The Pilgrim's Progress

p. 126¶Then they went away and sang this song,

¶Thus by the Shepherds Secrets are reveal'd:

¶Which from all other men are kept conceal'd

¶Come to the Shepherds then if you would see

¶Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.

¶A 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 tal{e heed that they sleep not on the Inchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them Godspeed. So I awoke from my Dream.

¶And I slept, and Dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims 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 Ignorance. 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 Calestial City.

¶Chr. But how do you think to get in at the Gate, for you may find some difficulty there .^

¶Ignor. As other good people do, said he.

¶Chr. But what have you to shew 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.

p. 127¶Chr. But thou earnest not in at the Wicket-Gate that is at the head of this way; thou earnest in hither through that same crooked Lane, and therefore I fear, however thou 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 strangers to me, I know H« ""h •» you not; be content to follow the Religion of your Coun- u a try, and I will follow the Religion of mine, I hope all will f°°' 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 ^"^ 5" own conceit, he said to Hopeful whisperingly. There is more hopes of a fool than of him. And said moreover, When he that is a fool wal/^eth by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one that he is a fool. 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 of him? Then said Hopeful,

¶Let Ignorance a little while now muse

¶On what is said, and let him not refuse

¶Good counsel to imbrace, lest he remain

¶Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain.

¶God saith, Those that no understanding have,

¶(Although he made them) them he will not save.

¶Hope. He further added. It is not good, I think, to say all to him at once; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear [128]it. The de- So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now 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 the Hill. 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 him, and he thought it might be one Turn-away that dwelt in the Town of Apostacy. 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 Apostate. Then said Christian to

p. 128¶his fellow. Now I call to remembrance that which was a 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 Man's Lane; so called because of the Murders that 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 come down the Lane from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy Rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, (three Brothers) and they espying Little-faith where he was, came galloping up with speed. Now the good man was just awaked from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his Journey. So they came up all to him, and with threatning 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 loth to lose his Money) Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into his Pocket, pull'd out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried out, Thieves, Thieves. With that Guilt with [129]a great Club that was in his hand, struck Little-faith on the They got head, and with that blow fell'd 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 o£ Good-confidence, they betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now after a while Little-faith came to himself, and getting up made shift to scrabble on his way. This was the story.

p. 129¶Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had?

¶Chr, No; the place where his Jewels were they never ransacked, so those he kept still; but as I was told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss, for the Thieves got most of his spending Money. That which 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; nay, if I was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alive, for his Jewels he might not ^^ ,g ^^ sell. But beg, and do what he could, he went (as we say) u/ith many a hungry belly the most part of the rest of the '" way.

¶Hope. But is it not a wonder that they got from him his Certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at the Coelestial Gate?

¶Chr. 'Tis 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 skill to hide anything; so 'twas more by good Providence than by his endeavour, that they miss'd of 14) 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 said that he made but little use of it all the rest of the way, and that because of the dismay that he had in their [130]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.

p. 130¶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 was? 'Tis a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart! I was told that he scattered almost all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints; telling also to all that over-took him, or that he over-took 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 Ufe.

¶Hope. But 'tis 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.

¶Chr. Thou talkest like one uf)on 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 robbed, his Jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief which could from thence be administered to him. Besides, had his Jewels been missing at the Gate of the Ccelestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded 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 Birth-right, and that for a mess of Pottage, and that Birth-right was his greatest Jewel; and if he, why might not Little-faith do so too ?

¶Chr. Esau did sell his Birth-right indeed, and so do many besides, and by so doing exclude themselves [131]from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff did; but you must put Adiscourse a difference betwixt Esau and Little-faith, and also betwixt their Estates. Esau's Birth-right 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: For I am at the point to die, said he, and what good will this Birth-right do me? 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 ?* j"f"^u" so much as a little; therefore no marvel if where the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man where no faith is to resist) if he sells his Birth-right, 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 occasions cannot be turned away. When their minds are 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 Spiritual, and from above; therefore to what end should he that is of such a temper sell his Jewels (had 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 with 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, or sell what they have, and 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.

p. 131¶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 trodden paths, with the Shell upon their heads; but [132]pass by that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and me.

p. 132¶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 man 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 journeymen Thieves; they serve under the King of the bottomless Pit, who, if need be, will come in to their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a Lion. I myself have been engaged 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 cloathed with Armor 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.

¶Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but supfK)se that one Great-grace was in the way.

¶Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and their Master, when Great-grace hath but appeared; and no marvel, for he is the King's Champion. But I tro you will put some difference between Little-faith and the King's Champion. All the King's Subjects are not [133]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 Goliah 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.

p. 133¶Hope. I would it had been Great-grace for their sakes.

¶Chr. If it had been he, 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 them 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 heard he should say, (and that when he was in the Combat) We despaired even of life. How did these sturdy Rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar? Yet, Heman and Hezel{iah 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 Af)osdes, they handled him so, that they made him at last afraid of a sorry Girl.

¶Besides their King is at their whistle. He is never out

r I ■ 1./- 'II I

¶or hearing; and 11 at any time they be put to the worst, he if possible comes in to help them; and of him it is said, The Sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold, the Spear, the Dart, nor the Habergeon: he esteemeth Iron as Straw, and Brass as rotten Wood. The Arrow cannot mahj: him fiy; Sling-stones are turned with him into Stubble, Darts are counted as Stubble: he laugheth at[134] the shal{ing of a Spear. What can a man do in this case? Tis 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 Nec/(^ is cloathed with Thunder, ^<^ ^'^^ "0/ be afraid as the Grasshopper, the glory of his Nostrils is terrible, he paweth in the Valley, rejoiceth in his strength, and goeth out to meet the armed men. He moc^eth at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth bac/^ from the Sword. The Quiver rattleth against him, the glittering Spear, and the Shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, neither believeth he that it is the sound of the Trumpet. He saith among the Trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the Battle afar off, the thundering of the Captains, and the Shoutings.

p. 134¶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 our own manhood; for such commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before. He would swagger, ay he would; he would, 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?

¶When therefore we hear that such Robberies are done on the King's High-way, two things become us to do: First, To go out harnessed and to be 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 all take the Shield of Faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.

¶Tis good also that we desire of the King a Convoy, Y^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^'^1 S" ^'^^ "s himself. This made David rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow of Death: and Moses was rather for dying where he stood, than [135]to go one step without his God. 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 ? But without him, the proud helpers jail under the slain.

p. 135¶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-faithI Hast been among the Thieves?

¶Wast robb'd? Remember this: Whoso believes

¶And gets more Faith, 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 of the two 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 Ccelestial City, but knew not which of these ways to take. Follow me, said the man, it is thither 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 desired 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 they were both so intangled. that they knew not what to do; and with that the white Robe jell off the blac\ man's bac/(^: then they saw [136]where they were. Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out.

p. 136¶Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see myself in an error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers? As is the saying of the Wise man, so we have found it this day, A man that flattereth his Neighbour, spreadeth a Net for his feet.

¶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 saith he. Concerning the work^s of men, by the word of thy lips I have f{ept me from the paths of the destroyer. Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the Net. At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them 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 Sion, but were led out of their way by a black man, cloathed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said he with the Whip, It is Flatterer, a false Apostle, that hath transformed himself into an Angel of Light. 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 night? They said, With the Shepherds up)on the Delectable Mountains. He asked them 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 moreover. If the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer? They answered, Yes; but we did not imagine, said they, that this fine-spo\en man had been he.

p. 137¶Then I saw in my Dream, that he commanded them to They are lie down; which when they did, he chastised them sore, ^^^ ^„^ ^g to teach them the good way wherein they should walk; and as he chastised them he said, As many as I love, I rebul{e and chasten; be zealous therefore, and repent. This done, he bid them go on their way, and take good heed to the other directions of the Shepherds. So they thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing,

¶Come hither, you that walk along the way.

¶See how the Pilgrims fare that go astray;

¶They catched are in an intangling Net,

¶'Cause they good Counsel lightly did forget;

¶'Tis true they rescu'd were, but yet you see

¶They're scourg'd to boot: Let this your caution be.

¶Now after a while, they perceived afar off one coming softly and alone all along the High-way to meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow. Yonder is a man with his back toward Sion, 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 the Mount Sion.

¶Then Atheist fell into a very great Laughter.

¶Chr. What is the meaning of your Laughter?

¶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 [138]t\v3n.tv years; but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out.

p. 138¶Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is such

¶a place to be found.

¶The Atheist Atheist. Had not I when at home believed, I had not content'in " come thus far to seek; but finding none, (and yet I this world 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 Christian Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, Is it brother " ^"^"^ which this man hath said?

¶Hope. Take heed, he is one of the Flatterers; remember Hopeful's what it hath cost us once already for our hearkening to answer' ^"'-^ '^''^^ °^ fellows. What! no Mount Sion? Did we

¶not see from the Delectable Mountains the Gate of the A reraem- City? Also, are we not now to walk by Faith. Let us formed ° 8° °"' ^^'^ Hopeful, lest the man with the Whip overtake chastise- us again. You should have taught me that lesson, which I hclp'^gainst ^^''^ round you in the ears withal: Cease, my Son, to hear present the instruction that causeth to err from the words of tempuuons f^nowledge. I say my Brother, cease to hear him, and let

¶us believe to the saving of the Soul.

¶A fruit of ao Chr. My Brother, I did not put the question to thee for Ijggjj that I doubted of the Truth of our belief myself, but to prove 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.

¶Hope. Now do I rejoice in hof)e of the glory of God. So they turned away from the man; and he laughing at

¶them went his way.

¶They are \ saw then in my Dream, that they went till they come

¶come to the . • /-. 1 • n jj

¶Enchanted "^to ^ certain Country, whose air naturally tended to Ground make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And here

¶Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of sleep; [139]wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so Hopeful

¶begins to be

¶drowsy that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes, let us lie down here and take one nap.

¶Chr. 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 ii we take a nap.

¶Chr. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us beware of the Inchanted Ground? He meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping; wherefore let us not sleep as do others, but let us watch and be sober.

¶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. Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy, and thou shah have a good reward for thy labour.

¶Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in this place, let us fall into good discourse.

¶Hope. With all my heart, said the other.

¶Chr. Where shall we begin?

¶Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please.

¶Chr. I will sing you first this song:

¶When Saints do sleepy grow, let them 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, slumbring eyes.

¶Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well.

¶Keeps them awake, and that in spite of Hell.

¶Chr. Then Christian began and said, I will ask you a question: How came you to think at first of doing as 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 which were seen and sold at our Fair; [140]things which I believe now would have (had I continued in them still) drowned me in perdition and destruction.

p. 140¶Chr. What things were they?

¶Hope. All the Treasures and Riches of the World. Also I 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. And that for these things' sake the wrath of God cometh upon the children of disobedience.

¶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 endeavoured, when my mind at first began to be shaken with the Word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof.

¶Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon you?

¶Hope. The causes were, i. I was ignorant that this was the work of God upon me. I never thought that by awakenings for sin God at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loth 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 convictions were upon me, were such troublesome and such heart-affright-ing 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 [141]mind again, and then I should be as bad, nay worse, than I was before.

p. 141¶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 ake; or,

¶4. If I were told that some of my Neighbors were sick; 5. If I heard the Bell toll for some that were dead; 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 latterly, for then they got faster hold of my conscience; 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 Gsmpany too; and betook me to religious duties, as Prayer, Reading, Weeping for Sin, speaking Truth to my ^^^j Neighbors, &c. These things did I, with 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 all my reformations.

p. 142¶Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed ?

¶Hope. There were several things brought it upon me, esf)ecially such sayings as these: All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags. By the work{^s of the Lmiv no man shall be justified. When you have done all things, say. We are unprofitable: with many more such Uke. 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 'tis but a folly to think of Heaven

¶by the Law. I further thought thus: If a man runs look. a into the Shop-keeper's debt, and after that shall pay for 3II that he shall fetch; yet his old debt stands still Jn the Book uncrossed, for the which the Shop-keeper may sue him, and cast him into Prison till he shall pay the debt.

¶Chr. Well, and how 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 reforming 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 danger 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 ^^^ 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, that notwithstanding my former fond conceits of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in one duty to send me to Hell, though my former life had been faultless,

¶^^'"' ^"^ what did you do then ?

¶Hope. Do! I could not tell what to do, till I brake my "^'1^ to Faithful, for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me, that unless I could obtain the righteousness [143]of a man that never had sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the world could save me.

p. 143¶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 mine 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?

¶Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely; but after a little more talk and company with him, I had full conviction about it.

¶Chr. 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 efficacy to justify another before God? And he told me he was the mighty 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.

¶Chr. And what did you do then?

¶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 I said it was presumption: but he said, No, for I was invited to come. Then he gave me a Book of Jesus his inditing, 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. Then I asked him. What [144]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. Then I asked him further. How I must make my suppHcation 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 ma/^e me to l^noiv and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see that if his righteousness had not been, or 1 have not faith in that righteousness, 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, ta/(e therefore this opportunity, and magnify thy grace in the Salvation of my soul, through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen.

p. 144¶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.

¶Chr. Had you not thought 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 had been told me, to wit, that without the righteousness of this Christ all the world could not save me; and therefore thought I with myself. If I leave off, I die, and can but die at the Throne of Grace. And withal, this came into my mind, // it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come, it will not tarry. So I continued praying until the Father shewed me his [145]Son. Chr. And how was he revealed unto you ?

p. 145¶Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but Christ jj with the eyes of mine understanding; and thus it was: One day I was very sad, I think sadder than at any one >°<1 •><"* time in my life, and this sadness was through 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 look down from Heaven upon me, and saying, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.

¶But I replied. Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner. And he answered My grace is sufficient for thee. Then 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 helieveth 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. 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 no wise cast out. Then I said, But how. Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that my faith may be placed aright uf)on thee ? Then he said, Christ Jesus came into the World to save sinners. He is the end of the Law for righteousness to every one that believes. He died for our sins, and rose again for our Justification. He loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood. He is Mediator between God and us. He ever liveth to mal{e intercession for us. 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 submitting to the p)enalty 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 [146]eyes full of tears, and mine affections running over with love to the Name, People, and Ways of Jesus Christ.

p. 146¶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 shewed 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 behind.

¶Chr. Ay, ay, I see him; he careth not for our company.

¶Hope. But I tro it would not have hurt him, had he kept pace with us hitherto.

¶Chr. That's true, but I warrant you he thinketh otherwise.

¶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, [147]he said, Come, how do you? How stands it between God and your Soul now?

p. 147¶Ignor. I hope well; for I am always full of good

¶1 . • J f T

¶motions, that come into my mind to comtort 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 desires, and hath nothing.

¶Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them.

¶Chr. That I doubt, for leaving all is an 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 trusts his own heart is a fool.

¶Ignor. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a good one.

¶Chr. But how dost thou prove that ?

¶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 yet has no ground to hope.

¶Ignor. But my heart and life agree together, and therefore my hop)e is well grounded.

¶Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together?

¶Ignor. 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 has good thoughts? and is not that a good life that is according to God's Commandments?

p. 148¶Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is a good Ufe that is according to God's Commandments; 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 according to God's Commandments?

¶Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds, some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, some other things.

¶Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves?

¶^^'"* 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 doth good. It saith also, That every imagination of the heart of man is only evil, and that continually. And again. The imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth. Now then, when we think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because according to the Word of God.

¶Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad.

¶Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning 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. It saith they are naturally out of the good way, that they have not known it. Now when a man thus thinketh of his ways, I say, when he doth sensibly, and with [149]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.

p. 149¶Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God?

¶Chr. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts of God do agree with what the Word saiih 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 inmost thoughts, and that our heart with ail its depths is always of)en unto his eyes; also when we think that all our Righteousness stinks in his nostrils, and that therefore he cannot 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 in the best of my jjerformances ?

¶Chr. 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 or 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, [150]acceptable to his Father by virtue of his Merits; and so shall I be justified.

p. 150¶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 Justification from the {personal righteousness of Christ, and appUes it to thy own.

¶3. This Faith maketh not Christ a Justifier 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 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 ?

¶Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou; even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art of what Justifying Righteousness is, and as ignorant 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 [151]the heart to God in Christ, to love his Name, his Word, Ways, and People, and not as thou ignorantly 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 all flesh, that he cannot by any man be savingly 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; yea, and Faith too, by which the soul layeth hold 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.

¶Be awakened then, see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus; and by his righteousness, which is the righteousness of God, (for he himself is God) thou shalt be delivered from condemnation.

¶Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you, do you go on before, I must stay a while behind.

¶Then they said.

¶Well Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be.

¶To slight good Counsel, ten times given thee?

¶And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know

¶E're 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 shall slight it, thou wilt be

¶The loser. Ignorance, I'll warrant [152]thee. Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow.

p. 152¶Chr. 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 condition, whole families, yea, whole Streets, and that of Pilgrims 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, &c. 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 you are the elder man.

¶Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may, but they being naturally ignorant, understand not that such convictions 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.

¶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 salvation.

¶3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of God, his Word, and Ways, keeping it tender, [153]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.

p. 153¶Hope. Well said; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost got past the Inchanted 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 thereon. But let us return to our matter. Now the Ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to put them s""*. in fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle

¶them.

¶Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ?

¶Chr. I. They think that those fears are wrought by the P"- Devil, (though indeed they are wrought of God) and thinking so, they resist them as things that directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their Faith, when alas for them, poor men that they are, they have none at all! and therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to fear, and therefore in despite of them wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that these 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.

¶Chr. Well, we will leave at this time our Neighbor Ignorance 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 Religion then ?

¶Hope. Know him! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a [154]town where he about two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turn-back{.

p. 154¶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 oft-times come to me, and that with many tears. Truly I pitied the man, and was not altogether without hop)e 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 Pilgrimage, as we do now; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Saveself, and then he became a stranger to me.

¶Hope. Now since we are talking about him, let us a little enquire 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.

¶I. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are not changed; therefore when the power of guilt weareth away, that which provoked them 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. This I say, being hot for Heaven by vertue 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 [155]Heaven and Salvation ccx)l 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.

p. 155¶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 men bringeth a snare. 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 'tis good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not what) the hazard of losing all; or at least, of bringing 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 to their former course.

¶4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them; they 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. 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 chuse 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 therefore 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, because, 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.

p. 156¶Hope. Now I have shewed you the reasons of their going back, do you show me the manner thereof.

¶Chr. So I will willingly.

¶I. 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 of lively and warm Christians.

¶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 infirmity they have spied 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.

¶8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly.

¶9. And then, being hardened, they shew themselves as they are. Thus being launched again into the gulf of misery, unless 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 Inchanted 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. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of Birds, and saw every day the Flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the Turde in the land. In this Country the Sun shineth [157]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 contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom was renewed; yea here, as the Bridegroom rejoiceth over the Bride, so did their God rejoice over them. 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 Behold thy salvation cometh, 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, &c.

p. 157¶Now as they walked in this land, they 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 Precious Stones, also the Street thereof was paved with Gold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the City, and the reflections of the Sun-beams 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, // you see 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 into the High-way. Now as they came up to these places, behold the Gardener stood in the way, to whom the Pilgrims said. Whose goodly Vineyards and Gardens are these? He answered. They are the King's and are planted here for his [158]own delights, and also for the solace of Pilgrims. So the Gardener had them into the Vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with Dainties. He also shewed them there the King's walks, and the Arbors 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) was so extremely glorious, that they could not as yet with open face behold it, but through an Instrument made for that purpose. 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 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 I saw in my Dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the Gate.

¶Now I further saw that betwixt them and the 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 [159]went with them said, You must go through, or you cannot come at the Gate.

p. 159¶The Pilgrims then began to enquire 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 permitted to tread that path, since the foundation of the World, nor shall, until the last Trumpet shall sound. The Pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to dispond in his mind, 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 shallower, as you believe in the King of the place.

¶They then addressed themselves to the Water; and entring, 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, I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also here he in great measure 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 mind, and heartfears 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. 'Twas also observed that [160]he was troubled with apparitions of Hobgoblins and evil Spirits, for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. Hopeful 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 standing by to receive us. But Christian would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis 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 is no band in their death, but their strength is firm, they are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like other men. 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 heretofore you have received of his goodness, and live upon him in your distresses.

p. 160¶Then I saw in my Dream, that Christian was as in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added this word. Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ ma^eth thee whole; and with that Christian brake out with a loud voice, Oh I see him again, and he tells me, When thou passest through the Waters, I will be with thee; and through the Rivers, they shall not overflow thee. 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 ministring Spirits, sent forth [161]to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went along towards the Gate.

p. 161¶Now, now, look how the holy Pilgrims ride,

¶Clouds are their Chariots, Angels are their Guide:

¶Who would not here tor him all hazards run.

¶That thus provides for his when this World's done?

¶Now you must note that the City stood upon a mighty Hill, 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, because they safely got over the River, and had such glorious Companions to attend them.

¶The talk that 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 ferusalem, the innumerable company of Angels, and the Spirits of just men made perfect. 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 shall have white Robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of Eternity. There you shall not see again such things as you saw when 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 facob, and to the Prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness. The men then asked. What must we do in the holy place ? To whom [162]it was answered, You must there receive the comfort 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 the way. In that place you must wear Crowns of Gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy one, for there you shall see him as he is. There also you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting, and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the World, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with joy receive even every one that follows into the holy place after you. There also shall you be cloathed with Glory and Majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When he shall come with sound of Trumpet in the Clouds, as upon the wings of the Wind, you shall come with him; and when he shall sit upon the Throne of Judgment, you shall sit by him; yea, and 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. Also when he shall again return to the City, you shall go too, with sound of Trumpet, and be ever with him.

p. 162¶Now while they were thus drawing towards the Gate, behold a company of the Heavenly Host came out to meet them; 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 Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the Heavenly Host gave a great shout, saying. Blessed are they that are called to the [163]Marriage Supper of the Lamb. There came out also at this time to meet them, several of the King's Trumpeters, cloathed in white and shining Raiment, who with melodious noises and loud, made even the Heavens to echo with their 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 side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left, (as 'twere to guard them through the upper Regions) 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 musick with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his Brother, how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them; and now were these two men as 'twere 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 ring to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such company, 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.

¶Now when they were come up to the Gate, there was written over it in Letters of Gold, Blessed are 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.

¶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, [164]Moses, and Elijah, Src, 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, saith he, that l^eepeth Truth may enter in.

¶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 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, Honour, Glory, and Power, be to him that sitteth upon the Throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever.

¶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.

¶There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying. Holy, 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 "^y head to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the River-side; but he soon got over, and that without half that difficulty which the other two men met with. [165]For it happened that there was then in that place one Vain- Vain-hope /tope a Ferry-man, that with his Boat helped him over; so he, as the other 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 encouragement. When he was come up to the Gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, supposing 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 eat and drank in the presence of the King, and he has taught in our Streets. Then they asked him for his Certificate, that they might go in and shew it to the King. So he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said 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 Shining Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful to the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took him up, and carried him through the air to the door that I saw in the side 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.

The Conclusion

¶NOW Reader , / have told my Dream to thee;

The

¶PILGRIM ' S PROGRESS

From This WorldTo That Which Is to ComeThe Second Part

¶DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM

¶Wherein is set forth

¶the manner of the setting out of Christian's

¶Wife and Children, their Dangerous Journey, and

¶Safe Arrival at the Desired Country

By John Bunyan

The a U Tho R's Way

¶One Christiana Pilgrim ? // they say

¶Are turned Pilgrims , seek " World to come;

¶Of love to Pilgrimage been stout and brave

¶That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings.

Answer

¶My Pilgrim ' s Book n as travell'd sea and land,

¶In France and Flanders , where men k'H each other,

¶My Pilgrim is esteem'd a Friend, a Brother.

¶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 k nows no ground of shame or fear;

¶Say my Lark ' s leg is better than a Kite .

p. 175¶Forget not Master Valiant - for - the - truth ,

¶And how Great - heart and he could not forbear,

¶But put-down Doubting Castle, slay Despair.

¶As may with each good Pilgrim ' s Fancie suit;

John Bunyan.

Similitude of a Dream

p. 177¶THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

In the Simiutude of a DreamThe Second Part

¶COURTEOUS Companions, some time since, to tell you my Dream that I had of Christian the

¶Pilgrim, and of his dangerous Journey toward the Coelestial Country, was pleasant to me, and profitable to you. I told you then also what I saw concerning 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 shewed you, he left them and departed.

¶Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of Business, that I have been much hindred 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 enquiry 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 the way that I was travelling, methought I got up and went with him. So as we walked, and as Travellers usually do, I was as if we fell into discourse, and our

p. 178¶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, that lieth 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 the City, quoth I, I went once myself 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 better 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 happened 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 Molestations, Troubles, Wars, Captivities, Cries, Groans, Frights,

¶and Fears that he met with and had in his Journey. £(X>I$ 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 highly commended of all. For 'tis 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 anything that is true, that he liveth well where he is; for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed therewith.

¶Sag. Talk! the people talk strangely about him. [179]Some say that he now walks in White, that he has a Chain of Christian's Gold about his neck, that he has a Crown of Gold, beset ,vill take with Pearls, upon his head. Others say that the Shining Ones that sometimes shewed themselves to him in his Journey, are become his Companions, and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is, as here one Neighbor is with another. Besides, 'tis confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at Court; and that he every day eateth 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 Neighbors set so little by him, and had him so much in derision when they perceived that he would be a Pilgrim. For they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities 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 'twas for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did.

p. 179¶I dare say, quoth I, 1 am glad on't; I am glad for the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest from his labour, and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his Tears with Joy; and for that he has got beyond the Gun-shot 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 behind ? But pray Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of his Wife and Children } Poor hearts, I wonder in my mind what they do!

¶Sag. Who! Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as well as did Christian himself; for though [180]they Good all play'd the fool at the first, and would by no means be

p. 180¶tidinf!S of

¶persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them; so they have packt up, and are also gone after him.

¶Better and better, quoth I. But what! Wife and Children 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 considerable way together, I will give you an account of the whole of the matter.

¶This Christiana (for that was her name from the day

¶p. i6o

¶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 loving 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 remembrance 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 herself, whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her Husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And upon this came into her mind by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages to her dear Friend; which also clogged her Conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was 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 [181]her Sons) to go with him; yea, there was not anything that Christian either said to her, or did before her all the 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, P"* What shall I do to be saved? did ring in her ears most dolefully.

p. 181¶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 hindred 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 'tis like to do now; for tho' I formerly foolishly imagin'd 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 'twill not out of my mind but that they sprang from another cause, to wit, for that the Light of Light was given him, by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the snares of Death. Then they all wept again, and cried out, O Wo worth the day.

¶The next night Christiana had a Dream; and behold she 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, look'd very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, Lord have Mercy upon me a Sinner; and the little Children heard her.

¶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 out for Mercy waging 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 shall be hereafter, else all the World cannot help it but she will become a [182]Pilgrim. Help Now she awoke in a great sweat, 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 an Harp in his Hand, standing and playing upon it before one that sat on a Throne with a Rainbow about his Head. She saw also as if he bowed his Head with his Face to the pav'd-work that was under the Prince's feet, saying, / heartily thank{ my Lord and King for bringing 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 and his Companions.

p. 182¶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, // thou earnest 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 hardening of thy Heart against his way, and in keeping of these thy Babes in their Ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell thee that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he taketh delight to multiply to pardon offences. He would also have thee know that he inviteth thee to come into his presence, to his Table, and that he will feed thee with the Fat of his house, and with the Heritage of Jacob thy Father.

¶There is Christian thy Husband that was, with Legions more his Companions, ever beholding that Face [183]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.

p. 183¶Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowing 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, 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 Children 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 before thee, enter this Coclestial 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; 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 greatly affected therewith. 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 [184]mine own state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriages 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 refused to go with him on Pilgrimage.

p. 184¶The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but that for a Dream which I had last night, and but for the encouragement that this stranger has given me this morning. Come my Children, let us pack up and be gone to the Gate that leads to the Coelestial Country, that we may see your Father, and be with him and his Companions in peace, according 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 bid 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 Neighbors, came up to her house and knocked at her door. To whom she said as before, // 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, Neighbor, pray what is your meaning by this?

¶Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, p. 46 whose name was Mrs Timorous, I am preparing for a Journey. (This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill Difficulty, and would a had him gone back for fear of the Lions.)

¶Tim. For what Journey I pray you?

¶Chris. Even to go after my good Husband. And with that she fell a weeping.

¶Tim. I hope not so, good Neighbor, pray for your [185]poor Children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away your- Timorous

p. 185¶., / ^ » comes sell.

¶Chris. Nay, my Children shall go with me, not one of them is willing to stay behind.

¶Tim. I wonder in my very heart, what or who has °^''" brought you into this mind.

¶Chris. Oh, Neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would go with me.

¶Tim, Prithee what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh off thy mind from thy Friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where?

¶Chris. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my Husband's departure from me, but specially since he went over the River. But that which troubleth me most, is my churlish carriages to him when he was under his distress. Besides, 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. O 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 the best Palaces on Earth if compared, seem to me to be but as a Dunghill. The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promise of entertainment if I shall come to him; his messenger was here even now, and has brought me a Letter, which invites me to come. And with that she pluck'd out her Letter, and read it, and said to them, What now will you say to this?

¶Tim. Oh the madness that has possessed thee and thy Husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties! 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 Neighbor 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, [186]Apol-The rea- lyon, 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, tho' 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. Wherefore though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet for the

p. 186¶sake of the Fruit of thy Body keep thou at home.

¶A But Christiana said unto her, tempt me not, my Neighbor. I have now a price put into mine 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 shew I am in the right. The bitter must come before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore since you came not to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me farther.

¶Then Timorous also revil'd her, and said to her fellow, Come Neighbor 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 Neighbor, and that for a twofold reason. First, her bowels yearned over Christiana: so she said within herself. If my Neighbor 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 had said had taken some hold upon 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 Neighbor Timorous.

¶Mercy. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning; and since she is, as you see, a taking of her last farewell of her Country, I think to walk this Sun-shine morning a little way with her [187]to help her on the way. But she told her not o£ her second reason, but kept that to herself.

p. 187¶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 danger, we are out; but when we are in, we are in. So Mrs Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to her Journey. But when Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her Neighbors, to wit, Mrs Bat's-eyes, Mrs Inconsiderate, Mrs Light-mind, and Mrs Know-nothing. So when they came to her house, she falls to telling of the story of Christiana and of her intended Journey. And thus she began her tale.

¶Tim. Neighbors, 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 know 'tis our custom. And she answered, // you come in God's name, come in. So in I went, thinking all was well. But when I came in, I found her preparing herself to depart the Town, she and also her Children. So I asked her what was 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.

¶Then said Mrs Know-nothing, And what do you think she will go? ^o"^*g

¶Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever come on't; and methinks I 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 as much as it so doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter.

¶Mrs Bat's-eyes. Oh this blind and foolish woman, said she, will she not take warning by her Husband's afflictions ? For my part I see if he was here again, he [188]would rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.

p. 188¶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 her mind, who could live quietly by her? for she will either be dumpish or unneighborly, 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: 'twas never a good World since these whimsical Fools dwelt in it.

¶Then Mrs Light-mind added as followeth: 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 musick and dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say my Lady herself is an admirably well-bred Gentle-

¶woman, and Mr Lechery is as pretty a fellow.

¶p. 72 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.

¶Mercy. 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.

¶Chris. 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 Mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me as my servant; yet we

p. 190¶Tears shall reap in Joy, in singing. And he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his Sheaves with him.

¶Then said Mercy,

¶Let the Most Blessed be my guide.

¶If 't be his blessed will,

¶Unto his Gate, unto his Fold,

¶Up to his Holy Hill.

¶And let him never suffer me

¶To swerve or turn aside

¶From his free grace and holy ways,

¶Whate'er shall me betide.

¶And let him gather them of mine.

¶That I have left behind;

¶Lx)rd make them pray they may be thine,

¶With all their heart and mind.

¶Now my old Friend proceeded and said: But when p. 19 Christiana came up to the Slough of Dispond, she began to be at a stand; for said she, This is the place in which my dear Husband had like 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 for mending the King's High-way, 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 the steps, and made a shift to get staggeringly over.

¶Yet Christiana had like to a 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, [191]Blessed is she that believeth, for there shall be a performance of the things that have been told her from the Lord.

p. 191¶Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at the Wicl^et-gate as you, I think no Slough of Dispond would discourage me.

¶Well, said the other, you know your sore, and 1 know mine; and good friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come at our Journey's end.

¶For can it be imagined, 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 ''"y*' by myself. Wherefore me-thought 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 the 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 l^nod^ed and \nocked 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 one l"''<^ <'°k> too, and this made the Women and Children afraid: nor durst they for a while to knock any more, for fear the Mastiff should 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 that the Keepier of '""s that Gate should espy them as they so went, and should be offended with them. At last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more vehemently than they did at th[192]e first. Then said the Keeper of the Gate, Who is there? So the Dog left off to bark, and he opened unto them.

p. 192¶Then Christiana made low obeisance and said. Let not our Lord be offended with his Hand-maidens, for that we have knocked at this princely Gate. Then 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 Coelestial 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 bowed 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 the little 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 shouting and sound of Trumpet for joy. So he obeyed and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious notes.

¶Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling and crying for fear that she was rejected. But when Christiana had gotten admittance for herself and her Boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy.

¶Chris. And she said, My Lord, I have a Companion of mine that stands yet without, 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, [193]by knocking at the Gate herself. 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.

p. 193¶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.

¶Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid thee arise.

¶Oh Sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life left in me. But he answered, That one once said, When my soul jointed within me; I remembered the Lord, and my prayer came in unto thee, into thy Holy Temple. 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, and mine was but from her: wherefore I fear I presume.

¶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 it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her fainting. So they fetch'd her a bundle of Myrrh, and a while after she was revived.

¶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 information what we must do.

¶I grant Pardon, said he, by word and deed; by word, [194]in the promise of forgiveness; by deed, in the way I obtained it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss, and the other as it shall be revealed.

p. 194¶Now I saw in my Dream that he spake many good words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladded. He also had them up to the top of the Gate, and shewed ihem 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 a while in a Summer Parlor below, where they entred into talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began: O Lord! how glad am 1 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, specially when that ugly Cur made such a heavy barking against us.

¶Mercy. But my worst fear was after I saw that you was taken into his favour and that I was left behind. Now thought I 'tis fulfilled which is written, Two women shall be grinding together, the one shall be ta/^en and the other left. I had much ado to forbear crying out, Undone, undone.

¶And afraid I was to knock any more; but when I p. 29 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 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 a come in by violent hands, or a took the Kingdom by storm.

¶Mercy. Alas, to be in my case, who that so was could but a done so? You saw that the Door was shut [195]u[X)n 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?

p. 195¶Chris. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave ^''"'^ a wonderful innocent smile; I believe what you did pleased him well enough, for he shewed no sign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a Dog; had I known that afore, I fear I should not have '^ had heart enough to a ventured myself in this manner, But now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all my

¶I

¶neart.

¶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. Let 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 upon her face and said. Righteous art thou 0 Lord when I plead with thee, yet let me tal^ with thee of thy Judgments. 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 another owner; he also is kept close in another man's ground only my Pilgrims 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 frighted many an honest Pilgrim F'"t from worse to better, by the great voice of his roaring. p. 30 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. Sometimes also he

p. 196¶has broken out, and has worried some that I love; but I A take all at present patiently. I also give my Pilgrims timely help, so they are not delivered up to his power, to do to them what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But what! my purchased one, I tro, hadst thou known never so much beforehand, thou wouldest 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 Darling from the power of the Dog.

¶Mercy. Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance; I spake what I understood not; I acknowledge that thou doest all things well.

¶Chris. Then Christiana began to talk of their Journey, and to enquire 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 p. 32 my Dream that they walk'd on 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

¶That thereto moved me.

¶'Tis true, 'twas long ere I began

¶To seek to live jor ever:

¶But now I run fast as I can;

¶"Tis better late than never.

¶Our Tears to Joy, our Fears to Faith,

¶Are turned, as we see.

¶Thus our beginning (as one saith,)

¶Shews what our end will be.

p. 197¶Now there was, on the other side of the Wall that The devil's fenced in the way up which Christiana and her Companions were to go, a Garden, and that Garden belonged to him whose was that bark^ing 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 eat of them to their hurt. So Christiana's Boys, as Boys are apt to do, being pleas'd 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'll warrant you if she had, she would a 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 let them into the way, they espied two very ill-fafoured ones coming down apace to meet them. With that Christiana and Mercy her Friend covered themselves with their Vails, and so kept on their Journey; the Children 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, as men that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's words, but began to lay hands upon them. At that Christiana 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 ye see, and such too as live upon the Charity of our Friends.

¶lll-jav. Then said one of the two of the men. We make no assault upon you for your Money, but are come out to

p. 198¶tell you, that if you will grant one small request which we shall ask, we will make Women of you for ever.

¶Chris. 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, cannot stay, our business is a business of Life and Death. So again she and her Companions made a fresh assay to go past them, but they letted them in their way.

¶Ill-fat/. And they said, We intend no hurt to your lives, 'tis another thing we would have.

¶Chris. Ah, quoth Christiana, you would have us Body and Soul, for I know 'tis 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, murder: and so put themselves under those Laws that are provided for the Protection of Women. 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 was, 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 was got within sight of them, the Women was 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 attempted to take them, but they did make their escapie 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 [199]that thou earnest in to our help, for otherwise we had been overcome.

p. 199¶Reliever. So after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth; I marvelled much when you were entertained at the Gate above, being ye know that ye were but weak Women, that you petitioned not the Lord there for a Conductor; then might you have avoided these troubles and dangers, for he would have granted you one.

¶Chris. Alas! said Christiana, we were so taken with our present blessing, that dangers to come were forgotten by us; besides, 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 'twould 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 properly is its due, and so consequently will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a Conductor, you would not neither so have bewailed 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 more 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 again you need not; for in all places where you shall come, you will find no want at all, for in every of my Lord's Lodgings which he has prepared for the reception of his Pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But as I said, he will be enquired of by them to do it for them: and 'tis a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the Pilgrims went on their way.

¶Mercy. Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank [200]is here! I made account we had now been past all danger, and that we should never see sorrow more.

p. 200¶Chris. Thy innocency, 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 a been had. I am therefore much to be blamed.

¶Mercy. Then said Mercy, How knew you this before you came from home? Pray open to me this riddle.

¶Chris. 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 methought 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 ('twas when I was in my Troubles) What shall we do with this Woman? for she cries out walking and sleeping, 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 a made me take heed, and have provided when provision might a been had.

¶Mercy. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an occasion ministred unto us to behold 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 nigh to an House which stood in the way, which 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 [201]thought, Christiana mentioned 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, and opened the door and looked, and behold two Women was there.

p. 201¶Damsel. Then said the Damsel to them, With whom would you speak in this place?

¶Chris. Christiana answered. We understand that this is a privileged 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 loth to-night to go any further.

¶Damsel. Pray what may I call your name, that I may tell it to my Lord within?

¶Chris. 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 also is my Companion, and is going on Pilgrimage too.

¶Innocent. 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 went 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 hard-hearted as to slight my Husband's Troubles, and that left him to go on in his Journey alone, and these are his four [202]Children; but now I also am come, for I am convinced that no way is right but this.

p. 202¶Inter. Then is fulfilled that which is written of the man that said to his Son, Go work to-day in my Vineyard; and he said to his Father, I will not; but afterwards repented and went.

¶Chris. Then said Christiana, So be it. Amen. God make it a true saying u{X)n me, and grant that I 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 was 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 welcome into their Master's House.

¶After a while, because Supper was not ready, the Interpreter took them into his significant Rooms, and shewed them what 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 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 digested 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 [203]also one over his head with a Coelestial Crown in his hand, and proffered 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.

p. 203¶Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know something of the meaning of this; for this is a figure of a Man of this World, is it not, good Sir ?

¶Inter. Thou hast said the right said he, and his Muck-rake doth shew 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 Coelestial Crown in his hand, it is to shew that Heaven is but as a fable to some, and that things here are counted the only things substantial. Now whereas it was also shewed thee that the man could look no way but downwards, 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.

¶Chris. Then said Christiana. O deliver me from this Muck-rake,

¶Inter. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by .,,,., '^ ' „. _/, , .' till tis almost rusty. Oive me not Riches, is scarcely the prayer of one of 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 alasl too true.

¶When the Interpreter had shewed them this, he had them into the very best Room in the House (a very brave Room it was) 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 there to be seen but a very great Spider on the wall, and that they overlook'd.

¶Mercy. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing; but ChriS' tiana held her peace.

¶Inter. But said the Interpreter, Look again; she [204]therefore look'd again and said, Here is not anything but an ugly Spider, who hangs by her hands upon 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 Interpreter 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.

p. 204¶Then said the Interpreter again, The Spider taketh hold with her hands as you see, and is in King's Palaces. And wherefore is this recorded, but to shew 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?

¶Chris. I thought, said Christiana, of some thing 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, came not into my mind. And yet she has taken hold with her hands, 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.

¶He had them then into another Room where was a Hen and Chickens, and bid them observe a while. So one of the Chickens 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 acknowledge whence your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up. Yet again, said he, observe and look; so they gave heed and perceived [205]that the Hen did walk in a four-fold method towards her Chickens, i. She had a common call, and that she hath all day long. 2. She had a special call, and that she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note. And 4. She had an out-cry.

p. 205¶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 give; he has also a brooding voice for them that are under his wing; and he has an out-cry to give the alarm when he seeth the Enemy come. I chose, my Darlings, to lead you into the Room where such things are, because you are Women, and they are easy for you.

¶Chris. And Sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more. So he had them into the Slaughter-house, where was a Butcher a killing of a Sheep; and behold the Sheep j^j 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 murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she taketh her death, and without objecting she suflereth 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 vertue, and some are better than some; also where the Gardener has set them there they stand, and quarrel not with one another.

¶Again, he had them into his Field, which he had sowed with Wheat and Corn; but when they beheld, the tops of all was cut off, only the straw remained. He said again, This ground was dunged and plowed and sowed, but what shall we do with the Crop? Then said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck of the rest. Then [206]said the Interpreter again, Fruit you see is that thing you look for, and for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men; beware that in this you condemn not yourselves.

p. 206¶Then as they were coming in from abroad, they espied ^ ^'''^^ Robitt with a great Spider in his mouth. So the Interpreter said, Lxx)k 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 sociableness with man; I had thought they had lived u{X)n crums 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 associate with, and to be in their company, as if they could live upon the good man's crums. They pretend also that therefore it is that they frequent 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 Spiders, they can change their diet, drink Iniquity, and swallow down Sin like water.

¶So when they were come again into the house, because Supper as yet was not ready, Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either shew or tell of some Other things that are profitable.

¶Then the Interpreter began and said. The fatter the Sow 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 Woman 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.

p. 207¶'Tis easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a whole year together; so 'tis easier for one to begin to profess well, than to hold out as he should to the end.

¶Every Ship-master 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 Sinner.

¶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 look^s for Happiness hereafter, is lit{e him that soweth Cock{le, and think^s 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-/(eeper.

¶Whispering and change of thoughts proves 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 which God commendeth?

¶If the Life that is attended with so many Troubles, is so loth to be let go by us, what is the Life above?

¶Everybody wtll cry up the Goodness of Men; but who is there that is, as he should, 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.

¶When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his Garden again, and had them to a Tree whose inside was all rotten 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 which many may be compared that are in the Garden of God; who with their mouths speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing for him; whose [208]Leaves are fair, but their heart good for nothing but to be tinder for the Devil's tinder-box.

p. 208¶Now Supper was ready, the Table spread, and all things set on the board; so they sate down and did eat when one had given thanks. And the Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged with him with Musick 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 Musick was ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana, What it was that at first did move her to betake herself to a Pilgrim's life?

¶Christiana answered. First, the loss of my Husband came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved; but all that was but natural affection. Then after that came the Troubles and Pilgrimage of my Husband's 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 me 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 afore you set out of doors?

¶Chris. Yes, a Neighbor of mine, one Mrs Timorous (she was akin to him that would have persuaded my Husband to go back for fear of the Lions). She all tobefooled^ 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.

p. 209¶But a Dream that I had of two ill-looked ones, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my Journey, that hath troubled me much; yea, it still runs in my mind, and makes me afraid 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, tho' 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 upon us were like the two that I saw in my Dream.

¶Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning 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 continued silent.

¶Inter. Then said he. Be not afraid, only believe, and speak thy mind.

¶Mercy. So she began and said. Truly Sir, my want of Experience is that that makes me covet to be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears of coming short at last. I cannot 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 accidently to see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When we were within and seeing what she was doing, we asked 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 drinking at his Prince's Table, and singing Praises to him for bringing him hither, S-c. Now [210]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 my Nativity, and will, if I may, go along with Christiana.

p. 210¶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 ruine, any longer in our Town. But yet I came away with a heavy heart, not for that 1 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 she bore 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.

¶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 praising God who had had such favour for her.

¶In the morning they arose with the Sun, and prepared themselves for their departure; but the Interpreter would have them tarry awhile, for said he, you must orderly go from hence. Then said he to the Damsel that at 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 gathered by travelling. Then Innocent the Damsel took them, and had them into the Garden, and brought them to the Bath; [211]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 strengthened in their joints. So when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they went out to the washing.

p. 211¶When they were returned out of the Garden from the ^f^,"' 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 from the land of Egypt, and the Mark was set between their eyes. This Seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and made their countenances more like them of Angels.

¶Then said the Interpreter again to the Damsel that "^^V^ waited upon these Women, Go into the Vestry and fetch out Garments 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 terror one to the other, for that they could not see that glory each one on herself which they could see in each other. Now therefore they began to esteem each other better than themselves. 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, one Great-heart, and bid him take sword and helmet and shield; and take these my Daughters, said he, and [212]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,

p. 212¶This place has been our second stage.

¶Here we have heard and seen

¶Those good things that from age to age.

¶To others hid have been.

¶The Dunghill-raker, the Spider, Hen,

¶The Chicken too to me

¶Hath taught a lesson; let me then

¶Conformed to it be.

¶The Butcher, Garden, and the Field,

¶The 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 I saw in my Dream that they went on, and Great-heart went before them; so they went and came to the place where Christian's Burden fell off his back and tumbled into a Sepulchre. 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 promise; by deed, to wit, in the way it was obtained. What the promise is, of that I know something; but what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that

¶it was obtained, Mr Great-heart, I suppose you know; A wherefore if you please let us hear your discourse thereof.

¶Great-heart. 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, saith another, in which I have obtained it. So then to speak to the question more large, the pardon that you and Mercy and these Boys have attained, was obtained by another, to [213]wit, by him that let you in at the Gate; and he hath obtain'd it in this double way, he has performed Righteousness to cover you, and spilt Blood to wash you in.

p. 213¶Chris. But if he parts with his Righteousness to us, what will he have for himself?

¶Great-heart. He has more Righteousness than you have need of, or than he needeth himself.

¶Chris. Pray make that appear.

¶Great-heart. 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 distinguished, 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 they, 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 Righteousness of the Godhead, as distinguished from the Manhood; nor the Righteousness of the Manhood, as distinguished from the Godhead; but a Righteousness which standeth in the union of both Natures, and may properly be called, the Righteousness that is essential to his being prepared of God to the capacity of the Mediatory Office which he was to be intrusted with. If he parts with his first Righteousness, he parts with his Godhead; if he parts with his second Righteousness, he parts with the purity of his Manhood; if he parts with this third, he parts with that perfection that capacitates him to the Office of Mediation. He has therefore another Righteousness, which standeth in performance, or obedience to a revealed will, and that is that he puts upon Sinners, and that by which their sins are covered. Wherefore he saith, as by one man's disobedience [214]many were made Sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made Righteous.

¶Chris. But are the other Righteousnesses of no use to us?

¶Great-heart. Yes, for though they are essential to his Natures and Office, and so cannot be communicated unto another, yet it is by venue of them that the Righteousness that justifies is for that purpose efficacious. The Righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his Obedience; the Righteousness of his Manhood giveth capabiUty to his obedience to justify; and the Righteousness that standeth in the union of these two Natures 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 of, 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 perfect 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 'tis called the gift of Righteousness. 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 justly, but to use Charity. Wherefore he must, he ought by the Law, if he hath two Coats, to give one 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 to the next poor beggar he meets.

p. 215¶But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must something be 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; and this is by the Blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and died your death for your transgressions. 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 that there was something to be learned by our being pardoned by word and ^j^ 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?

¶Great-heart. Yes, 'twas the belief of this that cut those strings that could not be cut by other means, and 'twas to give him a proof of the vertue of this, that he was suffered to carry his Burden to the Cross.

¶Chris. I thought so, for tho' my heart was lightful and joyous before, yet it is ten times more lightsome and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I have felt, tho' I have felt but little as yet, that if the most burdened man in the world was here, and did see and believe as I now do, 'twould make his heart the more merry and blithe.

¶Great-heart. There is not only comfort, and the ease of a Burden brought to us, by the sight and consideration of these, but an indcared affection begot in us by it; for ^s°^ 'o who can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes, not only by promise but thus, but be affected by the way and means of his redemption, and so with the man that hath wrought it for [216]him? Firjt Part, Chris. True, methinks it makes my heart bleed to p. 41 think that he should bleed for me. Oh! thou loving One. Oh! thou blessed One. Thou deservest to have me, thou hast bought me: thou deservest to have me all; thou hast paid for me 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 all alone. O 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 pxiwerful lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home again, and to refuse to become good Pilgrims.

p. 216¶Great-heart. You speak now in the warmth of your affections: will it, think you, be always thus with you?

¶Besides, this is not communicated to every one, nor to a every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There was that stood by, and that saw the Blood run from his heart to the ground, and yet were 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 contemplating upon what I have spoken to you. Remember that 'twas told you, that the Hen by her common call gives no meat to the Chicf(ens. This you have therefore by a special Grace.

¶Now I saw still in my Dream, that they went on until they were come to the place that Simple and Sloth and Presumption lay and slept in, when Christian went by on Pilgrimage. And behold they were hanged up in irons, a little way off on the other side.

¶Mercy. Then said Mercy to him that was their Guide and Conductor, What are those three men ? and for what are they hanged there?

¶Great-heart. These three men were men of very [217]bad qualities, they had no mind to be Pilgrims themselves, and whosoever they could they hindered. They were for sloth and folly themselves, and whoever they could persuade with, they made so too, and withal taught them to presume that they should do well at last. They were asleep when Christian went by, and now you go by they are hanged.

p. 217¶Behold here how the slothful are a sign.

¶Hung up 'cause holy ways they did decline.

¶See here too how the child doth play the man,

¶And weak grow strong when Great-heart leads the van.

¶Mercy. But could they persuade any to be of their opinion ?

¶Great-heart. 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 Linger-after-lust, and with one Sleepyhead, 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 'twas not half so good as some pretend 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 Husl{s, the Comforts of his Children Fancies, the Travel and Labour of Pilgrims things to no purpose.

¶Chris. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they shall never be bewailed by me. They have but what they deserve, and I think it is well that they hang so near the High-way that others may see and take warning. But had it not been well if their crimes had been ingraven in some plate of iron or brass, and left here, even where they did their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men?

¶Great-heart. So it is, as you well may perceive if you will go a little to the Wall.

p. 218¶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 afore we came hither, who knows else what they might a 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 is 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 P- 45 Hill Difficulty, where again their good Friend Mr Great-heart, took an occasion to tell them of what happened there when Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the Spring. Lo, saith he, this is the Spring that Christian drank of before he went up this Hill, and then 'twas clear and good, but now 'tis dirty with the feet of some that are not desirous that Pilgrims here should quench their thirst. Thereat Mercy said. And why so envious, tro.^ But said the 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 compelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they drank thereof.

¶Next he shewed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the Hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. And said he, these are dangerous Paths. Two 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 chuse to adventure here, rather than take the pains to go up this Hill.

p. 219¶Chris. The way of transgressors is hard. 'Tis a wonder that they can get into those ways without danger of breaking their necks.

¶Great-heart. They will venture; yea, if at any time any of the King's servants doth happen to see them, and doth 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 spo/^en unto us in the name of the King, we will not hearl^en unto thee; but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth out of our own mouths, &c. Nay if you look a little farther, you shall see that these ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts and ditch and chain, but also by being hedged up; yet they will chuse to go there.

¶Chris. They are idle, they love not to take pains, uphill way is unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written, The way of the slothful man is a Hedge of '» R" '" Thorns. Yea, they will rather chuse 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, chuse to themselves a smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit down; also the least of the Children began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart, sit not down here, for a little above is the Prince's Arbor. Then took he the little Boy by the hand, and led him up thereto.

¶When they were come to the Arbor, they were very willing to sit down, for they were all in a pelting heat, Then said Mercy, How sweet is rest to them that labour. And how good is the Prince of Pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them. Of this Arbor I have heard much, R"» but I never saw it before. But here let us beware of ^^' ^^' [220]^ sleeping; for as I have heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear.

p. 220¶Then said Mr Great-heart to the Httle ones, Come my pretty Boys, how do you do? What think you now of going on Pilgrimage? Sir, said the least, I was almost beat out of heart, but I thank you for lending me a hand at my need. And I remember now what my Mother has told me, namely. That the way to Heaven is as up a Ladder, and the way to Hell is as down a Hill. But 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, thou hast given her a right answer. Then Mercy smiled, but the little Boy did blush.

¶Chris. 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 here a piece of Pomgranate, which Mr Interpreter put in my hand, just when I came out of his doors. He gave me also a piece of an Hony<omb, and a little Bottle of Spirits. I thought he gave you something, said Mercy, because he called you a to-side. 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 Great-heart, Sir, will you do as we ? But he answered, You are going on Pilgrimage, and presently I shall return: much good may what you have do to you, at home I eat the same every day. Now when they had eaten and drank, and had chatted 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 [221]forgat to take her Bottle of Spirits with her, so she sent her little Christiana Boy back to fetch it. Then said Mercy, I think this is a her bottle losing place. Here Christian lost his Roll, and here Christiana left her Bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this."* So their Guide made answer and said, The cause is sleep or forgetfulness: some sleep when they should keep aiva/^e, and some forget when they should remember; and this is the very cause, why often at the resting-places, some Pilgrims in some things come off losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they have already received under their greatest enjoyment; but for want of doing so, oft-times their Rejoicing ends in Tears, and their Sun-shine in a Cloud: witness the story of Christian at this place.

p. 221¶When they were come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous 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 thereon, and underneath, the reason of raising up of that Stage in that place rendered. The Verses were these:

¶Let him that sees this Stage take heed

¶Unto his Heart and Tongue;

¶Lest if he do not, here he speed

¶As some have long agone.

¶The 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 Stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the Tongue with an hot Iron, for endeavouring to hinder Christian in his Journey.

¶Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of the 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 [222]Juniper. First Part, So they went on, till they came within sight of the

p. 222¶p. 48

¶Lions. Now Mr Great-heart 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 stept back, and went behind. At this their Guide smiled, and said, How now, my Boys, do you love to go before when no danger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon as the Lions appear?

¶Now as they went up, Mr Great-heart drew his Sword, with intent to make a way for the Pilgrims in spite of the Lions. Then 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 hither? Now the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of his slaying of Pilgrims, and he was of the race of the Giants.

¶Great-heart. 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 all grown over with Grass.

¶Chris. Then said Christiana, Tho' the High-ways have been un-occupied heretofore, and tho' the Travellers have been made in time past to walk through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen, now I am risen a Mother in Israel.

¶Grim. Then he swore by the Lions, but it should, and therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have passage there.

¶Great-heart. But their Guide made first his [223]approach unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him with his Sword, that he forced him to a retreat.

p. 223¶Grim. Then said he (that attempted to back the Lions) Will you slay me upon mine own ground?

¶Great-heart. 'Tis the King's High-way that we are in, and in his way it is that thou hast placed thy Lions; but these Women and these Children, tho' 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 off an arm. Then did the Giant roar so hideously, that his voice frighted the Women, and yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the Lions were chained, and so of themselves could ^h^. do nothing. Wherefore when old Grim that intended to back them was dead, Mr Great-heart said to the Pilgrims, Come now and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from the Lions. They therefore went on, but the T^'V P»"

¶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 the more haste after this to go thither, because 'tis 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 Great-heart, what is your business here so late to-night? I have brought, said he, some Pilgrims hither, where by my Lord's commandment they must lodge. I had been here some time ago, had I not been opposed by the Giant that did use to back the Lions; [224]but I after a long and tedious combat with him, have cut him off, and have brought the Pilgrims hither in safety.

p. 224¶Porter. Will you not go in, and stay till morning?

¶Great-heart. 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 Pilgrimage, you have been so faithful and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in counselling of us, that I shall never forget your favour towards us.

¶Mercy. Then said Mercy, O 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?

¶James. 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.

¶Great-heart. 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 granted 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 P- 49 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 Towns-women. 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 was Humble-mind. And to her the Porter said. Go tell it within that Christiana the Wife of Christian, and her Children, are come hither on Pilgrimage. She went in therefore [225]and told it. But O what a noise for gladness was there within, when the Damsel did but drop that word out of her mouth.

p. 225¶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 that good man, come in thou blessed woman, come in with all that are with 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 to sit down; so they sat down, and the Chief of the house was called 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 Pilgrims were weary 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; for the Porter had 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 chuse, 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 entred into discourse about -^ i^^\ things that were convenient.

¶Chris. Little did I think once, that when my Husband went on Pilgrimage, I should ever a 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 [226]his face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the King with him, and yet now I believe I shall.

p. 226¶Mercy. Hark, don't you hear a noise?

¶Chris. Yes, 'tis as I believe, a noise of Musick for joy that we are here.

¶Mercy. Wonderful! Musick in the House, Musick in the Heart, and Musick also in Heaven, for joy that we are here.

¶Thus they talked awhile, and then betook themselves to sleep. So in the morning, when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy:

¶Chris. 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 dreamed that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was bemoaning of the hardness 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 Fool, and some began to thrust me about. With that, methought I looked up, and saw one coming with Wings towards 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 he 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 mine Ears, and a beautiful Crown upon my Head. Then he took me by the Hand, and said Mercy, come after me. So he went up, and I followed, till we came at 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 [227]Daughter. The place looked bright and twinkling like the Stars, or rather like the Sun, and I thought that I saw your Husband there. So I awoke from my Dream. But did I laugh ?

p. 227¶Chris. Laugh: ay, and well you might, to see yourself so well. For you 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 you shall find the second at last. Cod speak^s once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not. In a Dream, in a Vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in shimbring upon the bed. 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 oft-times 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. I 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 willingly 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.

¶Chris. We 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.

¶Mercy. Very good, said Mercy; it was one of the best night's Lodging that ever I had in my life.

¶Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be p)ersuaded to stay here a while, you shall have what the house will ^^ """* afford.

¶Char. 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 Prudence would see how Christiana had [228]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 fames.

p. 228¶Prudence. And she said, Come fames, canst thou tell

¶, i i ■<

¶who made thee:

¶fames. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

¶Prud. Good Boy. And canst thou tell me who saves thee?

¶fames. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

¶Prud. Good Boy still. But how doth God the Father save thee?

¶fames. By his Grace.

¶Prud. How doth God the Son save thee?

¶fames. By his Righteousness, Death, and Blood, and Life.

¶Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee?

¶fames. By his Illumination, by his Renovation, and by his Preservation.

¶Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be commended 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 youngest next.

¶Prud. Then she said, Come foseph (for his name was foseph) will you let me catechise you?

¶foseph. With all my heart.

¶Prud. What is Man ?

¶foseph. A Reasonable Creature, so made by God, as my Brother said.

¶Prud. What is supposed by this word saved?

¶foseph. That Man by Sin has brought himself into a state of Captivity and Misery.

¶Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity ?

p. 229¶Joseph. 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. The glorifying of his Name, of his Grace and Justice, &e. and the everlasting Happiness 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.

¶Prud. Come Samuel, are you 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?

¶5am. A place and state most woful, 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 me 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 him, Come Matthew, shall I also catechise you?

¶Matthew. With a very good will.

¶Prud. I ask then, if there was ever anything that had a being antecedent to or before God,

p. 230¶Matt. No, for God is eternal, nor is there anything excepting 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 understand ?

¶Matt. Yes a great deal.

¶Prud. What do you do when you meet with such places therein that you 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 good.

¶Prud. How believe you as touching the Resurrection of the Dead?

¶Matt. I believe they shall rise, the same that was buried, the same in nature, tho' not in corruption. And I believe this upon a double account. First, because God has promised it. Secondly, because he 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. Observe also and that with carefulness, what the Heavens and the Earth do teach you; but especially be much in the meditation of that Book that was the cause of your Father's becoming 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 had been at this place a week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some good will unto her, and his name was Mr Brisl{. A man of some breeding, and 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. [231]Now Mercy was of fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring.

p. 231¶Her mind also was, to be always busying of 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 Brisl{ not knowing where or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be greatly taken for that he found her never idle. I will warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to himself.

¶Mercy then revealed the business to the Maidens that were of the house, and enquired 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 then replied, That there needed no great matter of discouragement to be given to him, her continuing so as she had began 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, always 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 Work{s, laying up in store a good Foundation against the time to come, that I may lay hold on Eternal Life. Why prithee what dost thou with them ? said he. Cloath 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 troubled with ill conditions.

¶When he had left her, Prudence said. Did I not tell thee, that Mr Bris\ would soon forsake thee.? yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee; for notwithstanding [232]his Mercy pretence to Religion, and his seeming love to Mercy, yet

p. 232¶in the

¶Mercy and he are of tempers so different, that I believe they will never come together.

¶Mercy. I might a had Husbands afore now, tho' I spake not of it to any; but they were such 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, which is set forth by thy Conditions, there are but few that can abide.

¶Mercy. 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 cannot 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 began, that is, to shew 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: but I am for none of them at 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 'twere both ends together. There dwelt also not far from thence, one Mr S/^ill, an antient and well-approved Physician. So Christiana desired it, and they sent for him, and he came. When he was entred 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 upon? Diet, said Christiana, nothing but that which is wholesome. The Physician answered. This Boy has been tampering with

¶' Gave notice that he would not be responsible for debts contracted by his wife.

p. 233¶.»_

¶PILGRIM S PROGRESS 233 something that lies in his maw undigested, and that will The not away without means. And I tell you he must be judgment' purged, or else he will die.

¶Sam. Then said Samuel, Mother, Mother, what was that which my Brother did gather up and eat, so soon as we were cx)me 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, some of the trees hung over the wall, and my Brother did plash and did eat.

¶Chris. 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.

¶5^/7/. I knew he had eaten something that was not wholesome 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 thereof.

¶Chris. Then Christiana began to cry, and she said, O naughty Boy, and O careless Mother, what shall I do for my Son?

¶5^i7/. Come, do not be too much dejected; the Boy may do well again, but he must purge and vomit.

¶Chris. Pray Sir, try the utmost of your skill with him whatever it costs.

¶S^ill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made him a Purge, but it was too weak. *Twas said it was made of the Blood of a Goat, the Ashes of a Heifer, and with some of the Juice of Hyssop, &c. When Mr S/^ill had seen that that Purge was too weak, he made him one to the purpose, 'twas made Ex Carne & Sanguine Christi. (You know Physicians give strange Medicines to their Patients.) And it was made up into Pills, with a Promise or two, and a proportionable quantity of Salt. Now he was to take them three at a time fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the Tears of Repentance. When this Potion was prepared and brought to the Boy he was loth to [234]take The boy it, tho' torn with the Gripes as if he should be pulled in

p. 234¶loath to

¶pieces. Come, come, said the Physician, you must take it. It goes against my stomach, said the Boy. I must have you take it, said his Mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the Boy. Pray Sir, said Christiana to Mr Sl^ill, how does 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 Hony. If thou lovest thy Mother, 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.

¶A So in Utde time he got up and walked about with a staff, 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 Sl{ill, saying Sir, what will content you for your pains and care to and of my Child ? And he said, You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians, according to rules made in that case and provided.

¶Chris. But Sir, said she, what is this Pill good for else?

¶Sl{ill. It is a universal Pill, it is good against all the diseases that Pilgrims are incident to, and when it is well prepared, 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 Physick.

¶a 5^///. 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, that if a man will but use this Physick as he should, it will ma/^e him Hue for ever. But good Christiana, thou must give these Pills no other way but as I have prescribed, for if you do, they will do no good. So he [235]gave unto Christiana Physick for herself and her Boys and for Mercy, and bid Matthew take heed how he eat any more green Plums, and kissed them and went his way.

p. 235¶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.

¶Matt. Then Matthew who had been sick, asked her, Why for the most part Physicl^ should be hitter to our palates?

¶Prud. To shew how unwelcome the Word of God and the effects thereof are to a Carnal Heart.

¶Matt. Why does Physick, if it does good, purge, and cause that we vomit?

¶Prud. To shew 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 his sending his Heat Beams and sweet Influences downwards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, tho' high, reaches 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 shew that Ministers should give out what they know of God to the World.

¶Matt. Why is the Rainbow caused by the Sun?

¶Prud. To shew that the covenant of God's Grace is confirmed to us in Christ.

p. 236¶Matt. Why do the Springs come from the Sea to us through the Earth?

¶Prud. To shew that the 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 shew 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 Candlewick ?

¶Prud. To shew 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 maintain the light of the Candle?

¶Prud. To shew 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 shew that Christ the blessed so loved his young, his p)eople, as to save them from Death by his Blood.

¶Matt. What may one learn by hearing the Cock to crow ?

¶Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Pete/s repentance. The Cock's crowing shews 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 the house that 'twas 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 Great-heart should be sent unto us, that he may be our Conductor the 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 [237]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 1 will send him.

p. 237¶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 profitable Guests as these. Which done, they said to Christiana, And shall we not shew 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 shewed 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, 'Tis Food or Poison, I know not which. So 4_"?*" °^ they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands and wondered.

¶Then they had her to a place, and shewed her Jacob's f^'°'' * Ladder. Now at that time there were some Angels ascending up)on it. So Christiana looked and looked, to see the Angels go up, and so did the rest of the Company. Then they were going in to another place to shew them something else, but James said to his Mother, Pray bid A 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. 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 'tis of absolute necessity that you should, that you may lay hold of that within the vail, and stand steadfast, in case you should meet with turbulent weather. So they were glad thereof. Then they took them, and had them to the Mount upon which Abraham our Father had offered up Isaac his Son, and shewed them the Altar, the Wood, the Fire, and the Knife, for they remain to be ■"»: seen to this very day. When they had seen it, they [238]held up their hands and blest themselves, and said, Oh what a man for love to his Master, and for denial to himself was Abraham. After they had shewed 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 shewed them into this excellent song, saying.

p. 238¶Eve's Apple we have shew'd you.

¶Of that be you aware;

¶You have seen Jacob's Ladder too.

¶Upon which Angels are.

¶An Anchor you received have,

¶But 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 Great-heart was there; but when he was come in, what joy was there? For it came now fresh again into their minds, how but a while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-man the Giant, and de-

¶livered them from the Lions.

¶a Then said Mr Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you a Bottle of Wine, and also some parched Corn, together with a couple of Pomgranates. He has also sent the Boys some Figs and Raisins to refresh you on your way.

¶Then they addressed themselves to their Journey, and Prudence 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 saith the thieves are taken, and will shortly be tried for their lives. Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid, but Matthew said. Mother fear nothing, as long as Mr Great-heart is to go with us and to be our Conductor.

¶Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am [239]much obliged to you for all the kindnesses that you have shewed Christiana me since I came hither, and also for that you have been so \g^yg „( loving and kind to my Children. I know not how to gratify your kindness. Wherefore pray as a token of my respects to you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold Angel in his hand, and he made her a low obeisance. and said, Let thy Garments 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 follow 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.

p. 239¶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 bestow 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 shew'd to me,

¶That in thy House for evermore

¶My dwelling-place shall be.

¶And Ustening 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.

¶So Christiana asked Prudence what 'twas 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. I [240]often. said she, go out to hear them, we also oft-times 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.

p. 240¶By this time Piety was come again; so she said to Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee a scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at our house, uf)on 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

¶p. 60

¶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 that foul Fiend Apollyon, and where they had that Fight that they had; I know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be of good courage; as long you have here Mr Great-heart to be your Guide and Conductor, we hope you will fare the better. So when these two had committed the Pilgrims unto the conduct of their Guide, he went forward and they went after.

¶Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, we need not to be so afraid of this Valley, for here is nothing to hurt us unless we procure it to ourselves. 'Tis true. Christian did here meet with Apollyon, with whom he also had a sore Combat; but that pray was the fruit of those slips that he

¶p. 60

¶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 the common people when they hear that some frightful thing has befallen such a one in such a place, are of an 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 befall them there.

¶This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any the Crow flies over; and I am persuaded [241]if we could hit upon it, we might find somewhere here- The ■■"- abouts, something that might give us an account why christian Christian was so hardly beset in this place. "" ^

p. 241¶Then James said to his Mother, Lo, yonder stands a Pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon, let us go and see what it is. So they went, and found there written. 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 not I 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 'tis easier going up than down this Hill, and that can be said but of few Hills in all these parts 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 we come to be tried than he.

¶But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground in all those parts. It is fat ground, and as you see, consisteth much in meadows; and if a man was 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 Valley is, also how beautified with Lillies. I have also known many labouring men that have got good estates in this Valley of Humiliation (for God resisteth the Proud, but gives more Grace to the Humble) 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's an end.

p. 242¶Now as they were going along and talking, they espied a Boy feeding his Father's Sheep. The Boy was in very mean cloaths, but of a very fresh and well-favoured countenance, and as he sate by himself, he sung. Hark, said Mr Great-heart, to what the Shepherd's Boy saith. So they hearkened, and he said,

¶He that is down needs fear no fall,

¶He that is low no pride;

¶12, 13 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.

¶Then said their 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; he loved much to be here; he loved also to walk these Meadows, 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 of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindred 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 tho' Christian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon, 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.

p. 243¶Did I say our Lord had here in former days his Country-house, and that he loved here to walk? I will add, in this place, and to the people that live and trace these Grounds, he has left a yearly revenue to be faithfully payed them at certain seasons, for their maintenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their Pilgrimage.

¶Samuel. Now as they went on, Samuel said to Mr Great-heart, Sir, I perceive that in this Valley my Father and Apollyon had their Battle, but whereabout was the Fight, for I perceive this Valley is large?

¶Great-heart. 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 dangerous 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 are 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.

¶Mercy. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this Valley as I have been anywhere else in all our Journey, the place methinks suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places where there is no rattling with Coaches, nor rumbling with Wheels. Methinks here one may without much molestation, 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 Fishpools of Heshbon. 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. This Valley is that from whence also the King will give to their vineyards, and they that go through it shall sing, as Christian did for all he met with [244]Apollyon. An experi- Great-heart. 'Tis true, said their Guide, I have gone through this Valley many a time, and never was better than when here.

p. 244¶I have also been a Conduct 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 that trembles at my Word.

¶Now they were come to the place where the afore mentioned Battle was fought. Then said the Guide to Christiana her Children and Mercy, This is the place, on this ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon against him. And look, did not I 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. Verily Christian did here play the man, and shewed himself as stout, as could, had he been there, even Hercules himself. When Apollyon 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 Monument, on which is engraven this Battle, and Christian's Victory, to his fame throughout all ages. So because it stood just on the wayside before them, they stept 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.

p. 245¶,»

¶PILGRIM S PROGRESS 245 When they had passed by this place, they came upon First Pan,

¶p. 65

¶the borders of the Shadow of Death; and this 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 Great-heart was their Conductor.

¶When they were entred 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 Lamentation spoken, as of some in extreme Torment. These 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 there; they heard also a kind of hissing as of Serpents, 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 he, 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 5^/7/ had prepared, and the Boy began to revive. Thus they went on till they came to about the middle of the Valley, and then Christiana said, Methinks I see something yonder upon the road before us, a thing of such 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. 'Tis like I cannot tell what, said she. J."?* . And now it was but a little way off. Then said she, It is nigh.

¶Well, well, said Mr Great-heart, Let them that are [246]most Great- afraid keep close to me. So the Fiend came on, and the

p. 246¶heart

¶Conductor met it; but when it was just come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then remembred they what had been said some time ago, Resist the Devil, and he will fly 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 Roaring, and at every Roar that it gave it made all the Valley echo, and their hearts to ake, save the heart of him that was their Guide. So it came up, and Mr Great-heart went behind, and put the Pilgrims all before him. The Lion also came on apace, and Mr Great-heart 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.

¶A Then they went on again, and their Conductor did go before them, till they came at a place where was cast up a Pit the whole breadth of the way, and before they could be prepared to go over that, a great Mist and a Darkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then said the Pilgrims, Alas! now what shall we do? But their Guide made answer, Fear not, stand still and see what an end will be put to this also. So they stayed there because their path was marr'd. They then also thought that they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the Enemies, the fire also and the smoke of the Pit was much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what my poor Husband went through, I have heard much of this place, but I never was here afore 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 spoke of it, but none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean, until they come in it themselves. The heart \nows [247]its own Bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its Joy. To be here is a fearful thing.

p. 247¶Great-heart. 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 Mountains; now it seems as if the Earth with its bars were about us for ever. But let them that wall{ in Darkness and have no Light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God. For my part, as I have told you already, I 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 that 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 '^'V P"y Deliverance, for there was now no let in their way, no not there where but now they were stopt 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 here as it is to abide here always, and for ought *' "'^ ^ 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.

¶Well said Samuel, quoth the Guide, thou 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 [248]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, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then said the Guide, That is one Heedless, that was a going this way, he has lain there a great while. There was one Taf^e-heed with him when he was taken and slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed hereabouts, and yet men are so foolishly venturous, as to set out lightly on Pilgrimage,

p. 248¶and to come without 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 a done it. Now they drew towards the end of the

¶way, and just there where Christian had seen the Cave

¶a when he went by, out thence came forth Maul a Giant. *""' This A/a«/ did use to spoil young Pilgrims with Sophistry; and he called Great-heart 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, you know what things, but I will put an end to your trade. But pray, said Mr Great-heart, before we fall to it, let us understand where-

¶fore we must fight. Now the Women and Children stood J^ ' 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 Great-heart, come to particulars, man.

¶Then said the Giant, Thou practisest the craft of a Kidnapper, thou gatherest up Women and Children, and carriest them into a strange Country, to the weakening 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 commanded to do my endeavour to turn Men Women and Children, from darkness to light, and from the power [249]of Satan to God; and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt.