occasion is, it may help me against a dog." 
 
 Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a pleas- 
 ure, we are both at thy command, good Mr. Feeble-mind. 
 
 Thus, therefore, they went on: Mr. Greatheart and Mr. 
 Honest went before, Christiana and her children went next, 
 and Mr. Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt came behind 
 with his crutches. 
 
 Then said Mr. Honest, "Pray, sir, now we are upon the 
 road, tell us some profitable things of some that have gone 
 on pilgrimage before us." 
 
 Greatheart. With a good will. I suppose you have heard 
 how Christian of old did meet with ApoUyon in the Valley 
 of Humiliation; and also what hard work he had to go 
 * Promises. 
 
NEW TALK. 271 
 
 through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Also I think you 
 cannot but have heard how Faithful was put to it with Madam 
 Wanton, with Adam the First, with one Discontent and 
 Shame, four as deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon 
 the road. 
 
 Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this; but, indeed, good 
 Faithful was hardest put to it witli Shame; he was an un- 
 wearied one. 
 
 Greatheaet. Ay ; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all 
 men had the wrong name. 
 
 Hon. But pray, sir, wliere was it that Christian and Faith- 
 ful met Talkative ? Ths.t same was also a notable one. 
 
 Greatheart. He was a confident fool, yet many follow his 
 ways. 
 
 Hon. He had liked to have beguiled Faithful. 
 
 Greatheart. Ay ; but Christian put him into a way quickly 
 to find him out. Thus they went on till they came at the 
 place where Evangelist met with. Christian and Faithful, and 
 prophesied to them of what should befall them at Vanity 
 Fair. 
 
 Then said their guide, " Hereabouts did Christian and Faith- 
 ful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them of what 
 troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair." 
 
 Hon. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter that 
 then he did read unto them. 
 
 Greatheart. It was so ; but he gave them encouragement 
 withal. But what do we talk of them ? they were a couple 
 of lion-like men ; they had set their faces like flint. Don't 
 you remember how undaunted they were when they stood be- 
 fore the judge ? 
 
 Hon. Well, Faithful bravely suffered. 
 
 Greatheart. So he did, and as brave things came on it ; 
 for Hopeful and some others, as the story relates it, were con- 
 verted by his death. 
 
 Hon. Well, but pray go on; for you are weir acquainted 
 with things. 
 
272 MR. MNASON. 
 
 Greatheabt. Above all that Christian met after he had 
 passed through Vanity Fair-, one By-ends was the arch one. 
 
 Hon. By-ends! Wliat Avas he ? 
 
 Greatheart. a very arch fellow ; a downright hypVocrite. 
 One that would be religious, which way ever the world went; 
 but so cunning that lie would be sure neither to lose nor suffer 
 for it. He had his mode of religion for every fresh occasion; 
 and his wife was as good at it as he. Ho would turn and 
 change from opinion to opinion ; yea, and plead for so doing, 
 too. But, so far as I could learn, he came to an ill end with 
 his by-ends; nor did I ever hear that any of his children were 
 ever of any esteem with any that truly feared God. 
 
 Now by this time they were come within sight of the town 
 of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So, when they saw 
 that they were so near the town, they consulted with one an- 
 other how they should pass through the town ; and some said 
 ona thing, and some another. At last Mr. Greatheart said, ''I 
 have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of pil- 
 grims through this town ; now I am acquainted with one Mr. 
 Mnason, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, at whose 
 house we may lodge. (Acts xxi. 16.) If you think good," 
 said he, ''we will turn in there." 
 
 ''Content," said old Honest; "Content," said Christiana; 
 "Content," said Mr. Feeble-mind; and so they said all. 
 Now, you must think, it was even-tide by that they got to the 
 outside of the town ; but Mr. Greatheart knew the way to the 
 old man's house. So thither they came; and he called at the 
 door, and the old man within knew his tongue as soon as ever 
 he heard it; so he opened, and they all came in. Then said 
 Mnason, their host, "How far have ye come to-day ?" So 
 they said, ' ' From the house of Gains, our friend. " "I prom- 
 ise you," said he, "you have gone a good stretch, you may 
 well be a-weary ; sit down. " So they sat down. 
 
 Then said their guide, "Come, what cheerj sirs? I dare 
 say you are welcome to my friend." 
 
A HARBOUR AND GOOD COMPANY. 273 
 
 "I also,'' said Mr. Mnason, "do bid you welcome, and, 
 whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what we can 
 to get it for you." 
 
 Hon. Our great want, a while since, was harbour and good 
 company, and now I hope we have both. 
 
 Mnason. For harbour, you see what it is; but for good 
 company, tliat will appear in the trial. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Greatheart, "will you have the pilgrims up 
 into their lodging ? " 
 
 "I will," said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their re- 
 spective places; and also showed them a very fair dining- 
 room, where they might be, and sup together, until ^time was 
 come to go to rest. 
 
 Now, when they were set in tlieir places, and were a little 
 cheery after their journey, Mr. Honest asked his landlord if 
 there were any store of good people in the town. 
 
 Mnason. Wc have a few, for indeed they are but a few, 
 when compared with them on the other side. 
 
 Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for the 
 sight of good men to them that are going on pilgrimage is 
 like to the appearing of the moon and the stars to them that 
 are sailing upon the seas. 
 
 Tiien Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his daughter 
 Grace came up; so he said unto her, " Grace, go you, tell my 
 friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Love-saint, Mr. Dare- 
 not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my 
 house that have a mind this evening to see them." 
 
 So Grace went to call them, and they came ; and, after salu- 
 tation made, they sat down together at the table. 
 
 Then said Mr. Mnason, their landlord, "My neighbours, I 
 have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my house; 
 they are pilgrims; they come from afar, and are going to 
 Mount Zion. But who," quoth he, " do you think this is ? " 
 pointing with his finger to Christiana; " it is Christiana, the • 
 wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim, who with Faithful his 
 
274 PERSECUTION NOT SO HOT AS FORMERLY. 
 
 brother, were so shamefully handled in our town." At that 
 they stood amazed, saying, "We little thought to see Chris- 
 tiana, when Grace came to callus; wherefore this is a very 
 comfortable surprise." Then they asked her of her welfare, 
 and if these young men were her husband's sons. And when 
 she had told them they were, they said, "The King whom 
 you love and serve, make you as your -father, and bring you 
 where he is in peace ! " 
 
 Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat down) asked Mr. 
 Contrite and the rest, in what posture their town was at pres- 
 ent. 
 
 Contrite. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair- 
 time. It is hard keeping our heart and. spirits in any good 
 order when we are in a cumbered condition. He that lives ^ 
 in such a place as this is, and that has to do with such as we 
 have, has need of an item, to caution him to take heed, 
 every moment of the day. 
 
 Hon. But how are your neighbours for quietness? 
 
 Contrite. They are much more moderate now than for- 
 merly. You know how Christian and Faithful were used in 
 our town ; but of late, I say, they have been far more moder- 
 ate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth with load upon them 
 till now; for since they burned him, they have been ashamed 
 to burn any .more. In those days we were afraid to walk the 
 streets, but now we can show our heads. Then the name of 
 a professor was odious ; now, especially in some parts of our 
 town (for you know our town is large), religion is counted 
 honourable. 
 
 Then said Mr. Contrite to them, "Pray, how fareth it with 
 you in your pilgrimage ? How stands the country affected to- 
 wards you ? " 
 
 Hon. It happens to us as it happeueth to wayfaring men: 
 sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul; sometimes up 
 "hill, sometimes down hill; we arc seldom at a certainty; the 
 wind is not always on-our backs, nor is every one a friend that 
 
MR. GREATHEART'S ACCOUNT. 275 
 
 I 
 Tre meet with in the way. We have met with some notable 
 rubs already; and what are yet behind we know not; but, for 
 the most part, we find it true that has been talked of of old, 
 *' A good man must suffer trouble." 
 
 Contrite. You talk- of rubs; what rubs have you met 
 withal ? 
 
 Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Greatheart, our guide, for he can give 
 the best account of that. 
 
 Greatheart. We have been beset three or four times already. 
 First, Christiana and her children were beset with two ruffians, 
 that they feared would take away their lives. We were beset 
 by Giant Bloodyman, Giant Maul, and Giant Slay-good. -In- 
 deed, we did rather beset the last, than were beset of him. 
 And thus it was: after we had been some time at the house of 
 *' Gains, mine host, and of the whole church," we were mind- 
 ed upon a time to take our weapons with us, and so go see if 
 we could light upon any of those that were enemies to pil- 
 grims (for we heard that there was a notable one thereabouts). 
 Now Gains knew his haunt better than I, because he dwelt 
 thereabout; so we looked, and looked, till at last we discerned 
 the mouth of his cave: then we were glad, and plucked up 
 our spirits. So we approached up to his den, and lo, when we 
 came tliere, he had dragged, by mere force, into his net, this 
 poor man, Mr. Feeble-mind, and was about to bring him to 
 his end. But when he saw us, supposing, as we thought, he 
 had had another prey, he left the poor man in his hole, and 
 came out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about 
 him : but in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, 
 ■and his head cut off, and set up by the way-side, for a terror 
 to such as should after practise such ungodlinesr. That I tell 
 you the truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was 
 as a lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion. 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, "I found this true, to my cost 
 and comfort; to my cost, when he threatened to pick mj 
 bones every moment; and to my comfort, when I saw Mr. 
 
276 A MONSTER. 
 
 Greartheart and his friends, with their weapons, approach so 
 near for my deliverance." 
 
 Then said Mr. Holy-man, ''There are two things that they 
 have need to be possessed with that go on pilgrimage : cour- 
 age and an unspotted life. If they have not courage, they 
 can never hold their way; and if their lives be loose, they 
 will make the very name of a pilgrim stink." 
 , Then said Mr. Love-saint, "I hope this caution is not need- 
 ful amongst you. But truly, there are many that go upon the 
 road, that rather declare themselves strangers to pilgrimage 
 than strangers and pilgrims in the earth." 
 
 Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, "It is true, they neither have 
 the pilgrim's weed nor the pilgrim's courage; they go not up- 
 rightly, but all awry with their feet; one shoe goes inward, 
 another outward, and their hoscnout behind ; there a rag and 
 there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord." 
 
 "These tiling," said Mr. Penitent, "they ought to be trou- 
 bled for; nor are the pilgrims like to have that grace put upon 
 them and their pilgrim's progress as they desire, until the way 
 is cleared of such spots and blemislies." 
 
 Thus they sat talking and spending the time, until supper 
 was set upon the table; unto wliich they went and refreshed 
 their weary bodies; so they went to rest. Now they stayed 
 in this fair a great while at the house of this Mr. Mnason, 
 who, in the process of time, gave his daughter Grace unto 
 Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his daughter Martha to 
 Joseph. 
 
 The time, as I said, that they lay here was long (for it was 
 not now as in former times). Wherefore, the pilgrims grew 
 acquainted with many of the good people of the town, and 
 did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, 
 laboured much for the poor ; wherefore their bellies and backs 
 blessed her, and she was there an ornament to her profession. 
 And, to say the truth for Grace, Phoebe, and Martha, they 
 
HOW THE MONSTER WAS TREATED. 277 
 
 placed. They were also all of them very fruitful ; so that Chris- 
 tiana's name, as was said before, was like to live in the world. 
 
 While they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, 
 and slew many of the people of the town. It would also carry 
 away their children, and teach them to suck its whelps. Now 
 no man in the town durst so much as face this monster; but 
 all men fled when they heard of the noise of his coming. 
 
 The monster was like unto no one beast upon the earth ; its 
 body was like a dragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns. 
 (Rev. xvii. 3.) It made great havoc of children, and yet it 
 v/as governed by a woman. This monster j)ropounded con- 
 ditions to men ; and such as loved their lives more than their 
 souls accepted of those conditions. So they came under. 
 
 Now this Mr. Greathcart, together with these that came to 
 visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered into a cove- 
 nant, to go and engage tliis beast, if perhaps they might de- 
 liver the people of this town from the paws and mouth of this 
 so devouring a serpent. 
 
 Then did Mr. Greatheart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. 
 Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their w(iipons, go forth 
 to meet him. Now the monster, at first, was very rampant, 
 and looked upon these enemies with great disdain; but they 
 so belaboured him, being sturdy men at arms, that they made 
 him make a retreat; so they came home to Mr. Mnason's house 
 again. 
 
 The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come 
 out in, and to make his attempts upon the children of the people 
 of the town ; also these seasons did these valiant worthies watch 
 him in, and did still continually assault him ; insomuch that 
 in process of time, he became not only wounded, but lame; 
 also he has not made that havoc of the townsmen's children, 
 as formerly he has done. And it is verily believed by some, 
 that this beast will die of his wounds. 
 
 This, therefore, made Mr. Greatheart and his fellows of 
 great fame in this town; so that many of the people that 
 
278 THE PLACE OF FAITHFUL'S MARTYRDOM. 
 
 wanted tlieir taste of things, yet had a reverent esteem and 
 respect for them. Upon this account, therefore it was, that 
 these pilgrims got not much hurt here. True, there were 
 some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole, 
 nor understand more than a beast; these had no reverence 
 for these men, nor took they notice of their valour or adven- 
 tures. 
 
 Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on their 
 way, wherefore they prepared for their journey. They sent 
 for their friends; they conferred with them; they had some 
 time set apart, therein to commit each other to the protection 
 of their Prince. There were again, that brought them of such 
 things as they had, that were fit for the weak and the strong, 
 for the women and the men, and so laded them with such 
 things as were necessary. (Acts xxviii. lOJ 
 
 Then they set forward on their way ; and their friends ac- 
 companying them as far as was convenient, they again com- 
 mitted each other to the protection of their King, and parted. 
 
 They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company, went 
 on, and Mr. Gj-eatheart went before them. Now the women 
 and children being weakly, they were forced to go as they 
 could bear; by this means Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Feeble- 
 mind had more to sympathize with their condition. 
 
 When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their 
 friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to the place 
 where Faithful was put to death ; there, therefore, they made 
 a stand, and thanked Him that had enabled him to bear his 
 cross so well ; and the rather, because they now found that 
 they had a benefit by such a manly suffering as his was. 
 
 They went on, therefore, after this, a good way further, 
 talking of Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful joined 
 himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead. 
 
 Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the 
 silver- mine was, which took Demas off from his pilgrimage, 
 and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and perished; 
 
COTES AND FOLDS FOR SHEEP. 279 
 
 wherefore they considered that. But when they were come 
 to the old monument that stood over against the Hill Lucre, 
 to wit, to the pillar of salt that stood also within view of 
 Sodom and its stinking lake, they marvelled, ai did Christian 
 before, that men of that knowledge and ripeness of wit, as 
 they were, should be so blinded as to turn aside here. Only 
 they considered again, that nature is not affected with the 
 harms that others have met with, especially if that thing upon 
 which they look has an attracting virtue upon the foolish 
 eye. 
 
 I saw now that they went on till they came at the river that 
 was on this side of the Delectable Mountains — to the river 
 where the fine trees grow on both sides, and whose leaves, if 
 taken inwardly, are good against surfeits; where the mea- 
 dows are green all^ the year long, and where they might lie 
 down safely. (Psa. xxiii.) 
 
 By this river side, in the meadow, tTiere were cotes and folds 
 for sheep, a house built for the nourishing and bringing up 
 those lambs, the babes of those women that go on pilgrimage. 
 (Heb. V. 2.) Also there was here One that was intrusted 
 with them, who could have compassion, and that could 
 gather these lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, 
 and that could gently lead those that were with young. (Isa. 
 xl. 11.) Now to the care of this Man Christiana admonished 
 her four daughters to commit their little ones, that by these 
 waters they might be housed, harboured, succoured, and nour- 
 ished, and that none of them might be lacking in time to come. 
 This Man, if any of tham go astray, or be lost, he will bring 
 them again : he will also bind up that which was broken, and 
 will strengthen them which are sick. (Ezek. xxxiv. 11-16.) 
 Here they will never want meat and drink and clothing; here 
 they will be kept from thieves and robbers; for this Man will 
 die before one of those committed to his trust shall be lost. 
 (Jer. xxiii. 4.) Besides, here they shall be sure to have good 
 nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to walk in right 
 
280 BY-PATH STILE. 
 
 paths, and that, you know, is a favour of no small account. 
 Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, 
 dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear wholesome 
 fruit ; fruit not like that that Matthew ate of, that fell over 
 the wall out of Beelzebub's garden; but fruit that procureth 
 health where there is none, and that continueth and increaseth 
 it where it is. 
 
 So they were content to commit their little ones to him; 
 and that which was also an eucouragement to them so to do 
 was, for that all this was to be at the charge of the King, and 
 so was an hospital to young children and orphans. 
 
 Now they went on; and when they were come to By-path 
 Meadow, to the stile over which Christian went with his fel- 
 low Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant Despair, and 
 put into Doubting Castle, they sat down, and consulted what 
 was best to be done; to wit, now they were so strong, and had 
 got such a man as Mr. Greatheart for their condacior, whether 
 they had not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demol- 
 ish his castle, and, if there were any pilgrims in it, to set 
 them at liberty, before they v/ent any further. So one said 
 one thing, and another said the contrary. One questioned if 
 it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground ; another said 
 they might, provided their end was good ; but Mr. Greatheart 
 said, '-Though that assertion offered last cannot be universal- 
 ly true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome 
 evil, to fight the good fight of faith ; and, I pray, with whom 
 should I fight this good fight, if not with Giant Despair ? I 
 will therefore attempt the taking away of his life, and the de- 
 molishing of Doubting Castle." Then said he, " Who will go 
 with me ? " Then said old Honest, ''I will." *' And so will 
 we too," said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, James, 
 and Joseph ; for they were young men and strong. (1 John 
 iii. 13, 14.) 
 
 So they left the women in the road, and with them Mr. 
 Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt, with his crutches, to be 
 
DOUBTING CASTLE DEMOLISHED. 281 
 
 their guard, until they came back; for in that place, though 
 Giant Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a lit- 
 tle child might lead them. (Isa. xi. G.) 
 
 So Mr. Greatheart, old Honest, and the four young men 
 went to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant Despair. 
 When they came at the castlc-gate, they knocked for entrance, 
 with an unusual noise. At that the old giant comes to th.^ 
 gate, and Diffidence, his wife, follows. Then said he, " Y/iio 
 and what is he that is so hardy as after this manner to molest 
 the Giant Despair ? " Mr. Greatheart replied, '' It is I, Great- 
 heart, one of the King of the Celestial Country's conductors 
 of pilgrims to their place; and I demand of thee that thou 
 open tliy gates for my entrance. Prepare thyself also to fight,^«^ 
 for I am come to take thy head, and to demolish Doubting 
 Castle.'* 
 
 Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought that 
 no man could overcome him; ^md again, thought he, '* Since 
 heretofore I have made a conquest of angels, shall Greatheart 
 make me afraid ? " So he harnessed himself, and went out. 
 He had a cap of steel upon his head, a breast-plate of firer 
 girded to him, and he came out in iron shoes, with a great 
 club in his hand. Then these six men made up to him, and 
 beset him behind and before. Also, when Diffidence, the 
 giantess, came up to help him, old Honest cut her down at 
 one blow. Then they fought for their lives, and Giant De- 
 spair was brought down to the ground, but was very loath to 
 die. H^ struggled hard, and had, as they say, as many lives 
 as a cat; but Greatheart^was his death; for he left him not 
 till he had severed his head fronTEls slioulders. -^ 
 
 Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle; and that, 
 you know, might with ease be done, since Giant Despair was 
 dead. They were seven days in destroying of that ; and in it 
 of pilgrims they found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved 
 to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter; these two they 
 saved alive. But it would have made you a-wondered to have 
 
282 A CAUTION TO PILGRIMS. 
 
 seen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the castle- 
 yard, and liow'iull of dead men's bones the dungeon was. 
 
 When Mr. Greatheart and his companions had performed 
 this exploit, they took Mr. Despondency, and his daughter 
 Much-afraid, into their protection ; for they were honest peo- 
 ple, though they were prisoners in Doubting Castle, to that 
 tyrant, Giant Despair. They, therefore, I say, took with them 
 the head of the giant (for his body they had buried under a 
 heap of stones), and down to the road and to their compan- 
 ions they came, and showed them what they had done. Now 
 when Feeble-mind and Rerdy-to-halt saw that it was the head 
 of Giant Despair indeed, they were very jocund and merry. 
 Now Christiana, if need was, could play upon the viol, and 
 her daughter Mercy upon the lute; so, since they were so 
 merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and Ready-to-halt 
 would dance. So he took Despondency's daughter, named 
 Much-afraid, by the hand, and to dancing they went in the 
 road. True, he could not dance without one crutch in his 
 hand; but, I promise you, he footed it well. Also the girl 
 was to be commended, for she answered the music hand- 
 somely. 
 
 As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not much to him; 
 he was for feeding rather than dancing, for that he was al- 
 most starved. So Christiana gave him some of her bottle of 
 spirits, for present relief, and then prepared him something to 
 eat; and in a little time the old gentleman came to himself, 
 and began to be jfinely revived. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, 
 Mr. Gr e attreirrt^lt b^TE'th e head of Giant Despair, and set it 
 upon a pole by the highway side, right over against the pillar 
 that Christian erected for a caution to pilgrims that came 
 after, to take heed of entering into his grounds. 
 
 Then he writ undei* it, upon a marble stone, these verses 
 following': — 
 
THE SHEPHERDS. 2S3 
 
 ** This tlie head of him, whose name only 
 In former times did pilgrims terrify. 
 His castle's down ; raid Diffidence, his wife, 
 Brave Master Greatheart has bereft of life. 
 Despondency, his daug-liter, Much-afraid, 
 Greatheart for them also the man has play'd ; 
 Who hereof donbts, if he'll but cast his eye . 
 Up hither, may his scruples satisfy . 
 This head also, when doubting cripples dance, 
 Doth show from fears they have deliverance." 
 
 When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against 
 Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they went for- 
 ward, and went on till they came to t^ Delectable Mountains, 
 where Christian and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the 
 varieties of the place. They also acquainted themselves with 
 the Shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they had done 
 Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains. 
 
 Now the Shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great- 
 heart, for with him they were well acquainted, they said unto 
 him, "Good sir, you have got a goodly company here. Pray 
 where did you find all these ? " 
 
 Then Mr. Greatheart replied, — 
 
 " First, here is Christiana and her train, 
 
 Her sons and her sons' wives, who, like the Wain, 
 
 Keep by the Pole, and do by compass steer. 
 
 From sin to grace, else they had not been here ; 
 
 Next, here 's old Honest come on pilgrimage ; 
 
 Ready-to-halt, too, who, I dare engage. 
 
 True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind, 
 
 Who willing was not to be left behind ; 
 
 Dv?.spondency, good man, is coming after, 
 
 And so also is Much-afraid, his daugliter. 
 
 May we have entertainment here, or must 
 
 We further go ? I/ct's know whereon to trust." 
 
 Then said the Shepherds, " This is a comfortable company. 
 You are welcome to us, for we have for the feeble as for the 
 strong. Our Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of 
 these ; therefore infirmity must not be a block to our entertain- 
 
284 THE SON OF GREAT-GEACE. 
 
 mcnt." (Matt. xxv. 40.) So they had them to the palace 
 door, and then said unto them, "Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind; 
 come in, Mr. Ready-to-halt ; come in, Mr. Despondency, and 
 Mrs. Much-afraid, his daughter." "These, Mr. Greatheart," 
 said the Shepherds to the guide, " we call in byname, for that 
 they are most subject to draw back; but as for you, and the 
 rest that are strong, we leave you to your wonted liberty." 
 Then said Mr. Greatheart, " This day I see that grace doth 
 shine in your faces, and that you are my Lord's shepherds in- 
 deed ; for that you have not pushed these diseased neither 
 with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewed their way into 
 the palace with flowers, as you should." (Ezek. xxxiv. 21.) 
 
 So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Greatheart and the 
 rest did follow. When they were also set down, the Shep- 
 herds said to those of the weaker sort, "What is it that you 
 would have ? for," said they, "all things must be managed 
 here to the supporting of the weak, as well as the warning of 
 the unruly." 
 
 So they made tnem a feast of things easy of digestion, and 
 that were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing; the which 
 when they had received, they went to their rest each one re- 
 spectively unto' his proper place. 
 
 When morning was come, because the mountains were high, 
 and the day clear, and because it was the custom of the Shep- 
 herds to show to the pilgrims, before their departure, some 
 rarities; therefore, after they were ready, and had refreshed 
 themselves, the Shepherds took them out into the fields, and 
 showed them first what they had showed to Christian before. 
 
 Then they had them to some new places. The first was "to 
 Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a man at a 
 distance, that tumbled the hills about with words. Then they 
 asked the Shepherds what that should mean. So they told 
 them, that that man was the son of one Great-grace, of whom 
 you read in the First Part of the records of the Pilgrim's P'ro- 
 ^ress. And he is set there to teach pilgrims how to believe 
 
GODLY-MAN. 285 
 
 doTvn, or to tumble out of their way, what difficulties they 
 shall meet with, by faith. (Mark xi. 23, 24.) Then said Mr. 
 Greatheart, '^I know him; he is a man above many." 
 
 Then they had them to another place, called Mount Inno- 
 cent; aud there they saw a man clothed all in white, and two 
 men, Prejudice and Ill-will continually casting dirt upon him. 
 Now, behold, the dirt, whatsoever they cast at him, would in 
 a little time fall off again, and his garments would look as 
 clear as if no dirt had been cast thereat. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims, " What means this ? " The Shepherds 
 answered, ''This man is named Godly-man, and this garment 
 is to show the innocence of his life. Now those that throw 
 dirt at him are such as hate his well-doing; but, as you see, 
 the dirt will uot stick upon his clothes, so it shall be with 
 him that liveth truly innocently in the world. Whoever they 
 be that would make such men dirty, they labour all in vain; 
 for God, by that a little time is spent, will cause that their 
 innocence shall break forth as the light, and their righteous- 
 ness as the noon-day. 
 
 Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, 
 where they showed them a man that had a bundle of cloth 
 lying before him, out of which he cut coats and garments for 
 tlie poor that stood about him; yet his bundle or roll of cloth 
 was never the less. 
 
 Then said they, "What should this be ? " " This is," said 
 the Shepherds. " to show you, that he that has a heart to give 
 of his labour to the poor shall never want wherewithal. He 
 that watereth shall be watered himself. And the cake that 
 the Avidow gave to the prophet did not cause that she had 
 ever the less in her barrel." 
 
 They had them also to a place where they saw one Fool, 
 and one Want-wit, washing of an Ethiopian, with intention 
 to make him Avhitc ; but the more they v/ashed him, the blacker 
 he was. They then asked the Shepherds what that should 
 mean. So they told them, saying, "Thus shall it be with the 
 
286 MERCY DESIRES THE LOOKING-GLASS. 
 
 vile person. All means used to get such a one a good name 
 shall, in conclusion, tend but to make him more abominable. 
 Thus it was with the Pharisees, and so shall it be with all 
 hypocrites.'^ 
 
 Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana, her 
 mother, "Mother, I would, if it might be, see the hole in the 
 hill, or that commonly called the by-way to hell." So her 
 mother brake her mind to the Shepherds. Then they went to 
 the door. It was in the side of the hill, and they opened it, 
 and bid Mercy hearken awhile. So she hearkened, and heard 
 one saying, "Cursed be my father, for holding of my feet 
 back from the way of peace and life ; " and another said, "Oh 
 that I had been torn in pieces, before I had, to save my life, 
 lost my soul!" and another said, "If I were to live again, 
 how would I deny myself, rather than come to this place ! " 
 Then there was as if the very earth bad groaned and quaked 
 under the feet of this young woman for fear. So she looked 
 white, and came trembling away, saying, " Blessed be he and 
 she that are delivered from this place." 
 
 Now when the Shepherds had shown them all these things, 
 then they had them back to the palace, and entertained them 
 with what the house would afford. But Mercy, being a young 
 and breeding woman, longed for something that she saw there, 
 but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her 
 what she ailed ; for she looked as one not well. Then said 
 Mercy, "There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining- 
 room, off which I cannot take my mind ; if, therefore, I have 
 it not, I think I shall miscarry." Then said her mother, "I 
 will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will not 
 deny it thee." But she said, "I am ashamed that these men 
 should know that I longed." "Nay, my daughter," said she, 
 "it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a thing as 
 that." So Mercy said, "Then, mother, if you please, ask the 
 Shepherds if they are willing to sell it." 
 
 Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a 
 
THE SHEPHERDS GIVE IT HER. 287 
 
 man, one way, with his own features exactly (James i. 23), 
 and turn it but another way, and it would show one the very 
 face and similitade of the Prince of Pilgrims himself. (1 Cor. 
 xiii. 12.) Yea, I have talked with them that can tell, and 
 they have said that they have seen the very crown of thorns 
 upon his head, by looking in that glass; they have theiiein 
 also seen the holes in his hands, in his feet, and in his side. 
 (2 Cor. iii. 13.) Yea, such an excellency is there in that glass, 
 that it will show him to one where they have a mind to see 
 him; whether living or dead; whether in earth or heaven; 
 whether in a state of humiliation, or in his exaltation ; 
 whether coming to suffer, or coming to reign. 
 
 Christiana, therefore, went to the Shepherds apart — now- the 
 names of the Shepherds are Knowledge, Experience, Watch- 
 ful, and Sincere — and said unto them, ''There is one of my 
 daughters, a breeding woman, that I think doth long for 
 eomething that she hath seen in this house; and she thinks 
 she shall miscarry, if she shall by you be denied." 
 
 Experience. Call her, call her; she shall assuredly have 
 what we can help her to. So they called her, and said to her, 
 ** Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldst have ? " Then she 
 blushed, and said, "The great glass that hangs up in thedin- 
 ing-roo|Q." So Sincere ran and fetched it, and, with a joyful 
 consent, it was given her. Then she bowed her head, and 
 gave thanks, and said, *'By this I know that I have obtained 
 favour in your eyes." 
 
 They also gave to the other young women such things as 
 they desired, and to their husbands great commendations, for 
 that they had joined with Mr. Greatheart, to the slaying of 
 Giant Despair, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. 
 
 About Christiana's neck the Shepherds put a bracelet, and so 
 they did about the necks of her four daughters; also they put 
 car-rings in tlieir ears, and jewels on their foreheads. 
 
 When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in 
 peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions which be- 
 
288 TURN-AWAY. 
 
 fore were given to Christian and his companion. The reason 
 was lor that these had Greatheart to be their guide, who was 
 one that was well acquainted with things, and so could give 
 them their cautions more seasonably ; to wit, even then when 
 the danger was nigh the approaching. 
 
 What cautions Christian and his companion had received of 
 the Shepherds, they had also lost, by that the time was come 
 that they had need to put them in practice. Wherefore, here 
 was the advantage that this company had over the other. 
 
 From hence they went on singing, and they said, — 
 
 *' Behold, how fitly are the stages set 
 For their relief that pilgrims are become ! 
 And how they us receive without one let, 
 That make the other life our mark and home ! 
 
 ^ 
 
 ** What novelties they have to us they give. 
 
 That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live ; 
 They do upon us, too, such things bestow. 
 That show we pilgrims are, where'er we go." 
 
 When they were gone from the Shepherds, they quickly 
 came to the place where Christian met with one Turn-away, 
 that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. Wherefore, of him Mr. 
 Greatheart, their guide, did now put them in mind^ saying, 
 " This is the place where Christian met with one Turn-away, 
 who carried with him the character of his rebellion at his 
 back. And this I have to say concerning this man: he would 
 hearken to no counsel, but, once a-falling, persuasion could 
 not stop him. 
 
 '' When he came to the place where the Cross and the Sep- 
 ulchre were, he did meet with one that bid him look there; 
 but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and said he was 
 resolved to go back to his own town. Before he came to the 
 gate, he met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on 
 him, to turn him into the way again. But this Turn-away re- 
 sisted him, and having done much despite unto him, ho 
 
HEEDLESS AND TOO BOLD. 
 (Asleep in the ar2)or. )--Page 297. 
 
VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH. 289 
 
 got away over the wall, and so escaped his hand." (Heb. x. 
 26-29.) 
 
 Then they went on; and just at the place where Little-faith 
 formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his sword drawn, 
 and his face all bloody. Then said Mr. Greatheart, ''What 
 art thou ? " The man made answer, saying, " I am one whose 
 name is Valiant-for-truth I am a pilgrim, and am going to 
 the Celestial City. Now as I was in my way, there were 
 three men did beset me, and propounded unto me these three 
 things: 1. .Whether I would become one of them. 2. Or go 
 back from whence I came. 3. Or die upon the place. To 
 the first, I answered, I had been a true man a long season, and 
 therefore it could not be expected that I now should cast in 
 my lot with thieves. (Prov. i. 10-14.) Then they demanded 
 what I would say to the second. So I told them that the 
 place from whence I came, had I not found incommoflity 
 there, I had not forsaken it at all; but finding it altogether 
 unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it 
 for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third. 
 And I told them, My life cost more dear far, than that I 
 should lightly give it away. Besides, you have nothing to do 
 thus to put things to my choice; wherefore at your peril be it, 
 if you meddle. Then these three, to wit. Wild-head, Incon- 
 siderate, and Pragmatic, drew upon me, and I also drew upon 
 them. 
 
 " So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above 
 three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the 
 marks of their valour, and have also carried away with them 
 some of mine. They are but just now gone. I suppose they 
 might, as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they be- 
 took them to flight." 
 
 Greatheart. But here was great odds, three against one. 
 
 • Valiant. It is true ; but little or more are nothing to him 
 
 that has the truth on his side. " Though an host should en- 
 
 camp against me," said one, " my heart shall not fear; though 
 
 r. p.— io. 
 
290 VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH'S SWORD. 
 
 war should rise against me, in this will I be confident." (Psh. 
 xxvii. 3.) Besides, saith he, I have read in some records, that 
 one man has fought an army. And how many did Samson 
 slay with the jaw-bone of an ass! (Judges xv. 15, 16.) 
 
 Then said the guide, "Why did you not cry ont, that some 
 might have come in for your succour ? " 
 
 Valiant. Sol did, to my King, who, I knew, coold hear, 
 and afford invisible help, and that was sufficient for me. 
 
 Then said Greatheart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, "Thou hast 
 worthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy sword." So he 
 showed it to him. When he had taken it in his hand, and 
 looked thereon a while, he said, " Hal It is a right Jerusalem 
 blade." (Isa. ii. 3.) 
 
 "Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, 
 with a hand to yield it and skill to use it, and he may venture 
 upon an angel with it. He need not fear its holding, if he 
 can but tell how to lay on. Its edges will never blunt. It 
 will cut flesh and bones, and soul and spirit, and all. (Eph. 
 vi. 12-17; Heb. iv. 12.) 
 
 GreatheaPvT. But you fought a great while. I wonder you 
 was not weary. 
 
 Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand ; 
 and when they were joined together, as if a sword grew out 
 of my arm, and when the blood ran through my fingers, then 
 I fought with most courage. (2 Sam. xxiii. 10.) 
 
 Greatheakt. Thou hast done well. Thou hast "resisted 
 unto blood, striving against sin." Thou shalt abide by us, 
 come in and go out with us, for we are thy companions. 
 
 Then they took him, and washed his wounds, and gave him 
 of what they had to refresh him; and so they went on togeth- 
 er. Now, as they went on, because Mr. Greatheart was de- 
 lighted in him, for he loved one greatly that he found to be 
 a man of his hands, and because there were with his company 
 them that were feeble and weak, therefore he questioned with 
 him about many things ; as, first, what countryman he was. 
 
VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH'S HISTORY. 291 
 
 Valiant. T am of Dark-land ; for there I was born, and 
 there my father and mother are still. 
 
 " Dark-Umd," said the guide ; '' doth not that lie upon the 
 same coast with the City of Destruction ? " 
 
 Valiant. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me to come 
 on pilgrimnge was this: we had one Mr. Tell-true came into 
 our parts, and he told it about what Christian had done, that 
 went from the City of Destruction ; namely, how he had for- 
 saken his wife and children, and had betaken himself tea pil- 
 grim's life. It was also confidently reported how he had kill- 
 ed a serpent that did come out to resist him in his journey, and 
 how he got through to whither he intended. It was also told 
 what welcome he had at all his Lord's lodgings, especially 
 when he came to the gates of the Celestial City ; '*for there," 
 said the man, "he was received, with sound of trumpet, by a 
 company of Shining Ones." He told it also, how all the bells 
 in the city did ring for joy at his reception, and what golden 
 garments he was clothed with, with many other things that 
 now I shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the 
 story of Christian and his travels, that my heart fell into a 
 burning haste to be gone after him ; nor could father or mother 
 stay me ! So I got from them, and am come thus far on my 
 way. 
 
 GiiEATHEART. You Came in at the gate, did you not ? 
 
 Valiant. Yes, yes; for the same man also told us that all 
 would be nothing, if we did not begin to enter this way at 
 the gate. 
 
 *'Look you," said the guide to Christiana, " the pilgrim- 
 age of your husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is 
 spread abroad far and near." 
 
 Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife ? 
 
 Greatheakt. Yes, that it is ; and these are also her four • 
 sons. 
 
 Valiant. What! and going on pilgrimage too ? 
 
 Greatheakt. Yes, verily ; they are following after. 
 
292 GREAT STUMBLING-BLOCKS. 
 
 Valiant. It gladdens me at heart. Good man! liow joyful 
 will he be when he shall see them that would not go with 
 him, yet to enter after him in at the gates into the city. 
 
 Gkeatheart. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; 
 for, next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy 
 to meet there his wife and children. 
 
 Yaliant. But, now you are upon that, pray let me hear 
 your opinion about it. Some make a question, whether we 
 shall know one another when we are there. 
 
 Greatheart. Do they think they shall know themselves 
 then, or tliat they shall rejoice to see themselves in that bliss ? 
 And if they think they shall know and do these, why not 
 know others, and rejoice in their welfare also ? 
 
 Again, since relations r.re our second self, though that state 
 will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally con- 
 cluded that we shall be more glad to see them there than to 
 see they are wanting ? 
 
 Yaliant. Weil, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. 
 Have you any rnore things to ask me about my beginning to 
 come on pilgrimage ? 
 
 Greatheart. Yes. Was your father and mother willing 
 that you should become a pilgrim ? 
 
 Yaliant. Oh no I They used all means imaginable to per- 
 suade me to stay at home. 
 
 Greatheart. Why, what could they say against it ? 
 
 Yaliant. They said it wao an idle life ; and if I myself were 
 not inclined to sloth and laziness, I would never countenance 
 a pilgrim's condition. 
 
 Greatheart. And what did they say else ? 
 
 Yaliant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way; 
 yea, "the most dangerous way in the world," said they, "is 
 .that which the pilgrims go." 
 
 Greatheart. Did they show wherein this way is so dan- 
 gerous ? 
 
 Yaliant. Yes; and that in many particulars. 
 
STUMBLIM G-BLOCKS. 293 
 
 Greatheart. Name some of tliem. 
 
 Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Despond, where 
 Christian was well-uigh smothered. They told me that there 
 were archers standing ready in Beelzebub's Castle, to shoot 
 them that should knock at the wicket-gate for entrance. They 
 told me also of the wood, and dark mountains; of the Hill 
 Difficulty; of the lions; and also of the three giants, Bloody- 
 man, Maul, and Slay-good. They said, moreover, that there 
 was a foul fiend haunted the Valley of Humiliation, and that 
 Christian was by him almost bereft of life. "Besides," said 
 they, *' you must go over the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 where the hobgoblins are; where the light is darkness; where 
 the way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins." They told 
 me also of Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin 
 that the pilgrims met with there. Further, they said I must 
 go over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous. And 
 that, after all this, I should find a river, over which I should 
 find no bridge, and that that river did lie betwixt me and the 
 Celestial Country. 
 
 Greatkeart. And was this all ? 
 
 Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full of 
 deceivers, and of persons that laid in wait there, to turn good 
 men out of the path. 
 
 Greatheart. But how did they make that out ? 
 
 Valiant. They told me that Mr. Worldly Wiseman did 
 there lie in wait to deceive. They also said that there was 
 Formality and Hypocrisy continually on the road. They said, 
 also, that By-ends, Talkative, or Demas would go near to 
 gather me up; that the Flatterer would catch me in his net; 
 or that with green-headed Ignorance I would presume to go 
 on to the gate, from whence he always was sent back to the 
 hole that was in the side of the hill, and made to go the by- 
 way to hell. 
 
 Greatheart. I promise you this was enough to discourage ; 
 but did they make an end here ? 
 
294 VICTORY OVER THE STUMBLING-BLOCKS. 
 
 Valiant Ko ; stay. They told me also of many that had 
 tried that way of old, and that had gone a greit way therein, 
 to see if they could find something of the glory there that so 
 many had so much talked of from time to time ; and how they 
 came back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot 
 out of doors in that path, to the satisfaction of all the country. 
 
 And they named several that did so ; as Obstinate and Pli- 
 able, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with 
 several more, who, they said, had some of them gone far, to 
 see if they could find ; .but not one of them found so much ad- 
 vantage by going as amounted to the weight of a feather. 
 
 Greatheart. Said they anything more to disconrage you ? 
 
 Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr. Fearing, wlio 
 was a pilgrim ; and how he found his way so solitary that he 
 never had a comfortable hour therein. Also, that Mr. De- 
 spondency had liked to have been starved therein ; yea, and 
 also, which I had almost forgot, that Christian himself, about 
 whom there has been such a noise, after all his ventures for a 
 celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, 
 and never went foot further; however, it was smothered up. 
 
 Greatheart. And did none of these things discourage 
 you ? 
 
 Valiant. No ; they seemed but as so many nothings to me. 
 
 Greatheart. How came that about ? 
 
 Valiant. Why, I still believed what Tell-true had said, 
 and that carried me beyond them ail. 
 
 Greatheart. Then this was your victory, even your faith. 
 
 Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, 
 got into the way, fought all that set themselves against me, 
 and, by believing, am come to this place. 
 
 ** Who would true valour see ? 
 
 Let him come hither ; 
 One here will constant be, 
 
 Come wind, come weather. 
 There's no discouragement 
 
ENCHANTED GROUND. 295 
 
 Shall make liim once relent 
 His first avow'd intent 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 " Who so beset him round 
 
 With dismal stories. 
 Do but themselves confound — 
 
 His strength the more is ; 
 No lion can him fright, 
 He'll with a giant fight ; 
 But he will have a right 
 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 ** Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 
 
 Can daunt his spirit ; 
 He knows he at the end 
 
 Shall life inherit. 
 Then fancies fiy away. 
 He'll fear not wliat men say : 
 He'll labour night and day 
 
 To be a pilgrim." 
 
 By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where 
 the air naturally tended to make one drowsy; and that place 
 was grown over with briers and thorns, excepting here and 
 there, where was an enchanted arbour, upon which if a man 
 sits, or in which if a man sleeps, it is a question, say some, 
 whether he ever shall rise or wake again in this world. Over 
 this forest, therefore, they went, both one with another, and 
 Mr. Greatheart went before, for that he was the guide; and 
 Mr. Valiant-for-truth, he came behind, being there a guard, 
 for fear lest peradventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or 
 thief, should fall upon their rear, and so do mischief. They 
 went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand, 
 for they knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered 
 up one another as well as they could ; Feeble-mind, Mr. Great- 
 heart commanded, should come up after him, and Mr. De- 
 spondenoy was under the eye of Mr. Valiant. 
 
 Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and a darkness 
 fell upon them all, so that they could scarce, for a great while, 
 
296 A DIFFICULT WAY. 
 
 see the one the other; wherefore they were forced, for some 
 time, to feel for one another by words ; for they walked not 
 by sight. 
 
 But any one must think that here was but sorry going for 
 the best of them all ; but how much worse for the women and 
 children, who both of feet and heart were but tender. Yet 
 so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that led 
 in the front, and of him that brought them up behind, they 
 made a pretty good shift to wag along, 
 
 * The way also was here very wearisome, through dirt and 
 slabbiness. Nor was there on all this ground so much as one 
 inn, or victualling-house, therein to refresh the feebler sort. 
 Here, therefore, was grunting, and puffing, and sighing. 
 While one tumblcth over a bush, another sticks fast in the 
 dirt; and the children, some of them, lost their shoes in the 
 mire. While one cries out, I am down; and another. Ho! 
 where are you ? and a third. The bushes have got such fast 
 hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them. 
 
 Then they come at an arbour, warm, and promising much 
 refreshing to the pilgrims; for it was finely wrought above 
 head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches and 
 settles. It also had in it a soft couch, whereon the weary 
 might lean. This, you must think, all things considered, was 
 tempting ; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled with the 
 badness of the way; but there was not one of them that made 
 so much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could 
 perceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice of 
 their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, and 
 of the nature of dangers when they were at them, that usually, 
 when they were nearest to them, they did most pluck up their 
 spirits, and hearten one another to deny the flesh. This 
 arbour was called The Slothful's Friend, on purpose to allure, 
 if it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their 
 rest when weary. 
 
 I saw then in my dream, that they went on in this their 
 
HEEDLESS AND TOO-BOLD ASLEEP. 297 
 
 solitary ground, till they came to a place at which a man is 
 apt to lose his way. Now, though when it was light, their 
 guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that 
 led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand ; but he had 
 in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the Celes- 
 tial City : wherefore he struck a light, for he never goes, also, 
 without his tinder-box, and takes a view of his book or map, 
 which bids him be careful, in that place, to turn to the right- 
 hand way. And had he not here been careful to look in his 
 map, they had all, in probability, been smothered in the mud ; 
 for just a little before them, and that at the end of the 
 cleanest way, too, was a pit, none knows how deep, full of 
 nothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the pil- 
 grims in. 
 
 Then thought I with myself, who that goeth on pilgrimage, > 
 but would have one of these maps about him, that he may\ 
 look, when he is at a stand, which is the way he must take, s 
 
 They went on, then, in this Enchanted Ground, till theyr 
 came to where there was another arbour, and it was built by 
 the highway-side. And in that arbour there lay two men, 
 whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went 
 thus far on pilgrimage; but here, being wearied with their 
 journey, they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast 
 asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and 
 shook their heads: for they knew that the sleepers were in a 
 pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to go 
 on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them, and try 
 to awake them. So they concluded to go to them, and awake 
 them; that is, if they could; but with this caution, namely, 
 to take heed that themselves did not sit down nor embrace the 
 offered benefit of that arbour. 
 
 So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each by 
 his name, for the guide, it seems, did know them; but there 
 was no voice nor answer. Then the guide did shake them, 
 and do what he could to disturb them. Then said one of 
 
298 THE WORD OF GOD. 
 
 them, "I will pay you when I take my money.*' At which 
 the guide shook his head. ^'I will fight so long as lean hold 
 my sword in my hand, " said the other. At that one of the 
 children laughed. 
 
 Then said Christiana, ''What is the meaning of this?" 
 The guide said, ''They talk in their sleep. If you strike 
 them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, they will 
 answer you after this fashion ; or, as one of them said in old 
 time, when the waves of the sea did beat upon him, and he 
 slept as one upon th6 mast of a ship, ' When shall I awake ? 
 I will seek it yet again.' (Prov. xxiii. 34, 35.) You know, 
 when men talk in their sleep, they say anything, but their 
 words are not governed either by faith or reason. There is an 
 incoherency in their words now, as there was before, betwixt 
 their going on pilgrimage and sitting down here. This, then, 
 is the mischief of it: when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, it 
 is twenty to one that they are served thus ; for this Enchanted 
 Ground is one of the last refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has. 
 Wherefore it is, as you see, placed almost at the end of the 
 way, and so it standeth against us with the more advantage. 
 For when, thinks the enemy, will these fools be so desirous 
 to sit down, as when they are weary ? and when so like to be 
 weary, as when almost at their journey's end ? Therefore it 
 is, I say, that the Enchanted Ground is placed so nigh to the 
 Land Beulah, and so near the end of their race. Wherefore, 
 let pilgrims look to themselves, lest it happen to them as it 
 has done to these, that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none 
 can wake them." 
 
 Then the pilgrims desired, with trembling, to go forward ; 
 only they prayed their guide to strike a light, that they might 
 go the rest of they way by the help of the light of a lantern. 
 So he struck a light, and they went by the help of that 
 through the rest of this way, though the darkness was very 
 great. (2 Pet. i. 19.) 
 
 But lihe children began to be sorely weary ; and they cried 
 
STAND-FAST AND HONEST. 299 
 
 out unto Him tbat loveth pilgrims, to make their way more 
 comfortable. So by that they had gone a little further, a v/iiid 
 arose, that drove away the fog; so the air became more clear. 
 
 Yet they were not oil, by much, of the Enchanted Ground, 
 only now they could see one another better, and the way 
 wherein they should walk. 
 
 Now, when they were almost at the end of this ground, 
 they perceived that, a little before them, was a solemn noise 
 of one that was much concerned, so they went on and looked 
 before them, and behold, they saw, as they thought, a man 
 upon his knees, with hands and eyes lift up, and speaking, 
 as they thought, earnestly to One that was above. They drew 
 nigh, but could not tell what he said. So they went softly 
 till he bad done. 
 
 When he had done, he got up and began to run towards the 
 Celestial City. Then Mr. Greatheart called after him, saying, 
 ''Soho! friend, let us have your company, if you go, as I sup- 
 pose you do, to the Celestial City." So the man stopped, and 
 they came up to him. But so soon as Mr. Honest saw him, 
 he said, ''I know this man." Then said Mr. Yaliant-for- 
 truth, *' Prithee, who is it?" "It is one," said he "that 
 comes from whereabouts I dwelt. His name is Stand-fast ; 
 he is certainly a right good pilgrim." 
 
 So they came up one to another; and presently Stand-fast 
 said to old Honest, "Ho! father Honest, are you there?" 
 "Ay," said he, "that I am, as sure as you are there." 
 "Right glad am I," said Mr. Stand-fast, "that I have found 
 you on this road." "And as glad am I," said the other, 
 "that I espied you upon your knees." Then Mr. Standfast 
 blushed, and said, " But wliy, did you see me ?" "Yes, that 
 I did," quoth the other, "and with my heart was glad at the 
 sight." "Why, what did you think?" said Stand-fast. 
 "Think!" said old Honest, "what should I think ? I thought 
 we had an honest man upon the road, and therefore should 
 have his company by and by." "If you thought not amiss 
 
300 WHY STAND-FAST WAS AT PRAYER. 
 
 [said Stand-fast] bow happy am I; but if I be not as I should, 
 I alone must bear it.-' '" That is true," said the other; *^but 
 your fear doth further confirm me, tliat things arc right be- 
 twixt the Prince of pilgrims and your soul; for he saitb, 
 * Blessed is the man that feareth always.' " 
 
 Valiant. Well ; but, brother, I pray thee tell us what was 
 it that was the cause of thy being upon thy knees even now ? 
 Was it for that some special mercy laid obligations upon thee, 
 or how ? 
 
 Strand-fast. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted 
 Ground ; and as I was coming along, I was musing with my- 
 self of what a dangerous road the road in this place was, and 
 how many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage had 
 here been stopped and been destroyed. . I thought also of the 
 manner of the death with which this place destroyeth men. 
 Those that die here die of no violent distemper. The death 
 which such die is not grievous to them; for he that goeth 
 away in a sleep begins that journey with desire and pleasure; 
 yea, such acquiesce in the will of that disease. 
 
 Then Mr. Honest, interrupting him, said, * ' Did you see the 
 two men asleep in the arbour ? " 
 
 Stand-fast. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too bold there; 
 and, for aught I know, there they will lie till they rot. (Prov. 
 X. 7.) But let me go on in my tale. As I was thus musing, 
 as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, that 
 presented herself unto me, and offered me three things ; to 
 wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. JS^ow, the truth is, I 
 was both a-weary and sleepy ; I am also as poor as an owlet, 
 and that, perhaps, the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once 
 and twice, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. Then I 
 began to be angry; but she mattered that nothing at all. 
 Then she made offers again, and said, if I would be ruled by 
 her, she would make me great and happy; for, said she, ''I 
 am the mistress of the wofld, and men are made happy by 
 me." Then I asked her name, and she told me it was Madam 
 
THE WORLD. 801 
 
 Bubbl e^ This set me further from her: but she still followed 
 me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to my 
 knees; and with hands lift up, and cries, I prayed to Him 
 that had said he would help. So, just as you came up, the 
 gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued to give thanks 
 for this, my great deliverance; fori verily believe she intend- 
 ed no good, but rather thought to make stop of me in my 
 journey. 
 
 Hon. Without doubt her designs were bad. But stay, now 
 you talk of her, methinks I either have seen her, or have read 
 some story of her. 
 
 Stand-fast. Perhaps you have done both. 
 
 Hon. Madam Bubble ! is she not a tall, comely dame, some- 
 thing of a swarthy complexion ? 
 
 Stand-fast. Right, you Iiit it, she is just such a one. 
 
 Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a 
 smile at the end of a sentence ? 
 
 Stand-fast. You fall right upon it again, for these are her 
 very actions. 
 
 Hon. Dotli she not wear a great purse by her side ; and is 
 not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if that was 
 her heart's delight ? 
 
 Stand-fast. It is just so ; had she stood by all this while, 
 you could not more amply have set her forth before me, nor 
 have better described her features. 
 
 Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and 
 he that wrote of her said true. 
 
 Greatheart. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue 
 of her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Whoever doth 
 lay their head down in her lap had as good lay it down upon 
 that block over which the axe doth hang; and whoever lay 
 their eyes upon her beauty arc counted the enemies of God. 
 (James iv. 4; 1 John ii. 15.) This is she that maintaineth in 
 lier splendour all those that are the enemies of pilgrims. Yea, 
 this is she that hath bought off many a man from a pilgrim's 
 
 \/ 
 
303 MADAM BUBBLE. 
 
 life. She is a great gossiper; she is always, both she and her 
 daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another, now commending 
 and then preferring the excellencies of this life. She is a bold 
 and impudent slut ; she will talk with any man. She always 
 laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the 
 rich. If there be one cunning to get money in a place, she 
 will speak well of him from house to house. She loveth ban- 
 queting and feasting mainly well; she is always at one full 
 table or another. She has given it out in some places that she 
 is a goddess, and therefore some do worship her. She hasher 
 times and open places of cheating; and she will say and avow 
 it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. She prom* 
 iseth to dwell with children's children, if they will but love 
 and make much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold 
 like dust, in some places, and to some persons. She loves to 
 be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie in the bosoms of 
 men. She is never weary of comaiendiiig her commodities, 
 and she loves them most that think best of her. She trill 
 promise to some crowns and kingdoms, if they will but take 
 her advice ; yet many hath she brought to the halter, and ten 
 thousand times more to hell. 
 
 '^ Oil," said Stand-fast, "what a mercy it is that I did re- 
 sist ! for whither might she have drawn me ! " 
 
 Greatheart. Whither ? nay, none but God knov»^s whither. 
 But in general, to be sure, she would have drawn thee into 
 "many foolish and hurtfnl lusts, which drown men in de- 
 struction and perdition." (1 Tim. vi. 9.) 
 
 It was she that set Absalom against his father, and Jero- 
 boam against his master. It was she that persuaded Judas to 
 sell his Lord, and that prevailed with Demas to forsake the 
 godly pilgrims' life: none can tell of the mischief that she 
 doth. She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects, be- 
 twixt parents and children, betwixt neighbour and neigh- 
 bour, betwixt a man and his wife, betwixt a man and himself, 
 betwixt the flesh and the heart. Wherefore, good Master 
 
THE LAND OF BEULAH. 303 
 
 Stand-fast, be as your name is, and *^ When you have done 
 all. Stand." 
 
 At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a mixture 
 of joy and trembling; but at length, they brake out, and 
 
 ** What danger is the pilgrim in ! 
 How many are his foes ! 
 How many ways there are to sin 
 No living mortal knows. 
 
 ** Some of the ditch shy are, yet can 
 Lie tumbling in the mire ; 
 Some, though they shun the frying-pan, 
 Do leap into the fire." 
 
 After this, I beheld until they were come unto the Land of 
 Beulah, where the sunshineth night and day. Here,J)ecause 
 they were weary, they betook themselves a while to rest; and 
 because this country was common for pilgrims, and because 
 the orchards and vineyards that were here belonged to the 
 King of the Celestial Country, therefore they were licensed to 
 moke bold with any of his things. 
 
 But a little while soon refreshed them here; for the bells did 
 so ring, and the trumpets continually sound so melodiously, 
 that they could not sleep; and yet they received as much re- 
 freshing as if they had slept their sleep ever so soundly. Here 
 also all the noise of them that walked in the streets was, 
 ''More pilgrims are come to town." And another would an- 
 swer, saying, *' And so many went over the water, and were 
 let in at the golden gates to-day." They would cry again, 
 *' There is now a legion of Shining Ones just come to town, by 
 which 'vve know that there are more pilgrims upon the road ; 
 for here .hey come to wait for them, and to comfort them af- 
 ter all their sorrow." Then the pilgrims got up, and walked 
 to and fro; but how were their ears filled vnth heavenly 
 noises, and their eyes delighted with celestial visions I In this 
 
304 PREPARATION FOR DEATH. 
 
 land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelled 
 nothing, tasted nothing, that was offensive to their stomach 
 or mind; only when they tasted of the water of the river 
 over which they were to to go, they thought that tasted a lit- 
 tle bitterish to the palate, but it proved sweeter when it was 
 down. 
 
 In this place there was a record kept of the names of them 
 that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all the famous 
 acts that they had done. It was here also much discoursed, 
 how the river to some had had its Rowings, and what ebbings 
 it has had while others have gone over. It has been in a man- 
 ner dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for 
 others. 
 
 In this place the children of the town would ^o into the 
 King's gardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and 
 bring them to them with much affection. Here also grew 
 camphire, with spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, 
 with all its trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all 
 chief spices. With these the pilgrims' chambers were per- 
 fumed while they stayed here; and with these were their 
 bodies annointed, to prepare them to go over the river when 
 the time appointed was come. 
 
 Now while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, 
 there was a noige in the town that there was a post come from 
 the Celestial City, with matter of great importance to one 
 Christiana, the wife of Christian the Pilgrim. So inquiry was 
 made for her, and the house was found out where she was; 
 so the post presented her with a letter, the contents whereof 
 were, " Hail, good woman! I bring the tidings that the Mas- 
 ter calleth for thee, and expect eth that thou should st stand in 
 his presence, in clothes of immortality, within these ten 
 days." 
 
 When he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith 
 a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come to 
 bid her make haste to be gone. The token was an arrow with 
 
PARTING PRESENTS. 305 
 
 a point sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, which 
 by degrees wrought so effectually with her, that at the time 
 appointed she must be gone. 
 
 When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she 
 was the first of this company that wiis to go over, she called 
 for Mr. Greatheart, her guide, and told him how matters 
 were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the news, and 
 could have been glad had the post come for him. Then she 
 bid that he should give advice how all things should be pre- 
 pared for her journey. So he told her, saying, "Thus and 
 thus must it be; and we that survive will accompany you to 
 the river side." 
 
 Then she called for her children, and gave them her bless- 
 ing, and told them that she yet read with comfort the 
 mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to see them 
 with her there, and that they had kept their garments so 
 white. Lastly, she bequeathed to the poor that little she had, 
 and commanded her sons and her daughters to be ready 
 against the messenger should come for them. 
 
 When she had spoken these words to her guide and to her 
 children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said unto 
 him, "' Sir, you have in all places shawed yourself true-heart- 
 ed; 'be faithful unto death,' and my King will give you 'a 
 crown of life.' I would also entreat you to have an eye to 
 my children; and if at anytime you see them faint, speak 
 comfortably to them. For my daughters, my sons' wives, 
 they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the promise upon 
 them will be their end." But she gave Mr. Stand-fast a ring. 
 
 Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, ' ' Be- 
 hold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." Then said 
 he, *' I wish youa fair day when you set out for Mount Zion, 
 and shall be glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod." 
 But she answered, *'Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone; 
 for, however the weather is in my journey, I shall have time 
 enough when I come there to sit down and rest me and 
 dry me." 
 
806 CHRISTIANA'S LAST WORDS. 
 
 Then came in that good man, Mr. Ready-to-halt, to see her. 
 So she said to him, " Thy travel hither has been with diffi- 
 culty ; but that will make thy rest the sweeter. But watch 
 and be ready ; for at an hour when you think not, the mes- 
 senger may come." 
 
 After him came in Mr. Despondency, and his daughter 
 Much-afraid, to whom she said, "You ought with thankful- 
 ness for ever to remember your deliverance from the hands of 
 Giant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of 
 that mercy is, that you are brought with safety hither. Be ye 
 watchful, and cast away fear ; ' be sober, and hope to the 
 end.'" 
 
 Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, "Thou wast delivered 
 from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in 
 the light of the living forever, and see thy King with com- 
 fort ; only I advise thee to repent thee of thine aptness to fear 
 and doubt of his goodness, before he sends for thee ; lest thou 
 shouldest, when he comes, be forced to stand before him, for 
 that fault, with blushing." 
 
 Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So 
 the road was full of people to see her take her journey. But 
 behold, all the banks bayond the river were full of horses 
 and chariots, which were come down from above to accom- 
 pany her to the city gate. So she came forth, and entered 
 the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her 
 to the river side. The last words that she was heard to say 
 here were, "I come, Lord, to be with thee, and bless thee." 
 
 So her children and friends returned to their place, for that 
 those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their 
 sight. So she went and called, and entered in at the gate with , 
 all the ceremonies of joy that her husband, Christian, had 
 done before her. 
 
 At her departure, her children wept; but Mr. Greatheart 
 and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp 
 for joy. So all departed to their respective places. 
 
KEADY-TO-HALT SUMMONED. 307 
 
 In process of time, there came a post to the town again, and 
 his business was with Mr. Ready- to-h alt. So he inquired him 
 out, and said to him, ' ' I am come to thee in the name of Him 
 whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches ; 
 and my message is to tell thee that he expects thee at Instable 
 to sup with him, in his kingdom, the next day after Easter; 
 wherefore, prepare thyself for this journey." 
 
 Then he also gave him a token that he was a true messenger, 
 saying, "I have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy 
 silver cord." (Eccles. xii. 6.) 
 
 After this, Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, 
 and told them, saying, '*Iam sent for, and God shall surely 
 visit you also." So he desired Mr. Valiant to make his will; 
 and because he had nothing to bequeath to them that should 
 survive liim but his cratches and his good wishes, therefore 
 thus he said : "These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall 
 tread in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may 
 prove better than I have done." 
 
 Then he thanked Mr. Greatheart for his conduct and kind- 
 ness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came 
 at the brink of the river, he said, "Now I shall have no more 
 need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses 
 for me to ride on." The last words he was heard to say were, 
 " Welcome life ! " So he went his way. 
 
 After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him, that 
 the post sounded his horn at his chamber door. Then he 
 came in, and told him, saying, " I am come to tell thee that 
 thy Master hath need of thee; and that, in a very little time, 
 thou must behold his face in brightness. And take this as a 
 ^oken of the truth of my message; 'Those that look out of 
 the windows shall be darkened.' " (Eccles. xii. 3.) 
 
 Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told them 
 what errand had been brought unto him, and what token he 
 had received of the truth of the message. Then he said, 
 " Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose 
 
308 MR. DESPONDENCY SENT FOR. 
 
 should I make a will ? As for mv feeble mind, that I will 
 leave behind me, for that I have no need of that in the place 
 whither I go ; nor is it worth bestowing upon the poorest 
 pilgrim ; wherefore, when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr. 
 Valiant, would bury it in a dunghill." This done, and the 
 day being come in which he was to depart, he entered the 
 river as the rest. His last words were, *' Hold out, faith and 
 patience." So he went over to the other side. 
 
 When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despon- 
 dency was sent for; for a post was come, arud brought this 
 message to him: '* Trembling man, these are to summon thee 
 to be ready with thy King by the next Lord's-da}^, to sliout 
 for joy for thy deliverance from all thy doubtings." *' And," 
 said the messenger, ** that my message is true, take this for a 
 proof: " so lie gave him the grasshopper to be a burden unto 
 him. (Eccles. xii. 5.) Now Mr. Despondency's daughter, 
 whose name was Mu<'*h-afraid, said, when she heard what was 
 done, that she would go with her father. Then Mr. Despon- 
 dency said to his friends, *' Myself and my daughter, you 
 know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have be- 
 haved ourselves in every company. My will and my daugh- 
 ter's is that our desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever 
 received, from the day of our departure, for ever; for I know 
 that after my death they will offer themselves to others. For, 
 to be plain with ^ou, they are ghosts the which we entertained 
 when Ave first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake 
 them off after; and they will walkabout and seek entertain- 
 ment of the pilgrims; but, for our sakes, shut ye the doors 
 upon them." 
 
 When the time was come for them to depart, they went to 
 the brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency 
 were, "Farewell night, welcome day." His daughter went 
 through the river singing, but none could understand what 
 she said. 
 
 Then it came to pass, a while after, that there was a post in 
 
MR. HONEST CROSSES THE RIVER. 309 
 
 the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he came to his 
 house where he was, and dehvered to his hand these lines:' 
 ' ' Thou art commanded to be ready against this day seven- 
 night, to present thyself before thy Lord, at his Father's 
 house. And for a token that my message is true, * All thy 
 daughters of music shall be brought low.'" (Eccles. xii. 4.) 
 Then Mr. Honest called for his friends, and said unto them, 
 ''I die, but shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall 
 go with me ; let him that comes after be told of this." When 
 the day .that he was to be gone was come, he addressed him- 
 self to go over the river. Now the river at that time over- 
 flowed the banks in some places ; l^ut Mr. Honest in his life- 
 time had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there, 
 the which he also did, and lent him his hand, and so helped 
 him over. The last words of Mr. Honest were, "Grace 
 reigns." So he left the world. 
 
 After this it was noised abroad, that Mr. Valiant-for truth 
 was taken with a summons by the same post as the other; and 
 had this for a token that the summons was true, "That his 
 pitcher was broken at the fountain." (Eccles. xii. 6.) When 
 he understood it, he called for his friends, and told them of 
 it. Then said he, "I am going to my Father's; and though 
 with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent 
 me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. 
 My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrim- 
 age, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My 
 marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me, that 
 I have fought His battles who now will be my rewarder." 
 When the day that he must go hence was come, many ac- 
 companied him to the river side, into wjiich as he went, he 
 said, " Death, where is thy sting ? " And as he went down 
 deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy victory?" So he 
 passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the 
 otf ler side. 
 
 Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast — this 
 
310 MR. STAND-FAST SETS THINGS IN ORDER. 
 
 Mr. Stand-fast was he that the rest of the pilgrims found upon 
 his knees in the Enchanted Ground — for the post brought it him 
 open in his hands. The contents whereof were that he must 
 prepare for a cliange of life, for his Master was not willing 
 that he should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. 
 Stand-fast was put into a muse. " Nay," said the messenger, 
 *'you need not doubt of the truth of my message, for here is 
 a token of the truth thereof: ' Thy wheel is broken at the cis- 
 tern.'" (Eccles. xii. 6.) Then he called unto Mr. Great" 
 heart, who was their guide, and said unto him, *' Sir, although 
 it was not my hap to be much in your good company in the 
 days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew you, you 
 have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left 
 behind me a wife and five small children ; let me entreat you, 
 at your return (for I know that you will go and return to your 
 Master's house, in hopes that you may yet be a conductor to 
 more of the holy pilgrims), that you send to my family, and 
 let them be acquainted with all that hath and shall happen 
 unto me. Tell them, moreover, of my happy arrival to this 
 place, and of the present [and] late blessed condition that I 
 am in. Tell them also of Christian, and Christiana his wife, 
 and how she and her children came after her husband. Tell 
 them also of what a happy end she made, and whither she has 
 gone. I have little or nothing to send to my family, except it 
 be prayers and tears for them ; of which it will suffice if thou 
 acquaint them, if perad venture they may prevail." 
 
 When Mr. Stand -fast had thus set things in order, and the 
 time being come for him to haste him away, he also went 
 down to the river. Now there was a great calm at that time 
 in the river; wherefore Mr. Stand-fast, when he was about 
 half way in, stood awhile, and talked to his companions that 
 had waited upon him thither; and he said, "This river has 
 been a terror to many ; yea, the thoughts of it also have often 
 frightened me. Now, methinks, I stand easy; my foot. is 
 fixed upon that upon which the feet of the priests that bare 
 
DEATH OF MR. STAND-FAST. 311 
 
 the ark of the convent stood, while Israel went over this Jor- 
 dan. (Joshua iii. 17.) The waters, indeed, are to the palate 
 bitter, and to the stomach cold ; yet the thoughts of what I 
 am going to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the 
 other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. 
 
 *'I see myself now at the end of my journey; my toilsome 
 days are ended. I am going now to see that head that was 
 crowned with thorns, and that face that was spit upon for 
 me. 
 
 *' I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith ; but now I go 
 where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose 
 company I delight myself. 
 
 " I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I 
 have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there I have 
 coveted to set my foot too. 
 
 ''His name has been to me as a civet-box;* yea, sweeter 
 than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most sweet ; 
 and his countenance I have more desired than they that have 
 most desired the light of the sun. His word I did use to 
 gather for my food, and for antidotes against myfaintings. 
 He has held me; and I have kept me from mine iniquities; 
 yea, my steps hath he strengthened in his way.'* 
 
 Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance 
 changed, his strong man bowed under him; and after he had 
 said, " Take me, for I come unto thee," he ceased to be seen 
 of them. 
 
 But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled 
 with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with 
 singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome the 
 pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at th6 
 Beautiful Gate of the City. 
 
 As for Christian's children, 'the four boys that Christiana 
 brought with her, with their wives and children, I did not^ 
 stay where I was till they had gone over. Also, since I cam^ 
 * Alluding to the perfume from the civet cat. 
 
312 ADIEU. 
 
 away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so would 
 be for the increaae of the church in that place where they 
 were, for a time. 
 
 Shall it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those 
 that desire it an account of what I here am silent about. 
 Meantime, I bid my reader 
 
 Adieu. 
 
FAEEWELL.— tage 312 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 9 Nov'49AP 
 9 Nov'49Ar 
 
 ?«ov28'49Wl 
 
 110ct'54CC 
 
 SEP 2 ^ :^^54 i 
 
 OCT 9 1951 
 
 nOct'63P8 
 
 LD 21-100m-9,'48(B399sl6)476 
 
 REC'D LD 
 OCT 4 '63-lUM 
 
 DEAD 
 
 to 
 
 10 Pi^ 
 
VB I 1 287 
 
 U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
 III lllllllllllllllllllll 
 
 .■...#:« 
 .^■m 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY