BibleWare/BibWare.bin/bibref/pilgrim.txt

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This text was prepared by Logos Research Systems, Inc.  from an edition
marked as follows:

Auburn:

Derby and Miller.

Buffalo:

Geo.  H. Derby and Co.

1853

THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

FROM

THIS WORLD

TO

THAT WHICH IS TO COME;

DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILTUDE OF A DREAM.

BY JOHN BUNYAN.



CONTENTS.

Author's Apology for his Book

PART I.

THE FIRST STAGE. - Christian's deplorable condition - Evangelist directs
him - Obstinate and Pliable - Slough of Despond - Worldly Wiseman -
Mount Sinai - Conversation with Evangelist

THE SECOND STAGE. - The Gate - conversation with Good-Will - the
Interpreter's House - Christian entertained - the sights there shown him

THE THIRD STAGE. - Loses his burden at the Cross - Simple, Sloth,
Presumption, Formalist, Hypocrisy - hill Difficulty - the Arbor - misses
his roll - the palace Beautiful - the lions - talk with Discretion,
Piety, Prudence, and Charity - wonders shown to Christian - he is armed

THE FOURTH STAGE. - Valley of Humiliation - conflict with Apollyon -
Valley of the Shadow of Death - Giants Pope and Pagan

THE FIFTH STAGE. - Discourse with Faithful - Talkative and Faithful -
Talkative's character

THE SIXTH STAGE. - Evangelist overtakes Christian and Faithful - Vanity
Fair - the Pilgrims brought to trial - Faithful's martyrdom

THE SEVENTH STAGE. - Christian and Hopeful - By-ends and his companions
- plain of Ease - Lucre-hill - Demas - the River of Life - Vain-
Confidence - Giant Despair - the Pilgrims beaten - the Dungeon - the Key
of Promise

THE EIGHTH STAGE. - The Delectable Mountains - entertained by the
Shepherds - a by-way to Hell

THE NINTH STAGE. - Christian and Hopeful meet Ignorance - Turn-away -
Little-Faith - the Flatterer - the net - chastised by a Shining One -
Atheist - Enchanted Ground - Hopeful's account of his conversion -
discourse of Christian and Ignorance

THE TENTH STAGE. - Talk of Christian and Hopeful - Temporary - the
backslider - the land of Beulah - Christian and Hopeful pass the River -
welcome to the Celestial city

Conclusion of Part First

PART II.

Author's Apology for the Second Part

Pilgrimage of Christiana and her children

THE FIRST STAGE. - Christiana and Mercy - Slough of Despond - knocking
at the gate - the Dog - talk between the Pilgrims

THE SECOND STAGE. - The Devil's garden - two ill-favored ones assault
them - the Reliever - entertainment at the Interpreter's house - the
Significant Rooms - Christiana and Mercy's experience

THE THIRD STAGE. - Accompanied by Great-Heart - the Cross - justified by
Christ - Sloth and his companions hung - the hill Difficulty - the Arbor

THE FOURTH STAGE. - The Lions - Giant Grim slain by Great-Heart - the
Pilgrims entertained - the children catechized by Prudence - Mr.  Brisk
- Matthew sick - the remedy - sights shown the Pilgrims

THE FIFTH STAGE. - Valley of Humiliation - Valley of the Shadow of Death
- Giant Maul slain

THE SIXTH STAGE. - Discourse with Old Honest - character and history of
Mr.  Fearing - Mr.  Self-will and some professors - Gaius' house -
conversation - the supper - Old Honest and Great-Heart's riddles and
discourse - Giant Slay-good killed - Mr.  Feeble-mind's history - Mr.
Ready-to-halt - Vanity Fair - Mr.  Mnason's house - cheering
entertainment and converse - a Monster

THE SEVENTH STAGE. - Hill Lucre - River of Life - Giant Despair killed -
the Delectable Mountains - entertainment by the Shepherds

THE EIGHTH STAGE. - Valiant-for-Truth's-Victory - his talk with Great-
Heart - the Enchanted Ground - Heedless and Too-bold - Mr.  Stand-fast -
Madam Bubble's temptations - the land of Beulah - Christiana summoned -
her parting addresses - she passes the River - she is followed by Ready-
to-halt, Feeble-mind, Despondency and his daughter, Honest, Valiant,
Steadfast

Author's Farewell



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

FOR

HIS BOOK.

WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand

Thus for to write, I did not understand

That I at all should make a little book

In such a mode: nay, I had undertook

To make another; which, when almost done,

Before I was aware I this begun.

And thus it was: I, writing of the way

And race of saints in this our gospel-day,

Fell suddenly into an allegory

About their journey, and the way to glory,

In more than twenty things which I set down

This done, I twenty more had in my crown,

And they again began to multiply,

Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.

Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,

I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last

Should prove ad infinitum, 1 and eat out

The book that I already am about.

Well, so I did; but yet I did not think

To show to all the world my pen and ink

In such a mode; I only thought to make

I knew not what: nor did I undertake

Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not I;

I did it my own self to gratify.

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend

In this my scribble; nor did I intend

But to divert myself, in doing this,

From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss.

Thus I set pen to paper with delight,

And quickly had my thoughts in black and white;

For having now my method by the end,

Still as I pull'd, it came; and so I penned

It down; until it came at last to be,

For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together

I show'd them others, that I might see whether

They would condemn them, or them justify:

And some said, let them live; some, let them die:

Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so:

Some said, It might do good; others said, No.

Now was I in a strait, and did not see

Which was the best thing to be done by me:

At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided,

I print it will; and so the case decided.

For, thought I, some I see would have it done,

Though others in that channel do not run:

To prove, then, who advised for the best,

Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny

Those that would have it, thus to gratify;

I did not know, but hinder them I might

Of that which would to them be great delight.

For those which were not for its coming forth,

I said to them, Offend you, I am loath;

Yet since your brethren pleased with it be,

Forbear to judge, till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;

Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.

Yea, that I might them better palliate,

I did too with them thus expostulate:

May I not write in such a style as this?

In such a method too, and yet not miss

My end-thy good?  Why may it not be done?

Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.

Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops

Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,

Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,

But treasures up the fruit they yield together;

Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit

None can distinguish this from that; they suit

Her well when hungry; but if she be full,

She spews out both, and makes their blessing null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take

To catch the fish; what engines doth he make!

Behold how he engageth all his wits;

Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets:

Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line,

Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:

They must be groped for, and be tickled too,

Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do.

How does the fowler seek to catch his game

By divers means!  all which one cannot name.

His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light and bell:

He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell

Of all his postures?  yet there's none of these

Will make him master of what fowls he please.

Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this;

Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss.

If that a pearl may in toad's head dwell,

And may be found too in an oyster-shell;

If things that promise nothing, do contain

What better is than gold; who will disdain,

That have an inkling 2 of it, there to look,

That they may find it.  Now my little book,

(Though void of all these paintings that may make

It with this or the other man to take,)

Is not without those things that do excel

What do in brave but empty notions dwell.

"Well, yet I am not fully satisfied

That this your book will stand, when soundly tried."

Why, what's the matter?  "It is dark."  What though?

"But it is feigned."  What of that?  I trow

Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine,

Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine.

"But they want solidness."  Speak, man, thy mind.

"They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind."

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen

Of him that writeth things divine to men:

But must I needs want solidness, because

By metaphors I speak?  Were not God's laws,

His gospel laws, in olden time held forth

By types, shadows, and metaphors?  Yet loth

Will any sober man be to find fault

With them, lest he be found for to assault

The highest wisdom!  No, he rather stoops,

And seeks to find out what, by pins and loops,

By calves and sheep, by heifers, and by rams,

By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,

God speaketh to him; and happy is he

That finds the light and grace that in them be.

But not too forward, therefore, to conclude

That I want solidness-that I am rude;

All things solid in show, not solid be;

All things in parable despise not we,

Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,

And things that good are, of our souls bereave.

My dark and cloudy words they do but hold

The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors

To set forth truth: yea, who so considers

Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see,

That truths to this day in such mantles be.

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,

Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,

Is everywhere so full of all these things,

Dark figures, allegories?  Yet there springs

From that same book, that lustre, and those rays

Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my carper to his life now look,

And find there darker lines than in my book

He findeth any; yea, and let him know,

That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men,

To his poor one I durst adventure ten,

That they will take my meaning in these lines

Far better than his lies in silver shrines.

Come, truth, although in swaddling-clothes, I find

Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;

Pleases the understanding, makes the will

Submit, the memory too it doth fill

With what doth our imagination please;

Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,

And old wives' fables he is to refuse;

But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid

The use of parables, in which lay hid

That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were

Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.

Let me add one word more.  O man of God,

Art thou offended?  Dost thou wish I had

Put forth my matter in another dress?

Or that I had in things been more express?

Three things let me propound; then I submit

To those that are my betters, as is fit.

1.  I find not that I am denied the use

Of this my method, so I no abuse

Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude

In handling figure or similitude,

In application; but all that I may

Seek the advance of truth this or that way.

Denied, did I say?  Nay, I have leave,

(Example too, and that from them that have

God better pleased, by their words or ways,

Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,)

Thus to express my mind, thus to declare

Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2.  I find that men as high as trees will write

Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight

For writing so.  Indeed, if they abuse

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use

To that intent; but yet let truth be free

To make her sallies upon thee and me,

Which way it pleases God: for who knows how,

Better than he that taught us first to plough,

To guide our minds and pens for his designs?

And he makes base things usher in divine.

3.  I find that holy writ, in many places,

Hath semblance with this method, where the cases

Do call for one thing to set forth another:

Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother

Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may

Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

And now, before I do put up my pen,

I'll show the profit of my book; and then

Commit both thee and it unto that hand

That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes

The man that seeks the everlasting prize:

It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes,

What he leaves undone; also what he does:

It also shows you how he runs, and runs,

Till he unto the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who set out for life amain,

As if the lasting crown they would obtain;

Here also you may see the reason why

They lose their labor, and like fools do die.

This book will make a traveler of thee,

If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;

It will direct thee to the Holy Land,

If thou wilt its directions understand

Yea, it will make the slothful active be;

The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profitable?

Or would'st thou see a truth within a fable?

Art thou forgetful?  Wouldest thou remember

From New-Year's day to the last of December?

Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,

And may be, to the helpless, comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect

As may the minds of listless men affect:

It seems a novelty, and yet contains

Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Would'st thou divert thyself from melancholy?

Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?

Would'st thou read riddles, and their explanation?

Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?

Dost thou love picking meat?  Or would'st thou see

A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?

Would'st thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?

Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep?

Would'st thou lose thyself and catch no harm,

And find thyself again without a charm?

Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what,

And yet know whether thou art blest or not,

By reading the same lines?  O then come hither,

And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

JOHN BUNYAN.



THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

THE FIRST STAGE.

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain
place where was a den, 3 and laid me down in that place to sleep; and as
I slept, I dreamed a dream.  I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed
with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own
house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back.  Isa 64:6;
Luke 14:33; Psalm 38:4.  I looked and saw him open the book, and read
therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being able longer
to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I
do?"  Acts 2:37; 16:30; Habak 1:2,3.

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long
as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his
distress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble
increased.  Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and
children; and thus he began to talk to them: "O, my dear wife," said he,
"and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself
undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am
certainly informed that this our city will be burnt with fire from
heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my wife, and
you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet
I see not) some way of escape can be found whereby we may be delivered."
At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that
what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some
frenzy distemper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing towards
night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all
haste they got him to bed.  But the night was as troublesome to him as
the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears.
So when the morning was come, they would know how he did.  He told them,
"Worse and worse:" he also set to talking to them again; but they began
to be hardened.  They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh
and surly carriage to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they
would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him.  Wherefore he
began to retire himself to his chamber to pray for and pity them, and
also to condole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the
fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying: and thus for some days
he spent his time.

Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was
(as he was wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his
mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, "What
shall I do to be saved?"  Acts 16:30,31.

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as if he would run;
yet he stood still because (as I perceived) he could not tell which way
to go.  I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, and
he asked, "Wherefore dost thou cry?"

He answered, "Sir, I perceive, by the book in my hand, that I am
condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment, Heb.  9:27; and I
find that I am not willing to do the first, Job 10: 21,22, nor able to
do the second."  Ezek.  22:14.

Then said Evangelist, "Why not willing to die, since this life is
attended with so many evils?"  The man answered, "Because, I fear that
this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and
I shall fall into Tophet.  Isa.  30:33.  And Sir, if I be not fit to go
to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution;
and the thoughts of these things make me cry."

Then said Evangelist, "If this be thy condition, why standest thou
still?"  He answered, "Because I know not whither to go."  Then he gave
him a parchment roll, and there was written within, "Fly from the wrath
to come."  Matt.  3:7.

The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully,
said, "Whither must I fly?"  Then said Evangelist, (pointing with his
finger over a very wide field,) "Do you see yonder wicket-gate?"  Matt.
7:13,14.  The man said, "No."  Then said the other, "Do you see yonder
shining light?"  Psalm 119:105; 2 Pet.  1:19.  He said, "I think I do."
Then said Evangelist, "Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly
thereto, so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it
shall be told thee what thou shalt do."  So I saw in my dream that the
man began to run.  Now he had not run far from his own door when his
wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry after him to return; but
the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on crying, Life!  life!
eternal life!  Luke 14:26.  So he looked not behind him, Gen.  19:17,
but fled towards the middle of the plain.

The neighbors also came out to see him run, Jer.  20:10; and as he ran,
some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return; and
among those that did so, there were two that were resolved to fetch him
back by force.  The name of the one was Obstinate and the name of the
other Pliable.  Now by this time the man was got a good distance from
them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did,
and in a little time they overtook him.  Then said the man, "Neighbors,
wherefore are you come?"  They said, "To persuade you to go back with
us."  But he said, "That can by no means be: you dwell," said he, "in
the city of Destruction, the place also where I was born: I see it to be
so; and dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the
grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone: be content, good
neighbors, and go along with me."

OBST. What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our comforts
behind us!

CHR. Yes, said Christian, (for that was his name,) because that all
which you forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I
am seeking to enjoy, 2 Cor.  4:18; and if you will go along with me, and
hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there, where I go, is enough
and to spare.  Luke 15:17.  Come away, and prove my words.

OBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to
find them?

CHR. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not
away, 1 Peter 1:4; and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, Heb.
11:16, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently
seek it.  Read it so, if you will, in my book.

OBST. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book; will you go back with
us or no?

CHR. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand to the
plough.  Luke 9:62.

OBST. Come then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home
without him: there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that
when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than
seven men that can render a reason.

PLI. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the good Christian says is
true, the things he looks after are better than ours: my heart inclines
to go with my neighbor.

OBST. What, more fools still!  Be ruled by me, and go back; who knows
whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you?  Go back, go back, and
be wise.

CHR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbor Pliable; there are such
things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories besides.  If
you believe not me, read here in this book, and for the truth of what is
expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that
made it.  Heb.  9: 17-21.

PLI. Well, neighbor Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to come to a point;
I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot with him:
but, my good companion, do you know the way to this desired place?

CHR. I am directed by a man whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to a
little gate that is before us, where we shall receive instructions about
the way.

PLI. Come then, good neighbor, let us be going.  Then they went both
together.

OBST. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate: I will be no
companion of such misled, fantastical fellows.

Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was gone back, Christian and
Pliable went talking over the plain; and thus they began their
discourse.

CHR. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do?  I am glad you are persuaded
to go along with me.  Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have
felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not thus
lightly have given us the back.

PLI. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are none but us two here,
tell me now farther, what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither
we are going.

CHR. I can better conceive of them with my mind, than speak of them with
my tongue: but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them
in my book.

PLI. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true?

CHR. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.  Tit.  1:2.

PLI. Well said; what things are they?

CHR. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life
to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever.  Isa.  65:17;
John 10: 27-29.

PLI. Well said; and what else?

CHR. There are crowns of glory to be given us; and garments that will
make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.  2 Tim.  4:8;
Rev.  22:5; Matt.  13:43.

PLI. This is very pleasant; and what else?

CHR. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; for he that is owner of
the place will wipe all tears from our eyes.  Isa.  25:8; Rev 7:16, 17;
21:4.

PLI. And what company shall we have there?

CHR. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, Isaiah 6:2; 1
Thess.  4:16,17; Rev.  5:11; creatures that will dazzle your eyes to
look on them.  There also you shall meet with thousands and ten
thousands that have gone before us to that place; none of them are
hurtful, but loving and holy; every one walking in the sight of God, and
standing in his presence with acceptance for ever.  In a word, there we
shall see the elders with their golden crowns, Rev.  4:4; there we shall
see the holy virgins with their golden harps, Rev.  14:1-5; there we
shall see men, that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames,
eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bare to the Lord
of the place, John 12:25; all well, and clothed with immortality as with
a garment.  2 Cor.  5:2.

PLI. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart.  But are these
things to be enjoyed?  How shall we get to be sharers thereof?

CHR. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath recorded that in this
book, Isaiah 55:1,2; John 6:37; 7:37; Rev.  21:6; 22:17; the substance
of which is, if we be truly willing to have it, he will bestow it upon
us freely.

PLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things: come
on, let us mend our pace.

CHR. I cannot go as fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on
my back.

Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew
nigh to a very miry slough that was in the midst of the plain: and they
being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog.  The name of the
slough was Despond.  Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being
grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the burden
that was on his back, began to sink in the mire.

PLI. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbor Christian, where are you now?

CHR. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.

PLI. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his
fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of?  If we
have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect between
this and our journey's end?  May I get out again with my life, you shall
possess the brave country alone for me.  And with that he gave a
desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the
slough which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian
saw him no more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone;
but still he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was
farthest from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he
did, but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back:
but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him, whose name was Help,
and asked him what he did there.

CHR. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a man called
Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the
wrath to come.  And as I was going thither, I fell in here.

HELP. But why did not you look for the steps?

CHR. Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next way, and fell in.

HELP. Then, said he, Give me thine hand: so he gave him his hand, and he
drew him out, Psalm 40:2, and he set him upon sound ground, and bid him
go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, "Sir, wherefore,
since over this place is the way from the city of Destruction to yonder
gate, is it, that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go
thither with more security?"  And he said unto me, "This miry slough is
such a place as cannot be mended: it is the descent whither the scum and
filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and
therefore it is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner
is awakened about his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears
and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get
together, and settle in this place: and this is the reason of the
badness of this ground.

"It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so
bad.  Isa.  35:3,4.  His laborers also have, by the direction of his
Majesty's surveyors, been for above this sixteen hundred years employed
about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended: yea,
and to my knowledge," said he, "there have been swallowed up at least
twenty thousand cart loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions,
that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's
dominions, (and they that can tell, say, they are the best materials to
make good ground of the place,) if so be it might have been mended; but
it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when they have done
what they can.

"True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and
substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough;
but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth
against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or if they be,
men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside, and then they
are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there: but the
ground is good when they are once got in at the gate."  1 Sam.  12:23.

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home to his
house.  So his neighbors came to visit him; and some of them called him
wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding himself
with Christian: others again did mock at his cowardliness, saying,
"Surely, since you began to venture, I would not have been so base as to
have given out for a few difficulties:" so Pliable sat sneaking among
them.  But at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned
their tales, and began to deride poor Christian behind his back.  And
thus much concerning Pliable.

Now as Christian was walking solitary by himself, he espied one afar off
come crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just
as they were crossing the way of each other.  The gentleman's name that
met him was Mr.  Wordly Wiseman: he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy,
a very great town, and also hard by from whence Christian came.  This
man then, meeting with Christian, and having some inkling 4 of him, (for
Christian's setting forth from the city of Destruction was much noised
abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the
town-talk in some other places) - Mr.  Worldly Wiseman, therefore,
having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by observing
his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some talk
with Christian.

WORLD. How now, good fellow, whither away after this burdened manner?

CHR. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had!  And
whereas you ask me, Whither away?  I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder
wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into
a way to be rid of my heavy burden.

WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children?

CHR. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot take that
pleasure in them as formerly: methinks I am as if I had none.  1 Cor.
7:29.

WORLD. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel?

CHR. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of good counsel.

WORLD. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself
rid of thy burden; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then:
nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessings which God hath
bestowed upon thee till then.

CHR. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden:
but get it off myself I cannot, nor is there any man in our country that
can take it off my shoulders; therefore am I going this way, as I told
you, that I may be rid of my burden.

WORLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?

CHR. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable person:
his name, as I remember, is Evangelist.

I beshrew 5 him for his counsel!  there is not a more dangerous and
troublesome way in the world than is that into which he hath directed
thee; and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel.
Thou hast met with something, as I perceive, already; for I see the dirt
of the Slough of Despond is upon thee: but that slough is the beginning
of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way.  Hear me; I
am older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword,
lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not.  These
things are certainly true, having been confirmed by many testimonies.
And should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed to a
stranger?

CHR. Why, sir, this burden on my back is more terrible to me than are
all these things which you have mentioned: nay, methinks I care not what
I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from
my burden.

WORLD. How camest thou by thy burden at first?

CHR. By reading this book in my hand.

WORLD. I thought so; and it has happened unto thee as to other weak men,
who, meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy
distractions; which distractions do not only unman men, as thine I
perceive have done thee, but they run them upon desperate ventures, to
obtain they know not what.

CHR. I know what I would obtain; it is ease from my heavy burden.

WORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers
attend it?  especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me) I
could direct thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest, without the
dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into.  Yea, and the
remedy is at hand.  Besides, I will add, that instead of those dangers,
thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.

CHR. Sir, I pray open this secret to me.

WORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality) there
dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a
man of a very good name, that has skill to help men off with such
burdens as thine is from their shoulders; yea to my knowledge, he hath
done a great deal of good this way; aye, and besides, he hath skill to
cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens.
To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently.  His house
is not quite a mile from this place; and if he should not be at home
himself, he hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility,
that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself:
there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not
minded to go back to thy former habitation, (as indeed I would not wish
thee,) thou mayest send for thy wife and children to this village, where
there are houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a
reasonable rate: provision is there also cheap and good; and that which
will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there thou shalt live
by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, If
this be true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take
his advice: and with that he thus farther spake.

CHR. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house?

WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill?

CHR. Yes, very well.

WORLD. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his.

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr.  Legality's house for
help: but, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so
high, and also that side of it that was next the way-side did hang so
much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the hill
should fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still, and wotted not
what to do.  Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was
in his way.  There came also flashes of fire, Ex.  19:16, 18, out of the
hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burnt: here therefore
he did sweat and quake for fear.  Heb.  12:21.  And now he began to be
sorry that he had taken Mr.  Worldly Wiseman's counsel; and with that he
saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he began to
blush for shame.  So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and coming up to
him, he looked upon him, with a severe and dreadful countenance, and
thus began to reason with Christian.

EVAN. What doest thou here, Christian?  said he: at which words
Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood
speechless before him.  Then said Evangelist farther, Art not thou the
man that I found crying without the walls of the city of Destruction?

CHR. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.

EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate?

CHR. Yes, dear sir, said Christian.

EVAN. How is it then thou art so quickly turned aside?  For thou art now
out of the way.

CHR. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the Slough of
Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before me, find a
man that could take off my burden.

EVAN. What was he?

CHR. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at
last to yield: so I came hither; but when I beheld this hill, and how it
hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my
head.

EVAN. What said that gentleman to you?

CHR. Why, he asked me whither I was going; and I told him.

EVAN. And what said he then?

CHR. He asked me if I had a family; and I told him.  But, said I, I am
so laden with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure
in them as formerly.

EVAN. And what said he then?

CHR. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was
ease that I sought.  And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate,
to receive farther direction how I may get to the place of deliverance.
So he said that he would show me a better way, and short, not so
attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you set me in; which
way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to
take off these burdens: so I believed him, and turned out of that way
into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burden.  But when I came
to this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped, for fear (as I
said) of danger: but I now know not what to do.

EVAN. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I show thee the
words of God.  So he stood trembling.  Then said Evangelist, "See that
ye refuse not Him that speaketh; for if they escaped not who refused him
that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from
Him that speaketh from heaven."  Heb.  12:25.  He said, moreover, "Now
the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back, my soul shall
have no pleasure in him."  Heb.  10:38.  He also did thus apply them:
Thou art the man that art running into this misery; thou hast begun to
reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the
way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of thy perdition.

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, Woe is me, for I
am undone!  At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right
hand, saying, "All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto
men."  Matt.  12:31.  "Be not faithless, but believing."  John 20:27.
Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at
first, before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest heed to the things
that I shall tell thee of.  I will now show thee who it was that deluded
thee, and who it was also to whom he sent thee.  The man that met thee
is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he so called; partly because he
savoreth only the doctrine of this world, 1 John 4:5, (therefore he
always goes to the town of Morality to church;) and partly because he
loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him best from the cross, Gal.
6:12: and because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to
pervert my ways, though right.  Now there are three things in this man's
counsel that thou must utterly abhor.

1.  His turning thee out of the way.

2.  His laboring to render the cross odious to thee.

3.  And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the
administration of death.

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; yea, and thine
own consenting thereto; because this is to reject the counsel of God for
the sake of the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman.  The Lord says, "Strive to
enter in at the straight gate," Luke 13:24, the gate to which I send
thee; "for strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be
that find it."  Matt.  7:13,14.  From this little wicket-gate, and from
the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of
thee almost to destruction: hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the
way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him.

Secondly, Thou must abhor his laboring to render the cross odious unto
thee; for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt.  Heb.
11:25,26.  Besides, the King of glory hath told thee, that he that will
save his life shall lose it.  And he that comes after him, and hates not
his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and
sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be his disciple.  Mark
8:38; John 12:25; Matt.  10:39; Luke 14:26.  I say, therefore, for a man
to labor to persuade thee that that shall be thy death, without which,
the truth hath said, thou canst not have eternal life, this doctrine
thou must abhor.

Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth
to the ministration of death.  And for this thou must consider to whom
he sent thee, and also how unable that person was to deliver thee from
thy burden.

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son
of the bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with her children,
Gal.  4:21-27, and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, which thou hast
feared will fall on thy head.  Now if she with her children are in
bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free?  This Legality,
therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden.  No man was as
yet ever rid of his burden by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot
be justified by the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man
living can be rid of his burden: Therefore Mr.  Worldly Wiseman is an
alien, and Mr.  Legality is a cheat; and for his son Civility,
notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot
help thee.  Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou
hast heard of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy
salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee.  After
this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for confirmation of what he
had said; and with that there came words and fire out of the mountain
under which poor Christian stood, which made the hair of his flesh stand
up.  The words were pronounced: "As many as are of the works of the law,
are under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every one that
continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to
do them."  Gal.  3:10.

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out
lamentably; even cursing the time in which he met with Mr.  Worldly
Wiseman; still calling himself a thousand fools for hearkening to his
counsel.  He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's
arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the prevalency with
him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way.  This done, he
applied himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows.

CHR. Sir, what think you?  Is there any hope?  May I now go back, and go
up to the wicket-gate?  Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back
from thence ashamed?  I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel;
but may my sin be forgiven?

EVAN. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by it thou
hast committed two evils: thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to
tread in forbidden paths.  Yet will the man at the gate receive thee,
for he has good-will for men; only, said he, take heed that thou turn
not aside again, lest thou "perish from the way, when his wrath is
kindled but a little."  Psalm 2:12.



THE SECOND STAGE.

Then did Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he
had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed; So he went on
with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor if any asked
him, would he vouchsafe them an answer.  He went like one that was all
the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think
himself safe, till again he was got into the way which he had left to
follow Mr.  Worldly Wiseman's counsel.  So, in process of time,
Christian got up to the gate.  Now, over the gate there was written,
"Knock, and it shall be opened unto you."  Matt.  7:7.

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying,

"May I now enter here?  Will he within

Open to sorry me, though I have been

An undeserving rebel?  Then shall I

Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high."

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Goodwill, who asked
who was there, and whence he came, and what he would have.

CHR. Here is a poor burdened sinner.  I come from the city of
Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered from
the wrath to come; I would therefore, sir, since I am informed that by
this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in.

GOOD. I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he opened
the gate.

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull.  Then said
Christian, What means that?  The other told him, A little distance from
this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the
captain: from thence both he and they that are with him, shoot arrows at
those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they can
enter in.  Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble.  So when he was
got in, the man of the Gate asked him who directed him thither.

CHR. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I did: and he said,
that you, sir, would tell me what I must do.

GOOD. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.

CHR. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.

GOOD. But how is it that you came alone?

CHR. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger as I saw mine.

GOOD. Did any of them know of your coming?

CHR. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me
to turn again: also, some of my neighbors stood crying and calling after
me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.

GOOD. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?

CHR. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but when they saw that they could
not prevail, Obstinate went railing back; but Pliable came with me a
little way.

GOOD. But why did he not come through?

CHR. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of
Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell.  And then was my neighbor
Pliable discouraged, and would not venture farther.  Wherefore, getting
out again on the side next to his own house, he told me I should possess
the brave country alone for him: so he went his way, and I came mine; he
after Obstinate, and I to this gate.

GOOD. Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man; is the celestial glory of so
little esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazard
of a few difficulties to obtain it?

CHR. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable; and if I
should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no
betterment betwixt him and myself.  It is true, he went back to his own
house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, being
persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr.  Worldly Wiseman.

GOOD. Oh, did he light upon you?  What, he would have had you have seek
for ease at the hands of Mr.  Legality!  They are both of them a very
cheat.  But did you take his counsel?

CHR. Yes, as far as I durst.  I went to find out Mr.  Legality, until I
thought that the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen
upon my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop.

GOOD. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of
many more: it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.

CHR. Why truly I do not know what had become of me there, had not
Evangelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my
dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had
never come hither.  But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit
indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my
Lord.  But O, what a favor is this to me, that yet I am admitted
entrance here!

GOOD. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they
have done before they come hither; they in no wise are cast out.  John
6:37.  And therefore good Christian, come a little way with me, and I
will teach thee about the way thou must go.  Look before thee; dost thou
see this narrow way?  That is the way thou must go.  It was cast up by
the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles, and it is as strait
as a rule can make it; this is the way thou must go.

CHR. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor windings, by which a
stranger may lose his way?

GOOD. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked
and wide: but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the
right only being strait and narrow.  Matt.  7:14.

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further, if he could
not help him off with his burden that was upon his back.  For as yet he
had not got rid thereof; nor could he by any means get it off without
help.

He told him, "As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest
to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of
itself."

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his
journey.  So the other told him, that by that he was gone some distance
from the gate, he would come to the house of the Interpreter, at whose
door he should knock, and he would show him excellent things.  Then
Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God speed.

Then he went on till he came at the house of the Interpreter, 6 where he
knocked over and over.  At last one came to the door, and asked who was
there.

CHR. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of the
good man of this house to call here for my profit; I would therefore
speak with the master of the house.

So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came
to Christian, and asked him what he would have.

CHR. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the city of
Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion; and I was told by the man
that stands at the gate at the head of this way, that if I called here
you would show me excellent things, such as would be helpful to me on my
journey.

INTER. Then said Interpreter, Come in; I will show thee that which will
be profitable to thee.  So he commanded his man to light the candle, and
bid Christian follow him; so he had him into a private room, and bid his
man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw the picture a
very grave person hang up against the wall; and this was the fashion of
it: It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, the
law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was behind its back;
it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over
its head.

CHR. Then said Christian, What means this?

INTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand: he can beget
children, 1 Cor.  4:15, travail in birth with children, Gal.  4:19, and
nurse them himself when they are born.  And whereas thou seest him with
his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law
of truth writ on his lips: it is to show thee, that his work is to know,
and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as
if he pleaded with men.  And whereas thou seest the world as cast behind
him, and that a crown hangs over his head; that is to show thee, that
slighting and despising the things that are present, for the love that
he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes
next, to have glory for his reward.  Now, said the Interpreter, I have
showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is,
is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath
authorized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with
in the way: wherefore take good heed to what I have showed thee, and
bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet
with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to
death.

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor that
was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed
it a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep.  Now, when
he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that
Christian had almost therewith been choked.  Then said the Interpreter
to a damsel that stood by, "Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room;"
the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

CHR. Then said Christian, What means this?

INTER. The Interpreter answered, This parlor is the heart of a man that
was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel.  The dust is his
original sin, and inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole man.
He that began to sweep at first, is the law; but she that brought water,
and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel.  Now whereas thou sawest, that so
soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the
room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked
therewith; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the
heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, Rom.  7:9, put strength
into, 1 Cor.  15:56, and increase it in the soul, Rom.  5:20, even as it
doth discover and forbid it; for it doth not give power to subdue.
Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon
which it was cleansed with pleasure, this is to show thee, that when the
Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart,
then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling
the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul
made clean, through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the King
of glory to inhabit.  John 15:3; Eph.  5:26; Acts 15:9; Rom.  16:25,26.

I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand,
and had him into a little room, where sat two little children, each one
in his chair.  The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the
other Patience.  Passion seemed to be much disconted, but Patience was
very quiet.  Then Christian asked, "What is the reason of the discontent
of Passion?"  The Interpreter answered, "The governor of them would have
him stay for his best things till the beginning of the next year, but he
will have all now; but Patience is willing to wait."

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure,
and poured it down at his feet: the which he took up, and rejoiced
therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn.  But I beheld but a
while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags.

CHR. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more
fully to me.

INTER. So he said, These two lads are figures; Passion of the men of
this world, and Patience of the men of that which is to come; for, as
here thou seest, passion will have all now, this year, that is to say,
in this world; so are the men of this world: They must have all their
good things now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until the
next world, for their portion of good.  That proverb, "A bird in the
hand is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with them than are
all the divine testimonies of the good of the world to come.  But as
thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently
left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the end of
this world.

CHR. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom,
and that upon many accounts.  1.  Because he stays for the best things.
2.  And also because he will have the glory of his, when the other has
nothing but rags.

INTER. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the next world
will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone.  Therefore Passion had
not so much reason to laugh at Patience because he had his good things
first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion because he had his best
things last; for first must give place to last, because last must have
his time to come: but last gives place to nothing, for there is not
another to succeed.  He, therefore, that hath his portion first, must
needs have a time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must
have it lastingly: therefore it is said of Dives, "In thy lifetime thou
receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he
is comforted, and thou art tormented."  Luke 16:25.

CHR. Then I perceive it is not best to cover things that are now, but to
wait for things to come.

INTER. You say truth: for the things that are seen are temporal, but the
things that are not seen are eternal.  2 Cor.  4:18.  But though this be
so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are such near
neighbors one to another; and again, because things to come and carnal
sense are such strangers one to another; therefore it is, that the first
of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued
between the second.

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand,
and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and
one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet
did the fire burn higher and hotter.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is wrought
in the heart; he that casts water upon it, to extinguish and put it out,
is the devil: but in that thou seest the fire, notwithstanding, burn
higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that.  So he had
him about to the back side of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel
of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast (but
secretly) into the fire.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil
of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart; by the
means of which, notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of his
people prove gracious still.  2 Cor.  12:9.  And in that thou sawest
that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire; this is to
teach thee, that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of
grace is maintained in the soul.

I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him
into a pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to
behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted.  He saw
also upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all
in gold.

Then said Christian may we go in thither?

Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards the door of the
palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as
desirous to go in, but durst not.  There also sat a man at a little
distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his inkhorn
before him, to take the names of them that should enter therein; he saw
also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being
resolved to do to the men that would enter, what hurt and mischief they
could.  Now was Christian somewhat in amaze.  At last, when every man
started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very
stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying,
"Set down my name, sir;" the which when he had done, he saw the man draw
his sword, and put a helmet on his head, and rush towards the door upon
the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at
all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely.  So after he
had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him
out, Matt.  11:12; Acts 14:22; he cut his way through them all, and
pressed forward into the palace; at which there was a pleasant voice
heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the
top of the palace, saying,

"Come in, come in,

Eternal glory thou shalt win."

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they.  Then
Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this.

Now, said Christian, let me go hence.  Nay, stay, said the Interpreter,
till I have showed thee a little more, and after that thou shalt go on
thy way.  So he took him by the hand again, and led him into a very dark
room, where there sat a man in an iron cage.

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes looking
down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed as if he
would break his heart.  Then said Christian, What means this?  At which
the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou?  The man answered, I am
what I was not once.

CHR. What wast thou once?

MAN. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, Luke
8:13, both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others: I once was,
as I thought, fair for the celestial city, and had then even joy at the
thoughts that I should get thither.

CHR. Well, but what art thou now?

MAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron
cage.  I cannot get out; Oh now I cannot!

CHR. But how camest thou into this condition?

MAN. I left off to watch and be sober: I laid the reins upon the neck of
my lusts; I sinned against the light of the word, and the goodness of
God; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone; I tempted the devil, and
he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger, and he has left me: I
have so hardened my heart, that I cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for such a
man as this?  Ask him, said the Interpreter.

CHR. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the
iron cage of despair?

MAN. No, none at all.

CHR. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

MAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh, Heb.  6:6; I have despised
his person, Luke 19:14; I have despised his righteousness; I have
counted his blood an unholy thing; I have done despite to the spirit of
grace, Heb.  10:29: therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises
and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful
threatenings, faithful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery
indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary.

CHR. For what did you bring yourself into this condition?

MAN. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the
enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight: but now every
one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a burning worm.

CHR. But canst thou not now repent and turn?

MAN. God hath denied me repentance.  His word gives me no encouragement
to believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in this iron cage: nor can all
the men in the world let me out.  Oh eternity!  eternity!  how shall I
grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity?

INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery be
remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.

CHR. Well, said Christian, this is fearful!  God help me to watch and to
be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this man's misery.
Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?

INTER. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt
go on thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again and led him into a chamber where
there was one rising out of bed; and as he put on his raiment, he shook
and trembled.  Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble?  The
Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing.

So he began, and said, "This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and
behold the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened
in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony.  So I looked up in
my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate; upon which I heard
a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud,
attended with the thousands of heaven: they were all in flaming fire;
also the heavens were in a burning flame.  I heard then a voice, saying,
'Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment.'  And with that the rocks rent,
the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth: some of
them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide
themselves under the mountains.  Then I saw the man that sat upon the
cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near.  Yet there was, by
reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came from before him, a
convenient distance between him and them, as between the judge and the
prisoners at the bar.  1 Cor.  15; 1 Thess.  4:16; Jude 15; John 5:
28,29; 2 Thess.  1:8-10; Rev.  20:11-14; Isa.  26:21; Micah 7:16,17;
Psa.  5:4; 50:1-3; Mal.  3:2,3; Dan.  7:9,10.  I heard it also
proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud,
'Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into
the burning lake.'  Matt.  3:12; 18:30; 24:30; Mal.  4:1.  And with that
the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of
which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke, and coals of fire, with
hideous noises.  It was also said to the same persons, 'Gather my wheat
into the garner.'  Luke 3:17.  And with that I saw many catched up and
carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind.  1 Thess.  4:16,17.
I also sought to hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat upon
the cloud still kept his eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind,
and my conscience did accuse me on every side.  Rom.  2:14,15.  Upon
this I awakened from my sleep."

CHR. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight?

MAN. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was
not ready for it: but this frightened me most, that the angels gathered
up several, and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth
just where I stood.  My conscience too afflicted me; and, as I thought,
the Judge had always his eye upon me, showing indignation in his
countenance.

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, "Hast thou considered all these
things?"

CHR. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.

INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a goad
in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go.  Then
Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his
journey.  Then said the Interpreter, "The Comforter be always with thee,
good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the city."  So
Christian went on his way, saying,

"Here I have seen things rare and profitable,

Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable

In what I have begun to take in hand:

Then let me think on them, and understand

Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be

Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee."



THE THIRD STAGE.

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go,
was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called
Salvation.  Isaiah 26:1.  Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian
run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back.

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; and upon that
place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre.  So
I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his
burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and
began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the
sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, "He
hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death."  Then he stood
still a while, to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him
that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden.  He
looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in
his head sent the waters down his cheeks.  Zech.  12:10.  Now as he
stood looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and
saluted him with, "Peace be to thee."  So the first said to him, "Thy
sins be forgiven thee," Mark 2:5; the second stripped him of his rags,
and clothed him with change of raiment, Zech.  3:4; the third also set a
mark on his forehead, Eph.  1:13, and gave him a roll with a seal upon
it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at
the celestial gate: so they went their way.  Then Christian gave three
leaps for joy, and went on singing,

"Thus far did I come laden with my sin,

Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,

Till I came hither.  What a place is this!

Must here be the beginning of my bliss?

Must here the burden fall from off my back?

Must here the strings that bound it to me crack?

Blest cross!  blest sepulchre!  blest rather be

The Man that there was put to shame for me!"

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even until he came at the
bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep,
with fetters upon their heels.  The name of the one was Simple, of
another Sloth, and of the third Presumption.

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if
peradventure he might awake them, and cried, you are like them that
sleep on the top of a mast, Prov.  23:34, for the Dead Sea is under you,
a gulf that hath no bottom: awake, therefore, and come away; be willing
also, and I will help you off with your irons.  He also told them, If he
that goeth about like a roaring lion, 1 Pet.  5:8, comes by, you will
certainly become a prey to his teeth.  With that they looked upon him,
and began to reply in this sort: Simple said, I see no danger; Sloth
said, Yet a little more sleep; and Presumption said, Every tub must
stand upon its own bottom.  And so they lay down to sleep again, and
Christian went on his way.

Yet he was troubled to think that men in that danger should so little
esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, both by
awakening of them, counselling of them, and proffering to help them off
with their irons.  And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men
come tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of the narrow way; and
they made up apace to him.  The name of the one was Formalist, and the
name of the other Hypocrisy.  So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who
thus entered with them into discourse.

CHR. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither do you go?

FORM. AND HYP. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going,
for praise, to Mount Zion.

CHR. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning of
the way?  Know ye not that it is written, that "he that cometh not in by
the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a
robber?"  John 10:1.

FORM. AND HYP. They said, that to go to the gate for entrance was by all
their countrymen counted too far about; and that therefore their usual
way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as they
had done.

CHR. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the city
whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will?

FORM. AND HYP. They told him, that as for that, he needed not to trouble
his head thereabout: for what they did they had custom for, and could
produce, if need were, testimony that would witness it for more than a
thousand years.

CHR. But, said Christian, will you stand a trial at law?

FORM. AND HYP. They told him, that custom, it being of so long standing
as above a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing
legal by an impartial judge: and besides, said they, if we get into the
way, what matter is it which way we get in?  If we are in, we are in:
thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate; and
we also are in the way, that came tumbling over the wall: wherein now is
thy condition better than ours?

CHR. I walk by the rule of my Master: you walk by the rude working of
your fancies.  You are counted thieves already by the Lord of the way:
therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way.
You come in by yourselves without his direction, and shall go out by
yourselves without his mercy.

To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to
himself.  Then I saw that they went on, every man in his way, without
much conference one with another, save that these two men told
Christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but that
they should as conscientiously do them as he.  Therefore, said they, we
see not wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat that is on thy
back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors, to
hide the shame of thy nakedness.

CHR. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in
by the door.  Gal.  2:16.  And as for this coat that is on my back, it
was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you
say, to cover my nakedness with.  And I take it as a token of kindness
to me; for I had nothing but rags before.  And besides, thus I comfort
myself as I go.  Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city,
the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have his coat on my
back; a coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stripped me of my
rags.  I have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you
have taken no notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate associates
fixed there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders.  I will
tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort
me by reading as I go on the way; I was also bid to give it in at the
celestial gate, in token of my certain going in after it: all which
things I doubt you want, and want them because you came not in at the
gate.

To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon each
other, and laughed.  Then I saw that they went all on, save that
Christian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, and that
sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably: also he would be often
reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he
was refreshed.

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to the foot of the
hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which there was a spring.  There were
also in the same place two other ways besides that which came straight
from the gate: one turned to the left hand, and the other to the right,
at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and
the name of the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty.
Christian now went to the spring, Isa.  49:10, and drank thereof to
refresh himself, and then began to go up the hill, saying,

"The hill, though high, I covet to ascend;

The difficulty will not me offend;

For I perceive the way to life lies here:

Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear.

Better, though difficult, the right way to go,

Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe."

The other two also came to the foot of the hill.  But when they saw that
the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go;
and supposing also that these two ways might meet again with that up
which Christian went, on the other side of the hill; therefore they were
resolved to go in those ways.  Now the name of one of those ways was
Danger, and the name of the other Destruction.  So the one took the way
which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other
took directly up the way to Destruction, which led him into a wide
field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no
more.

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I
perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering
upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place.
Now about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant Arbor, made
by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers.
Thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him:
then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his
comfort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or
garment that was given to him as he stood by the cross.  Thus pleasing
himself awhile, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast
sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and
in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand.  Now, as he was sleeping,
there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, "Go to the ant, thou
sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise."  Prov.  6:6.  And with that,
Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace
till he came to the top of the hill.

Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men
running amain; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other
Mistrust: to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter?  you run the
wrong way.  Timorous answered, that they were going to the city of Zion,
and had got up that difficult place: but, said he, the farther we go,
the more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back
again.

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in the way,
whether sleeping or waking we know not; and we could not think, if we
came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces.

CHR. Then said Christian, You make me afraid; but whither shall I fly to
be safe?  If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for fire
and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there; if I can get to the
celestial city, I am sure to be in safety there: I must venture.  To go
back is nothing but death: to go forward is fear of death, and life
everlasting beyond it: I will yet go forward.  So Mistrust and Timorous
ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way.  But thinking again of
what he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that
he might read therein and be comforted; but he felt, and found it not.
Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do; for he
wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been
his pass into the celestial city.  Here, therefore, he began to be much
perplexed, and knew not what to do.  At last he bethought himself that
he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill; and falling
down upon his knees, he asked God forgiveness for that foolish act, and
then went back to look for his roll.  But all the way he went back, who
can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart?  Sometimes
he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for being
so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a
little refreshment from his weariness.  Thus, therefore, he went back,
carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if
happily he might find his roll, that had been his comfort so many times
in his journey.  He went thus till he came again in sight of the arbor
where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by
bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping unto his mind.  Rev.
2:4; 1 Thess.  5:6-8.  Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his
sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep in
the daytime!  that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty!  that I
should so indulge the flesh as to use that rest for ease to my flesh
which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the
spirits of pilgrims!  How many steps have I taken in vain!  Thus it
happened to Israel; for their sin they were sent back again by the way
of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I
might have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep.
How far might I have been on my way by this time!  I am made to tread
those steps thrice over, which I needed not to have trod but once: yea,
now also I am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent.  O that
I had not slept!

Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for a while he
sat down and wept; but at last, (as Providence would have it,) looking
sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the which
he with trembling and haste catched up, and put it into his bosom.  But
who can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his roll again?
For this roll was the assurance of his life, and acceptance at the
desired haven.  Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God
for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears
betook himself again to his journey.  But O how nimbly did he go up the
rest of the hill!  Yet before he got up, the sun went down upon
Christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to
his remembrance; and thus he again began to condole with himself: Oh
thou sinful sleep!  how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my
journey!  I must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of
my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of
my sinful sleep!  Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and
Timorous told him of, how they were frighted with the sight of the
lions.  Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the
night for their prey; and if they should meet with me in the dark, how
should I shift them?  how should I escape being by them torn in pieces?
Thus he went on his way.  But while he was bewailing his unhappy
miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately
palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood by the
highway-side.

So I saw in my dream that he made haste, and went forward, that if
possible he might get lodging there.  Now before he had gone far, he
entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the
Porter's lodge, and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he
espied two lions in the way.  Now, thought he, I see the dangers that
Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by.  (The lions were chained, but
he saw not the chains.)  Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to
go back after them; for he thought nothing but death was before him.
But the Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that
Christian made a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying,
Is thy strength so small?  Mark 4:40.  Fear not the lions, for they are
chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for
discovery of those that have none: keep in the midst of the path, and no
hurt shall come unto thee.

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, but taking
good heed to the directions of the Porter; he heard them roar, but they
did him no harm.  Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came
and stood before the gate where the Porter was.  Then said Christian to
the Porter, Sir, what house is this?  and may I lodge here to-night?
The Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and
he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims.  The Porter also
asked whence he was, and whither he was going.

CHR. I am come from the city of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion:
but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-
night.

PORT. What is your name?

CHR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless: I
came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell in the
tents of Shem.  Gen.  9:27.

PORT. But how does it happen that you come so late?  The sun is set.

CHR. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept
in the arbor that stands on the hill-side!  Nay, I had, notwithstanding
that, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence,
and came without it to the brow of the hill; and then feeling for it,
and not finding it, I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the
place where I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come.

PORT. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will,
if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family,
according to the rules of the house.  So Watchful the Porter rang a
bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of the house a grave
and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called.

The Porter answered, This man is on a journey from the city of
Destruction to Mount Zion; but being weary and benighted, he asked me if
he might lodge here to-night: so I told him I would call for thee, who,
after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even
according to the law of the house.

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he told
her.  She asked him also how he got into the way; and he told her.  Then
she asked him what he had seen and met with in the way, and he told her.
And at last she asked his name.  So he said, It is Christian; and I have
so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I
perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief
and security of pilgrims.  So she smiled, but the water stood in her
eyes; and after a little pause she said, I will call forth two or three
more of the family.  So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence,
Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him
into the family; and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the
house, said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this house was built by
the Lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in.  Then he
bowed his head, and followed them into the house.  So when he was come
in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented
together that, until supper was ready, some of them should have some
particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time;
and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him:
and thus they began.

PIETY. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you as to
receive you into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may better
ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have happened to you
in your pilgrimage.

CHR. With a very good will; and I am glad that you are so well disposed.

PIETY. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life?

CHR. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was
in mine ears; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I
abode in that place where I was.

PIETY. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way?

CHR. It was as God would have it; for when I was under the fears of
destruction, I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a
man, even to me, as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is
Evangelist, and he directed me to the Wicket-gate, which else I should
never have found, and so set me into the way that hath led me directly
to this house.

PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter?

CHR. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will
stick by me as long as I live, especially three things: to wit, how
Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his work of grace in the heart;
how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's mercy; and
also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of judgment was
come.

PIETY. Why, did you hear him tell his dream?

CHR. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought; it made my heart ache as
he was telling of it, but yet I am glad I heard it.

PIETY. Was this all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?

CHR. No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace, and
how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came a
venturous man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the
door to keep him out; and how he was bid to come in, and win eternal
glory.  Methought those things did ravish my heart.  I would have stayed
at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to
go.

PIETY. And what saw you else in the way?

CHR. Saw?  Why, I went but a little farther, and I saw One, as I thought
in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree; and the very sight of him made my
burden fall off my back; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but
then it fell down from off me.  It was a strange thing to me, for I
never saw such a thing before: yea, and while I stood looking up, (for
then I could not forbear looking,) three Shining Ones came to me.  One
of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me of
my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third
set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll,
(and with that he plucked it out of his bosom.)

PIETY. But you saw more than this, did you not?

CHR. The things that I have told you were the best: yet some other I
saw, as, namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie
asleep, a little out of the way, as I came, with irons upon their heels;
but do you think I could awake them?  I also saw Formality and Hypocrisy
come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion; but they
were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, but they would not
believe.  But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, and
as hard to come by the lions' mouths; and, truly, if it had not been for
the good man, the porter that stands at the gate, I do not know but
that, after all, I might have gone back again; but I thank God I am
here, and thank you for receiving me.

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his
answer to them.

PRU. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came?

CHR. Yea, but with much shame and detestation.  Truly, if I had been
mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have had
opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better country, that
is, a heavenly one.  Heb.  11:15,16.

PRU. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you
were conversant withal?

CHR. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal
cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were
delighted.  But now all those things are my grief; and might I but
choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things
more: but when I would be a doing that which is best, that which is
worst is with me.  Rom.  7:15, 21.

PRU. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which
at other times are your perplexity?

CHR. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in
which such things happen to me.

PRU. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as
if they were vanquished?

CHR. Yes: when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and
when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; and when I look
into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my
thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.

PRU. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?

CHR. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross;
and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in
me an annoyance to me: there they say there is no death, Isa.  25:8;
Rev.  21:4; and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best.
For, to tell you the truth, I love Him because I was by Him eased of my
burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness.  I would fain be where I
shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry,
Holy, holy, holy.

Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family; Are you a married
man?

CHR. I have a wife and four small children.

CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you?

CHR. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have done
it!  but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.

CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and have endeavored to show
them the danger of staying behind.

CHR. So I did; and told them also what God had shown to me of the
destruction of our city; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and
they believed me not.  Gen.  19:14.

CHAR. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them?

CHR. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my wife
and poor children were very dear to me.

CHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear of destruction?
for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you.

CHR. Yes, over, and over, and over.  They might also see my fears in my
countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the
apprehension of the judgment that did hang over our heads; but all was
not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.

CHAR. But what could they say for themselves, why they came not?

CHR. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were
given to the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and what
by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone.

CHAR. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you, by words,
used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?

CHR. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of
many failings therein.  I know also, that a man, by his conversation,
may soon overthrow what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to
fasten upon others for their good.  Yet this I can say, I was very wary
of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse to
going on pilgrimage.  Yea, for this very thing, they would tell me I was
too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in
which they saw no evil.  Nay, I think I may say, that if what they saw
in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against
God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbor.

CHAR. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his own works were evil,
and his brother's righteous, 1 John, 3:12; and if thy wife and children
have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to
be implacable to good; thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood.
Ezek.  3:19.

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until supper
was ready.  So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat.  Now the
table was furnished with fat things, and with wine that was well
refined; and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill;
as, namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did,
and why he had builded that house; and by what they said, I perceived
that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that
had the power of death, Heb.  2:14,15; but not without great danger to
himself, which made me love him the more.

For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he did it with the
loss of much blood.  But that which put the glory of grace into all he
did, was, that he did it out of pure love to his country.  And besides,
there were some of them of the household that said they had been and
spoke with him since he did die on the cross; and they have attested
that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor
pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west.
They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed; and that was, he
had stripped himself of his glory that he might do this for the poor;
and that they heard him say and affirm, that he would not dwell in the
mountain of Zion alone.  They said, moreover, that he had made many
pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their
original had been the dunghill.  1 Sam.  2:8; Psa.  113:7.

Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after they had
committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook
themselves to rest.  The pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber,
whose window opened towards the sun-rising.  The name of the chamber was
Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang,

"Where am I now?  Is this the love and care

Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are,

Thus to provide that I should be forgiven,

And dwell already the next door to heaven!"

So in the morning they all got up; and, after some more discourse, they
told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities
of that place.  And first they had him into the study, where they showed
him records of the greatest antiquity; in which, as I remember my dream,
they showed him the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he was the
Son of the Ancient of days, and came by eternal generation.  Here also
was more fully recorded the acts that he had done, and the names of many
hundreds that he had taken into his service; and how he had placed them
in such habitations that could neither by length of days, nor decays of
nature, be dissolved.

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants
had done; as how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness,
obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of
fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong,
waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens.
Heb.  11:33,34.

Then they read again another part of the records of the house, where it
was shown how willing their Lord was to receive into his favor any, even
any, though they in time past had offered great affronts to his person
and proceedings.  Here also were several other histories of many other
famous things, of all which Christian had a view; as of things both
ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things
that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement
of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.

The next day they took him, and had him into the armory, where they
showed him all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for
pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes
that would not wear out.  And there was here enough of this to harness
out as many men for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the
heaven for multitude.

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants
had done wonderful things.  They showed him Moses' rod; the hammer and
nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too,
with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian.  Then they showed
him the ox-goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men.  They showed him
also the jawbone with which Samson did such mighty feats.  They showed
him moreover the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of Gath;
and the sword also with which their Lord will kill the man of sin, in
the day that he shall rise up to the prey.  They showed him besides many
excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted.  This done,
they went to their rest again.

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but
they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said they, we
will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains; which,
they said, would yet farther add to his comfort, because they were
nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was; so he
consented and stayed.  When the morning was up, they had him to the top
of the house, and bid him look south.  So he did, and behold, at a great
distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with
woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and
fountains, very delectable to behold.  Isa.  33:16,17.  Then he asked
the name of the country.  They said it was Immanuel's land; and it is as
common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims.  And
when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the
celestial city, as the shepherds that live there will make appear.

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he
should.  But first, said they, let us go again into the armory.  So they
did; and when he came there, they harnessed him from head to foot with
what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way.
He being therefore thus accoutred, walked out with his friends to the
gate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by.  Then
the Porter answered, Yes.

CHR. Pray, did you know him?  said he.

PORT. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.

CHR. O, said Christian, I know him; he is my townsman, my near neighbor;
he comes from the place where I was born.  How far do you think he may
be before?

PORT. He is got by this time below the hill.

CHR. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add
to all thy plain blessings much increase for the kindness that thou hast
showed me.



THE FOURTH STAGE.

Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and
Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill.  So they went
on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they came to go
down the hill.  Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so,
so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down.  Yes, said Prudence, so
it is; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the valley of
Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way;
therefore, said they, we are come out to accompany thee down the hill.
So he began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two.

Then I saw in my dream, that these good companions, when Christian was
got down to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle
of wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he went on his way,

"Whilst Christian is among his godly friends,

Their golden mouths make him sufficient mends

For all his griefs; and when they let him go,

He's clad with northern steel from top to toe."

But now, in this valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to
it; for he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend
coming over the field to meet him: his name is Apollyon.  Then did
Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go
back, or to stand his ground.  But he considered again, that he had no
armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him
might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts;
therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground: for, thought he,
had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the
best way to stand.

So he went on, and Apollyon met him.  Now the monster was hideous to
behold: he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride;
he had wings like a dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his belly
came fire and smoke; and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion.  When he
was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance,
and thus began to question him.

APOL. Whence came you, and whither are you bound?

CHR. I am come from the city of Destruction, which is the place of all
evil, and I am going to the city of Zion.

APOL. By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects; for all that
country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it.  How is it, then,
that thou hast run away from thy king?  Were it not that I hope thou
mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the
ground.

CHR. I was, indeed, born in your dominions, but your service was hard,
and your wages such as a man could not live on; for the wages of sin is
death, Rom.  6:23; therefore, when I was come to years, I did, as other
considerate persons do, look out if perhaps I might mend myself.

APOL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects,
neither will I as yet lose thee; but since thou complainest of thy
service and wages, be content to go back, and what our country will
afford I do here promise to give thee.

CHR. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and
how can I with fairness go back with thee?

APOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, "changed a bad
for a worse;" but it is ordinary for those that have professed
themselves his servants, after a while to give him the slip, and return
again to me.  Do thou so to, and all shall be well.

CHR. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to him; how then
can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor.

APOL. Thou didst the same by me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if
now thou wilt yet turn again and go back.

CHR. What I promised thee was in my non-age: and besides, I count that
the Prince, under whose banner I now stand, is able to absolve me, yea,
and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee.  And
besides, O thou destroying Apollyon, to speak truth, I like his service,
his wages, his servants, his government, his company, and country,
better than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me farther: I am his
servant, and I will follow him.

APOL. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like to
meet with in the way that thou goest.  Thou knowest that for the most
part his servants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors
against me and my ways.  How many of them have been put to shameful
deaths!  And besides, thou countest his service better than mine;
whereas he never yet came from the place where he is, to deliver any
that served him out of their enemies' hands: but as for me, how many
times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by
power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his,
though taken by them!  And so will I deliver thee.

CHR. His forbearing at present to deliver them, is on purpose to try
their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end: and as for the
ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their
account.  For, for present deliverance, they do not much expect it; for
they stay for their glory; and then they shall have it, when their
Prince comes in his and the glory of the angels.

APOL. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him; and how
dost thou think to receive wages of him?

CHR. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to him?

APOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost
choked in the gulf of Despond.  Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid
of thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had
taken it off.  Thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things.
Thou wast almost persuaded also to go back at the sight of the lions.
And when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and
heard, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that thou sayest
or doest.

CHR. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the
Prince whom I serve and honor is merciful, and ready to forgive.  But
besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy country, for there I
sucked them in, and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and
have obtained pardon of my Prince.

APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am an
enemy to this Prince; I hate his person, his laws, and people: I am come
out on purpose to withstand thee.

CHR. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway, the
way of holiness; therefore take heed to yourself.

APOL. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way,
and said, I am void of fear in this matter.  Prepare thyself to die; for
I swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no farther: here will I
spill thy soul.  And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast;
but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so
prevented the danger of that.

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and
Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the
which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon
wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot.  This made Christian give a
little back: Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian
again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could.  This sore
combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite
spent: for you must know, that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must
needs grow weaker and weaker.

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to
Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with
that Christian's sword flew out of his hand.  Then said Apollyon, I am
sure of thee now: and with that he had almost pressed him to death, so
that Christian began to despair of life.  But, as God would have it,
while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end of
this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and
caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I
shall arise, Mic.  7:8; and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which
made him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound.
Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, Nay, in all these
things we are more than conquerors, through Him that loved us.  Rom.
8:37.  And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon wings, and sped
him away, that Christian saw him no more.  James 4:7.

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as I
did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the
fight; he spake like a dragon: and on the other side, what sighs and
groans burst from Christian's heart.  I never saw him all the while give
so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon
with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward!
But it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here give thanks to
him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to him that did
help me against Apollyon.  And so he did, saying,

"Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend,

Designed my ruin; therefore to this end

He sent him harness'd out; and he, with rage

That hellish was, did fiercely me engage:

But blessed Michael helped me, and I,

By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly:

Therefore to Him let me give lasting praise,

And thank and bless his holy name always."

Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of
life, the which Christian took and applied to the wounds that he had
received in the battle, and was healed immediately.  He also sat down in
that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given him a
little before: so, being refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey
with his sword drawn in his hand; for he said, I know not but some other
enemy may be at hand.  But he met with no other affront from Apollyon
quite through this valley.

Now at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the
Shadow of Death; and Christian must needs go through it, because the way
to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it.  Now, this valley is
a very solitary place.  The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it: "A
wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought, and of the
Shadow of Death, a land that no man" (but a Christian) "passeth through,
and where no man dwelt."  Jer.  2:6.

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon,
as by the sequel you shall see.

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of
the Shadow of Death, there met him two men, children of them that
brought up an evil report of the good land Num.13:32, making haste to go
back; to whom Christian spake as follows.

CHR. Whither are you going?

MEN. They said, Back, back; and we would have you do so too, if either
life or peace is prized by you.

CHR. Why, what's the matter?  said Christian.

MEN. Matter!  said they; we were going that way as you are going, and
went as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back; for
had we gone a little further, we had not been here to bring the news to
thee.

CHR. But what have you met with?  said Christian.

MEN. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that
by good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to
it.  Psa.  44:19; 107:19.

CHR. But what have you seen?  said Christian.

MEN. Seen!  why the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch: we also
saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit: we heard also
in that valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a people under
unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons: and
over that valley hang the discouraging clouds of confusion: Death also
doth always spread his wings over it.  In a word, it is every whit
dreadful, being utterly without order.  Job 3:5; 10:22.

CHR. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have said,
but that this is my way to the desired haven.  Psalm 44:18,19; Jer.
2:6.

MEN. Be it thy way; we will not choose it for ours.

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword
drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted.

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, there was on the
right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which the blind have
led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished.
Again, behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, into
which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his foot to
stand on: into that quag king David once did fall, and had no doubt
therein been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out.  Psa.
69:14.

The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore good Christian
was the more put to it; for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the
ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on the
other; also, when he sought to escape the mire, without great
carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch.  Thus he went on,
and I heard him here sigh bitterly; for besides the danger mentioned
above, the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes when he lifted up his
foot to go forward, he knew not where, or upon what he should set it
next.

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and
it stood also hard by the wayside.  Now, thought Christian, what shall I
do?  And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such
abundance, with sparks and hideous noises, (things that cared not for
Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before,) that he was forced to put up
his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer, Eph.
6:18; so he cried, in my hearing, O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my
soul.  Psa.  116:4.  Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames
would be reaching towards him; also he heard doleful voices, and
rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in
pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets.  This frightful sight
was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by him for several miles
together; and coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of
fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopped, and began to muse what he
had best to do.  Sometimes he had half a thought to go back; then again
he thought he might be half-way through the valley.  He remembered also,
how he had already vanquished many a danger; and that the danger of
going back might be much more than for to go forward.  So he resolved to
go on; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer.  But when they
were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, I
will walk in the strength of the Lord God.  So they gave back, and came
no farther.

One thing I would not let slip.  I took notice that now poor Christian
was so confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I
perceived it.  Just when he was come over against the mouth of the
burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up
softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to
him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind.  This put
Christian more to it than any thing that he met with before, even to
think that he should now blaspheme Him that he loved so much before.
Yet if he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had
not the discretion either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these
blasphemies came.

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some
considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going
before him, saying, Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.  Psa.  23:4.

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons:

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in
this valley as well as himself.

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark
and dismal state.  And why not, thought he, with me?  though by reason
of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it.  Job
9:11.

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by
and by.

So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew not what
to answer, for that he also thought himself to be alone.  And by and by
the day broke: then said Christian, "He hath turned the shadow of death
into the morning."  Amos 5:8.

Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but
to see, by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the
dark.  So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and
the quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way was which led
betwixt them both.  Also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and
dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of day they came
not nigh; yet they were discovered to him, according to that which is
written, "He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out
to light the shadow of death."  Job 12:22.

Now was Christian much affected with this deliverance from all the
dangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them much
before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day
made them conspicuous to him.  And about this time the sun was rising,
and this was another mercy to Christian; for you must note, that though
the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet
this second part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far more
dangerous; for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of
the valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins,
and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings-
down there, that had it now been dark, as it was when he came the first
part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been
cast away; but, as I said, just now the sun was rising.  Then said he,
"His Candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go through darkness."
Job 29:3.

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley.  Now I saw
in my dream, that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and
mangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly;
and while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a little
before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old times;
by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay
there, were cruelly put to death.  But by this place Christian went
without much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but I have learnt
since, that Pagan has been dead many a day; and as for the other, though
he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd
brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff
in his joints that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's
mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because
he cannot come at them.

So I saw that Christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the old
man that sat at the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think,
especially because he spoke to him, though he could not go after him,
saying, You will never mend, till more of you be burned.  But he held
his peace, and set a good face on it; and so went by, and catched no
hurt.  Then sang Christian,

"O world of wonders, (I can say no less,)

That I should be preserved in that distress

That I have met with here!  O blessed be

That hand that from it hath delivered me!

Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin,

Did compass me, while I this vale was in;

Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie

My path about, that worthless, silly I

Might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down;

But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown."



THE FIFTH STAGE.

Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent, which was
cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there,
therefore, Christian went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before
him upon his journey: Then said Christian aloud, Ho, ho; so-ho; stay,
and I will be your companion.  At that Faithful looked behind him; to
whom Christian cried again, Stay, stay, till I come up to you.  But
Faithful answered, No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is
behind me.

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to all his strength,
he quickly got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him; so the last
was first.  Then did Christian vaingloriously smile, because he had
gotten the start of his brother; but not taking good heed to his feet,
he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until Faithful
came up to help him.

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had
sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in their
pilgrimage; and thus Christian began.

CHR. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I have
overtaken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk
as companions in this so pleasant a path.

FAITH. I had thought, my dear friend, to have had your company quite
from our town, but you did get the start of me; wherefore I was forced
to come thus much of the way alone.

CHR. How long did you stay in the city of Destruction before you set out
after me on your pilgrimage?

FAITH. Till I could stay no longer; for there was a great talk presently
after you were gone out, that our city would, in a short time, with fire
from heaven, be burnt down to the ground.

CHR. What, did your neighbors talk so?

FAITH. Yes, it was for a while in every body's mouth.

CHR. What, and did no more of them but you come out to escape the
danger?

FAITH. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do
not think they did firmly believe it; for, in the heat of the discourse,
I heard some of them deridingly speak of you and of your desperate
journey, for so they called this your pilgrimage.  But I did believe,
and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone
from above; and therefore I have made my escape.

CHR. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable?

FAITH. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came to the
Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would not be
known to have so done: but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that
kind of dirt.

CHR. And what said the neighbors to him?

FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision, and
that among all sorts of people: some do mock and despise him, and scarce
will any set him on work.  He is now seven times worse than if he had
never gone out of the city.

CHR. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despise
the way that he forsook?

FAITH. O, they say, Hang him; he is a turncoat; he was not true to his
profession!  I think God has stirred up even His enemies to hiss at him,
and make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way.  Jer.
29:18,19.

CHR. Had you no talk with him before you came out?

FAITH. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other
side, as one ashamed of what he had done; So I spake not to him.

CHR. Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of that man; but now I
fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city.  For it has happened
to him according to the true proverb, The dog is turned to his vomit
again, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.  2 Pet.
2:22.

FAITH. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which will
be?

CHR. Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him, and talk
of things that more immediately concern ourselves.  Tell me now what you
have met with in the way as you came; for I know you have met with some
things, or else it may be writ for a wonder.

FAITH. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to
the gate without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton,
that had like to have done me mischief.

CHR. It was well you escaped her net: Joseph was hard put to it by her,
and he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his
life.  Gen.  39:11-13.  But what did she do to you?

FAITH. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering
tongue she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me
all manner of content.

CHR. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience.

FAITH. You know what I mean; all carnal and fleshly content.

CHR. Thank God that you escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall fall
into her pit.  Prov.  22:14.

FAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.

CHR. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires?

FAITH. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I
had seen, which said, "Her steps take hold on Hell."  Prov.  5:5.  So I
shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks.  Job
31:1.  Then she railed on me, and I went my way.

CHR. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?

FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with
a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither bound.  I told him
that I was a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City.  Then said the old
man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell
with me for the wages that I shall give thee?  Then I asked his name,
and where he dwelt?  He said his name was Adam the First, and that he
dwelt in the town of Deceit.  Eph.  4:22.  I asked him then what was his
work, and what the wages that he would give.  He told me that his work
was many delights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last.  I
further asked him, what house he kept, and what other servants he had.
So he told me that his house was maintained with all the dainties of the
world, and that his servants were those of his own begetting.  Then I
asked how many children he had.  He said that he had but three
daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of
Life, 1 John, 2:16; and that I should marry them if I would.  Then I
asked, how long time he would have me live with him; And he told me, as
long as he lived himself.

CHR. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?

FAITH. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the
man, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I
talked with him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his
deeds."

CHR. And how then?

FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, that, whatever he said,
and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house he would sell
me for a slave.  So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near
the door of his house.  Then he reviled me, and told me that he would
send such a one after me that should make my way bitter to my soul.  So
I turned to go away from him; but just as I turned myself to go thence,
I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back,
that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry,
"O wretched man."  Rom.  7:24.  So I went on my way up the hill.

Now, when I had got above half-way up, I looked behind me, and saw one
coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the
place where the settle stands.

CHR. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me; but being
overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom.

FAITH. But, good brother, hear me out.  So soon as the man overtook me,
it was but a word and a blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for
dead.  But when I was a little come to myself again I asked him
wherefore he served me so.  He said because of my secret inclining to
Adam the First.  And with that he struck me another deadly blow on the
breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot as dead as
before.  So when I came to myself again I cried him mercy: but he said,
I know not how to show mercy; and with that he knocked me down again.
He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by and bid him
forbear.

CHR. Who was that that bid him forbear?

FAITH. I did not know him at first: but as he went by, I perceived the
holes in his hands and in his side: Then I concluded that he was our
Lord.  So I went up the hill.

CHR. That man that overtook you was Moses.  He spareth none; neither
knoweth he how to shew mercy to those that transgress the law.

FAITH. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he has met
with me.  'Twas he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and
that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.

CHR. But did you not see the house that stood there on the top of the
hill, on the side of which Moses met you?

FAITH. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it.  But, for the lions,
I think they were asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so
much of the day before me, I passed by the Porter, and came down the
hill.

CHR. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wish you had
called at the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities
that you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your death.  But
pray tell me, Did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility?

FAITH. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have
persuaded me to go back again with him: his reason was, for that the
valley was altogether without honor.  He told me, moreover, that to go
there was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self
-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would be
very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through
this valley.

CHR. Well, and how did you answer him?

FAITH. I told him, that although all these that he named, might claim a
kindred of me, and that rightly, (for indeed they were my relations
according to the flesh,) yet since I became a pilgrim they have disowned
me, and I also have rejected them; and therefore they were to me now no
more than if they had never been of my lineage.  I told him, moreover,
that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing; for
before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall.
Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this valley to the honor that
was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he esteemed most
worthy of our affections.

CHR. Met you with nothing else in that valley?

FAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men that I met with on my
pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name.  The other would be said
nay, after a little argumentation, and somewhat else; but this bold-
faced Shame would never have done.

CHR. Why, what did he say to you?

FAITH. What?  why, he objected against religion itself.  He said it was
a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion.  He said,
that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a man to
watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that
hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustomed
themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times.  He objected
also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise, were ever of my
opinion; nor any of them neither, before they were persuaded to be
fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss of all for
nobody knows what.  1 Cor.  1:26; 3:18; Phil.  3:7-9; John 7:48.  He,
moreover, objected the base and low estate and condition of those that
were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived; also their
ignorance and want of understanding in all natural science.  Yea, he did
hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than
here I relate; as, that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under
a sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning home; that it was a
shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to make
restitution where I have taken from any.  He said also, that religion
made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices, which he
called by finer names, and made him own and respect the base, because of
the same religious fraternity: And is not this, said he, a shame?

CHR. And what did you say to him?

FAITH. Say?  I could not tell what to say at first.  Yea, he put me so
to it, that my blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up,
and had almost beat me quite off.  But at last I began to consider, that
that which is highly esteemed among men, is had in abomination with God.
Luke 16:15.  And I thought again, this Shame tells me what men are; but
he tells me nothing what God, or the word of God is.  And I thought,
moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or
life according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to
the wisdom and law of the Highest.  Therefore, thought I, what God says
is best, is indeed best, though all the men in the world are against it.
Seeing, then, that God prefers his religion; seeing God prefers a tender
Conscience; seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of
heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer
than the greatest man in the world that hates him; Shame, depart, thou
art an enemy to my salvation.  Shall I entertain thee against my
sovereign Lord?  How then shall I look him in the face at his coming?
Mark 8:38.  Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants, how can I
expect the blessing?  But indeed this Shame was a bold villain; I could
scarcely shake him out of my company; yea, he would be haunting of me,
and continually whispering me in the ear, with some one or other of the
infirmities that attend religion.  But at last I told him, that it was
but in vain to attempt farther in this business; for those things that
he disdained, in those did I see most glory: and so at last I got past
this importunate one.  And when I had shaken him off, then I began to
sing,

"The trials that those men do meet withal,

That are obedient to the heavenly call,

Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,

And come, and come, and come again afresh;

That now, or some time else, we by them may

Be taken, overcome, and cast away.

O let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then,

Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men."

CHR. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so
bravely; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for
he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us
to shame before all men; that is, to make us ashamed of that which is
good.  But if he was not himself audacious, he would never attempt to do
as he does.  But let us still resist him; for, notwithstanding all his
bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else.  "The wise shall
inherit glory," said Solomon; "but shame shall be the promotion of
fools."  Prov.  3:35.

FAITH. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame, that would
have us to be valiant for truth upon the earth.

CHR. You say true; but did you meet nobody else in that valley?

FAITH. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through
that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

CHR. 'Twas well for you; I am sure it fared far otherwise with me.  I
had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a
dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he
would have killed me, especially when he got me down, and crushed me
under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces; for as he threw me,
my sword flew out of my hand: nay, he told me he was sure of me; but I
cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles.
Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light
for almost half the way through it.  I thought I should have been killed
there over and over; but at last day brake, and the sun rose, and I went
through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet.

Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on, Faithful, as he
chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name was Talkative, walking
at a distance beside them; for in this place there was room enough for
them all to walk.  He was a tall man, and something more comely at a
distance than at hand.  To this man Faithful addressed himself in this
manner.

FAITH. Friend, whither away?  Are you going to the heavenly country?

TALK. I am going to the same place.

FAITH. That is well; then I hope we shall have your good company?

TALK. With a very good will, will I be your companion.

FAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time
in discoursing of things that are profitable.

TALK. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with
you or with any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that
incline to so good a work; for, to speak the truth, there are but few
who care thus to spend their time as they are in their travels, but
choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and this hath
been a trouble to me.

FAITH. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented; for what thing so worthy
of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of
the God of heaven?

TALK. I like you wonderful well, for your saying is full of conviction;
and I will add, What thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to
talk of the things of God?  What things so pleasant?  that is, if a man
hath any delight in things that are wonderful.  For instance, if a man
doth delight to talk of the history, or the mystery of things; or if a
man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he
find things recorded so delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in the
holy Scripture?

FAITH. That is true; but to be profited by such things in our talk,
should be our chief design.

TALK. That's it that I said; for to talk of such things is most
profitable; for by so doing a man may get knowledge of many things; as
of the vanity of earthly things, and the benefit of things above.  Thus
in general; but more particularly, by this a man may learn the necessity
of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's
righteousness, etc.  Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to
repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like: by this, also, a
man may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the
Gospel, to his own comfort.  Farther, by this a man may learn to refute
false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the
ignorant.

FAITH. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.

TALK. Alas!  the want of this is the cause that so few understand the
need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in
order to eternal life; but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by
which a man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven.

FAITH. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of
God; no man attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk of
them.

TALK. All this I know very well; for a man can receive nothing, except
it be given him from heaven: all is of grace, not of works.  I could
give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this.

FAITH. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall
at this time found our discourse upon?

TALK. What you will.  I will talk of things heavenly, or things earthly;
things moral, or things evangelical; things sacred, or things profane;
things past, or things to come; things foreign, or things at home;
things more essential, or things circumstantial: provided that all be
done to our profit.

FAITH. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and stepping to Christian, (for
he walked all this while by himself,) he said to him, but softly, What a
brave companion have we got!  Surely, this man will make a very
excellent pilgrim.

CHR. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man, with whom
you are so taken, will beguile with this tongue of his, twenty of them
that know him not.

FAITH. Do you know him, then?

CHR. Know him?  Yes, better than he knows himself.

FAITH. Pray what is he?

CHR. His name is Talkative: he dwelleth in our town.  I wonder that you
should be a stranger to him, only I consider that our town is large.

FAITH. Whose son is he?  And whereabout doth he dwell?

CHR. He is the son of one Say-well.  He dwelt in Prating-Row; and he is
known to all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of
Prating-Row; and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry
fellow.

FAITH. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.

CHR. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him,
for he is best abroad; near home he is ugly enough.  Your saying that he
is a pretty man, brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of a
painter, whose pictures show best at a distance; but very near, more
unpleasing.

FAITH. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.

CHR. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter, or
that I should accuse any falsely.  I will give you a further discovery
of him.  This man is for any company, and for any talk; as he talketh
now with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench; and the more
drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his
mouth.  Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversation;
all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise
therewith.

FAITH. Say you so?  Then am I in this man greatly deceived.

CHR. Deceived!  you may be sure of it.  Remember the proverb, "They say,
and do not;" but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power.  Matt.
23:3; 1 Cor.  4:20.  He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and
of the new birth; but he knows but only to talk of them.  I have been in
his family, and have observed him both at home and abroad; and I know
what I say of him is the truth.  His house is as empty of religion as
the white of an egg is of savor.  There is there neither prayer, nor
sign of repentance for sin; yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far
better than he.  He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion
to all that know him, Rom.  2:24,25; it can hardly have a good word in
all that end of the town where he dwells, through him.  Thus say the
common people that know him, "A saint abroad, and a devil at home."  His
poor family finds it so; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so
unreasonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do for or
speak to him.  Men that have any dealings with him say, It is better to
deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealings they shall have at
their hands.  This Talkative (if it be possible) will go beyond them,
defraud, beguile, and overreach them.  Besides, he brings up his sons to
follow his steps; and if he finds in any of them a foolish timorousness,
(for so he calls the first appearance of a tender conscience,) he calls
them fools and blockheads, and by no means will employ them in much, or
speak to their commendation before others.  For my part, I am of opinion
that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and fall; and
will be, if God prevents not, the ruin of many more.

FAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not only because you
say you know him, but also because, like a Christian, you make your
reports of men.  For I cannot think that you speak these things of ill-
will, but because it is even so as you say.

CHR. Had I known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought of
him as at the first you did; yea, had I received this report at their
hands only that are enemies to religion, I should have thought it had
been a slander-a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good
men's names and professions.  But all these things, yea, and a great
many more as bad, of my own knowledge, I can prove him guilty of.
Besides, good men are ashamed of him; they can neither call him brother
nor friend; the very naming of him among them makes them blush, if they
know him.

FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I
shall better observe this distinction.

CHR. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and
the body; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcass, so
saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass also.  The soul of
religion is the practical part.  "Pure religion and undefiled before God
and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their
affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world."  James 1:27;
see also verses 22-26.  This, Talkative is not aware of; he thinks that
hearing and saying will make a good Christian; and thus he deceiveth his
own soul.  Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed; talking is not
sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life.  And let
us assure ourselves, that at the day of doom men shall be judged
according to their fruits.  Matt.  13:23.  It will not be said then, Did
you believe?  but, Were you doers, or talkers only?  and accordingly
shall they be judged.  The end of the world is compared to our harvest,
Matt.  13:30, and you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit.  Not
that any thing can be accepted that is not of faith; but I speak this to
show you how insignificant the profession of Talkative will be at that
day.

FAITH. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he describeth the
beast that is clean.  Lev.  11; Deut.  14.  He is such an one that
parteth the hoof, and cheweth the cud; not that parteth the hoof only,
or that cheweth the cud only.  The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is
unclean, because he parteth not the hoof.  And this truly resembleth
Talkative: he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge; he cheweth upon the
word, but he divideth not the hoof.  He parteth not with the way of
sinners; but, as the hare, he retaineth the foot of the dog or bear, and
therefore he is unclean.

CHR. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel sense of these
texts.  And I will add another thing: Paul calleth some men, yea, and
those great talkers too, sounding brass, and tinkling cymbals, 1 Cor.
13:1, 3; that is, as he expounds them in another place, things without
life giving sound.  1 Cor.  14:7.  Things without life; that is, without
the true faith and grace of the gospel; and consequently, things that
shall never be placed in the kingdom of heaven among those that are the
children of life; though their sound, by their talk, be as if it were
the tongue or voice of an angel.

FAITH. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick
of it now.  What shall we do to be rid of him?

CHR. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he
will soon be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart,
and turn it.

FAITH. What would you have me to do?

CHR. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the
power of religion; and ask him plainly, (when he has approved of it, for
that he will,) whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or
conversation.

FAITH. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, Come,
what cheer?  How is it now?

TALK. Thank you, well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk
by this time.

FAITH. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and since you left it
with me to state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace
of God discover itself when it is in the heart of man?

TALK. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things.
Well, it is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you.
And take my answer in brief, thus: First, where the grace of God is in
the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin.  Secondly-

FAITH. Nay, hold; let us consider of one at once.  I think you should
rather say, it shows itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin.

TALK. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and
abhorring of sin?

FAITH. Oh!  a great deal.  A man may cry out against sin, of policy; but
he cannot abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it.  I
have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it
well enough in the heart, house, and conversation.  Gen.  39:15.
Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very
holy; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed
uncleanness with him.  Some cry out against sin, even as the mother
cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth it slut and
naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it.

TALK. You lie at the catch, I perceive.

FAITH. No, not I; I am only for setting things right.  But what is the
second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of grace in
the heart?

TALK. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries.

FAITH. This sign should have been first: but, first or last, it is also
false; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries
of the Gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul.  Yea, if a man have
all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child
of God.  1 Cor.  13:2.  When Christ said, "Do you know all these
things?"  and the disciples answered, Yes, he added, "Blessed are ye if
ye do them."  He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but
in the doing of them.  For there is a knowledge that is not attended
with doing: "He that knoweth his Master's will, and doeth it not."  A
man may know like an angel, and yet be no Christian: therefore your sign
of it is not true.  Indeed, to know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and
boasters; but to do is that which pleaseth God.  Not that the heart can
be good without knowledge, for without that the heart is naught.  There
are, therefore, two sorts of knowledge, knowledge that resteth in the
bare speculation of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the
grace of faith and love, which puts a man upon doing even the will of
God from the heart: the first of these will serve the talker; but
without the other, the true Christian is not content.  "Give me
understanding, and I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my
whole heart."  Psa.  119:34.

TALK. You lie at the catch again: this is not for edification.

FAITH. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace
discovereth itself where it is.

TALK. Not I, for I see we shall not agree.

FAITH. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it?

TALK. You may use your liberty.

FAITH. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to him
that hath it, or to standers-by.

To him that hath it, thus: It gives him conviction of sin, especially
the defilement of his nature, and the sin of unbelief, for the sake of
which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand, by
faith in Jesus Christ.  This sight and sense of things worketh in him
sorrow and shame for sin.  Psa.  38:18; Jer.  31:19; John 16:8; Rom.
7:24; Mark 16:16; Gal.  2:16; Rev.  1:6.  He findeth, moreover, revealed
in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing
with him for life; at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings
after him; to which hungerings, etc., the promise is made.  Now,
according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour, so is
his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to
know him more, and also to serve him in this world.  But though, I say,
it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is
able to conclude that this is a work of grace; because his corruptions
now, and his abused reason, make his mind to misjudge in this matter:
therefore in him that hath this work there is required a very sound
judgment, before he can with steadiness conclude that this is a work of
grace.  John 16:9; Gal.  2:15,16; Acts 4:12; Matt.  5:6; Rev.  21:6.

To others it is thus discovered:

1.  By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ.  2.  By a life
answerable to that confession; to wit, a life of holiness-heart-
holiness, family-holiness, (if he hath a family,) and by conversation-
holiness in the world; which in the general teacheth him inwardly to
abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret; to suppress it in his
family, and to promote holiness in the world: not by talk only, as a
hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection in
faith and love to the power of the word.  Job 42:5,6; Psa.  50:23; Ezek.
20:43; Matt.  5:8; John 14:15; Rom.  10:10; Ezek.  36:25; Phil.  1:27;
3:17-20.  And now, sir, as to this brief description of the work of
grace, and also the discovery of it, if you have aught to object,
object; if not, then give me leave to propound to you a second question.

TALK. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear; let me, therefore,
have your second question.

FAITH. It is this: Do you experience this first part of the description
of it; and doth your life and conversation testify the same?  Or
standeth your religion in word or tongue, and not in deed and truth?
Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say no more than you know the
God above will say Amen to, and also nothing but what your conscience
can justify you in; for not he that commendeth himself is approved, but
whom the Lord commendeth.  Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my
conversation, and all my neighbors, tell me I lie, is great wickedness.

Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself, thus he
replied: You come now to experience, to conscience, and to God; and to
appeal to him for justification of what is spoken.  This kind of
discourse I did not expect; nor am I disposed to give an answer to such
questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take
upon you to be a catechiser; and though you should so do, yet I may
refuse to make you my judge.  But I pray, will you tell me why you ask
me such questions?

FAITH. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that
you had aught else but notion.  Besides, to tell you all the truth, I
have heard of you that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and
that your conversation gives this your mouth-profession the lie.  They
say you are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth the worse
for your ungodly conversation; that some have already stumbled at your
wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby:
your religion, and an ale-house, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and
swearing, and lying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand
together.  The proverb is true of you which is said of a harlot, to wit,
"That she is a shame to all women:" so are you a shame to all
professors.

TALK. Since you are so ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly
as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man,
not fit to be discoursed with; and so adieu.

Then up came Christian, and said to his brother, I told you how it would
happen; your words and his lusts could not agree.  He had rather leave
your company than reform his life.  But he is gone, as I said: let him
go; the loss is no man's but his own.  He has saved us the trouble of
going from him; for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is,
would have been but a blot in our company: besides, the apostle says,
"From such withdraw thyself."

FAITH. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him; it may
happen that he will think of it again: however, I have dealt plainly
with him, and so am clear of his blood if he perisheth.

CHR. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did.  There is but
little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes
religion to stink so in the nostrils of many as it doth; for they are
these talkative fools, whose religion is only in word, and who are
debauched and vain in their conversation, that (being so much admitted
into the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world, blemish
Christianity, and grieve the sincere.  I wish that all men would deal
with such as you have done; then should they either be made more
conformable to religion, or the company of saints would be too hot for
them.  Then did Faithful say,

"How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes!

How bravely doth he speak!  How he presumes

To drive down all before him!  But so soon

As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon

That's past the full, into the wane he goes;

And so will all but he that heart-work know."

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made
that way easy, which would otherwise no doubt have been tedious to them,
for now they went through a wilderness.



THE SIXTH STAGE.

Now when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful
chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after them, and he
knew him.  Oh!  said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder?  Then
Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist.  Aye, and
my good friend too, said Faithful, for 'twas he that set me on the way
to the gate.  Now was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted
them.

EVAN. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers.

CHR. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist: the sight of thy countenance
brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied labors for
my eternal good.

FAITH. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful, thy company, O
sweet Evangelist; how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims!

EVAN. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, my friends,
since the time of our last parting?  What have you met with, and how
have you behaved yourselves?

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to
them in the way; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to
that place.

Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met with trials, but
that you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding many
weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day.

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and
yours: I have sowed, and you have reaped; and the day is coming, when
"both he that soweth, and they that reap, shall rejoice together," John
4:36; that is, if you hold out: "for in due season ye shall reap, if ye
faint not."  Gal.  6:9.  The crown is before you, and it is an
incorruptible one; "so run that ye may obtain it."  1 Cor.  9:24-27.
Some there be that set out for this crown, and after they have gone far
for it, another comes in and takes it from them: "hold fast, therefore,
that you have; let no man take your crown."  Rev.  3:11.  You are not
yet out of the gunshot of the devil; "you have not resisted unto blood,
striving against sin."  Let the kingdom be always before you, and
believe steadfastly concerning the things that are invisible.  Let
nothing that is on this side the other world get within you.  And, above
all, look well to your own hearts and to the lusts thereof; for they are
"deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked."  Set your faces
like a flint; you have all power in heaven and earth on your side.

CHR. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortations; but told him
withal, that they would have him speak farther to them for their help
the rest of the way; and the rather, for that they well knew that he was
a prophet, and could tell them of things that might happen unto them,
and also how they might resist and overcome them.  To which request
Faithful also consented.  So Evangelist began as followeth.

EVAN. My sons, you have heard in the word of the truth of the Gospel,
that you must "through many tribulations enter into the kingdom of
heaven;" and again, that "in every city, bonds and afflictions abide
you;" and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your
pilgrimage without them, in some sort or other.  You have found
something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more
will immediately follow: for now, as you see, you are almost out of this
wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will
by and by see before you; and in that town you will be hardly beset with
enemies, who will strain hard but they will kill you; and be you sure
that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you hold, with
blood; but "be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a
crown of life."  He that shall die there, although his death will be
unnatural, and his pain, perhaps, great, he will yet have the better of
his fellow; not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial City
soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the other will
meet with in the rest of his journey.  But when you are come to the
town, and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember
your friend, and quit yourselves like men, and "commit the keeping of
your souls to God in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator."

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness,
they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is
Vanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair.  It is
kept all the year long.  It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the
town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, Psa.  62:9; and also
because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity; as is
the saying of the wise, "All that cometh is vanity."  Eccl.  11:8; see
also 1:2-14; 2:11-17; Isa.  40:17.

This fair is no new-erected business but a thing of ancient standing.  I
will show you the original of it.

Almost five thousand years ago there were pilgrims walking to the
Celestial City, as these two honest persons are: and Beelzebub,
Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiving by the path that
the pilgrims made, that their way to the city lay through this town of
Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be
sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long.
Therefore, at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands,
trades, places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts,
pleasures; and delights of all sorts, as harlots, wives, husbands,
children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold,
pearls, precious stones, and what not.

And moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be seen jugglings,
cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every
kind.

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders,
adulteries, false-swearers, and that of a blood-red color.

And, as in other fairs of less moment, there are the several rows and
streets under their proper names, where such and such wares are vended;
so here, likewise, you have the proper places, rows, streets, (namely,
countries and kingdoms,) where the wares of this fair are soonest to be
found.  Here is the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian Row, the
Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be
sold.  But, as in other fairs, some one commodity is as the chief of all
the fair; so the ware of Rome and her merchandise is greatly promoted in
this fair; only our English nation, with some others, have taken a
dislike thereat.

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through this
town, where this lusty fair is kept; and he that will go to the city,
and yet not go through this town, "must needs go out of the world."  1
Cor.  4:10.  The Prince of princes himself, when here, went through this
town to his own country, and that upon a fair-day too; yea, and, as I
think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him
to buy of his vanities, yea, would have made him lord of the fair, would
he but have done him reverence as he went through the town.  Yea,
because he was such a person of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to
street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time,
that he might, if possible, allure that blessed One to cheapen and buy
some of his vanities; but he had no mind to the merchandise, and
therefore left the town, without laying out so much as one farthing upon
these vanities.  Matt.  4:8,9; Luke 4:5-7.  This fair, therefore, is an
ancient thing, of long standing, and a very great fair.

Now, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair.  Well,
so they did; but behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the
people in the fair were moved; and the town itself, as it were, in a
hubbub about them, and that for several reasons: for,

First, The Pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was
diverse from the raiment of any that traded in that fair.  The people,
therefore, of the fair made a great gazing upon them: some said they
were fools; 1 Cor.  4:9,10; some, they were bedlams; and some, they were
outlandish men.

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at
their speech; for few could understand what they said.  They naturally
spoke the language of Canaan; but they that kept the fair were the men
of this world: so that from one end of the fair to the other, they
seemed barbarians each to the other.  1 Cor.  2:7,8.

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was,
that these pilgrims set very light by all their wares.  They cared not
so much as to look upon them; and if they called upon them to buy, they
would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, "Turn away mine eyes
from beholding vanity," Psa.  119:37, and look upward, signifying that
their trade and traffic was in heaven.  Phil.  3: 20,21.

One chanced, mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say unto
them, "What will ye buy?"  But they, looking gravely upon him, said, "We
buy the truth."  Prov.  23:23.  At that there was an occasion taken to
despise the men the more; some mocking, some taunting, some speaking
reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite them.  At last,
things came to an hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch that all
order was confounded.  Now was word presently brought to the great one
of the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty
friends to take those men into examination about whom the fair was
almost overturned.  So the men were brought to examination; and they
that sat upon them asked them whence they came, whither they went, and
what they did there in such an unusual garb.  The men told them they
were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going to
their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem, Heb.  11:13-16; and
that they had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the
merchandisrs, thus to abuse them, and to let them in their journey,
except it was for that, when one asked them what they would buy, they
said they would buy the truth.  But they that were appointed to examine
them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else
such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair.  Therefore
they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put
them into the cage, that they might be made a spectacle to all the men
of the fair.  There, therefore, they lay for some time, and were made
the objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge; the great one of
the fair laughing still at all that befell them.  But the men being
patient, and "not rendering railing for railing, but contrariwise
blessing," and giving good words for bad, and kindness for injuries
done, some men in the fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced
than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their
continual abuses done by them to the men.  They, therefore, in an angry
manner let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the
cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be made
partakers of their misfortunes.  The others replied that, for aught they
could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended nobody any harm;
and that there were many that traded in their fair that were more worthy
to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that
they had abused.  Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides,
(the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly
before them,) they fell to some blows among themselves, and did harm one
to another.  Then were these two poor men brought before their examiners
again, and were charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been
in the fair.  So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them,
and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and terror
to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves
unto them.  But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more
wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them with
so much meekness and patience, that it won to their side (though but few
in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the fair.  This put the
other party yet into a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the
death of these two men.  Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor
irons should serve their turn, but that they should die for the abuse
they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair.

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order should be
taken with them.  So they put them in, and made their feet fast in the
stocks.

Here, also, they called again to mind what they had heard from their
faithful friend Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in their way and
sufferings by what he told them would happen to them.  They also now
comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he should
have the best of it: therefore each man secretly wished that he might
have that preferment.  But committing themselves to the all-wise
disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in
the condition in which they were, until they should be otherwise
disposed of.

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their
trial, in order to their condemnation.  When the time was come, they
were brought before their enemies and arraigned.  The judge's name was
Lord Hate-good; their indictment was one and the same in substance,
though somewhat varying in form; the contents whereof was this: "That
they were enemies to, and disturbers of, the trade; that they had made
commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to their own
most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince."

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that
which had set itself against Him that is higher than the highest.  And,
said he, as for disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of peace:
the parties that were won to us, were won by beholding our truth and
innocence, and they are only turned from the worse to the better.  And
as to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our
Lord, I defy him and all his angels.

Then proclamation was made, that they that had ought to say for their
lord the king against the prisoner at the bar, should forthwith appear,
and give in their evidence.  So there came in three witnesses, to wit,
Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank.  They were then asked if they knew
the prisoner at the bar; and what they had to say for their lord the
king against him.

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect: My lord, I have known
this man a long time, and will attest upon my oath before this honorable
bench, that he is-

JUDGE. Hold; give him his oath.

So they sware him.  Then he said, My lord, this man, notwithstanding his
plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our country; he neither
regardeth prince nor people, law nor custom, but doeth all that he can
to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, which he in the
general calls principles of faith and holiness.  And in particular, I
heard him once myself affirm, that Christianity and the customs of our
town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled.
By which saying, my lord, he doth at once not only condemn all our
laudable doings, but us in the doing of them.

Then did the judge say to him, Hast thou any more to say?

ENVY. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tedious to the
court.  Yet if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their
evidence, rather than any thing shall be wanting that will dispatch him,
I will enlarge my testimony against him.  So he was bid to stand by.

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon the prisoner.  They
also asked, what he could say for their lord the king against him.  Then
they sware him; so he began.

SUPER. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I
desire to have further knowledge of him.  However, this I know, that he
is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse that I had with him the
other day, in this town; for then, talking with him, I heard him say,
that our religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means
please God.  Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows
what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still do worship in
vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned: and this is that
which I have to say.

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew in the behalf of
their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar.

PICK. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have known of a long
time, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken; for
he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken
contemptibly of his honorable friends, whose names are, the Lord Old
Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire of
Vain Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of
our nobility: and he hath said, moreover, that if all men were of his
mind, if possible, there is not one of these noblemen should have any
longer a being in this town.  Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail
on you, my lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an
ungodly villain, with many other such like vilifying terms, with which
he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed his speech to
the prisoner at the bar, saying, Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor,
hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee?

FAITH. May I speak a few words in my own defence?

JUDGE. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain
immediately upon the place; yet, that all men may see our gentleness
towards thee, let us hear what thou, vile runagate, hast to say.

FAITH. 1.  I say, then, in answer to what Mr.  Envy hath spoken, I never
said aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were
flat against the word of God, are diametrically opposite to
Christianity.  If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error,
and I am ready here before you to make my recantation.

2.  As to the second, to wit, Mr.  Superstition, and his charge against
me, I said only this, that in the worship of God there is required a
divine faith; but there can be no divine faith without a divine
revelation of the will of God.  Therefore, whatever is thrust into the
worship of God that is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be
done but by a human faith; which faith will not be profitable to eternal
life.

3.  As to what Mr.  Pickthank hath said, I say, (avoiding terms, as that
I am said to rail, and the like,) that the prince of this town, with all
the rabblement, his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit
for a being in hell than in this town and country.  And so the Lord have
mercy upon me.

Then the judge called to the jury, (who all this while stood by to hear
and observe,) Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so
great an uproar hath been made in this town; you have also heard what
these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him; also, you have heard
his reply and confession: it lieth now in your breasts to hang him, or
save his life; but yet I think meet to instruct you in our law.

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, servant to our
prince, that, lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow
too strong for him, their males should be thrown into the river.  Exod.
1:22.  There was also an act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the
Great, another of his servants, that whoever would not fall down and
worship his golden image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace.  Dan.
3:6.  There was also an act made in the days of Darius, that whoso for
some time called upon any god but him, should be cast into the lion's
den.  Dan.  6:7.  Now, the substance of these laws this rebel has
broken, not only in thought, (which is not to be borne,) but also in
word and deed; which must, therefore, needs be intolerable.

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition to prevent
mischief, no crime being yet apparent; but here is a crime apparent.
For the second and third, you see he disputeth against our religion; and
for the treason that he hath already confessed, he deserveth to die the
death.

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr.  Blindman, Mr.  No-good,
Mr.  Malice, Mr.  Love-lust, Mr.  Live-loose, Mr.  Heady, Mr.  High-
mind, Mr.  Enmity, Mr.  Liar, Mr.  Cruelty, Mr.  Hate-light, and Mr.
Implacable; who every one gave in his private verdict against him among
themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty
before the judge.  And first among themselves, Mr.  Blindman, the
foreman, said, I see clearly that this man is a heretic.  Then said Mr.
No-good, Away with such a fellow from the earth.  Aye, said Mr.  Malice,
for I hate the very looks of him.  Then said Mr.  Love-lust, I could
never endure him.  Nor I, said Mr.  Live-loose, for he would always be
condemning my way.  Hang him, hang him, said Mr.  Heady.  A sorry scrub,
said Mr.  High-mind.  My heart riseth against him, said Mr.  Enmity.  He
is a rogue, said Mr.  Liar.  Hanging is too good for him, said Mr.
Cruelty.  Let us dispatch him out of the way, said Mr.  Hate-light.
Then said Mr.  Implacable, Might I have all the world given me, I could
not be reconciled to him; therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty
of death.

And so they did; therefore he was presently condemned to be had from the
place where he was, to the place from whence he came, and there to be
put to the most cruel death that could be invented.

They therefore brought him out, to do with him according to their law;
and first they scourged him, then they buffeted him, then they lanced
his flesh with knives; after that, they stoned him with stones, then
pricked him with their swords; and last of all, they burned him to ashes
at the stake.  Thus came Faithful to his end.

Now I saw, that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple
of horses waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his adversaries had
dispatched him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up
through the clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the
celestial gate.  But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was
remanded back to prison: so he there remained for a space.  But he who
overrules all things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, so
wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped them, and went
his way.

And as he went, he sang, saying,

"Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest

Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest,

When faithless ones, with all their vain delights,

Are crying out under their hellish plights:

Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive;

For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive."



THE SEVENTH STAGE.

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not forth alone; for there
was one whose name was Hopeful, (being so made by the beholding of
Christian and Faithful in their words and behavior, in their sufferings
at the fair,) who joined himself unto him, and entering into a brotherly
covenant, told him that he would be his companion.  Thus one died to
bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a
companion with Christian in his pilgrimage.  This Hopeful also told
Christian, that there were many more of the men in the fair that would
take their time, and follow after.

So I saw, that quickly after they were got out of the fair, they
overtook one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends; so they
said to him, What countryman, sir?  and how far go you this way?  He
told them, that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and he was going
to the Celestial City; but told them not his name.

From Fair-speech?  said Christian; is there any good that lives there?
Prov.  26:25.

BY. Yes, said By-ends, I hope so.

CHR. Pray, sir, what may I call you?  said Christian.

BY. I am a stranger to you, and you to me: if you be going this way, I
shall be glad of your company; if not, I must be content.

CHR. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have heard of; and, as
I remember, they say it's a wealthy place.

BY. Yes, I will assure you that it is; and I have very many rich kindred
there.

CHR. Pray, who are your kindred there, if a man may be so bold?

BY. Almost the whole town; and in particular my Lord Turn-about, my Lord
Time-server, my Lord Fair-speech, from whose ancestors that town first
took its name; also, Mr.  Smooth-man, Mr.  Facing-both-ways, Mr.  Any-
thing; and the parson of our parish, Mr.  Two-tongues, was my mother's
own brother, by father's side; and, to tell you the truth, I am become a
gentleman of good quality; yet my great-grandfather was but a waterman,
looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the
same occupation.

CHR. Are you a married man.

BY. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a
virtuous woman; she was my Lady Feigning's daughter; therefore she came
of a very honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding,
that she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and peasant.  'Tis
true, we somewhat differ in religion from those of the stricter sort,
yet but in two small points: First, we never strive against wind and
tide.  Secondly, we are always most zealous when religion goes in his
silver slippers; we love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun
shines and the people applaud him.

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, it
runs in my mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair-speech; and if it be
he, we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these
parts.  Then said Hopeful, Ask him; methinks he should not be ashamed of
his name.  So Christian came up with him again, and said, Sir, you talk
as if you knew something more than all the world doth; and, if I take
not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you.  Is not your name
Mr.  By-ends of Fair-speech?

BY. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nickname that is given me by
some that cannot abide me, and I must be content to bear it as a
reproach, as other good men have borne theirs before me.

CHR. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this name?

BY. Never, never!  The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to
give me this name was, that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment
with the present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to
get thereby: but if things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a
blessing; but let not the malicious load me therefore with reproach.

CHR. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of; and to
tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly
than you are willing we should think it doth.

BY. Well if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it; you shall find me a
fair company-keeper, if you will still admit me your associate.

CHR. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide; the
which, I perceive, is against your opinion: you must also own Religion
in his rags, as well as when in his silver slippers; and stand by him,
too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the streets with
applause.

BY. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith; leave me to my
liberty, and let me go with you.

CHR. Not a step farther, unless you will do, in what I propound, as we.

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, since they
are harmless and profitable.  If I may not go with you, I must do as I
did before you overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake me
that will be glad of my company.

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept
their distance before him; but one of them, looking back, saw three men
following Mr.  By-ends; and, behold, as they came up with him, he made
them a very low congee; and they also gave him a compliment.  The men's
names were, Mr.  Hold-the-world, Mr.  Money-love, and Mr.  Save-all, men
that Mr.  By-ends had formerly been acquainted with; for in their
minority they were schoolfellows, and taught by one Mr.  Gripeman, a
schoolmaster in Lovegain, which is a market-town in the county of
Coveting, in the North.  This Schoolmaster taught them the art of
getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattering, lying, or by putting
on a guise of religion; and these four gentlemen had attained much of
the art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept such
a school themselves.

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr.  Money-love
said to Mr.  By-ends, Who are they upon the road before us?  For
Christian and Hopeful were yet within view.

BY. They are a couple of far country-men, that, after their mode, are
going on pilgrimage.

MONEY. Alas!  why did they not stay, that we might have had their good
company?  for they, and we, and you, sir, I hope, are all going on
pilgrimage.

BY. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so
much their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of
others, that let a man be ever so godly, yet if he jumps not with them
in all things, they thrust him quite out of their company.

SAVE. That is bad; but we read of some that are righteous overmuch, and
such men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn all but
themselves.  But I pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein you
differed?

BY. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it is their
duty to rush on their journey all weathers, and I am for waiting for
wind and tide.  They are for hazarding all for God at a clap; and I am
for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate.  They are for
holding their notions, though all other men be against them; but I am
for religion in what, and so far as the times and my safety will bear
it.  They are for religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for him
when he walks in his silver slippers, in the sunshine, and with
applause.

HOLD-THE-WORLD. Aye, and hold you there still, good Mr.  By-ends; for,
for my part, I can count him but a fool, that having the liberty to keep
what he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it.  Let us be wise as
serpents.  It is best to make hay while the sun shines.  You see how the
bee lieth still in winter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit
with pleasure.  God sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine: if
they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to
take fair weather along with us.  For my part, I like that religion best
that will stand with the security of God's good blessings unto us; for
who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed
upon us the good things of this life, but that he would have us keep
them for his sake?  Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion; and Job
says, that a good man shall lay up gold as dust; but he must not be such
as the men before us, if they be as you have described them.

SAVE. I think that we are all agreed in this matter; and therefore there
needs no more words about it.

MONEY. No, there needs no more words about this matter, indeed; for he
that believes neither Scripture nor reason, (and you see we have both on
our side,) neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety.

BY. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage; and for
our better diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to propound
unto you this question.

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, etc., should have an
advantage lie before him to get the good blessings of this life, yet so
as that he can by no means come by them, except, in appearance at least,
he becomes extraordinary zealous in some points of religion that he
meddled not with before; may he not use this means to attain his end,
and yet be a right honest man?

MONEY. I see the bottom of your question; and with these gentlemen's
good leave, I will endeavor to shape you an answer.  And first, to speak
to your question as it concerneth a minister himself: suppose a
minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small benefice, and has
in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far; he has also now an
opportunity of getting it, yet so as by being more studious, by
preaching more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of the
people requires it, by altering of some of his principles; for my part,
I see no reason why a man may not do this, provided he has a call, aye,
and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man.  For why?

1.  His desire of a greater benefice is lawful, (this cannot be
contradicted,) since it is set before him by Providence; so then he may
get it if he can, making no question for conscience' sake.

2.  Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a
more zealous preacher, etc., and so makes him a better man, yea, makes
him better improve his parts, which is according to the mind of God.

3.  Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people, by
deserting, to serve them, some of his principles, this argueth, 1.  That
he is of a self-denying temper.  2.  Of a sweet and winning deportment.
And, 3.  So more fit for the ministerial function.

4.  I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for a great,
should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather, since he is
improved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted as one that
pursues his call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good.

And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the tradesman
you mentioned.  Suppose such an one to have but a poor employ in the
world, but by becoming religious he may mend his market, perhaps get a
rich wife, or more and far better customers to his shop; for my part, I
see no reason but this may be lawfully done.  For why?

1.  To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man becomes
so.

2.  Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my shop.

3.  Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that
which is good of them that are good, by becoming good himself; so then
here is a good wife, and good customers, and good gain, and all these by
becoming religious, which is good: therefore, to become religious to get
all these is a good and profitable design.

This answer, thus made by Mr.  Money-love to Mr.  By-ends' question, was
highly applauded by them all; wherefore they concluded, upon the whole,
that it was most wholesome and advantageous.  And because, as they
thought, no man was able to contradict it; and because Christian and
Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly agreed to assault them with
the question as soon as they overtook them; and the rather, because they
had opposed Mr.  By-ends before.  So they called after them, and they
stopped and stood still till they came up to them; but they concluded,
as they went, that not Mr.  By-ends, but old Mr.  Hold-the-world should
propound the question to them, because, as they supposed, their answer
to him would be without the remainder of that heat that was kindled
betwixt Mr.  By-ends and them at their parting a little before.

So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation, Mr.  Hold-
the-world propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, and then
bid them to answer if they could.

Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer ten thousand
such questions.  For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves, as
it is, John 6:26; how much more abominable is it to make of him and
religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy the world!  Nor do we find
any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and wizards, that are of
this opinion.

1.  Heathens: for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter and
cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was no way for them to come at them
but by being circumcised, they said to their companions, If every male
of us be circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not their cattle,
and their substance, and every beast of theirs be ours?  Their daughters
and their cattle were that which they sought to obtain, and their
religion the stalking-horse they made use of to come at them.  Read the
whole story, Gen.  34:20-24.

2.  The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion: long prayers
were their pretence, but to get widows' houses was their intent; and
greater damnation was from God their judgment.  Luke 20:46,47.

3.  Judas the devil was also of this religion: he was religious for the
bag, that he might be possessed of what was put therein; but he was
lost, cast away, and the very son of perdition.

4.  Simon the wizard was of this religion too; for he would have had the
Holy Ghost, that he might have got money therewith: and his sentence
from Peter's mouth was according.  Acts 8:19-22.

5.  Neither will it go out of my mind, but that that man who takes up
religion for the world, will throw away religion for the world; for so
surely as Judas designed the world in becoming religious, so surely did
he also sell religion and his Master for the same.  To answer the
question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have done, and to
accept of, as authentic, such answer, is heathenish, hypocritical, and
devilish; and your reward will be according to your works.

Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not wherewith to
answer Christian.  Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Christian's
answer; so there was a great silence among them.  Mr.  By-ends and his
company also staggered and kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might
outgo them.  Then said Christian to his fellow, If these men cannot
stand before the sentence of men, what will they do with the sentence of
God?  And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what will
they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire?

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came
at a delicate plain, called Ease, where they went with much content; but
that plain was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it.  Now at the
farther side of that plain was a little hill, called Lucre, and in that
hill a silver-mine, which some of them that had formerly gone that way,
because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going too near
the brim of the pit, the ground, being deceitful under them, broke, and
they were slain: some also had been maimed there, and could not, to
their dying day, be their own men again.

Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over against the
silver-mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call passengers to come and
see; who said to Christian and his fellow, Ho!  turn aside hither, and I
will show you a thing.

CHR. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it?

DEMAS. Here is a silver-mine, and some digging in it for treasure; if
you will come, with a little pains you may richly provide for
yourselves.

HOPE. Then said Hopeful, let us go see.

CHR. Not I, said Christian: I have heard of this place before now, and
how many there have been slain; and besides, that treasure is a snare to
those that seek it, for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage.

Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the place dangerous?
Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage?  Hosea 9:6.

DEMAS. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless; but withal
he blushed as he spake.

CHR. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a step, but still
keep on our way.

HOPE. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same
invitation as we, he will turn in thither to see.

CHR. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way, and a
hundred to one but he dies there.

DEMAS. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you not come over and
see?

CHR. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, thou art an enemy
to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already
condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges, 2
Tim.  4:10; and why seekest thou to bring us into the like condemnation?
Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear
thereof, and will there put us to shame, where we would stand with
boldness before him.

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fraternity; and that if
they would tarry a little, he also himself would walk with them.

CHR. Then said Christian, What is thy name?  Is it not the same by which
I have called thee?

DEMAS. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham.

CHR. I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your
father, and you have trod in their steps; it is but a devilish prank
that thou usest: thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest
no better reward.  2 Kings 5:20-27; Matt.26:14,15; 27:3-5.  Assure
thyself, that when we come to the King, we will tell him of this thy
behavior.  Thus they went their way.

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight,
and they at the first beck went over to Demas.  Now, whether they fell
into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went
down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps
that commonly arise, of these things I am not certain; but this I
observed, that they were never seen again in the way.  Then sang
Christian,

"By-ends and silver Demas both agree;

One calls, the other runs, that he may be

A sharer in his lucre: so these two

Take up in this world, and no farther go."

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the pilgrims came
to a place where stood an old monument, hard by the highway-side, at the
sight of which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness of
the form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman
transformed into the shape of a pillar.  Here, therefore, they stood
looking and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they
should make thereof.  At last Hopeful espied, written above upon the
head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand; but he being no scholar,
called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the
meaning: so he came, and after a little laying of letters together, he
found the same to be this, "Remember Lot's wife."  So he read it to his
fellow; after which they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt
into which Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous
heart when she was going from Sodom for safety.  Gen.  19:26.  Which
sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion for this discourse.

CHR. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight: it came opportunely to
us after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the
hill Lucre; and had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast
inclined to do, my brother, we had, for aught I know, been made, like
this woman, a spectacle for those that shall come after to behold.

HOPE. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am
not now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin
and mine?  She only looked back, and I had a desire to go see.  Let
grace be adored; and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing should be
in mine heart.

CHR. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help from time to
come.  This woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the
destruction of Sodom; yet she was destroyed by another, as we see: she
is turned into a pillar of salt.

HOPE. True, and she may be to us both caution and example; caution, that
we should shun her sin; or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as
shall not be prevented by this caution: so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram,
with the two hundred and fifty

men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to
others to beware.  Numb.  16:31,32; 26:9,10.  But above all, I muse at
one thing, to wit, how Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently
yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman but for looking
behind her after, (for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the
way,) was turned into a pillar of salt; especially since the judgment
which overtook her did make her an example within sight of where they
are; for they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up their
eyes.

CHR. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their hearts
are grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them
to so fitly, as to them that pick pockets in the presence of the judge,
or that will cut purses under the gallows.  It is said of the men of
Sodom, that they were "sinners exceedingly," because they were sinners
"before the Lord," that is, in his eyesight, and notwithstanding the
kindnesses that he had shown them; for the land of Sodom was now like
the garden of Eden as heretofore.  Gen.  13:10-13.  This, therefore,
provoked him the more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the
fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it.  And it is most rationally
to be concluded, that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in
the sight, yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set
continually before them, to caution them to the contrary, must be
partakers of severest judgments.

HOPE. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it, that
neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example!  This
ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him, and always
to remember Lot's wife.

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which David
the king called "the river of God;" but John, "the river of the water of
life."  Psa.  65:9; Rev.  22:1; Ezek.  47:1-9.  Now their way lay just
upon the bank of this river: here, therefore, Christian and his
companion walked with great delight; they drank also of the water of the
river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits.
Besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees
with all manner of fruit; and the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits,
and other diseases that are incident to those that heat their blood by
travel.  On either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously
beautified with lilies; and it was green all the year long.  In this
meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might lie down safely.
Psa.  23:2; Isa.  14:30.  When they awoke they gathered again of the
fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and then
lay down again to sleep.  Thus they did several days and nights.  Then
they sang;

"Behold ye, how these Crystal Streams do glide,

To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side.

The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell,

Yield dainties for them; And he that can tell

What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves these trees do yield,

Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field."

So when they were disposed to go on, (for they were not as yet at their
journey's end,) they ate, and drank, and departed.

Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far, but the river
and the way for a time parted, at which they were not a little sorry;
yet they durst not go out of the way.  Now the way from the river was
rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travels; so the souls of
the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way.  Numb.  21:4.
Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for a better way.  Now, a
little before them, there was on the left hand of the road a meadow, and
a stile to go over into it, and that meadow is called By-path meadow.
Then said Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along by our
wayside, let's go over into it.  Then he went to the stile to see, and
behold a path lay along by the way on the other side of the fence.  It
is according to my wish, said Christian; here is the easiest going;
come, good Hopeful, and let us go over.

HOPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the way?

CHR. That is not likely, said the other.  Look, doth it not go along by
the wayside?  So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him
over the stile.  When they were gone over, and were got into the path,
they found it very easy for their feet; and withal, they, looking before
them, espied a man walking as they did, and his name was Vain-
Confidence: so they called after him, and asked him whither that way
led.  He said, To the Celestial Gate.  Look, said Christian, did not I
tell you so?  by this you may see we are right.  So they followed, and
he went before them.  But behold the night came on, and it grew very
dark; so that they that went behind lost the sight of him that went
before.

He therefore that went before, (Vain-Confidence by name,) not seeing the
way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose there made,
by the prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and
was dashed in pieces with his fall.  Isa.  9:16.

Now, Christian and his fellow heard him fall.  So they called to know
the matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning.
Then said Hopeful, Where are we now?  Then was his fellow silent, as
mistrusting that he had led him out of the way; and now it began to
rain, and thunder, and lighten in a most dreadful manner, and the water
rose amain.

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh that I had kept on my way!

CHR. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the
way?

HOPE. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore gave you that
gentle caution.  I would have spoke plainer, but that you are older than
I.

CHR. Good brother, be not offended; I am sorry I have brought thee out
of the way, and that I have put thee into such imminent danger.  Pray,
my brother, forgive me; I did not do it of an evil intent.

HOPE. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee; and believe, too,
that this shall be for our good.

CHR. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother: but we must not stand
here; let us try to go back again.

HOPE. But, good brother, let me go before.

CHR. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any danger, I
may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone out of the
way.

HOPE. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first, for your mind being
troubled may lead you out of the way again.  Then for their
encouragement they heard the voice of one saying, "Let thine heart be
toward the highway, even the way that thou wentest: turn again."  Jer.
31:21.  But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of
which the way of going back was very dangerous.  (Then I thought that it
is easier going out of the way when we are in, than going in when we are
out.)  Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark, and the flood
was so high, that in their going back they had like to have been drowned
nine or ten times.

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile
that night.  Wherefore at last, lighting under a little shelter, they
sat down there till the day brake; but being weary, they fell asleep.
Now there was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called
Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was in his
grounds they now were sleeping: wherefore he, getting up in the morning
early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and
Hopeful asleep in his grounds.  Then with a grim and surly voice, he bid
them awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his
grounds.  They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their
way.  Then said the giant, You have this night trespassed on me by
trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along
with me.  So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they.
They also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault.
The giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his
castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of
these two men.  Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till
Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or
any to ask how they did; they were, therefore, here in evil case, and
were far from friends and acquaintance.  Psa.  88:18.  Now in this place
Christian had double sorrow, because it was through his unadvised
counsel that they were brought into this distress.

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence: so when he
was gone to bed he told his wife what he had done, to wit, that he had
taken a couple of prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon for
trespassing on his grounds.  Then he asked her also what he had best do
further to them.  So she asked him what they were, whence they came, and
whither they were bound, and he told her.  Then she counseled him, that
when he arose in the morning he should beat them without mercy.  So when
he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into
the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if they
were dogs, although they gave him never a word of distaste.  Then he
falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that they were
not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor.  This done,
he withdraws and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn
under their distress: so all that day they spent the time in nothing but
sighs and bitter lamentations.  The next night, she, talking with her
husband further about them, and understanding that they were yet alive,
did advise him to counsel them to make away with themselves.  So when
morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner, as before, and
perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them
the day before, he told them, that since they were never like to come
out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of
themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison; for why, said he,
should you choose to live, seeing it is attended with so much
bitterness?  But they desired him to let them go.  With that he looked
ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them
himself, but that he fell into one of his fits, (for he sometimes in
sunshiny weather fell into fits,) and lost for a time the use of his
hands; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before to consider what
to do.  Then did the prisoners consult between themselves whether it was
best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse:

CHR. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do?  The life that we now
live is miserable.  For my part, I know not whether it is best to live
thus, or to die out of hand.  My soul chooseth strangling rather than
life, and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon.  Job.  7:15.
Shall we be ruled by the giant?

HOPE. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far
more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet, let us
consider, the Lord of the country to which we are going hath said, "Thou
shalt do no murder," no, not to another man's person; much more, then,
are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves.  Besides, he
that kills another, can but commit murder upon his body; but for one to
kill himself, is to kill body and soul at once.  And moreover, my
brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten the
hell whither for certain the murderers go?  for "no murderer hath
eternal life," etc.  And let us consider again, that all the law is not
in the hand of Giant Despair: others, so far as I can understand, have
been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hands.
Who knows but that God, who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair
may die; or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in; or
that he may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and
may lose the use of his limbs?  And if ever that should come to pass
again, for my part, I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to
try my utmost to get from under his hand.  I was a fool that I did not
try to do it before.  But, however, my brother, let us be patient, and
endure a while: the time may come that may give us a happy release; but
let us not be our own murderers.  With these words Hopeful at present
did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together in the
dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition.

Well, towards evening the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to see
if his prisoners had taken his counsel.  But when he came there he found
them alive; and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of bread
and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat them,
they could do little but breathe.  But I say, he found them alive; at
which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them, that seeing they had
disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had
never been born.

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a
swoon; but coming a little to himself again, they renewed their
discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take
it or no.  Now Christian again seemed for doing it; but Hopeful made his
second reply as followeth:

HOPE. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast
been heretofore?  Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou
didst hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.  What
hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through; and art
thou now nothing but fears!  Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with
thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art.  Also this giant hath
wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water
from my mouth, and with thee I mourn without the light.  But let us
exercise a little more patience.  Remember how thou playedst the man at
Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain nor cage, nor yet of
bloody death: wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame that it
becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as
we can.

Now night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, she
asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel:
to which he replied, They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear
all hardships than to make away with themselves.  Then said she, Take
them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls
of those that thou hast already dispatched, and make them believe, ere a
week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done
their fellows before them.

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes
them into the castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him.
These, said he, were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed on
my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit I tore them in
pieces; and so within ten days I will do you: get you down to your den
again.  And with that he beat them all the way thither.  They lay,
therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before.  Now,
when night was come, and when Mrs.  Diffidence and her husband the giant
was got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners;
and withal, the old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows
nor counsel bring them to an end.  And with that his wife replied, I
fear, said she, that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve
them; or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they
hope to escape.  And sayest thou so, my dear?  said the giant; I will
therefore search them in the morning.

Well, on Saturday, about midnight they began to pray, and continued in
prayer till almost break of day.

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed,
brake out into this passionate speech: What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus
to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty!  I
have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open
any lock in Doubting Castle.  Then said Hopeful, That is good news; good
brother, pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the
dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door
flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out.  Then he
went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and with his
key opened that door also.  After he went to the iron gate, for that
must be opened too; but that lock went desperately hard, yet the key did
open it.  They then thrust open the gate to make their escape with
speed; but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked
Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his
limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means
go after them.  Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and
so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with
themselves what they should do at that stile, to prevent those that
shall come after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair.  So they
consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof
this sentence: "Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is
kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of' the Celestial country,
and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims."  Many, therefore, that followed
after, read what was written, and escaped the danger.  This done, they
sang as follows:

"Out of the way we went, and then we found

What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground:

And let them that come after have a care,

Lest heedlessness makes them as we to fare;

Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are,

Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair."



THE EIGHTH STAGE.

They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which
mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken
before.  So they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and
orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water; where also they drank
and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards.  Now, there
were on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and
they stood by the highway-side.  The pilgrims, therefore, went to them,
and leaning upon their staffs, (as is common with weary pilgrims when
they stand to talk with any by the way,) they asked, Whose Delectable
Mountains are these; and whose be the sheep that feed upon them?

SHEP. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and they are within sight of
his city; and the sheep also are his, and he laid down his life for
them.  John 10:11,15.

CHR. Is this the way to the Celestial City?

SHEP. You are just in your way.

CHR. How far is it thither?

SHEP. Too far for any but those who shall get thither indeed.

CHR. Is the way safe or dangerous?

SHEP. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; but transgressors shall
fall therein.  Hos.  14:9.

CHR. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and
faint in the way?

SHEP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be
forgetful to entertain strangers, Heb.  13:2; therefore the good of the
place is before you .

I saw also in my dream, that when the shepherds perceived that they were
wayfaring men, they also put questions to them, (to which they made
answer as in other places,) as, Whence came you?  and, How got you into
the way?  and, By what means have you so persevered therein?  for but
few of them that begin to come hither, do show their face on these
mountains.  But when the shepherds heard their answers, being pleased
therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the
Delectable Mountains.

The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful,
and Sincere, took them by the hand, and had them to their tents, and
made them partake of that which was ready at present.  They said
moreover, We would that you should stay here a while, to be acquainted
with us, and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these
Delectable Mountains.  Then they told them that they were content to
stay.  So they went to their rest that night, because it was very late.

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the shepherds called up
Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains.  So they
went forth with them, and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on
every side.  Then said the shepherds one to another, Shall we show these
pilgrims some wonders?  So when they had concluded to do it, they had
them first to the top of a hill called Error, which was very steep on
the farthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom.  So Christian
and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to
pieces by a fall that they had had from the top.  Then said Christian,
What meaneth this?  The shepherds answered, Have you not heard of them
that were made to err, by hearkening to Hymenius and Philetus, as
concerning the faith of the resurrection of the body?  2 Tim.  2:17,18.
They answered, Yes.  Then said the shepherds, Those that you see lie
dashed in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they; and they have
continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to
take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink
of this mountain.

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and the
name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar off; which, when they
did, they perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and down
among the tombs that were there; and they perceived that the men were
blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they
could not get out from among them.  Then said Christian, What means
this?

The shepherds then answered, Did you not see, a little below these
mountains, a stile that led into a meadow, on the left hand of this way?
They answered, Yes.  Then said the shepherds, From that stile there goes
a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant
Despair; and these men (pointing to them among the tombs) came once on
pilgrimage, as you do now, even until they came to that same stile.  And
because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of
it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast
into Doubting Castle; where after they had a while been kept in the
dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among those
tombs, where he has left them to wander to this very day, that the
saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, "He that wandereth out of the
way of understanding shall remain in the congregation of the dead."
Prov.  21:16.  Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with
tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds.

Then I saw in my dream, that the shepherds had them to another place in
a bottom, where was a door on the side of a hill; and they opened the
door, and bid them look in.  They looked in, therefore, and saw that
within it was very dark and smoky; they also thought that they heard
there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some tormented, and
that they smelt the scent of brimstone.  Then said Christian, What means
this?  The shepherds told them, This is a by-way to hell, a way that
hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau;
such as sell their Master, with Judas; such as blaspheme the Gospel,
with Alexander; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira
his wife.

Then said Hopeful to the shepherds, I perceive that these had on them,
even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they not?

SHEP. Yes, and held it a long time, too.

HOPE. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since they,
notwithstanding, were miserably cast away?

SHEP. Some farther, and some not so far as these mountains.

Then said the pilgrims one to the other, We had need to cry to the
Strong for strength.

SHEP. Aye, and you will have need to use it, when you have it, too.

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the shepherds
a desire they should; so they walked together towards the end of the
mountains.  Then said the shepherds one to another, Let us here show the
pilgrims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have skill to look
through our perspective glass.  The pilgrims lovingly accepted the
motion: so they had them to the top of a high hill, called Clear, and
gave them the glass to look.

Then they tried to look; but the remembrance of that last thing that the
shepherds had shown them made their hands shake, by means of which
impediment they could not look steadily through the glass; yet they
thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory of
the place.  Then they went away, and sang,

"Thus by the shepherds secrets are reveal'd,

Which from all other men are kept concealed:

Come to the shepherds then, if you would see

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

When they were about to depart, one of the shepherds gave them a note of
the way.  Another of them bid them beware of the Flatterer.  The third
bid them take heed that they slept not upon Enchanted Ground.  And the
fourth bid them God speed.  So I awoke from my dream.



THE NINTH STAGE.

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 Celestial 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 show at that gate, that the gate should be
opened to you?

IGNOR. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good liver; I pay every
man his own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have left my
country for whither I am going.

CHR. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate, that is at the head of
this way; thou camest 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 you not: be
content to follow the religion of your country, and I will follow the
religion of mine.  I hope all will be well.  And as for the gate that
you talk of, all the world knows that is a great way off of our country.
I cannot think that any man in all our parts doth so much as know the
way to it; nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we have, as
you see, a fine, pleasant, green lane, that comes down from our country,
the next way into the way.

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own conceit, he said to
Hopeful whisperingly, "There is more hope of a fool than of him."  Prov.
26:12.  And said, moreover, "When he that is a fool walketh by the way,
his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one that he is a fool.
Eccles.  10:3.  What, shall we talk farther with him, or outgo him at
present, and so leave him to think of what he hath heard already, and
then stop again for him afterwards, and see if by degrees we can do any
good to him?  Then said Hopeful,

"Let Ignorance a little while now muse

On what is said, and let him not refuse

Good counsel to embrace, 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 so to him all at
once; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, even as he
is able to bear it.

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 him back to the door that they saw on the side of the hill.
Matt.  12:45; Prov.  5:22.  Now good Christian began to tremble, and so
did Hopeful, his companion; yet, as the devils led away the man,
Christian looked to see if he knew 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 his fellow, Now I call to remembrance that which
was told me of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout.  The name
of the man was Little-Faith; but a good man, and he dwelt in the town of
Sincere.  The thing was this.  At the entering in at this passage, there
comes down from Broadway-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
sleep.  Now there happened at that time to come down the lane from
Broadway-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 threatening language bid him stand.  At
this, Little-Faith looked as white as a sheet, 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, pulled out thence a bag
of silver.  Then he cried out, Thieves, thieves!  With that, Guilt, with
a great club that was in his hand, struck Little-Faith on the head, and
with that blow felled him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding as
one that would bleed to death.  All this while the thieves stood by.
But at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing lest
it should be one Great-Grace, that dwells in the town of 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 scramble on his way.  This was
the story.

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 sell; but beg and do what he could,
he went, as we say, with many a hungry belly the most part of the rest
of the way.  1 Pet.  4:18.

HOPE. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his certificate, by
which he was to receive his admittance at the Celestial Gate?

CHR. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they missed it not
through any good cunning of his; for he, being dismayed by their coming
upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide any thing; so it was more
by good providence than by his endeavor that they missed of that good
thing.  2 Tim.  1:12-14; 2 Pet.  2:9.

HOPE. But it must needs be a comfort to him 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 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 these thoughts would
swallow up all.

HOPE. Alas, poor man, this could not but be a great grief to him.

CHR. Grief?  Aye, 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?  It is 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 overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where he
was robbed, and how; who they were that did it, and what he had lost;
how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life.

HOPE. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon selling
or pawning some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith to relieve
himself in his journey.

CHR. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this very
day.  For what should he pawn them?  or to whom should he sell them?  In
all that country where he was 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 Celestial
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 birthright, and
that for a mess of pottage, Heb.  12:16; and that birthright was his
greatest jewel: and if he, why might not Little-Faith do so too?

CHR. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many besides, and by
so doing exclude themselves from the chief blessing, as also that
caitiff did; but you must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-
Faith, and also betwixt their estates.  Esau's birthright was typical;
but Little-Faith's jewels were not so.  Esau's belly was his god; but
Little-Faith's belly was not so.  Esau's want lay in his fleshy
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 birthright do me?  Gen.  25:32.  But Little-
Faith, though it was his lot to have but a little faith, was by his
little faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize his
jewels more than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright.  You read not
any where that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a little; therefore no
marvel, where the flesh only bears sway, (as it will in that man where
no faith is to resist,) if he sells his birthright and his soul and all,
and that to the devil of hell; for it is with such as it is with the
ass, who in her occasion cannot be turned away, Jer.  2:24: 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.

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 untrodden paths with the shell
upon their heads: but pass by that, and consider the matter under
debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and me.

HOPE. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart,
are but a company of cowards: would they have run else, think you, as
they did, at the noise of one that was coming on the road?  Why did not
Little-Faith pluck up a greater heart?  He might, methinks, have stood
one brush with them, and have yielded when there had been no remedy.

CHR. That they are cowards, many have said, but few have found it so in
the time of trial.  As for a great heart, Little-Faith had none; and I
perceive by thee, my brother, hadst thou been the 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, that they are but journeymen thieves; They serve
under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come to
their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a lion.  1 Pet.
5:8.  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 clothed with armor of proof.  Aye, 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 suppose 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 trow you will put some difference between Little-Faith and the
King's champion.  All the King's subjects are not his champions; nor can
they, when tried, do such feats of war as he.  Is it meet to think that
a little child should handle Goliath as David did?  or that there should
be the strength of an ox in a wren?  Some are strong, some are weak;
some have great faith, some have little: this man was one of the weak,
and therefore he went to the wall.

HOPE. I would it had been Great-Grace, for their sakes.

CHR. If it had been he, 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, will see those scars and cuts
there that shall easily give demonstration of what I say.  Yea, once I
heard that 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!  Yea, Heman, Psa.  88, and Hezekiah
too, though champions in their days, were forced to bestir them when by
these assaulted; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly
brushed by them.  Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do; but
though some do say of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they
handled him so that they made him at last afraid of a sorry girl.

Besides, their king is at their whistle; he is never out of hearing; and
if 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 make him fly;
sling-stones are turned with him into stubble.  Darts are counted as
stubble; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear."  Job 41:26-29.  What
can a man do in this case?  It is true, if a man could at every turn
have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, he might do
notable things.  "For his neck is clothed with thunder.  He will not be
afraid as a grasshopper: the glory of his nostrils is terrible.  He
paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to meet
the armed men.  He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; neither
turneth he back 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 thunder of the captains, and the shoutings."  Job
39:19-25.

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with
an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of others
that 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, aye, 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 those
villains as he?

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the King's
highway, two things become us to do.

1.  To go out harnessed, and be sure to take a shield with us: for it
was for want of that, that he who 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."  Eph.  6:16.

2.  It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy, yea, that he
will go with us himself.  This made David rejoice when in the Valley of
the Shadow of Death; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood, than
to go one step without his God.  Exod.  33:15.

O, my brother, if he will but go along with us, what need we be afraid
of ten thousands that shall set themselves against us?  Psa.  3:5-8;
27:1-3.  But without him, the proud helpers fall under the slain.  Isa.
10:4.

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 any manhood.  Glad shall I be if I meet with no more such
brunts; though I fear we are not got beyond all danger.  However, since
the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I hope God will also
deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine.  Then sang Christian,

"Poor Little-Faith!  hast been among the thieves?

Wast robb'd?  Remember this, whoso believes,

And get more faith; then shall you victors 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 strait as the way which they should go; and here they
knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed strait 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, come to them, and asked them why they stood there.  They
answered, they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of
these ways to take.  "Follow me," said the man, "it is 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 far from the city that
they desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned
away from it; yet they follow 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 entangled that they knew not what to do; and with that the white
robe fell off the black man's back.  Then they saw where they were.
Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could not get
themselves out.

CHR. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see myself in an error.
Did not the shepherds bid us beware of the Flatterer?  As is the saying
of the wise man, so we have found it this day: "A man that flattereth
his neighbor, spreadeth a net for his feet."  Prov.  29:5.

HOPE. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more
sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and
have not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer.  Here David was
wiser than we; for saith he, "Concerning the works of men, by the word
of thy lips I have kept me from the paths of the Destroyer."  Psa.
17:4.  Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net.  At last they
espied a Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small cords in
his hand.  When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them
whence they came, and what they did there.  They told him that they were
poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of their way by a black
man clothed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was
going thither too.  Then said he with the whip, It is Flatterer, a false
apostle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light.  Dan.
11:32; 2 Cor.  11:13,14.  So he rent the net, and let the men out.  Then
said he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in your way again.  So he
led them back to the way which they had left to follow the Flatterer.
Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night?  They
said, With the shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains.  He asked them
then if they had not of the shepherds a note of direction for the way.
They answered, Yes.  But did you not, 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-spoken man had been he.  Rom.
16:17,18.

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down; which when
they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein
they should walk, Deut.  25:2; 2 Chron.  6:27; and as he chastised them,
he said, "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous,
therefore, and repent."  Rev.  3:19.  This done, he bids them to 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 entangling net,

Cause they good counsel lightly did forget:

'Tis true, they rescued were; but yet, you see,

They're scouged to boot; let this your caution be."

Now, after awhile, they perceived afar off, one coming softly, and
alone, all along the highway, to meet them.  Then said Christian to his
fellow, Yonder is a man with his back towards Zion, and he is coming to
meet us.

HOPE. I see him; let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should prove
a Flatterer also.  So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up to
them.  His name was Atheist, and he asked them whither they were going.

CHR. We are going to Mount Zion.

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter.

CHR. What's the meaning of your laughter?

ATHEIST. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon you
so tedious a journey, and yet 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 not such a 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 these twenty years, but find no more of it than I did the
first day I set out.  Eccles.  10:15; Jer.  17:15.

CHR. We have both heard, and believe, that there is such a place to be
found.

ATHEIST. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus far to
seek; but finding none, (and yet I should, had there been such a place
to be found, for I have gone to seek it farther 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.

CHR. Then said Christian to Hopeful his companion, Is it true which this
man hath said?

HOPE. Take heed, he is one of the Flatterers.  Remember what it cost us
once already for our hearkening to such kind of fellows.  What!  no
Mount Zion?  Did we not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of
the city?  Also, are we not now to walk by faith?  2 Cor.  5:7.

Let us go on, lest the man with the whip overtake us again.  You should
have taught me that lesson, which I will sound you in the ears withal:
"Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the
words of knowledge."  Prov.  19:27.  I say, my brother, cease to hear
him, and let us believe to the saving of the soul.

CHR. My brother, I did not put the question to thee, for that I doubted
of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove 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 me go on, knowing
that we have belief of the truth; and no lie is of the truth.  1 John,
5:21.

HOPE. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  So they turned away
from the man; and he, laughing at them, went his way.

I then saw in my dream, that they went on until they came into a certain
country whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he came a
stranger into it.  And here Hopeful began to be very dull, and heavy to
sleep: wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so
drowsy that I can scarcely hold open 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 laboring man; we may be
refreshed, if we take a nap.

CHR. Do you not remember that one of the shepherds bid us beware of the
Enchanted Ground?  He meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping;
wherefore "let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be
sober."  1 Thess.  5:6.

HOPE. I acknowledge myself in a fault; and had I been here alone, I had
by sleeping run the danger of death.  I see it is true that the wise man
saith, "Two are better than one."  Eccl.  4:9.  Hitherto hath thy
company been my mercy; and thou shalt have a good reward for thy labor.

CHR. 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, slumb'ring eyes.

Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well,

Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell."

Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a question.  How came you
to think at first of doing what you do now?

HOPE. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good of my
soul?

CHR. Yes, that is my meaning.

HOPE. I continued a great while in the delight of those things which
were seen and sold at our fair; things which I believe now would have,
had I continued in them still, drowned me in perdition and destruction.

CHR. What things were they?

HOPE. All the treasures and riches of the world.  Also I delighted much
in rioting, reveling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness, Sabbath-
breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy the soul.  But I found at
last, by hearing and considering of things that are divine, which,
indeed, I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, that was put to
death for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that the end of
these things is death, Rom.  6:21-23; and that for these things' sake,
the wrath of God cometh upon the children of disobedience.  Eph.  5:6.

CHR. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction?

HOPE. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor the
damnation that follows upon the commission of it; but endeavored, 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, 1.  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-affrighting hours, that I could not bear, no
not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart.

CHR. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble?

HOPE. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again; and then I
should be as bad, nay, worse than I was before.

CHR. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again?

HOPE. Many things; as,

1.  If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or,

2.  If I have heard any read in the Bible; or,

3.  If mine head did begin to ache; or,

4.  If I were told that some of my neighbors were sick; or,

5.  If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or,

6.  If I thought of dying myself; or,

7.  If I heard that sudden death happened to others.

8.  But especially when I thought of myself, that I must quickly come to
judgment.

CHR. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the guilt of sin,
when by any of these ways it came upon you?

HOPE. No, not I; for then they got faster hold of my 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 endeavor to mend my life; for else, thought I, I
am sure to be damned.

CHR. And did you endeavor to mend?

HOPE. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, but sinful company too, and
betook me to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin,
speaking truth to my neighbors, etc.  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.

CHR. How came that about, since you were now reformed?

HOPE. There were several things brought it upon me, especially such
sayings as these: "All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags."  Isa.
64:6.  "By the works of the law shall no flesh be justified."  Gal.
2:16.  "When ye have done all these things, say, We are unprofitable,"
Luke 17:10; with many more such like.  From whence I began to reason
with myself thus: If all my righteousnesses are as 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 is it but a folly to think of heaven
by the law.  I farther thought thus: If a man runs a hundred pounds into
the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay for all that he shall
fetch; yet if his old debt stands still in the book uncrossed, the
shopkeeper may sue him for it, 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 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 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 ever since my late amendments,
is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what I do now, I still see
sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of that I do; so that now I am
forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former fond conceits of
myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in one day to send me to
hell, though my former life had been faultless.

CHR. And what did you do then?

HOPE. Do!  I could not tell what to do, until I broke my mind to
Faithful; for he and I were well acquainted.  And he told me, that
unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never had sinned,
neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the world, could save me.

CHR. And did you think he spake true?

HOPE. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with my own
amendments, I had called him fool for his pains; but now, since I see my
own infirmity, and the sin which 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.  Heb.  10:12-21.  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.  Rom.  4:5; Col.  1:14; 1 Pet.  1:19.  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.  He
said, No; for I was invited to come.  Matt.  11:28.  Then he gave me a
book of Jesus' 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.  Matt.  24:35.  Then I asked him what I
must do when I came; and he told me I must entreat upon my knees, Psa.
95:6; Dan.  6:10, with all my heart and soul, Jer.  29:12,13, the Father
to reveal him to me.  Then I asked him further, how I must make my
supplications 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.  Exod.  25:22; Lev.  16:2; Num.  7:89;
Heb.  4:16.  I told him, that I knew not what to say when I came; and he
bid say to this effect: God be merciful to me a sinner, and make me to
know and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see, that if his righteousness
had not been, or I have not faith in that 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, take therefore this
opportunity, and magnify thy grace in the salvation of my soul, through
thy Son Jesus Christ.  Amen.

CHR. And did you do as you were bidden?

HOPE. Yes, over, and over, and over.

CHR. And did the Father reveal the 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 thoughts of leaving off praying?

HOPE. Yes; an hundred times twice told.

CHR. And what was the reason you did not?

HOPE. I believed that it was true which hath 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 I
can but die at the throne of grace.  And withal this came into my mind,
"If it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, and will not
tarry."  Hab.  2:3.  So I continued praying until the Father showed me
his Son.

CHR. And how was he revealed unto you?

HOPE. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of my
understanding, Eph.  1:18,19; and thus it was.  One day I was very sad,
I think sadder than at any one 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 looking down
from heaven upon me, and saying, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and
thou shalt be saved."  Acts 16:31.

But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner: and he answered,
"My grace is sufficient for thee."  2 Cor.  12:9.  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 believeth on me shall never
thirst," John 6:35, that believing and coming was all one; and that he
that came, that is, that 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."  John
6:37.  Then I said, But how, Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming
to thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon thee?  Then he said,
"Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners."  1 Tim.  1:15.  He
is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believes.
Rom.10:4, and chap.  4.  He died for our sins, and rose again for our
justification.  Rom.  4:25.  He loved us, and washed us from our sins in
his own blood.  Rev.  1:5.  He is the Mediator between God and us.  1
Tim.  2:5.  He ever liveth to make intercession for us.  Heb.  7:25.
From all which I gathered, that I must look for righteousness in his
person, and for satisfaction for my sins by his blood: that what he did
in obedience to his Father's law, and in submitting to the penalty
thereof, was not for himself, but for him that will accept it for his
salvation, and be thankful.  And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes
full of tears, and mine affections running over with love to the name,
people, and ways of Jesus Christ.

CHR. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed.  But tell me
particularly what effect this had upon your spirit.

HOPE. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all the
righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation.  It made me see
that God the Father, though he be just, can justly justify the coming
sinner.  It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former life,
and confounded me with the sense of mine own ignorance; for there never
came a thought into my heart before now that showed me so the beauty of
Jesus Christ.  It made me love a holy life, and long to do something for
the honor 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. Aye, aye, I see him: he careth not for our company.

HOPE. But I trow it would not have hurt him, had he kept pace with us
hitherto.

CHR. That is 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, he said, Come, how do you do?  How stands it between God
and your soul now?

IGNOR. I hope, well; for I am always full of good motions, that come
into my mind to comfort me as I walk.

CHR. What good motions?  Pray tell us.

IGNOR. Why, I think of God and heaven.

CHR. So do the devils and damned souls.

IGNOR. But I think of them, and desire them.

CHR. So do many that are never like to come there.  "The soul of the
sluggard desireth, and hath nothing."  Prov.  13:4.

IGNOR. But I think of them, and leave all for them.

CHR. That I doubt: for to leave all is a very hard matter; yea, a harder
matter than many are aware of.  But why, or by what, art thou persuaded
that thou hast left all for God and heaven?

IGNOR. My heart tells me so.

CHR. The wise man says, "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool."
Prov.  28:26.

IGNOR. That 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 has yet
no ground to hope.

IGNOR. But my heart and life agree together; and therefore my hope is
well-grounded.

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

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 hath good thoughts?  and is not
that a good life that is according to God's commandments?

CHR. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is a
good life 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, and some other things.

IGNOR. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves?

CHR. Such as agree with the word of God.

IGNOR. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with the word of God?

CHR. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves which the word
passes.  To explain myself: the word of God saith of persons in a
natural condition, "There is none righteous, there is none that doeth
good."  It saith also, that, "every imagination of the heart of man is
only evil, and that continually."  Gen.  6:5; Rom.  3.  And again, "The
imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth."  Gen.  8:21.  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
hearts, so it passeth a judgment upon our ways; and when the 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.  Psa.  125:5; Prov.  2:15; Rom.  3:12.
Now, when a man thus thinketh of his ways, I say, when he doth sensibly,
and with heart-humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of
his own ways, because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the
word of God.

IGNOR. What are good thoughts concerning God?

CHR. Even, as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts of God
do agree with what the word saith of him; and that is, when we think of
his being and attributes as the word hath taught, of which I cannot now
discourse at large.  But to speak of him with reference to us: then have
we 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 all its depths, is always open 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 that God can see
no further than I; or that I would come to God in the best of my
performances?

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 nor actual infirmities;
but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou doest, as plainly
renders thee to be one that did never see the 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 laws.  Or thus, Christ makes my duties, that are
religious, acceptable to his Father by virtue of his merits, and so
shall I be justified.

CHR. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith.

1.  Thou believest with a fantastical faith; for this faith is nowhere
described in the word.

2.  Thou believest with a false faith; because it taketh justification
from the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies 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 action's 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 with 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 acquitted 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 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 do believe, that what
both you and all the rest of you say about that matter, is but the fruit
of distracted brains.

HOPE. Why, man, Christ is so hid in God from the natural apprehensions
of the flesh, that he cannot by any man be savingly known, unless God
the Father reveals him to him.

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, Matt.  11:27; 1 Cor.  12:3; Eph.  1:17-19; 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,

Ere long, the evil of thy doing so.

Remember, man, in time: stoop, do not fear:

Good counsel, taken well, saves; therefore hear.

But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be

The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee."



THE TENTH STAGE.

Then Christian addressed himself thus to his fellow:

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, I much pity
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," etc.

But, now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men?  Have they
at no time, think you, convictions of sin, and so, consequently, fears
that their state is dangerous?

HOPE. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for 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."  Job 28:28; Psalm
111:10; Prov.  1:7; 9:10.

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, and making it afraid to turn from
them, to the right hand or to the left, to any thing that may dishonor
God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak
reproachfully.

HOPE. Well said; I believe you have said the truth.  Are we now almost
got past the Enchanted Ground?

CHR. Why?  are you 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 conviction as tend to put them in
fear, are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them.

HOPE. How do they seek to stifle them?

CHR. 1.  They think that those fears are wrought by the devil, (though
indeed they are wrought of God,) and thinking so, they resist them, as
things that directly tend to their 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 those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self-
holiness, and therefore they resist them with all their might.

HOPE. I know something of this myself; for before I knew myself it was
so with me.

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 town about two miles off
of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback.

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 hope of him; but one may
see, it is not every one that cries, "Lord, Lord!"

CHR. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage, as we go
now; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and then
he became a stranger to me.

HOPE. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little inquire into
the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and such others.

CHR. It may be very profitable; but do you begin.

HOPE. Well, then, there are, in my judgment, four reasons for it:

1.  Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are
not changed: therefore, 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
hath 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 desires being not at all
alienated from his vomit, he turns him about, and licks up all; and so
it is true which is written, "The dog is turned to his own vomit again."
2 Pet.  2:22.  Thus, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the
sense and fear of the torments of hell, as their sense and fear of
damnation chills and cools, so their desires for heaven and salvation
cool also.  So then it comes to pass, that when their guilt and fear is
gone, their desires for heaven and happiness die, and they return to
their course again.

2.  Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them:
I speak now of the fears that they have of men; "For the fear of man
bringeth a snare."  Prov.  29:25.  So then, though they seem to be hot
for heaven so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet, when
that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second thoughts,
namely, that it is good to be wise and not to run (for they know not
what) the hazard of losing all, or at least of 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 the
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 at 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 choose such ways as will harden them
more and more.

CHR. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of all is for want
of a change in their mind and will.  And 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 it 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.

HOPE. Now I have showed you the reason of their going back, do you show
me the manner thereof.

CHR. So I will willingly.

1.  They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the
remembrance of God, death, and judgment to come.

2.  Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer,
curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the like.

3.  Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians.

4.  After that, they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading,
godly conference, and the like.

5.  They then begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some of
the godly, and that devilishly, that they may have a seeming color to
throw religion (for the sake of some infirmities they have espied in
them) behind their backs.

6.  Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with, carnal,
loose, and wanton men.

7.  Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret; and
glad are they if they can see such things in any that are counted
honest, that they may the more boldly do it through their example.

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

9.  And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are.  Thus,
being launched again into the gulf of misery, 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
Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was
very sweet and pleasant, Isaiah 62:4-12; Song 2:10-12; 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 turtle in the
land.  In this country the sun shineth night and day: wherefore this was
beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of
Giant Despair; neither could they from this place so much as see
Doubting Castle.  Here they were within sight of the city they were
going to; also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in
this land the shining ones commonly walked, because it was upon the
borders of heaven.  In this land also the contract between the Bride and
the Bridegroom was renewed; yea, here, "as the bridegroom rejoiceth over
the bride, so doth 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," etc.

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 streets thereof were paved with
gold; so that, by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the
reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick;
Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease: wherefore here they
lay by it a while, crying out because of their pangs, "If 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 highway.  Now, as they came up to these places, behold the gardener
stood in the way; to whom the pilgrims said, Whose goodly vineyards and
gardens are these?  He answered, they are the King's, and are planted
here for his own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims.  So the
gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves
with the dainties, Deut.  23:24; he also showed them there the King's
walks and 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."  Song 7:9.

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go up to the
city.  But, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city (for the
city was pure gold, Rev.  21:18,) was so extremely glorious, that they
could not as yet with open face behold it, but through an instrument
made for that purpose.  2 Cor.  3:18.  So I saw, that as they went on,
there met them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their faces
shone as the light.

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them.  They
also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers,
what comforts and pleasures, they had met with 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 that 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, and the river was very deep.  At the sight,
therefore, of this river the pilgrims were much stunned; but the men
that went with them said, You must go through, or you cannot come at the
gate.

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the
gate.  To which they answered, Yes; but there hath not any, save two, to
wit, Enoch and Elijah, been 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 despond in their 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.

Then they addressed themselves to the water, and entering, Christian
began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, I
sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head; all his waves go over
me.  Selah.

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother: I feel the bottom,
and it is good.  Then said Christian, Ah!  my friend, the sorrows of
death have compassed me about, 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 a 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 spoke still tended to
discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die
in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate.  Here also, as
they that stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of
the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be a
pilgrim.  It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of
hobgoblins and evil spirits; for ever and anon he would intimate so much
by words.

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 did also endeavor to
comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to
receive us; but Christian would answer, It is you, it is you they wait
for; for you have been hopeful ever since I knew you.  And so have you,
said he to Christian.  Ah, brother, (said he,) surely if I was right he
would now arise to help me; but for my sins he hath brought me into the
snare, and hath left me.  Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite
forgot the text where it is said of the wicked, "There are no bands in
their death, but their strength is firm; they are not troubled as other
men, neither are they plagued like other men."  Psa.  73:4,5.  These
troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters, are no sign
that God hath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will
call to mind that which heretofore you have received of his goodness,
and live upon him in your distresses.

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was in a muse a while.  To whom
also Hopeful added these words, Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh
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."  Isa.  43:2.  Then they both took courage, and the enemy was
after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over.  Christian,
therefore, presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that
the rest of the river was but shallow.  Thus they got over.

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two
shining men again, who there waited for them.  Wherefore, being come out
of the river, they saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits,
sent forth to minister for those that shall be the heirs of salvation.
Thus they went along towards the gate.

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: they had likewise 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 region 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 "Mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the
innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made
perfect."  Heb.  12:22-24.  You are going now, said they, to the
paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the
never-fading fruits thereof: and when you come there you shall have
white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with
the King, even all the days of eternity.  Rev.  2:7; 3:4,5; 22:5.  There
you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the
lower region upon earth; to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and
death; "For the former things are passed away."  Rev.  21:4.  You are
going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets, men that
God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now "resting
upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness."  The men then
asked, What must we do in the holy place?  To whom 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.  Gal.
6:7,8.  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."  1 John, 3:2.  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 you shall be clothed 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.  1 Thess.  4:14-17; Jude
14,15; Dan.  7:9,10; 1 Cor.  6:2,3.

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 marriage-supper of the Lamb."  Rev.
19:9.  There came out also at this time to meet them several of the
King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with
melodious noises and loud, made even the heavens to echo with 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, and some on the left, (as it
were 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 music 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 it were, in heaven, before they came to it, being swallowed up with
the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes.  Here
also they had the city itself in view; and they thought they heard all
the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto.  But, above all, the
warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there
with such company, and that for ever and ever; oh, by what tongue or pen
can their glorious joy be expressed!  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, Moses, and Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, These pilgrims are
come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the
King of this place; and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his
certificate, which they had received in the beginning: those therefore
were carried in unto the King, who, when he had read them, said, Where
are the men?  To whom it was answered, They are standing without the
gate.  The King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous
nation (said he) that keepeth the truth may enter in."

Isa.  26:2.

Now I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at the gate; and lo,
as they entered, they were transfigured; and they had raiment put on
that shone like gold.  There were also that met them with harps and
crowns, and gave them to them; the harps to praise withal, and the
crowns in token of honor.  Then I heard in my dream, that all the bells
in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them,

"ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF YOUR LORD."

I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice,
saying,

"BLESSING, AND HONOR, AND GLORY, AND POWER, BE UNTO HIM THAT SITTETH
UPON THE THRONE, AND UNTO 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 my head to look
back, and saw Ignorance come up to the river side; but he soon got over,
and that without half the difficulty which the other two men met with.
For it happened that there was then in that place one Vain-Hope, a
ferryman, that with his boat helped him over; so he, as the 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 come you?  and what would you have?  He answered, I have
ate 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 show 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 gate of heaven,
as well as from the City of Destruction.  So I awoke, and behold it was
a dream.



CONCLUSION.

Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee,

See if thou canst interpret it to me,

Or to thyself, or neighbor: but take heed

Of misinterpreting; for that, instead

Of doing good, will but thyself abuse:

By misinterpreting, evil ensues.

Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme

In playing with the outside of my dream;

Nor let my figure or similitude

Put thee into a laughter, or a feud.

Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee,

Do thou the substance of my matter see.

Put by the curtains, look within my veil,

Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail.

There, if thou seekest them, such things thou'lt find

As will be helpful to an honest mind.

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold

To throw away, but yet preserve the gold.

What if my gold be wrapped up in ore?

None throw away the apple for the core:

But if thou shalt cast all away as vain,

I know not but 't will make me dream again.



THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

FROM

THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME;

DELIVERED

UNDER THE SIMILTUDE OF A DREAM.

PART II.

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.

I have used similtudes.-Hos.  12:10.



 THE

THE AUTHOR'S WAY

OF

SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART

OF

THE PILGRIM.

Go, now, my little Book, to every place

Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face:

Call at their door: if any say, Who's there?

Then answer thou, Christiana is here.

If they bid thee come in, then enter thou,

With all thy boys; and then, as thou know'st how,

Tell who they are, also from whence they came;

Perhaps they'll know them by their looks, or name:

But if they should not, ask them yet again,

If formerly they did not entertain

One Christian, a Pilgrim?  If they say

They did, and were delighted in his way;

Then let them know that these related were

Unto him; yea, his wife and children are.

Tell them, that they have left their house and home;

Are turned Pilgrims; seek a world to come;

That they have met with hardships in the way;

That they do meet with troubles night and day;

That they have trod on serpents; fought with devils;

Have also overcome a many evils;

Yea, tell them also of the next who have,

Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave

Defenders of that way; and how they still

Refuse this world to do their Father's will.

Go tell them also of those dainty things

That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings.

Let them acquainted be, too, how they are

Beloved of their King, under his care;

What goodly mansions he for them provides;

Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides,

How brave a calm they will enjoy at last,

Who to their Lord, and by his ways hold fast.

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace

Thee, as they did my firstling; and will grace

Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare,

As show well, they of Pilgrims lovers are.

OBJECTION I.

But how if they will not believe of me

That I am truly thine?  'cause some there be

That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name,

Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same;

And by that means have wrought themselves into

The hands and houses of I know not who.

ANSWER.

'Tis true, some have, of late, to counterfeit

My Pilgrim, to their own my title set;

Yea, others half my name, and title too,

Have stitched to their books, to make them do.

But yet they, by their features, do declare

Themselves not mine to be, whose'er they are.

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way

Before them all, is, to say out thy say

In thine own native language, which no man

Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can.

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt,

Thinking that you, like gypsies, go about,

In naughty wise the country to defile;

Or that you seek good people to beguile

With things unwarrantable; send for me,

And I will testify you pilgrims be;

Yea, I will testify that only you

My Pilgrims are, and that alone will do.

OBJECTION II.

But yet, perhaps, I may enquire for him

Of those who wish him damned life and limb.

What shall I do, when I at such a door

For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?

ANSWER.

Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears

Are nothing else but groundless fears.

My Pilgrim's book has traveled sea and land,

Yet could I never come to understand

That it was slighted or turned out of door

By any Kingdom, were they rich or poor.

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,

My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, 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 should familiar with them be.

'Tis in New England under such advance,

Receives there so much loving countenance,

As to be trimm'd, newcloth'd, and deck'd with gems,

That it might show its features, and its limbs.

Yet more: so comely doth my Pilgrim walk,

That of him thousands daily sing and talk.

If you draw nearer home, it will appear

My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear:

City and country will him entertain,

With Welcome, Pilgrim; yea, they can't refrain

From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by,

Or shows his head in any company.

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love,

Esteem it much, yea, value it above

Things of greater bulk; yea, with delight

Say, my lark's leg is better than a kite.

Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too,

Do not small kindness to my Pilgrim show;

Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts,

My Pilgrim has; 'cause he to them imparts

His pretty riddles in such wholsome strains,

As yield them profit double to thetr pains

Of reading; yea, I think I may be bold

To say some prize him far above their gold.

The very children that do walk the street,

If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,

Salute him will; will wish him well, and say,

He is the only stripling of the day.

They that have never seen him, yet admire

What they have heard of him, and much desire

To have his company, and hear him tell

Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.

Yea, some that did not love him at first,

But call'd him fool and noddy, say they must,

Now they have seen and heard him, him commend

And to those whom they love they do him send.

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be

Afraid to show thy head: none can hurt thee,

That wish but well to him that went before;

'Cause thou com'st after with a second store

Of things as good, as rich, as profitable,

For young, for old, for stagg'ring, and for stable.

OBJECTION III.

But some there be that say, He laughs too loud

And some do say, His Head is in a cloud.

Some say, His words and stories are so dark,

They know not how, by them, to find his mark.

ANSWER.

One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries

May well be guess'd at by his wat'ry eyes.

Some things are of that nature, as to make

One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache:

When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep,

He did at the same time both kiss and weep.

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head;

That doth but show his wisdom's covered

With its own mantles-and to stir the mind

To search well after what it fain would find,

Things that seem to be hid in words obscure

Do but the godly mind the more allure

To study what those sayings should contain,

That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.

I also know a dark similitude

Will on the curious fancy more intrude,

And will stick faster in the heart and head,

Than things from similes not borrowed.

Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement

Hinder thy travels.  Behold, thou art sent

To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place

To thee, thy pilgrims, and thy words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd,

Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd;

What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way,

Sweet Christiana opens with her key.

OBJECTION IV.

But some love not the method of your first:

Romance they count it; throw't away as dust.

If I should meet with such, what should I say?

Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?

ANSWER.

My Christiana, if with such thou meet,

By all means, in all loving wise them greet;

Render them not reviling for revile,

But, if they frown, I prithee on them smile:

Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report,

Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and some

Love not their friends, nor their own house or home;

Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl

More than they love a cuckoo or an owl.

Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice,

And seek those who to find thee will rejoice;

By no means strive, but, in most humble wise,

Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.

Go then, my little Book, and show to all

That entertain and bid thee welcome shall,

What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest;

And wish what thou shalt show them may be bless'd

To them for good, and make them choose to be

Pilgrims, by better far than thee or me.

Go, then, I say, tell all men who thou art:

Say, I am Christiana; and my part

Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what

It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot.

Go, also, tell them who and what they be

That now do go on pilgrimage with thee;

Say, Here's my neighbor Mercy: she is one

That has long time with me a pilgrim gone:

Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn

'Twixt idle ones and pilgrims to discern.

Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize

The world which is to come, in any wise.

When little tripping maidens follow God,

And leave old doting sinners to his rod,

'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried

Hosanna!  when the old ones did deride.

Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found

With his white hairs treading the Pilgrim's ground;

Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was;

How after his good Lord he bare the cross.

Perhaps with some gray head, this may prevail

With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail.

Tell them also, how Master Fearing went

On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent

In solitariness, with fears and cries;

And how, at last, he won the joyful prize.

He was a good man, though much down in spirit;

He is a good man, and doth life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also,

Who not before, but still behind would go.

Show them also, how he had like been slain,

And how one Great-Heart did his life regain.

This man was true of heart; though weak in grace,

One might true godliness read in his face.

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-Halt,

A man with crutches, but much without fault.

Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he

Did love, and in opinion much agree.

And let all know, though weakness was their chance,

Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-Truth,

That man of courage, though a very youth:

Tell every one his spirit was so stout,

No man could ever make him face about;

And how Great-Heart and he could not forbear,

But pull down Doubting-Castle, slay Despair!

Overlook not Master Despondency,

Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie

Under such mantles, as may make them look

(With some) as if their God had them forsook.

They softly went, but sure; and, at the end,

Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend.

When thou hast told the world of all these things,

Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings;

Which, if but touched, will such music make,

They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.

Those riddles that lie couched within thy breast,

Freely propound, expound; and for the rest

Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain

For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain.

Now may this little Book a blessing be

To those who love this little Book and me;

And may its buyer have no cause to say,

His money is but lost or thrown away.

Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit

As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit;

And may it some persuade, that go astray,

To turn their feet and heart to the right way,

Is the hearty prayer of

The Author,

JOHN BUNYAN.



THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

PART II.

COURTEOUS COMPANIONS,

Some time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the
pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial 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 showed you, he left them and departed.

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I
have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those
parts whence he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity
to make further inquiry after those 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 lodging 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 traveling,
methought I got up and went with him.  So, as we walked, and as
travelers usually do, I was as if we fell into a discourse; and our talk
happened to be about Christian and his travels; for thus I began with
the old man:

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, 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 that 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 of this town,
(whose name was Christian,) that went on a pilgrimage up towards the
higher regions?

SAG. Hear of him!  Aye, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles,
wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears, that he met with
and had on his journey.  Besides, I must tell you, all our country rings
of him; there are but few houses that have heard of him and his doings,
but have sought after and got the records of his pilgrimage; yea, I
think I may say that his hazardous journey has got 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 any thing 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 labor and sorrow, for
there is no grief mixed therewith.  But, pray what talk have the people
about him?

SAG. Talk!  the people talk strangely about him: some say that he now
walks in white, Rev.  3:4; that he has a chain of gold about his neck;
that he has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head: others
say, that the shining ones, who sometimes showed themselves to him in
his journey, are become his companions, and that he is as familiar with
them where he is, as here one neighbor is with another.  Besides, it is
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 favors of him that is
Judge of all there.  Zech.  3:7; Luke 14:14,15.  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.  Jude, 14,15.

For they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, 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, Luke 10:16; and no marvel, for it was for the love
that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did.

I dare say, quoth I; I am glad on't; I am glad for the poor man's sake,
for that now he has rest from his labor, 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.
Rev.  14:13; Psa.  126:5,6.  I also am glad for that a rumor 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
Christian did himself; for though they all played the fool at first, and
would by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of
Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them: so
they have packed up, and are also gone after him.

Better and better, quoth I: but, what!  wife and 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 matter.

This Christiana, (for that was her name from the day that she with her
children betook themselves to a pilgrim's life,) after her husband was
gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts
began to work in her mind.  First, for that she had lost her husband,
and for that the 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 behavior 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 carriage to her dear friend; which
also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt.  She was,
moreover, much broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans,
brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did
harden her heart against all his entreaties and loving persuasions of
her and her sons to go with him; yea, there was not any thing 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; especially that
bitter outcry of his, "What shall I do to be saved?"  did ring in her
ears most dolefully.

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone.  I have sinned
away your father, and he is gone: he would have had us with him, but I
would not go myself: I also have hindered you of life.  With that the
boys fell into tears, and cried out to go after their father.  Oh, said
Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him!  then had it
fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do now.  For, though I
formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your father,
that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was
overrun with melancholy humors; yet now it will not out of my mind, but
that they sprang from another cause; to wit, for that the light of life
was given him, James 1:23-25; John 8:12; by the help of which, as I
perceive, he has escaped the snares of death.  Prov.  14:27.  Then they
all wept again, and cried out, Oh, woe 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 crimes, as she thought looked very black upon her.
Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, "Lord, have mercy upon me a
sinner!"  Luke 18:13; and the little children heard her.

After this she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her
bedside, and saying, What shall we do with this woman?  for she cries
out for mercy, waking and sleeping: if she be suffered to go on as she
begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her husband.  Wherefore we
must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts of
what shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help but she will
become a pilgrim.

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 a
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 paved work that was under his Prince's feet,
saying, "I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing 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.

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked with her
children a while, one knocked hard at the door; to whom she spake out,
saying, "If thou comest in God's name, come in."  So he said, "Amen;"
and opened the door, and saluted her with, "Peace be to this house."
The which when he had done, he said, "Christiana, knowest thou wherefore
I am come?"  Then she blushed and trembled; also her heart began to wax
warm with desires to know from 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 on 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 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 the
pardon of offences.  He also would have thee to 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 that doth minister life to
beholders; and they will all be glad when they shall hear the sound of
thy feet step over thy Father's threshold."

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowed 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.  Song 1:3.  Also it was written in letters of gold.  The
contents of the letter were these, That the King would have her to 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 the 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
Celestial City.  Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy
husband: go to the Wicket-gate yonder, over the plain, for that stands
at 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
heart; for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in
this house of thy pilgrimage, Psalm 119:54; also this thou must deliver
in at the further gate.

Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he told me the 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 my own state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature
miserable.  My carriage also to your father in his distress is a great
load to my conscience; for I hardened both mine own heart and yours
against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage.

The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but that for a
dream which I had last night, and but that for the encouragement which
this stranger has given me this morning.  Come, my children, let us pack
up, and begone to the gate that leads to the Celestial 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, If you come in God's name, come in.  At this
the women were stunned; for this kind of language they used not to hear,
or to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana.  Yet they came in:
but behold, they found the good woman 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, whose name was Mrs.
Timorous, I am preparing for a journey.

This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill of
Difficulty, and would have had him go back for fear of the lions.

TIM. For what journey, I pray you?

CHR. Even to go after my good husband.  And with that she fell a
weeping.

TIM. I hope not so, good neighbor; pray, for your poor children's sake,
do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.

CHR. 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!

CHR. O neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you
would go along 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?

CHR. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my
husband's departure from me; but especially since he went over the
river.  But that which troubleth me most is, my churlish carriage to him
when he was under his distress.  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 palace on earth, if compared, seems
to me but a dunghill.  2 Cor.  5:1-4.  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 plucked 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, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things.  Nor is the
danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee.  For if
he, though a man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a
poor woman, do?  Consider also, that these four sweet babes are thy
children, thy flesh and thy bones.  Wherefore, though thou shouldest be
so rash as to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy
body, keep thou at home.

But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neighbor: I have now a
price put into my hands 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 which I am
like to meet with in the way, they are so far from being to me a
discouragement, that they show I am in the right.  The bitter must come
before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the 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 further.

Then Timorous reviled 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 two fold reason.  1.  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.  2.  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, I myself with my heart shall also go with her.
Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous:

MER. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this
morning; and since she is, as you see, taking of her last farewell of
the country, I think to walk this sunshiny morning a little with her, to
help her on her way.  But she told her not of her second reason, but
kept it to herself.

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
were come 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
it is our custom; and she answered, If 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 of a dream that she had, and how the King of the country where
her husband was, had sent an inviting letter to come thither.

Then said Mrs.  Know-Nothing, And what, do you think she will go?

TIM. Aye, go she will, whatever comes 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 on 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
forasmuch as it doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter.

MRS. BAT'S-EYES. Oh, this blind and foolish woman!  said she; and will
she not take warning by her husband's afflictions?  For my part, I see,
if he were here again, he would rest himself content in a whole skin,
and never run so many hazards for nothing.

Mrs.  Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with such fantastical
fools from the town: a good riddance, for my part, I say, of her; should
she stay where she dwells, and retain this 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: it was 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 Mrs.  Lechery, Mrs.  Filth, and some
others: so there we had music and dancing, and what else was meet to
fill up the pleasure.  And I dare say, my lady herself is an admirable
well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr.  Lechery is as pretty a fellow.



THE FIRST STAGE.

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
favor, that thou shouldest set forth out of doors with me to accompany
me a little in the way.

MER. 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.

CHR. 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 will have all things in common betwixt thee and me:
only go along with me.

MER. But how shall I be ascertained that I also should be entertained?
Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I would make no stick at
all, but would go, being helped by Him that can help, though the way was
never so tedious.

CHR. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do: go with me
to the Wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee; and if
there thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be content that
thou return to thy place: I will also pay thee for thy kindness which
thou showest to me and my children, in the accompanying of us in the way
that thou dost.

MER. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow; and the
Lord grant that my lot may there fall, even as the King of heaven shall
have his heart upon me.

Christiana then was glad at heart, not only that she had a companion,
but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in love
with her own salvation.  So they went on together, and Mercy began to
weep.  Then said Christiana, Wherefore weepeth my sister so?

MER. Alas!  said she, who can but lament, that shall but rightly
consider what a state and condition my poor relations are in, that yet
remain in our sinful town?  And that which makes my grief the more heavy
is, because they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to
come.

CHR. Pity becomes pilgrims; and thou dost weep for thy friends, as my
good Christian did for me when he left me: he mourned for that I would
not heed nor regard him; but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears,
and put them into his bottle; and now both I and thou, and these my
sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them.  I hope, Mercy,
that these tears of thine will not be lost; for the truth hath said,
that "they that sow in tears shall reap in joy."  And "he that goeth
forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again
with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him."  Psa.  126:5,6.

Then said Mercy,

"Let the Most Blessed be my guide,

If it be his blessed will,

Unto his gate, into his fold,

Up to his holy hill.

And let him never suffer me

To swerve, or turn aside

From his free-grace and holy ways,

Whate'er shall me betide.

And let him gather them of mine

That I have left behind;

Lord, make them pray they may be thine,

With all their heart and mind."

Now my old friend proceeded, and said, But when Christiana came to the
Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand; For, said she, this is
the place in which my dear husband had 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 many there be that pretend to be the King's laborers, and
that say they are for mending the King's highways, who 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 their steps,
and made a shift to get staggering over.

Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once or twice.
Now they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words that
said unto them, "Blessed is she that believeth; for there shall be a
performance of those things which were told her from the Lord."  Luke
1:45.

Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, had I as good
ground to hope for a loving reception at the Wicket-gate as you, I think
no Slough of Despond would discourage me.

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know mine; and, good
friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come to our journey's
end.  For can it be imagined that the people who design to attain such
excellent glories as we do, and who are so envied that happiness as we
are, but that we shall meet with what fears and snares, with what
troubles and afflictions they can possibly assault us with that hate us?

And now Mr.  Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by myself.
Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana, and Mercy, and the boys, go all
of them up to the gate: to which, when they were come, they betook
themselves to a short debate about how they must manage their calling at
the gate, and what should be said unto him that did open to them: so it
was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock
for entrance, and that she should speak to him that did open, for the
rest.  So Christiana began to knock, and as her poor husband did, she
knocked and knocked again.  But instead of any that answered, they all
thought they heard as if a dog came barking upon them; a dog, and a
great one 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 the keeper of 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 first.  Then said the keeper of the gate, Who is there?  So the
dog left off to bark, and he opened unto them.

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not our Lord be
offended with his handmaidens, for that we have knocked at his princely
gate.  Then said the keeper, Whence come ye?  And what is it 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 unto the
Celestial City.  And I answer, my Lord, in the next place, that I am
Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above.

With that the keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, What, is she now
become a pilgrim that but a while ago abhorred that life?  Then she
bowed her head, and said, Yea; and so are these my sweet babes also.

Then he took her by the hand and led her in, and said also, Suffer
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 the 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 got admittance
for herself and her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy.

CHR. And she said, My Lord, I have a companion 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 for by my husband's King to come.

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each minute was as long to her
as an hour; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding
for her, by knocking at the gate herself.  And she knocked then so loud
that she made Christiana to start.  Then said the keeper of the gate,
Who is there?  And Christiana said, It is my friend.

So he opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was fallen down without
in a swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no gate should 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 fainted within me I
remembered the Lord: and my prayer came unto thee, into thy holy
temple."  Jonah 2:7.  Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me
wherefore thou art come.

MER. 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.

KEEP. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place?

MER. Yes; and, as my Lord sees, I am come.  And if there is any grace
and forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that thy poor handmaid may
be a 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 faintings; so they fetched
her a bundle of myrrh, and a while after she was revived.

And now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, received of the Lord at
the head of the way, and spoken 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 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.  Song 1:2; John
20:20.

Now I saw in my dream, that he spake many good words unto them, whereby
they were greatly gladdened.  He also had them up to the top of the
gate, and showed them by what deed they were saved; and told them
withal, that that sight they would have again as they went along in the
way, to their comfort.

So he left them awhile in a summer parlor below, where they entered into
talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began.  O how glad am I that we
are got in hither.

MER. So you well may; but I, of all, have cause to leap for joy.

CHR. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate, because I had knocked
and none did answer, that all our labor had been lost, especially when
that ugly cur made such a heavy barking against us.

MER. But my worst fear was after I saw that you was taken into his
favor, and that I was left behind.  Now, thought I, it is fulfilled
which is written, "Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one
shall be taken, and the other left."  Matt.  24:41.  I had much ado to
forbear crying out, Undone!  And afraid I was to knock any more; but
when I looked up to what was written over the gate, I took courage.  I
also thought that I must either knock again, or die; so I knocked, but I
cannot tell how, for my spirit now struggled between life and death.

CHR. 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 come in by a
violent hand, or take the kingdom by storm.  Matt.  11:12.

MER. Alas!  to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so?
You saw that the door was shut upon me, and there was a most cruel dog
thereabout.  Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, would not have
knocked with all their might?  But pray, what said my Lord to my
rudeness?  Was he not angry with me?

CHR. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave a wonderful innocent
smile; I believe what you did pleased him well, for he showed no sign to
the contrary.  But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog: had I
known that before, I should not have had heart enough to have ventured
myself in this manner.  But now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with
all my heart.

MER. 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.

Do so, 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 worshiped, and said, "Let my Lord accept 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, O Lord, when I plead with thee;
yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments."  Jer.  12:1.  Wherefore
dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, at the sight of which such
women and children as we are ready to fly from thy gate for fear?

He answered and said, That dog has 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 from worse
to better, by the great voice of his roaring.  Indeed, he that owneth
him doth not keep him out 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 come and knock at this gate for entrance.  Sometimes also he
has broken out, and has worried some that I loved; but I take all at
present patiently.  I also give my pilgrims timely help, so that they
are not delivered to his power, to do with them what his doggish nature
would prompt him to.  But what my purchased one, I trow, 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 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, and my darling from the power of the dog.  Psa.
22:21,22.

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

CHR. Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and to inquire
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.



THE SECOND STAGE.

So I saw in my dream, that they walked on their way, and had the weather
very comfortable to them.

Then Christiana began to sing, saying,

Blessed be the day that I began

A pilgrim for to be;

And blessed also be the man

That thereto moved me.

'Tis true, 't was long ere I began

To seek to live for 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)

Shows what our end will be.

Now there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way up
which Christiana and her companions were to go, a garden, and that
garden belonged to him whose was that barking dog, of whom mention was
made before.  And some of the fruit-trees that grew in that garden shot
their branches over the wall; and being mellow, they that found them did
gather them up, and eat of them to their hurt.  So Christiana's boys, as
boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and with the fruit
that hung thereon, did pluck 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 it belonged to the enemy: I'll warrant you, if
she had she would have been ready to die for fear.  But that passed, and
they went on their way.  Now, by that they were gone about two bow-shots
from the place that led them into the way, they espied two very ill-
favored ones coming down apace to meet them.  With that, Christiana and
Mercy her friend covered themselves with their veils, 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 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 you see, and such too as live upon the
charity of our friends.

ILL-FAV. Then said one of the two men, We make no assault upon you for
money, but are come out to tell you, that if you will but grant one
small request which we shall ask, we will make women of you for ever.

CHR. Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made answer again,
We will neither hear, nor regard, nor yield to what you shall ask.  We
are in haste, and cannot stay; our business is a business of life and
death.  So again she and her companion made a fresh essay to go past
them; but they letted them in their way.

ILL-FAV. And they said, We intend no hurt to your lives; it is another
thing we would have.

CHR. Aye, quoth Christiana, you would have us body and soul, for I know
it is for that you are come; but we will die rather upon the spot, than
to 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.  Deut.  22:25-27.  But the men
still made their approach upon them, with design to prevail against
them.  They therefore cried out again.

Now they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at which they came,
their voice was heard from whence they were, thither: wherefore some of
the house came out, and knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they
made haste to her relief.  But by that they were got within sight of
them, the women were in a very great scuffle; the children also stood
crying by.  Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the
ruffians, saying, What is that thing you do?  Would you make my Lord's
people to transgress?  He also attempted to take them, but they did make
their escape over the wall into the garden of the man to whom the great
dog belonged; so the dog became their protector.  This Reliever then
came up to the women, and asked them how they did.  So they answered, We
thank thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat affrighted: we
thank thee also for that thou camest in to our help, otherwise we had
been overcome.

RELIEVER. So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth: I
marveled much, when you were entertained at the gate above, seeing ye
knew that ye were but weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord for a
conductor; then might you have avoided these troubles and dangers; for
he would have granted you one.

CHR. 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 could have lurked such
naughty ones?  Indeed, it had been well for us had we asked our Lord for
one; but since our Lord knew it would be for our profit, I wonder he
sent not one along with us.

REL. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest by
so doing they become of little esteem; but when the want of a thing is
felt, it then comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that
estimate that properly is its due, and so consequently will be
thereafter used.  Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would not
either 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.

CHR. 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 one 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 inquired of by them, to do it for them.  Ezek.  36:37.  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.

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

CHR. 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 when provision might have been had.  I am much to be blamed.

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

CHR. 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 any in the world could look, stand at my bed's
feet, plotting how they might prevent my salvation.  I will tell you
their very words.  They said, (it was when I was in my troubles,) What
shall we do with this woman?  for she cries out, waking and sleeping,
for forgiveness: if she be sufferet do go on as she begins, we shall
lose her as we have lost her husband.  This you know might have made me
take heed, and have provided when provision might have been had.

MER. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an occasion ministered
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 near
to a 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.  Then they gave ear, and heard, as
they 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 was the most 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
were there.

DAM. Then said the damsel to them, With whom would you speak in this
place?

CHR. 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.

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

CHR. 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 Innocent ran 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.

CHR. 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 children; but now I also am come, for I am convinced that no
way is right but this.

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."  Matt.  21:29.

CHR. Then said Christiana, So be it: Amen.  God made it a true saying
upon 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 were talking of thee but now, for tidings have come to us
before how thou art become a pilgrim.  Come, children, come in; come,
maiden, come in.  So he had them all into the house.

So when they were within, they were bidden to 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 their
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 showed 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 those 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 also one over his
head with a celestial 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.

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know somewhat the meaning
of this; for this is a figure of a man of this world: is it not, good
sir?

INTER. Thou hast said right, said he; and his muck-rake doth show his
carnal mind.  And whereas thou seest him rather give heed to rake up
straws and sticks, and the dust of the floor, than to do what He says
that calls to him from above with the celestial crown in his hand; it is
to show, that heaven is but as a fable to some, and that things here are
counted the only things substantial.  Now, whereas it was also showed
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.

CHR. Then said Christiana, O deliver me from this muck-rake.  Prov.
30:8.

INTER. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by till it is almost
rusty: "Give me not riches," is scarce the prayer of one in ten
thousand.  Straws, and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things
now looked after.

With that Christiana and Mercy wept, and said, It is, alas!  too true.

When the Interpreter had shown them this, he had them into the very best
room in the house; a very brave room it was.  So he bid them look round
about, and see if they could find any thing profitable there.  Then they
looked round and round; for there was nothing to be seen but a very
great spider on the wall, and that they overlooked.

MER. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing; but Christiana held her peace.

INTER. But, said the Interpreter, look again.  She therefore looked
again, and said, Here is not any thing 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, Yea, Lord, there are
more here than one; yea, and spiders whose venom is far more destructive
than that which is in her.  The Interpreter then looked pleasantly on
her, and said, Thou hast said the truth.  This made Mercy to blush, and
the boys to cover their faces; for they all began now to understand the
riddle.

Then said the Interpreter again, "The spider taketh hold with her
hands," as you see, "and is in kings' palaces."  Prov.  30:28.  And
wherefore is this recorded, but to show you, that, how full of the venom
of sin soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of Faith, lay hold of and
dwell in the best room that belongs to the King's house above?

CHR. I thought, said Christiana, of something of this; but I could not
imagine it at 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, that venomous and ill-favored creature, we were to learn
how to act faith, that came not into my thoughts; and yet she had taken
hold with her hands, and, as I see, dwelleth 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 into another room, where were 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 lifted 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 that the hen did walk in a fourfold method towards her
chickens: 1.  She had a common call, and that she hath all the day long.
2.  She had a special call, and that she had but sometimes.  3.  She had
a brooding note.  Matt.  23:37.  And, 4.  She had an outcry.

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King and these chickens to his
obedient ones; for, answerable to her, he himself hath 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 outcry,
to give the alarm when he seeth the enemy come.  I choose, my darlings,
to lead you into the room where such things are, because you are women,
and they are easy for you.

CHR. And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more.  So he had
them into the slaughter-house, where was a butcher killing a sheep; and
behold, the sheep was quiet, and took her death patiently.  Then said
the Interpreter, You must learn of this sheep to suffer and to put up
with wrongs without murmurings and complaints.  Behold how quietly she
takes her death, and, without objecting, she suffereth her skin to be
pulled over her ears.  Your King doth call you his sheep.

After this he led them into his garden, where was great variety of
flowers; and he, said, Do you see all these?  So Christiana said, Yes.
Then said he again, Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in
quality, and color, and smell, and virtue; and some are better than
others; also, where the gardener has set them, there they stand, and
quarrel not one with another.

Again, he had them into his field, which he had sown with wheat and
corn: but when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off, and only the
straw remained.  He said again, This ground was dunged, and ploughed,
and sowed, but what shall we do with the crop?  Then said Christiana,
Burn some, and make muck of the rest.  Then 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.

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little robin
with a great spider in his mouth.  So the Interpreter said, Look here.
So they looked, and Mercy wondered, but Christiana said, What a
disparagement is it to such a pretty little bird as the . robin-red-
breast; he being also a bird above many, that loveth to maintain a kind
of sociableness with men!  I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of
bread, or upon other such harmless matter: I like him worse than I did.

The Interpreter then replied, This robin is an emblem, very apt to set
forth some professors by; for to sight they are, as this robin, pretty
of note, color, and carriage.  They seem also to have a very great love
for professors that are sincere; and, above all others, to desire to
associate with them, and to be in their company, as if they could live
upon the good man's crumbs.  They pretend also, that therefore it is
that they 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
show or tell 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 lustful man is, the more
prone he is unto evil.  There is a desire in women to go neat and find;
and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that which in God's sight is
of great price.  'T is easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a
whole year together: so 't is easier for one to begin to profess well,
than to hold out as he should to the end.  Every shipmaster, when in a
storm, will willingly cast that overboard which 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
looks for happiness hereafter, is like him that soweth cockle, and
thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley.  If a man would live well,
let him fetch his last day to him, and make it always his company-
keeper.  Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the
world.  If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of
that worth with men, what is heaven, that 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?  Every body will cry up the goodness of men; but
who is there that is, as he should be, affected with the goodness of
God?  We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat, and leave.  So there is in
Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the whole world has need
of.

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, is that 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 leaves are fair, but their heart good for nothing but to be tinder
for the devil's tinder-box.

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the board:
so they sat down, and did eat, when one had given thanks.  And the
Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged with him with music
at meals; so the minstrels played.  There was also one that did sing,
and a very fine voice he had.  His song was this:

"The Lord is only my support,

And he that doth me feed;

How can I then want any thing

Whereof I stand in need?"

When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana
what it was that at first did move her thus 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 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 before you set out of doors?

CHR. 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 also befooled me, for, as she called it, my intended desperate
adventure; she also urged what she could to dishearten me from it, the
hardships and troubles that my husband met with in the way; but all this
I got over pretty well.  But a dream that I had of two ill-looking 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 my way.  Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not
have every body know of 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?

MER. Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while continued silent.

INTER. Then said he, Be not afraid; only believe, and speak thy mind.

MER. So she began, and said, Truly, sir, my want of experience is that
which 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
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?

MER. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone from our town,
I and another went accidentally to see her.  So we knocked at the door
and went in.  When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we
asked her what was her meaning.  She said she was sent for to go to her
husband; and then she up and told us how she had seen him in a dream,
dwelling in a curious place, among immortals, wearing a crown, playing
upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing
praises to him for bringing him thither, etc.  Now, methought, while she
was telling these things unto us, my heart burned within me.  And I said
in my heart, If this be true, I will leave my father and my mother, and
the land of my nativity, and will, if I may, go along with Christiana.
So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and if she would
let me go with her; for I saw now that there was no dwelling, but with
the danger of ruin, any longer in our town.  But yet I came away with a
heavy heart; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so
many of my relations were left behind.  And I am come with all the
desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana unto her
husband and his King.

INTER. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth;
thou art a Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi and to the Lord
her God, leave father and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come
out and go with a people she knew not heretofore.  "The Lord recompense
thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel,
under whose wings thou art come to trust."  Ruth 2:11,12.

Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed; the women were
laid singly alone, and the boys by themselves.  Now when Mercy was in
bed, she could not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at
last were removed further from her than ever they were before.  So she
lay blessing and praising God, who had such favor for her.

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared themselves for
their departure; but the Interpreter would have them tarry a while; For,
said he, you must orderly go from hence.  Then said he to the damsel
that first opened unto them, Take them and have them into the garden to
the bath, and there wash them and make them clean from the soil which
they had gathered by traveling.  Then Innocent the damsel took them and
led them into the garden, and brought them to the bath; so she told them
that there they must wash and be clean, for so her Master would have the
women to do that called at his house as they were going on pilgrimage.
Then they 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.

When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter
took them and looked upon them, and said unto them, "Fair as the moon."
Then he called for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed that were
washed in his bath.  So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon
them, that they might be known in the places whither they were yet to
go.  Now the seal was the contents and sum of the passover which the
children of Israel did eat, Exod.  13: 8-10, when they came out of the
land of Egypt; and the mark was set between their eyes.  This seal
greatly added to their beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces.
It also added to their gravity, and made their countenance more like
those of angels.

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that 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 had in 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 THIRD STAGE.

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-heart,
and bid him take A sword, and helmet, and shield; and, Take these my
daughters, said he, 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 sang,

This place hath 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, spider, hen,

The chicken, too, to me

Have 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 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 is it to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it was obtained,
Mr.  Great-Heart, I suppose you know; wherefore, if you please, let us
hear your discourse thereof.

GREAT. 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 at large, the pardon that you, and Mercy, and these
boys have attained, was obtained by another; to wit, by him that let you
in at the gate.  And he hath obtained it in this double way; he hath
performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt his blood to wash you
in.

CHR. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, what will he have for
himself?

GREAT. He has more righteousness than you have need of, or than he
needeth himself.

CHR. Pray make that appear.

GREAT. 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 that 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 entrusted 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
his 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
what he puts upon sinners, and that by which their sins are covered.
Wherefore he saith, "As by one man's disobedience many were made
sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous."  Rom.
5:19.

CHR. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us?

GREAT. Yes; for though they are essential to his natures and office, and
cannot be communicated unto another, yet it is by virtue of them that
the righteousness that justifies is for that purpose efficacious.  The
righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his obedience; the
righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to his obedience to
justify; and the righteousness that standeth in the union of these two
natures to his office, giveth authority to that righteousness to do the
work for which it was 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, and 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 giveth it away: Hence it is 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.  Rom.  5:17.  Wherefore he must, or 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 worked, and hath
given away what he wrought for, to the next poor beggar he meets.

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,
Rom.  8:34; for the sake of which, God passeth by you and will not hurt
you when he comes to judge the world.  Gal.  3:13.

CHR. This is brave!  Now I see that there was something to be learned by
our being pardoned by word and deed.  Good Mercy, let us labor 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. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut those strings that could
not be cut by other means; and it was to give him a proof of the virtue
of this, that he was suffered to carry his burden to the cross.

CHR. I thought so; for though my heart was lightsome and joyous before,
yet it is ten times more lightsome and joyous now.  And I am persuaded
by what I have felt, though 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, it would make his heart the more merry and blithe.

GREAT. There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us
by the sight and consideration of these, but an endeared affection begot
in us by it: for who can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes
not only by promise but thus, but be affected with the way and means of
his redemption, and so with the man that hath wrought it for him?

CHR. True; methinks it makes my heart bleed to 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 tears 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.  Oh, Mercy, that
thy father and mother were here; yea, and Mrs.  Timorous also: nay, I
wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton too.  Surely,
surely, their hearts would be affected; nor could the fear of the one,
nor the powerful lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home again,
and to refuse to become good pilgrims.

GREAT. 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 every one that did see your Jesus bleed.  There were
that stood by, and that saw the blood run from the 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
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 her chickens.  This you have therefore by
a special grace.

Now I saw 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.

MER. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, what are
these three men; and for what are they hanged there?

GREAT. These three men were men of very bad qualities; they had no mind
to be pilgrims themselves, and whomsoever they could, they hindered.
They were sloth and folly themselves, and whomsoever they could persuade
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.

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

GREAT. 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 Sleepy
-head, and with a young woman, her name was Dull, to turn out of the way
and become as they.  Besides, they brought up an ill report of your
Lord, persuading others that he was a hard taskmaster.  They also
brought up an evil report of the good Land, saying, it was not half so
good as some pretended it was.  They also began to vilify his servants,
and to count the best of them meddlesome, troublesome busybodies.
Further, they would call the bread of God husks; the comforts of his
children, fancies; the travel and labor of pilgrims, things to no
purpose.

CHR. 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 stand so near the highway, that others may see and take
warning.  But had it not been well if their crimes had been engraven in
some plate of iron or brass, and left here where they did their
mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men?

GREAT. So it is, as you may well perceive, if you will go a little to
the wall.

MER. No, no; let them hang, and their names rot, and their crimes live
forever against them.  I think it a high favor that they were hanged
before we came hither: who knows else what they might have done to such
poor women as we are?  Then she turned it into a song, saying,

"Now then you three hang there, and be a sign

To all that shall against the truth combine.

And let him that comes after, fear this end,

If unto pilgrims he 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 to the foot of the hill Difficulty,
where again the good Mr.  Great-Heart took an occasion to tell them 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 it was clear and good; but now it
is dirty with the feet of some that are not desirous that pilgrims here
should quench their thirst.  Ezek.  34:18,19.  Thereat Mercy said, And
why so envious, trow?  But, said their guide, it will do, if taken up
and put into a vessel that is sweet and good; for then the dirt will
sink to the bottom, and the water 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 showed 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 those that will choose to adventure here
rather than take the pains to go up this hill.

CHR. "The way of transgressors is hard."  Prov.  13:15.  It is a wonder
that they can get into these ways without danger of breaking their
necks.

GREAT. They will venture: yea, if at any time any of the King's servants
do happen to see them, and do call upon them, and tell them that they
are in the wrong way, and do bid them beware of the danger, then they
railingly return them answer, and say, "As for the word that thou hast
spoken unto us in the name of the King, we will not hearken unto thee;
but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth out of our own mouths."
Jer.  44:16,17.  Nay, if you look a little further, 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 choose to
go there.

CHR. They are idle; they love not to take pains; up-hill way is
unpleasant to them.  So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written, "The
way of the slothful man is full of thorns."  Prov.  15:19.  Yea, they
will rather choose to walk upon a snare than to go up this hill, and the
rest of this way to the city.

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and up the hill they
went.  But before they got to the top, Christiana began to pant, and
said, I dare say this is a breathing hill; no marvel if they that love
their ease more than their souls choose to themselves a smoother way.

Then said Mercy, I must sit down: also the least of the children began
to cry.  Come, come, said Great-Heart, sit not down here; for a little
above is the Prince's arbor.  Then he took 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 labor."  Matt.  11:28; and how good is the Prince of
pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them!  Of this arbor I have
heard much; but I never saw it before.  But here let us beware of
sleeping; for, as I have heard, it cost poor Christian dear.

Then said Mr.  Great-Heart to the little 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 hath told me,
namely, that the way to heaven is as 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, when going down the 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.

CHR. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit to sweeten your mouths,
while you sit here to rest your legs?  for I have here a piece of
pomegranate which Mr.  Interpreter put into my hand just when I came out
of his door; he gave me also a piece of an honeycomb, and a little
bottle of spirits.  I thought he gave you something, said Mercy, because
he called you aside.  Yes, so he did, said the other; but, said
Christiana, it shall be still 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
you: at home I eat the same every day.



THE FOURTH STAGE.

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 forgot to take her bottle of spirits with her, so
she sent her little boy back to fetch it.  Then said Mercy, I think this
is a 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 awake, 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
enjoyments; but for want of doing so, oftentimes their rejoicing ends in
tears, and their sunshine in a cloud: witness the story of Christian at
this place.

When they were come to the place where Mistrust and 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 that stage in that place rendered.  The verses were,

"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
those 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 a hot iron, for endeavoring to
hinder Christian on 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 juniper.  Psa.
120:3,4.

So they went on till they came within sight of the 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 now glad to cringe behind, for they were afraid of the
lions; so they stepped 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 on, 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. 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 the 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 grown over with grass.

CHR. Then said Christiana, Though the highways have been unoccupied
heretofore, and though the travellers have been made in times past to
walk through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen, now I am risen
a mother in Israel.  Judges 5:6,7.

GRIM. Then he swore by the lions that it should; and therefore bid them
turn aside, for they should not have passage there.

But Great-Heart their guide made first his approach unto Grim, and laid
so heavily on him with his sword that he forced him to retreat.

GRIM. Then said he that attempted to back the lions, Will you slay me
upon mine own ground?

GREAT. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in this way it is
that thou hast placed the lions; but these women, and these children,
though weak, shall hold on their way in spite of thy lions.  And with
that he gave him again a downright blow, and brought him upon his knees.
With this blow also he broke his helmet, and with the next he cut off an
arm.  Then did the giant roar so hideously that his voice frightened 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 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
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, when they were within sight of the Porter's lodge, they soon came
up unto it; but they made the more haste after this to go thither,
because it is dangerous traveling 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 at 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.  But I, after a long and tedious combat with him, have
cut him off, and have brought the pilgrims hither in safety.

POR. Will you not go in, and stay till morning?

GREAT. No, I will return to my Lord to-night.

CHR. O, sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our
pilgrimage: you have been so faithful and 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 favor towards us.

MER. 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. 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 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
town's-women.  Then the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is
wont, and there come 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, and told it.  But oh, what noise
for gladness was there within when the damsel did but drop that out of
her mouth!

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christana 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 companions.  Now when they were gone in, they
were had into a large room, where they were bidden to sit down: so they
sat down, and the chief of the house were 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, 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, Exod.  12:21; John 1:29; 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 choose, be in
that chamber that was my husband's when he was here; so they had them up
thither, and they all lay in a room.  When they were at rest, Christiana
and Mercy entered into discourse about things that were convenient.

CHR. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrimage, that I
should ever have followed him.

MER. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber
to rest, as you do now.

CHR. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and
of worshiping the Lord the King with him; and yet now I believe I shall.

MER. Hark, don't you hear a noise?

CHR. Yes, it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are
here.

MER. Wonderful!  Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also
in heaven, for joy that we are here!  Thus they talked a while, and then
betook themselves to sleep.

So in the morning when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy, What
was the matter that you did laugh in your sleep to-night?  I suppose you
were in a dream.

MER. So I was, and a sweet dream it was; but are you sure I laughed?

CHR. Yes, you laughed heartily; but prithee, Mercy, tell me thy dream.

MER. I was a dreaming 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 be to thee; he also wiped my eyes with his handkerchief, and
clad me in silver and gold.  Ezek.  16:8-11.  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, 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?

CHR. Laugh!  aye, and well you might to see yourself so well.  For you
must give me leave to tell you that 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.  "God speaks once, yea, twice, yet man perceiveth it not; in a
dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in
slumberings upon the bed."  Job 33:14,15.  We need not, when abed, to
lie awake to talk with God; he can visit us while we sleep, and cause us
then to hear his voice.  Our heart oftentimes 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.

MER. Well, I am glad of my dream; for I hope ere long to see it
fulfilled, to the making me laugh again.

CHR. I think it is now high time to rise, and to know what we must do.

MER. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us willingly accept of
the proffer.  I am the more willing to stay a while here, to grow better
acquainted with these maids: methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity, have
very comely and sober countenances.

CHR. 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.

MER. Very good, said Mercy: it was one of the best night's lodgings that
ever I had in my life.

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded to stay here a
while, you shall have what the house will afford.

CHAR. Aye, 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 brought up her children, she asked leave of her to
catechise them.  So she gave her free consent.  Then she began with her
youngest, whose name was James.

PRUD. And she said, Come, James, canst thou tell me who made thee?

JAMES. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

PRUD. Good boy.  And canst thou tell who saved thee?

JAMES. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

PRUD. Good boy still.  But how doth God the Father save thee?

JAMES. By his grace.

PRUD. How doth God the Son save thee?

JAMES. By his righteousness, death and blood, and life.

PRUD. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee?

JAMES. By his illumination, by his renovation, and by his preservation.

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 next youngest.

PRUD. Then she said, Come, Joseph, (for his name was Joseph,) will you
let me catechise you?

JOSEPH. With all my heart.

PRUD. What is man?

JOSEPH. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my brother said.

PRUD. What is supposed by this word, saved?

JOSEPH. 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?

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 poor men?

JOSEPH. The glorifying of his name, of his grace, and justice, etc., and
the everlasting happiness of his creature.

PRUD. Who are they that will be saved?

JOSEPH. They that accept of his salvation.

PRUD. Good boy, Joseph; thy mother hath taught thee well, and thou hast
hearkened unto what she has 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?

SAM. Yes, forsooth, if you please.

PRUD. What is heaven?

SAM. A place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there.

PRUD. What is hell?

SAM. A place and state most 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 fullness of the
Holy Spirit in me which I can by no means here enjoy.

PRUD. A very good boy, 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?

MATT. With a very good will.

PRUD. I ask then, if there was ever any thing that had a being
antecedent to or before God?

MATT. No, for God is eternal; nor is there any thing, 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 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, though 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 teach you more.  You must also diligently give ear to what
good talk you shall hear from others: 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 which 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 pilgrim's had been at this place a week, Mercy had a
visitor that pretended some good-will unto her, and his name was Mr.
Brisk; 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.  Now Mercy was of a fair
countenance, and therefore the more alluring.

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 hose and garments for
others, and would bestow them upon those that had need.  And Mr.  Brisk
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 inquired of them concerning him, for they did know him better than
she.  So they told her that he was a very busy young man, and one who
pretended to religion, but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power
of that which is 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 matter of great
discouragement to be given to him; her continuing so as she had begun to
do for the poor, would quickly cool his courage.

So the next time he comes he finds her at her old work, making 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?  said he.  I
do these things, said she, that I may be rich in good works, laying up
in store for myself a good foundation against the time to come, that I
may lay hold on eternal life.  1 Tim.  6:17-19.  Why, prithee, what
doest thou with them?  said he.  Clothe the naked, said she.  With that
his countenance fell.  So he forbore to come at her again.  And when he
was asked the reason why, he said, that Mercy was a pretty lass, but
troubled with ill conditions.

When he had left her, Prudence said, Did I not tell thee that Mr.  Brisk
would soon forsake thee?  yea, he will rise up an ill report of thee;
for, notwithstanding his pretence to religion, and his seeming love to
Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different that I believe they
will never come together.

MER. I might have had husbands before now, though I spoke 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 but 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.

MER. Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I will die unmarried, or
my conditions shall be to me as a husband: for I cannot change my
nature; and to have one who lies cross to me in this, that I purpose
never to admit of as long as I live.  I had a sister named Bountiful,
that was married to one of these churls, but he and she could never
agree; but because my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that
is, to show kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried her
down at the cross, and then turned her out of his doors.

PRUD. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you?

MER. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the world is now full:
but I am for none of them all.

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and his sickness
was sore upon him, for he was much pained in his bowels, so that he was
with it at times pulled, as it were, both ends together.  There dwelt
also not far from thence one Mr.  Skill, an ancient and well-approved
physician.  So Christiana desired it, and entered the room, and had a
little observed the boy, he concluded that he was sick of the gripes.
Then he said to his mother, What diet has Matthew of late fed upon?
Diet!  said Christiana, nothing but what is wholesome.  The physician
answered, This boy has been tampering with something that lies in his
stomach undigested, and that will not away without means.  And I tell
you he must be purged, or else he will die.

SAM. Then said Samuel, Mother, what was that which my brother did gather
up and eat as soon as we were come from the gate that is at the head of
this way?  You know that there was an orchard on the left hand, on the
other side of the wall, and some of the trees hung over the wall, and my
brother did pluck and eat.

CHR. True, my child, said Christiana, he did take thereof, and did eat:
naughty boy as he was, I chid him, and yet he would eat thereof.

SKILL. 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.

CHR. Then Christiana began to cry; and she said, Oh, naughty boy!  and
Oh, careless mother!  what shall I do for my son?

SKILL. Come, do not be too much dejected; the boy may do well again, but
he must purge and vomit.

CHR. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it
costs.

SKILL. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable.  So he made him a purge, but
it was too weak; it was said it was made of the blood of a goat, the
ashes of a heifer, and some of the juice of hyssop.  Heb.  9:13, 19; 10:
1-4.  When Mr.  Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, he made one
to the purpose.  It was made ex carne et sanguine Christi, 7 John 6:54-
57; Heb.  9:14; (you know physicians give strange medicines to their
patients:) and it was made into pills, with a promise or two, and a
proportionable quantity of salt.  Mark 9:49.  Now, he was to take them
three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the tears of
repentance.  Zech.  12:10.

When this potion was prepared, and brought to the boy, he was loth to
take it, though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in
pieces.  Come, come, said the physician, you must take it.  It goes
against my stomach, said the boy.  I must have you take it, said his
mother.  I shall vomit it up again, said the boy.  Pray, sir, said
Christiana to Mr.  Skill, how 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 honey.
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 to
rest quietly; it put him into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and did
quite rid him of his gripes.  So in a little 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.  Skill, 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, Heb.
13:11-15, according to rules made in that case and provided.

CHR. But, sir, said she, what is this pill good for else?

SKILL. 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.

CHR. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them; for if I can get these,
I will never take other physic.

SKILL. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure when
one is sick.  Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man will
but use this physic as he should, it will make him live for ever.  John
6:51.  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 gave
unto Christiana physic for herself, and her boys, and for Mercy; and bid
Matthew take heed how he ate any more green plums; and kissed them, and
went his way.

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, that if at any time
they would, they should ask her some questions that might be profitable
and she would say something to them.

MATT. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, why for the most part
physic should be bitter to our palates.

PRUD. To show how unwelcome the word of God and the effects thereof are
to a carnal heart.

MATT. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and cause to vomit?

PRUD. To show that the word, when it works effectually, cleanseth the
heart and mind.  For look, what the one doth to the body, the other doth
to the soul.

MATT. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go upwards,
and by seeing the beams and sweet influences of the sun strike
downwards?

PRUD. By the going up of the fire, we are taught to ascend to heaven by
fervent and hot desires.  And by the sun sending his heat, beams, and
sweet influences downwards, we are taught the Saviour of the world,
though high, reaches down with his grace and love to us below.

MATT. Whence 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 show that ministers should give out what they know of God to
the world.

MATT. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun?

PRUD. To show that the covenant of God's grace is confirmed to us in
Christ.

MATT. Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the earth?

PRUD. To show 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 show that the Spirit of grace shall spring up in some that are
great and mighty, as well as in many that are poor and low.

MATT. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick?

PRUD. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon the heart, there will
be no true light of life in us.

MATT. Why are the wick, and tallow and all, spent to maintain the light
of the candle?

PRUD. To show that body and soul, and all, should be at the service of,
and spend themselves to maintain in good condition that grace of God
that is in us.

MATT. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill?

PRUD. To nourish her young ones with her blood, and thereby to show that
Christ the blessed so loved his young, (his people,) 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 Peter's repentance.  The cock's
crowing shows also, that day is coming on: let, then, the crowing of the
cock put thee in mind of that last and terrible day of judgment.

Now about this time their month was out; wherefore they signified to
those of the house, that it was convenient for them to up and be going.
Then said Joseph to his mother, It is proper 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 for the rest
of the way.  Good boy, said she, I had almost forgot.  So she drew up a
petition, and prayed Mr.  Watchful the porter to send it by some fit man
to her good friend Mr.  Interpreter; who, when it was come, and he had
seen the contents of the petition, said to the messenger, Go, tell them
that I will send him.

When the family where Christiana was, saw that they had a purpose to go
forward, they called the whole house together, to give thanks to their
King for sending of them such profitable guests as these.  Which done,
they said unto Christiana, And shall we not show thee something, as our
custom is to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate when thou art
upon the way?  So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy, into
the closet, and showed them one of the apples that Eve ate of, and that
she also did give to her husband, and that for the eating of which they
were both turned out of paradise, and asked her what she thought that
was.  Then Christiana said, It is food or poison, I know not which.  So
they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands and wondered.
Gen.  3:6; Rom.  7:24.

Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's ladder.  Gen.
28:12.  Now at that time there were some angels ascending upon it.  So
Christiana looked and looked to see the angels go up: so did the rest of
the company.  Then they were going into another place, to show them
something else; but James said to his mother, Pray, bid them stay here a
little longer, for this is a curious sight.  So they turned again, and
stood feeding their eyes with this so pleasant a prospect.

After this, they had them into a place where did hang up a golden
anchor.  So they bid Christiana take it down; for said they, You shall
have it with you, for it is of absolute necessity that you should, that
you may lay hold of that within the veil, Heb.  6:19, and stand stedfast
in case you should meet with turbulent weather, Joel 3:16: so they were
glad thereof.

Then they took them, and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our
father offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood,
the fire, and the knife, for they remain to be seen to this very day.
Gen.  22:9.  When they had seen it, they held up their hands, and
blessed themselves, and said, Oh, what a man for love to his Master, and
for denial to himself, was Abraham!

After they had showed them all these things, Prudence took them into a
dining room, where stood a pair of excellent virginals; 8 so she played
upon them, and turned what she had showed them into this excellent song,
saying,

"Eve's apple we have showed you;

Of that be you aware:

You have seen Jacob's ladder too,

Upon which angels are.

An anchor you received have;

But let not these suffice,

Until with Abra'm 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 afresh again into their minds, how but a
while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-man the giant, and had delivered
them from the lions.

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 pomegranates; he has also sent the boys some figs and
raisins; to refresh you in your way.

Then they addressed themselves to their journey, and Prudence and Piety
went along with them.  When they came to 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, said he, 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 much obliged to you for
all the kindnesses that you have showed to me since I came hither; and
also for that you have been so loving and kind to my children.  I know
not how to gratify your kindness; wherefore, pray, as a token of my
respect to you, accept of this small mite.  So she put a gold angel 9 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."  Eccles.  9:8.  Let
Mercy live and not die, and let not her works be few.  Deut.  33:6.  And
to the boys he said, Do you fly youthful lusts, and follow after
godliness with them that are grave and wise, 2 Tim.  2:22: 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.



THE FIFTH STAGE.

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 favor is

So frankly showed to me,

That in thy House for evermore

My dwelling-place shall be."

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, saying,

"For why?  The Lord our God is good;

His mercy is forever sure;

His truth at all times firmly stood,

And shall from age to age endure."

So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that made those curious notes.
Song 2:11,12.  They are, answered 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 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 desirable to be in.

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, upon which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself
forgetful, and call those things again to remembrance for thy
edification and comfort.

Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley of Humiliation.  It
was a steep hill, and the way was slippery; but they were very careful;
so they got down pretty well.  When they were down in the valley, Piety
said to Christiana, This is the place where Christian your husband met,
with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they had that dreadful fight
that they had: I know you cannot but have heard thereof.  But be of good
courage; as long as 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. Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, We need not be so afraid of this
valley, for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we procure it to
ourselves.  It is true, Christian did here meet with Apollyon, with whom
he had also a sore combat: but that fray was the fruit of those slips
that he got in his going down the hill: for they that get slips there,
must look for combats here.  And hence it is, that this valley has got
so hard a name.  For the common people, when they hear that some
frightful thing has befallen such an one in such a place, are of opinion
that that place is haunted with some foul fiend, or evil spirit; when,
alas!  it is for the fruit of their doing, that such things do befal
them there.  This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place
as any the crow flies over; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it,
we might find somewhere hereabouts something that might give us an
account why Christian was so hardly beset in this place.

Then said James 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
to Christiana, he said, No disparagement to Christian more than to any
others whose hap and lot it was.  For it is 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 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 any thing before
thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, he
might see that which would be delightful to him.  Behold how green this
valley is; also how beautified with lillies.  Song 2:1.  I have known
many laboring men that have got good estates in this Valley of
Humiliation; for God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the
humble.  James 4:6; 1 Pet.  5:5.  Indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and
doth bring forth by handfuls.  Some also have wished that the next way
to their Father's house were here, that they might be troubled no more
with either hills or mountains to go over; but the way is the way, and
there is an end.

Now, as they were going along, and talking, they espied a boy feeding
his father's sheep.  The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a very
fresh and well-favored countenance; and as he sat 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:

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 the guide, Do you hear him?  I will dare to say, that this boy
lives a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called heart's-ease in
his bosom, than he that is clad in silk and velvet.  But we will proceed
in our discourse.

In this valley our Lord formerly had his country-house: 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 hindered in his contemplation as in other
places he is apt to be.  This is a valley that nobody walks in but those
that love a pilgrim's life.  And though Christian had the hard hap to
meet here with Apollyon, and to enter with him in a brisk encounter, yet
I must tell you, that in former times men have met with angels here,
Hos.  12:4,5, have found pearls here, Matt.  13:46, and have in this
place found the words of life.  Prov.  8:36.

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
love and trace these grounds, he has left a yearly revenue, to be
faithfully paid them at certain seasons, for their maintenance by the
way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their pilgrimage.

SAM. 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. Your father had the 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 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.

MER. 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 as the fish-
pools in Heshbon.  Song 7:4.  They that go rightly through this valley
of Baca, make it a well; the rain that God sends down from heaven upon
them that are here, also filleth the pools.  This valley is that from
whence also the King will give to his their vineyards; and they that go
through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon.
Psa.  84:5-7; Hos.  2:15.

GREAT. 'Tis true, said their guide; I have gone through this valley many
a time, and never was better than when here.  I have also been a 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 trembleth at my word."  Isa.  66:2.

Now they were come to the place where the aforementioned 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.  And, look, did I not

tell you?  here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to
this day: Behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the
place, some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts.  See, also, how
they did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good
their places against each other; how also with their by-blows they did
split the very stones in pieces.  Verily, Christian did here play the
man, and showed himself as stout as Hercules could, had he been there,
even he 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 way-side before
them, they stepped to it, and read the writing, which word for word was
this:

"Hard by here was a battle fought,

Most strange, and yet most true;

Christian and Apollyon fought

Each other to subdue.

The man so bravely play'd the man,

He made the fiend to fly;

Of which a monument I stand,

The same to testify."

When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the
Shadow of Death.  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 daylight, and because Mr.  Great-Heart was their conductor.

When they were entering upon this valley, they thought they heard a
groaning, as of dying men; a very great groaning.  They thought also
that 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 had been given
her at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills that Mr.  Skill
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 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; and now it is
but a little way off.  Then said she, It is nigh.

Well, said Mr.  Great-Heart, let them that are most afraid keep close to
me.  So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; but when it was
come to him, it vanished to all their sights.  Then remembered they what
had been said some time ago: "Resist the devil, and he will flee from
you."  James 4:7.

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 at a great padding pace after:
and it had a hollow voice of roaring; and at every roar it gave, it made
the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, 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.  1 Pet.  5:8,9.
But when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be made,
he also drew back, and came no further.

Then they went on again, and their conductor went before them, till they
came to 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!  what now 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 marred.  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 were 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 before now.  Poor man!  he went here all alone in the night; he had
night almost quite through the way: also these fiends were busy about
him, as if they would have torn him in pieces.  Many have spoken of it;
but none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean
until they come in themselves.  The heart knoweth its own bitterness;
and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.  Prov.  14:10.  To be
here is a fearful thing.

GREAT. 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 walk in
darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay
upon their God.  Isa.  50:10.  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 deliverance, for there
was now no let in their way; no, not there where but now they were
stopped with a pit.  Yet they were not got through the valley.  So they
went on still, and met with great stinks and loathsome smells, to the
great annoyance of them.  Then said Mercy to Christiana, It is not so
pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the
house where we lay last.

O but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go through here, as it
is to abide here, always; and for aught I know, one reason why we must
go this way to the house prepared for us is, that our home might be 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 I ever 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 we shall
presently be among the snares: so they looked to their feet, and went
on; but they were troubled much with the snares.  Now, when they were
come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the ditch on the left
hand, with his flesh all rent and torn.  Then said the guide, That is
one Heedless, that was going this way: he has lain there a great while.
There was one Take-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, 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 have done it.

Now they drew towards the end of this way; and just there where
Christian had seen the cave when he went by, out thence came forth Maul,
a giant.  This Maul 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 wherefore we must fight.  Now the women and children stood
trembling, and knew not what to do.  Quoth the giant, You rob the
country, and rob it with the worst of thefts.  These are but generals,
said Mr.  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 endeavors to turn men,
women, and children, from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan
unto God; and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall
to it as soon as thou wilt.

Then the giant came up, and Mr.  Great-Heart went to meet him; and as he
went he drew his sword, but the giant had a club.  So without more ado
they fell to it, and at the first blow the giant struck Mr.  Great-Heart
down upon one of his knees.  With that the women and children cried out.
So Mr.  Great-Heart recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty
manner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm.  Thus he fought for the
space of an hour, to that height of heat that the breath came out of the
giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling cauldron.

Then they sat down to rest them; but Mr.  Great-Heart betook himself to
prayer.  Also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all
the time that the battle did last.

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again;
and Mr.  Great-Heart, with a blow, fetched the giant down to the ground.
Nay, hold, let me recover, quoth he: so Mr.  Great-Heart fairly let him
get up.  So to it they went again, and the giant missed but little of
all to breaking Mr.  Great-Heart's scull with his club.

Mr.  Great-Heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his
spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib.  With that the giant began
to faint, and could hold up his club no longer.  Then Mr.  Great-Heart
seconded his blow, and smit the head of the giant from his shoulders.
Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr.  Great-Heart also praised
God for the deliverance he had wrought.

When this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar, and fastened the
giant's head thereon, and wrote under in letters that passengers might
read,

"He that did wear this head was one

That pilgrims did misuse;

He stopped their way, he spared none,

But did them all abuse;

Until that I Great-Heart arose,

The pilgrims guide to be;

Until that I did him oppose

That was their enemy."



THE SIXTH STAGE.

Now I saw that they went on to the ascent that was a little way off,
cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims.  That was the place from whence
Christian had the first sight of Faithful his brother.  Wherefore, here
they sat down and rested.  They also here did eat and drink, and make
merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an
enemy.  As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide, if he
had caught no hurt in the battle?  Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, No, save
a little on my flesh; yet that also shall be so far from being to my
detriment, that it is at present a proof of my love to my master and
you, and shall be a means, by grace, to increase my reward at last.

CHR. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come with his
club?

GREAT. It is my duty, said he, to mistrust my own ability, that I may
have reliance on Him who is stronger than all.

CHR. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at
the first blow?

GREAT. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master himself was served,
and yet he it was that conquered at last.  2 Cor.  4:10,11; Rom.  8:37.

MATT. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been
wonderfully good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in
delivering us out of the hand of this enemy.  For my part, I see no
reason why we should distrust our God any more, since he has now, and in
such a place as this, given us such testimony of his love.  Then they
got up, and went forward.

Now a little before them stood an oak; and under it, when they came to
it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep.  They knew that he was a
pilgrim by his clothes, and his staff, and his girdle.

So the guide, Mr.  Great-Heart, awaked him; and the old gentleman, as he
lifted up his eyes, cried out, What's the matter?  Who are you; and what
is your business here?

GREAT. Come, man, be not so hot; here are none but friends.  Yet the old
man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and will know of them what they
are.  Then said the guide, My name is Great-Heart: I am the guide of
these pilgrims that are going to the Celestial country.

HON. Then said Mr.  Honest, I cry you mercy: I feared that you had been
of the company of those that some time ago did rob Little-Faith of his
money; but, now I look better about me, I perceive you are honester
people.

GREAT. Why, what would or could you have done to have helped yourself,
if indeed we had been of that company?

HON. Done!  Why, I would have fought as long as breath had been in me:
and had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst
on't; for a Christian can never be overcome, unless he shall yield of
himself.

GREAT. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide; for by this I know
thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.

HON. And by this also I know that thou knowest what true pilgrimage is;
for all others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any.

GREAT. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and
the name of the place you came from.

HON. My name I cannot tell you, but I came from the town of Stupidity:
it lieth about four degrees beyond the city of Destruction.

GREAT. Oh, Are you that countryman?  Then I deem I have half a guess of
you: your name is Old Honesty, is it not?

HON. So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not honesty in the
abstract, but Honest is my name; and I wish that my nature may agree to
what I am called.  But, sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess
that I am such a man, since I came from such a place?

GREAT. I had heard of you before, by my Master; for he knows all things
that are done on the earth.  But I have often wondered that any should
come from your place; for your town is worse than is the city of
Destruction itself.

HON. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and
senseless.  But were a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of
righteousness will arise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw;
and thus it has been with me.

GREAT. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it; for I know the thing
is true.

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of
charity, and asked them their names, and how they had fared since they
set out on their pilgrimage.

CHR. Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you have heard of; good
Christian was my husband, and these four are his children.  But can you
think how the old gentleman was taken, when she told him who she was?
He skipped, he smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes,
saying,

HON. I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars
which he underwent in his days.  Be it spoken to your comfort, the name
of your husband rings all over these parts of the world: his faith, his
courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, had made his name
famous.  Then he turned him to the boys, and asked them of their names,
which they told him.  Then said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like
Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue.  Matt.  10:3.  Samuel,
said he, be thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer.
Psa.  99:6.  Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house,
chaste, and one that flees from temptation.  Gen.  39.  And James, be
thou like James the just, and like James the brother of our Lord.  Acts
1:13.  Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and
her kindred to come along with Christiana and with her sons.  At that
the old honest man said, Mercy is thy name: by mercy shalt thou be
sustained and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault
thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt look the
Fountain of mercy in the face with comfort.  All this while the guide,
Mr.  Great-Heart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon his companions.

Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentleman if
he did not know one Mr.  Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his
parts.

HON. Yes, very well, said he.  He was a man that had the root of the
matter in him; but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that ever
I met with in all my days.

GREAT. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right
character of him.

HON. Knew him!  I was a great companion of his; I was with him most an
end; when he first began to think upon what would come upon us
hereafter, I was with him.

GREAT. I was his guide from my Master's house to the gates of the
Celestial City.

HON. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one.

GREAT. I did so; but I could very well bear it; for men of my calling
are oftentimes intrusted with the conduct of such as he was.

HON. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed
himself under your conduct.

GREAT. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he
had a desire to go.  Every thing frightened him that he heard any body
speak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it.  I
heard that he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for above a month
together; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him,
venture, though they many of them offered to lend him their hands.  He
would not go back again, neither.  The Celestial City-he said he should
die if he came not to it; and yet he was dejected at every difficulty,
and stumbled at every straw that any body cast in his way.  Well, after
he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you,
one sunshiny morning, I do not know how, he ventured, and so got over;
but when he was over, he would scarce believe it.  He had, I think, a
Slough of Despond in his mind, a slough that he carried every where with
him, or else he could never have been as he was.  So he came up to the
gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the head of this way, and
there also he stood a good while before he would venture to knock.  When
the gate was opened, he would give back, and give place to others, and
say that he was not worthy.  For, all he got before some to the gate,
yet many of them went in before him.  There the poor man would stand
shaking and shrinking; I dare say it would have pitied one's heart to
have seen him.  Nor would he go back again.  At last he took the hammer
that hanged on the gate, in his hand, and gave a small rap or two; then
one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before.  He that opened stepped
out after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what wantest thou?  With
that he fell down to the ground.  He that spoke to him wondered to see
him so faint, so he said to him, Peace be to thee; up, for I have set
open the door to thee; come in, for thou art blessed.  With that he got
up, and went in trembling; and when he was in, he was ashamed to show
his face.  Well, after he had been entertained there a while, as you
know how the manner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way
he should take.  So he went on till he came out to our house; but as he
behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my Master the Interpreter's
door.  He lay there about in the cold a good while, before he would
adventure to call; yet he would not go back: and the nights were long
and cold then.  Nay, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my
master to receive him, and grant him the comfort of his house, and also
to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself so
chicken-hearted a man; and yet for all that he was afraid to call at the
door.  So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost
starved; yea, so great was his dejection, that though he saw several
others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to venture.  At last, I
think I looked out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down
about the door, I went out to him, and asked what he was: but, poor man,
the water stood in his eyes; so I perceived what he wanted.  I went
therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the thing to our
Lord: so he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in; but I dare
say, I had hard work to do it.  At last he came in; and I will say that
for my Lord, he carried it wonderful lovingly to him.  There were but a
few good bits at the table, but some of it was laid upon his trencher.
Then he presented the note; and my Lord looked thereon, and said his
desire should be granted.  So when he had been there a good while, he
seemed to get some heart, and to be a little more comfortable.  For my
Master, you must know, is one of very tender bowels, especially to them
that are afraid; wherefore he carried it so towards him as might tend
most to his encouragement.  Well, when he had had a sight of the things
of the place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the city, my
Lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle of spirits, and
some comfortable things to eat.  Thus we set forward, and I went before
him; but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud.

When we were come to where the three fellows were hanged, he said that
he doubted that that would be his end also.  Only he seemed glad when he
saw the cross and the sepulchre.  There I confess he desired to stay a
little to look; and he seemed for a while after to be a little cheery.
When he came to the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did
he much fear the lions: for you must know, that his troubles were not
about such things as these; his fear was about his acceptance at last.

I got him in at the house Beautiful, I think, before he was willing.
Also, when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels of the
place; but he was ashamed to make himself much in company.  He desired
much to be alone; yet he always loved good talk, and often would get
behind the screen to hear it.  He also loved much to see ancient things,
and to be pondering them in his mind.  He told me afterward, that he
loved to be in those two houses from which he came last, to wit, at the
gate, and that of the Interpreter, but that he durst not be so bold as
to ask.

When we went also from the house Beautiful, down the hill, into the
Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my
life; for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last.
Yea, I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that Valley and him;
for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than he was in that
Valley.

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers
that grew in this valley.  Lam.  3:27-29.  He would now be up every
morning by break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the valley.

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, I thought I should have lost my man: not for that he had any
inclination to go back; that he always abhorred; but he was ready to die
for fear.  Oh, the hobgoblins will have me!  the hobgoblins will have
me!  cried he; and I could not beat him out of it.  He made such a
noise, and such an outcry here, that had they but heard him, it was
enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us.

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as quiet when
we went through it, as ever I knew it before or since.  I suppose those
enemies here had now a special check from our Lord, and a command not to
meddle until Mr.  Fearing had passed over it.

It would be too tedious to tell you of all; we will therefore only
mention a passage or two more.  When he was come to Vanity Fair, I
thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair.  I feared
there we should have been both knocked on the head, so hot was he
against their fooleries.  Upon the Enchanted Ground he was very wakeful.
But when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there again he
was in a heavy case.  Now, now, he said, he should be drowned forever,
and so never see that face with comfort that he had come so many miles
to behold.

And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable: the water of
that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life; so
he went over at last, not much above wetshod.  When he was going up to
the gate, I began to take leave of him, and to wish him a good reception
above.  So he said, I shall, I shall.  Then parted we asunder, and I saw
him no more.

HON. Then it seems he was well at last?

GREAT. Yes, yes, I never had doubt about him.  He was a man of a choice
spirit, only he was always kept very low, and that made his life so
burdensome to himself, and so troublesome to others.  Psa.  88.  He was,
above many, tender of sin: he was so afraid of doing injuries to others,
that he often would deny himself of that which was lawful, because he
would not offend.  Rom.  14:21; 1 Cor.  8:13.

HON. But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all
his days so much in the dark?

GREAT. There are two sorts of reasons for it.  One is, the wise God will
have it so: some must pipe, and some must weep.  Matt.  11:16.  Now Mr.
Fearing was one that played upon the bass.  He and his fellows sound the
sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than the notes of other music are:
though indeed, some say, the bass is the ground of music.  And for my
part, I care not at all for that profession which begins not in
heaviness of mind.  The first string that the musician usually touches
is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune.  God also plays upon
this string first, when he sets the soul in tune for himself.  Only
there was the imperfection of Mr.  Fearing; he could play upon no other
music but this till towards his latter end.

[I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the ripening of the wits of
young readers, and because, in the book of Revelation, the saved are
compared to a company of musicians, that play upon their trumpets and
harps, and sing their songs before the throne.Rev.  5:8; 14:2,3.]

HON. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by the relation you have
given of him.  Difficulties, lions, or Vanity Fair, he feared not at
all; it was only sin, death, and hell, that were to him a terror,
because he had some doubts about his interest in that celestial country.

GREAT. You say right; those were the things that were his troublers; and
they, as you

have well observed, arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, not
from weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a pilgrim's life.  I
dare believe that, as the proverb is, he could have bit a firebrand, had
it stood in his way; but the things with which he was oppressed, no man
ever yet could shake off with ease.

CHR. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr.  Fearing has done me
good; I thought nobody had been like me.  But I see there was some
semblance betwixt this good man and me: only we differed in two things.
His troubles were so great that they broke out; but mine I kept within.
His also lay so hard upon him, they made him that he could not knock at
the houses provided for entertainment; but my trouble was always such as
made me knock the louder.

MER. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that something of him
has also dwelt in me.  For I have ever been more afraid of the lake, and
the loss of a place in paradise, than I have been of the loss other
things.  O, thought I, may I have the happiness to have a habitation
there!  'Tis enough, though I part with all the world to win it.

MATT. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that made me think that I
was far from having that within me which accompanies salvation.  But if
it was so with such a good man as he, why may it not also go well with
me?

JAMES. No fears no grace, said James.  Though there is not always grace
where there is the fear of hell, yet, to be sure, there is no grace
where there is no fear of God.

GREAT. Well said, James; thou hast hit the mark.  For the fear of God is
the beginning of wisdom; and to be sure, they that want the beginning
have neither middle nor end.  But we will here conclude our discourse of
Mr.  Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell.

"Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear

Thy God, and wast afraid

Of doing any thing, while here,

That would have thee betrayed.

And didst thou fear the lake and pit?

Would others do so too!

For, as for them that want thy wit,

They do themselves undo."

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk.  For after Mr.  Great-
Heart had made an end with Mr.  Fearing, Mr.  Honest began to tell them
of another, but his name was Mr.  Self-will.  He pretended himself to be
a pilgrim, said Mr.  Honest; but I persuade myself he never came in at
the gate that stands at the head of the way.

GREAT. Had you ever any talk with him about it?

HON. Yes, more than once or twice; but he would always be like himself,
self-willed.  He neither cared for man, nor argument, nor yet example;
what his mind prompted him to, that he would do, and nothing else could
he be got to do.

GREAT. Pray, what principles did he hold?  for I suppose you can tell.

HON. He held that a man might follow the vices as well as the virtues of
pilgrims; and that if he did both, he should be certainly saved.

GREAT. How?  If he had said, it is possible for the best to be guilty of
the vices, as well as to partake of the virtues of pilgrims, he could
not much have been blamed; for indeed we are exempted from no vice
absolutely, but on condition that we watch and strive.  But this, I
perceive, is not the thing; but if I understand you right, your meaning
is, that he was of opinion that it was allowable so to be.

HON. Aye, aye, so I mean, and so he believed and practised.

GREAT. But what grounds had he for his so saying?

HON. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant.

GREAT. Prithee, Mr.  Honest, present us with a few particulars.

HON. So I will.  He said, to have to do with other men's wives had been
practised by David, God's beloved; and therefore he could do it.  He
said, to have more women than one was a thing that Solomon practised,
and therefore he could do it.  He said, that Sarah and the godly
midwives of Egypt lied, and so did save Rahab, and therefore he could do
it.  He said, that the disciples went at the bidding of their Master,
and took away the owner's ass, and therefore he could do so too.  He
said, that Jacob got the inheritance of his father in a way of guile and
dissimulation, and therefore he could do so too.

GREAT. High base indeed!  And are you sure he was of this opinion?

HON. I heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, bring arguments
for it, etc.

GREAT. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world!

HON. You must understand me rightly: he did not say that any man might
do this; but that they who had the virtues of those that did such
things, might also do the same.

GREAT. But what more false than such a conclusion?  For this is as much
as to say, that because good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity,
therefore he had allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind; or that if,
because a child, by the blast of the wind, or for that it stumbled at a
stone, fell down and defiled itself in the mire, therefore he might
wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein.  Who could have
thought that any one could so far have been blinded by the power of
lust?  But what is written must be true: they "stumble at the word,
being disobedient; whereunto also they were appointed."  1 Peter, 2:8.
His supposing that such may have the godly men's virtues, who addict
themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the other.
To eat up the sin of God's people, Hos.  4:8, as a dog licks up filth,
is no sign that one is possessed with their virtues.  Nor can I believe
that one who is of this opinion, can at present have faith or love in
him.  But I know you have made strong objections against him; prithee
what can he say for himself?

HON. Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion, seems abundantly more
honest than to do it, and yet hold contrary to it in opinion.

GREAT. A very wicked answer.  For though to let loose the bridle to
lusts, while our opinions are against such things, is bad; yet, to sin,
and plead a toleration so to do, is worse: the one stumbles beholders
accidentally, the other leads them into the snare.

HON. There are many of this man's mind, that have not this man's mouth;
and that makes going on pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is.

GREAT. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented: but he that
feareth the King of paradise, shall come out of them all.

CHR. There are strange opinions in the world.  I know one that said, it
was time enough to repent when we come to die.

GREAT. Such are not overwise; that man would have been loth, might he
have had a week to run twenty miles in his life, to defer his journey to
the last hour of that week.

HON. You say right; and yet the generality of them who count themselves
pilgrims, do indeed do thus.  I am, as you see, an old man, and have
been a traveller in this road many a day; and I have taken notice of
many things.

I have seen some that have set out as if they would drive all the world
before them, who yet have, in a few days, died as they in the
wilderness, and so never got sight of the promised land.  I have seen
some that have promised nothing at first setting out to be pilgrims, and
who one would have thought could not have lived a day, that have yet
proved very good pilgrims.  I have seen some who have run hastily
forward, that again have, after a little time, run just as fast back
again.  I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life
at first, that after a while have spoken as much against it.  I have
heard some, when they first set out for paradise, say positively, there
is such a place, who, when they have been almost there, have come back
again, and said there is none.  I have heard some vaunt what they would
do in case they should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm,
fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all.

Now, as they were thus on their way, there came one running to meet
them, and said, Gentlemen, and you of the weaker sort, if you love life,
shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you.

GREAT. Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, They be the three that set upon
Little-Faith heretofore.  Well, said he, we are ready for them: so they
went on their way.  Now they looked at every turning when they should
have met with the villains; but whether they heard of Mr.  Great-Heart,
or whether they had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims.

Christiana then wished for an inn to refresh herself and her children,
because they were weary.  Then said Mr.  Honest, There is one a little
before us, where a very honorable disciple, one Gaius, dwells.  Rom.
16:23.  So they all concluded to turn in thither; and the rather,
because the old gentleman gave him so good a report.  When they came to
the door they went in, not knocking, for folks use not to knock at the
door of an inn.  Then they called for the master of the house, and he
came to them.  So they asked if they might lie there that night.

GAIUS. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men; for my house is for none but
pilgrims.  Then were Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the more glad, for
that the innkeeper was a lover of pilgrims.  So they called for rooms,
and he showed them one for Christiana and her children and Mercy, and
another for Mr.  Great-Heart and the old gentleman.

GREAT. Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, good Gaius, what hast thou for
supper?  for these pilgrims have come far to-day, and are weary.

GAIUS. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently go out to seek
food; but such as we have you shall be welcome to, if that will content.

GREAT. We will be content with what thou hast in the house; for as much
as I have proved thee, thou art never destitute of that which is
convenient.

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name was, Taste-that-
which-is-good, to get ready supper for so many pilgrims.  This done, he
comes up again, saying, Come, my good friends, you are welcome to me,
and I am glad that I have a house to entertain you in; and while supper
is making ready, if you please, let us entertain one another with some
good discourse: so they all said, Content.

GAIUS. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged matron?  and whose
daughter is this young damsel?

GREAT. This woman is the wife of one Christian, a pilgrim of former
times; and these are his four children.  The maid is one of her
acquaintance, one that she hath persuaded to come with her on
pilgrimage.  The boys take all after their father, and covet to tread in
his steps; yea, if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim hath
lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy to their hearts, and
they covet to lie or tread in the same.

GAIUS. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and are these
Christian's children?  I knew your husband's father, yea, also his
father's father.  Many have been good of this stock; their ancestors
dwelt first at Antioch.  Acts 11:26.  Christian's progenitors (I suppose
you have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy men.  They
have, above any that I know, showed themselves men of great virtue and
courage for the Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that loved him.
I have heard of many of your husband's relations that have stood all
trials for the sake of the truth.  Stephen, that was one of the first of
the family from whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the head with
stones.  Acts 7:59, 60.  James, another of this generation, was slain
with the edge of the sword.  Acts 12:2.  To say nothing of Paul and
Peter, men anciently of the family from whence your husband came, there
was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by
pieces from his bones; and Polycarp, that played the man in the fire.
There was he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun for the wasps to
eat; and he whom they put into a sack, and cast him into the sea to be
drowned.  It would be impossible utterly to count up all of that family
who have suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's life.
Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband has left behind him four
such boys as these.  I hope they will bear up their father's name, and
tread in their father's steps, and come to their father's end.

GREAT. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads: they seem to choose heartily
their father's ways.

GAIUS. That is it that I said.  Wherefore Christian's family is like
still to spread abroad upon the face of the ground, and yet to be
numerous upon the face of the earth; let Christiana look out some
damsels for her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, etc., that the name
of their father, and the house of his progenitors, may never be
forgotten in the world.

HON. 'Tis pity his family should fall and be extinct.

GAIUS. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may; but let Christiana take
my advice, and that is the way to uphold it.  And, Christiana, said this
innkeeper, I am glad to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a
lovely couple.  And if I may advise, take Mercy into a nearer relation
to thee: if she will, let her be given to Matthew thy eldest son.  It is
the way to preserve a posterity in the earth.  So this match was
concluded, and in process of time they were married: but more of that
hereafter.

Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on the behalf of women,
to take away their reproach.  For as death and the curse came into the
world by a woman, Gen.  3, so also did life and health: God sent forth
his Son, made of a woman.  Gal.  4:4.  Yea, to show how much they that
came after did abhor the act of the mother, this sex in the Old
Testament coveted children, if happily this or that woman might be the
mother of the Saviour of the world.  I will say again, that when the
Saviour was come, women rejoiced in him, before either man or angel.
Luke 1:42-46.  I read not that ever any man did give unto Christ so much
as one groat; but the women followed him, and ministered to him of their
substance.  Luke 8:2,3.  'Twas a woman that washed his feet with tears,
Luke 7:37-50, and a woman that anointed his body at the burial.  John
11:2; 12:3.  They were women who wept when he was going to the cross,
Luke 23:27, and women that followed him from the cross, Matt.  27:55,56;
Luke 23:55, and sat over against his sepulchre when he was buried.
Matt.  27:61.  They were women that were first with him at his
resurrection-morn, Luke 24:1, and women that brought tidings first to
his disciples that he was risen from the dead.  Luke 24:22,23.  Women
therefore are highly favored, and show by these things that they are
sharers with us in the grace of life.

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and sent
one to lay the cloth, and the trenchers, and to set the salt and bread
in order.

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this forerunner of
the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite for my food than I had
before.

GAIUS. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in this life beget in
thee a greater desire to sit at the supper of the great King in his
kingdom; for all preaching, books, and ordinances here, are but as the
laying of the trenchers, and the setting of salt upon the board, when
compared with the feast which our Lord will make for us when we come to
his house.

So supper came up.  And first a heave-shoulder and a wave-breast were
set on the table before them; to show that they must begin their meal
with prayer and praise to God.  The heave-shoulder David lifted up his
heart to God with; and with the wave-breast, where his heart lay, he
used to lean upon his harp when he played.  Lev.  7: 32-34; 10:14,15;
Psalm 25:1; Heb.  13:15.  These two dishes were very fresh and good, and
they all ate heartily thereof.

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red as blood.  Deut.
32:14 ; Judges 9:13; John 15:5.  So Gaius said to them, Drink freely;
this is the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of God and
man.  So they drank and were merry.

The next was a dish of milk well crumbed; Gaius said, Let the boys have
that, that they may grow thereby.  1 Pet.  2:1,2.

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey.  Then said
Gaius, Eat freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen
your judgments and understandings.  This was our Lord's dish when he was
a child: "Butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the
evil, and choose the good."  Isa.  7:15.

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very good-
tasted fruit.  Then said Matthew, May we eat apples, since it was such
by and with which the serpent beguiled our first mother?

Then said Gaius,

"Apples were they with which we were beguil'd,

Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defil'd:

Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood;

To eat such, when commanded, does us good:

Drink of his flagons then, thou church, his dove,

And eat his apples, who art sick of love."

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I a while since was sick
with the eating of fruit.

GAIUS. Forbidden fruit will make you sick; but not what our Lord has
tolerated.

While they were thus talking, they were presented with another dish, and
it was a dish of nuts.  Song 6:11.  Then said some at the table, Nuts
spoil tender teeth, especially the teeth of children: which when Gaius
heard, he said,

"Hard texts are nuts, (I will not call them cheaters,)

Whose shells do keep the kernel from the eaters:

Open the shells, and you shall have the meat;

They here are brought for you to crack and eat."

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time, talking of
many things.  Then said the old gentleman, My good landlord, while we
are cracking your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle:

"A man there was, though some did count him mad,

The more he cast away, the more he had."

Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would say; so he
sat still a while, and then thus replied:

"He who bestows his goods upon the poor,

Shall have as much again, and ten times more."

Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have found
it out.

Oh, said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a great while:
nothing teaches like experience.  I have learned of my Lord to be kind,
and have found by experience that I have gained thereby.  There is that
scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than
is meet, but it tendeth to poverty: There is that maketh himself rich,
yet hath nothing; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great
riches.  Prov.  11:24; 13:7.

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, Mother, this
is a very good man's house: let us stay here a good while, and let my
brother Matthew be married here to Mercy, before we go any further.  The
which Gaius the host overhearing, said, With a very good will, my child.

So they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew
to wife.

While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, would be making coats
and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought a very good
report upon the pilgrims.

But to return again to our story: After supper the lads desired a bed,
for they were weary with travelling: Then Gaius called to show them
their chamber; but said Mercy, I will have them to bed.  So she had them
to bed, and they slept well: but the rest sat up all night; for Gaius
and they were such suitable company, that they could not tell how to
part.  After much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old
Mr.  Honest, he that put forth the riddle to Gaius, began to nod.  Then
said Great-Heart, What, sir, you begin to be drowsy; come, rub up, now
here is a riddle for you.  Then said Mr.  Honest, Let us hear it.  Then
replied Mr.  Great-heart,

"He that would kill, must first be overcome:

Who live abroad would, first must die at home."

Ha, said Mr.  Honest, it is a hard one; hard to expound, and harder to
practise.  But come, landlord, said he, I will, if you please, leave my
part to you: do you expound it, and I will hear what you say.

No, said Gaius, it was put to you, and it is expected you should answer
it.  Then said the old gentleman,

"He first by grace must conquered be,

That sin would mortify;

Who that he lives would convince me,

Unto himself must die."

It is right, said Gaius; good doctrine and experience teach this.  For,
first, until grace displays itself, and overcomes the soul with its
glory, it is altogether without heart to oppose sin.  Besides, if sin is
Satan's cords, by which the soul lies bound, how should it make
resistance before it is loosed from that infirmity?  Secondly, Nor will
any one that knows either reason or grace, believe that such a man can
be a living monument of grace that is a slave to his own corruptions.
And now it comes into my mind, I will tell you a story worth the
hearing.  There were two men that went on pilgrimage; the one began when
he was young, the other when he was old.  The young man had strong
corruptions to grapple with; the old man's were weak with the decays of
nature.  The young man trod his steps as even as did the old one, and
was every way as light as he.  Who now, or which of them, had their
graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike?

HON. The young man's, doubtless.  For that which makes head against the
greatest opposition, gives best demonstration that it is strongest;
especially when it also holdeth pace with that which meets not with half
so much, as to be sure old age does not.  Besides, I have observed that
old men have blessed themselves with this mistake; namely, taking the
decays of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and so have
been apt to beguile themselves.  Indeed, old men that are gracious are
best able to give advice to them that are young, because they have seen
most of the emptiness of things: but yet, for an old and a young man to
set out both together, the young one has the advantage of the fairest
discovery of a work of grace within him, though the old man's
corruptions are naturally the weakest.  Thus they sat talking till break
of day.

Now, when the family were up, Christiana bid her son James that he
should read a chapter; so he read 53d of Isaiah.  When he had done, Mr.
Honest asked why it was said that the Saviour was to come "out of a dry
ground;" and also, that "he had no form nor comeliness in him."

GREAT. Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, To the first I answer, because the
church of the Jews, of which Christ came, had then lost almost all the
sap and spirit of religion.  To the second I say, the words are spoken
in the person of unbelievers, who, because they want the eye that can
see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of him by the meanness
of his outside; just like those who, not knowing that precious stones
are covered over with a homely crust, when they have found one, because
they know not what they have found, cast it away again, as men do a
common stone.

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I know, Mr.  Great-
Heart is good at his weapons, if you please, after we have refreshed
ourselves, we will walk into the fields, to see if we can do any good.
About a mile from hence there is one Slay-good, a giant, that doth much
annoy the King's highway in these parts; and I know whereabout his haunt
is.  He is master of a number of thieves: 't would be well if we could
clear these parts of him.  So they consented and went: Mr.  Great-Heart
with his sword, helmet, and shield; and the rest with spears and staves.

When they came to the place where he was, they found him with one Feeble
-mind in his hand, whom his servants had brought unto him, having taken
him in the way.  Now the giant was rifling him, with a purpose after
that to pick his bones; for he was of the nature of flesheaters.

Well, so soon as he saw Mr.  Great-Heart and his friends at the mouth of
his cave, with their weapons, he demanded what they wanted.

GREAT. We want thee; for we are come to revenge the quarrels of the many
that thou hast slain of the pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them out of
the King's highway: wherefore come out of thy cave.  So he armed himself
and came out, and to battle they went, and fought for above an hour, and
then stood still to take wind.

SLAY. Then said the giant, Why are you here on my ground?

GREAT. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told thee before.  So they
went to it again, and the giant made Mr.  Great-Heart give back; but he
came up again, and in the greatness of his mind he let fly with such
stoutness at the giant's head and sides, that he made him let his weapon
fall out of his hand.  So he smote him, and slew him, and cut off his
head, and brought it away to the inn.  He also took Feeble-mind the
pilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings.  When they were come
home, they showed his head to the family, and set it up, as they had
done others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to do as
he hereafter.

Then they asked Mr.  Feeble-Mind how he fell into his hands.

FEEBLE. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you see: and
because death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I
should never be well at home; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life,
and have traveled hither from the town of Uncertain, where I and my
father were born.  I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor yet of
mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in
the pilgrim's way.  When I came at the gate that is at the head of the
way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; neither objected he
against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind; but gave me such
things as were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the end.
When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness
there: and because the hill of Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I
was carried up that by one of his servants.  Indeed, I have found much
relief from pilgrims, though none were willing to go so softly as I am
forced to do: yet still as they came on, they bid me be of good cheer,
and said, that it was the will of their Lord that comfort should be
given to the feeble-minded, 1 Thess.  5:14; and so went on their own
pace.  When I was come to Assault-lane, then this giant met with me, and
bid me prepare for an encounter.  But, alas, feeble one that I was, I
had more need of a cordial; so he came up and took me.  I conceited he
would not kill me.  Also when he had got me into his den, since I went
not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive again; for I
have heard, that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands,
if he keeps heart whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of
providence, to die by the hand of the enemy.  Robbed I looked to be, and
robbed to be sure I am; but I have, as you see, escaped with life, for
the which I thank my King as the author, and you as the means.  Other
brunts I also look for; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when
I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go.  As to
the main, I thank him that loved me, I am fixed; my way is before me, my
mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see,
but of a feeble mind.

HON. Then said old Mr.  Honest, Have not you, sometime ago, been
acquainted with one Mr.  Fearing, a pilgrim?

FEEBLE. Acquainted with him!  Yes, he came from the town of Stupidity,
which lieth four degrees to the northward of the city of Destruction,
and as many off of where I was born: yet we were well acquainted, for
indeed he was my uncle, my father's brother.  He and I have been much of
a temper: he was a little shorter than I, but yet we were much of a
complexion.

HON. I perceive you knew him, and I am apt to believe also that you were
related one to another; for you have his whitely look, a cast like his
with your eye, and your speech is much alike.

FEEBLE. Most have said so that have known us both: and, besides, what I
have read in him I have for the most part found in myself.

GAIUS. Come, sir, said good Gaius, be of good cheer; you are welcome to
me, and to my house.  What thou hast a mind to, call for freely; and
what thou wouldst have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a
ready mind.

Then said Mr.  Feeble-mind, This is an unexpected favor, and as the sun
shining out of a very dark cloud.  Did giant Slay-good intend me this
favor when he stopped me, and resolved to let me go no further?  Did he
intend, that after he had rifled my pockets I should go to Gaius mine
host?  Yet so it is.

Now, just as Mr.  Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in talk, there came
one running, and called at the door, and said, that about a mile and a
half off there was one Mr.  Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the
place where he was, with a thunderbolt.

FEEBLE. Alas!  said Mr.  Feeble-mind, is he slain?  He overtook me some
days before I came so far as hither, and would be my company-keeper.  He
was also with me when Slay-good the giant took me, but he was nimble of
his heels, and escaped; but it seems he escaped to die, and I was taken
to live.

"What one would think doth seek to slay outright,

Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight.

That very Providence whose face is death,

Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath.

I taken was, he did escape and flee;

Hands cross'd gave death to him and life to me."

Now, about this time Matthew and Mercy were married; also Gaius gave his
daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife; after which time
they yet stayed about ten days at Gaius' house, spending their time and
the seasons like as pilgrims use to do.

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did eat and
drink, and were merry.  Now the hour was come that they must be gone;
wherefore Mr.  Great-heart called for a reckoning.  But Gaius told him,
that at his house it was not the custom for pilgrims to pay for their
entertainment.  He boarded them by the year, but looked for his pay from
the good Samaritan, who had promised him, at his return, whatsoever
charge he was at with them, faithfully to repay him.  Luke 10:34,35.
Then said Mr.  Great-heart to him,

GREAT. Beloved, thou doest faithfully whatsoever thou doest to the
brethren, and to strangers, who have borne witness of thy charity before
the church, whom if thou yet bring forward on their journey, after a
godly sort, thou shalt do well.  3 John 5,6.  Then Gaius took his leave
of them all, and his children, and particularly of Mr.  Feeble-mind.  He
also gave him something to drink by the way.

Now Mr.  Feeble-mind, when they were going out of the door, made as if
he intended to linger.  The which, when Mr.  Great-Heart espied, he
said, Come, Mr.  Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with us: I will be
your conductor, and you shall fare as the rest.

FEEBLE. Alas!  I want a suitable companion.  You are all lusty and
strong, but I, as you see, am weak; I choose, therefore, rather to come
behind, lest, by reason of my many infirmities, I should be both a
burden to myself and to you.  I am, as I said, a man of a weak and
feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that which others
can bear.  I shall like no laughing; I shall like no gay attire; I shall
like no unprofitable questions.  Nay, I am so weak a man as to be
offended with that which others have a liberty to do.  I do not yet know
all the truth: I am a very ignorant Christian man.  Sometimes, if I hear
some rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me because I cannot do so too.  It
is with me as it is with a weak man among the strong, or as with a sick
man among the healthy, or as a lamp despised; so that I know not what to
do.  "He that is ready to slip with his feet is as a lamp despised in
the thought of him that is at ease."  Job 12:5.

GREAT. But, brother, said Mr.  Great-Heart, I have it in commission to
comfort the feeble-minded, and to support the weak.  You must needs go
along with us; we will wait for you; we will lend you our help; we will
deny ourselves of some things, both opinionative and practical, for your
sake: we will not enter into doubtful disputations before you; we will
be made all things to you, rather than you shall be left behind.  1
Thess.  5:14; Rom.  14; 1 Cor.  8:9-13; 9:22.

Now, all this while they were at Gaius' door; and behold, as they were
thus in the heat of their discourse, Mr.  Ready-to-halt came by, with
his crutches in his hand, and he also was going on pilgrimage.

FEEBLE. Then said Mr.  Feeble-mind to him, Man, how camest thou hither?
I was but now complaining that I had not a suitable companion, but thou
art according to my wish.  Welcome, welcome, good Mr.  Ready-to-halt; I
hope thou and I may be some help.

READY. I shall be glad of thy company, said the other; and, good Mr.
Feeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I
will lend thee one of my crutches.

FEEBLE. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy good-will, I am not
inclined to halt before I am lame.  Howbeit, I think when occasion is,
it may help me against a dog.

READY. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a pleasure, we are
both at thy command, good Mr.  Feeble-mind.

Thus, therefore, they went on.  Mr.  Great-Heart and Mr.  Honest went
before, Christiana and her children went next, and Mr.  Feeble-mind came
behind, and Mr.  Ready-to-halt with his crutches.  Then said Mr.
Honest,

HON. Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us some profitable things
of some that have gone on pilgrimage before us.

GREAT. With a good will.  I suppose you have heard how Christian of old
did meet with Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also what hard
work he had to go through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.  Also I
think you cannot but have heard how Faithful was put to it by Madam
Wanton, with Adam the First, with one Discontent, and Shame; four as
deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the road.

HON.Yes, I have heard of all this; but indeed good Faithful was hardest
put to it with Shame: he was an unwearied one.

GREAT. Aye; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all men had the wrong
name.

HON. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met
Talkative?  That same was also a notable one.

GREAT. He was a confident fool; yet many follow his ways.

HON. He had like to have beguiled Faithful.

GREAT. Aye, but Christian put him into a way quickly to find him out.

Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist met with
Christian and Faithful, and prophesied to them what should befall them
at Vanity Fair.  Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian and
Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them of what troubles
they should meet with at Vanity Fair.

HON. Say you so?  I dare say it was a hard chapter that then he did read
unto them.

GREAT. It was so, but he gave them encouragement withal.  But what do we
talk of them?  They were a couple of lion-like men; they had set their
faces like a flint.  Do not you remember how undaunted they were when
they stood before the judge?

HON. Well: Faithful bravely suffered.

GREAT. So he did, and as brave things came on't; for Hopeful, and some
others, as the story relates it, were converted by his death.

HON. Well, but pray go on; for you are well acquainted with things.

GREAT. Above all that Christian met with after he had passed through
Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch one.

HON. By-ends!  what was he?

GREAT. A very arch fellow, a downright hypocrite; one that would be
religious, whichever way the world went; but so cunning, that he would
be sure never to lose or suffer for it.  He had his mode of religion for
every fresh occasion, and his wife was as good at it as he.  He would
turn from opinion to opinion; yea, and plead for so doing, too.  But, so
far as I could learn, he came to an ill end with his by-ends; nor did I
ever hear that any of his children were ever of any esteem with any that
truly feared God.

Now by this time they were come within sight of the town of Vanity,
where Vanity Fair is kept.  So, when they saw that they were so near the
town, they consulted with one another how they should pass through the
town; and some said one thing, and some another.  At last Mr.  Great-
Heart said, I have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of
pilgrims through this town.  Now, I am acquainted with one Mr.  Mnason,
Acts 21:16, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, at whose house we
may lodge.  If you think good, we will turn in there.

Content, said old Honest; Content, said Christiana; Content, said Mr.
Feeble-mind; and so they said all.  Now you must think it was eventide
by that they got to the outside of the town; but Mr.  Great-Heart knew
the way to the old man's house.  So thither they came; and he called at
the door, and the old man within knew his tongue as soon as ever he
heard it; so he opened the door, and they all came in.  Then said
Mnason, their host, How far have ye come to-day?  So they said, from the
house of Gaius our friend.  I promise you, said he, you have gone a good
stitch.  You may well be weary; sit down.  So they sat down.

GREAT. Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, good sirs?  I dare say
you are welcome to my friend.

MNAS. I also, said Mr.  Mnason, do bid you welcome; and whatever you
want, do but say, and we will do what we can to get it for you.

HON. Our great want, a while since, was harbor and good company, and now
I hope we have both.

MNAS. For harbor, you see what it is; but for good company, that will
appear in the trial.

GREAT. Well, said Mr.  Great-Heart, will you have the pilgrims up into
their lodging?

MNAS. I will, said Mr.  Mnason.  So he had them to their respective
places; and also showed them a very fair dining-room, where they might
be, and sup together until the time should come to go to rest.

Now, when they were seated in their places, and were a little cheery
after their journey, Mr.  Honest asked his landlord if there was any
store of good people in the town.

MNAS. We have a few: for indeed they are but a few when compared with
them on the other side.

HON. But how shall we do to see some of them?  for the sight of good men
to them that are going on pilgrimage, is like the appearing of the moon
and stars to them that are sailing upon the seas.

MNAS. Then Mr.  Mnason stamped with his foot, and his daughter Grace
came up.  So he said unto her, Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr.
Contrite, Mr.  Holy-man, Mr.  Love-saints, Mr.  Dare-not-lie, and Mr.
Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house who have a mind this
evening to see them.  So Grace went to call them, and they came; and
after salutation made, they sat down together at the table.

Then said Mr.  Mnason their landlord, My neighbors, I have, as you see,
a company of strangers come to my house; they are pilgrims: they come
from afar, and are going to Mount Zion.  But who, quoth he, do you think
this is?  pointing his finger to Christiana.  It is Christiana, the wife
of Christian, the famous pilgrim, who, with Faithful his brother, was so
shamefully handled in our town.  At that they stood amazed, saying, We
little thought to see Christiana when Grace came to call us; wherefore
this is a very comfortable surprise.  They then asked her of her
welfare, and if these young men were her husband's sons.  And when she
had told them they were, they said, The King whom you love and serve
make you as your father, and bring you where he is in peace.

HON. Then Mr.  Honest (when they were all sat down) asked Mr.  Contrite
and the rest, in what posture their town was at present.

CONT. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time.  'T is hard
keeping our hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered
condition.  He that lives in such a place as this is, and has to do with
such as we have, has need of an item to caution him to take heed every
moment of the day.

HON. But how are your neighbors now for quietness?

CONT. They are much more moderate now than formerly.  You know how
Christian and Faithful were used at our town; but of late, I say, they
have been far more moderate.  I think the blood of Faithful lieth as a
load upon them till now; for since they burned him, they have been
ashamed to burn any more.  In those days we were afraid to walk the
street; but now we can show our heads.  Then the name of a professor was
odious; now, especially in some parts of our town, (for you know our
town is large,) religion is counted honorable.  Then said Mr.  Contrite
to them, Pray how fareth it with you in your pilgrimage?  how stands the
country affected towards you?

HON. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men: sometimes our
way is clean, sometimes foul; sometimes up hill, sometimes down hill; we
are seldom at a certainty.  The wind is not always on our backs, nor is
every one a friend that we meet with in the way.  We have met with some
notable rubs already, and what are yet behind we know not; but for the
most part, we find it true that has been talked of old, A good man must
suffer trouble.

CONT. You talk of rubs; what rubs have you met withal?

HON. Nay, ask Mr.  Great-Heart, our guide; for he can give the best
account of that.

GREAT. We have been beset three or four times already.  First,
Christiana and her children were beset by two ruffians, who they feared
would take away their lives.  We were beset by Giant Bloody-man, Giant
Maul, and Giant Slay-good.  Indeed, we did rather beset the last than
were beset by him.  And thus it was: after we had been some time at the
house of Gaius mine host, and of the whole church, we were minded upon a
time to take our weapons with us, and go see if we could light upon any
of those that are enemies to pilgrims; for we heard that there was a
notable one thereabouts.  Now Gaius knew his haunt better than I,
because he dwelt thereabout.  So we looked, and looked, till at last we
discerned the mouth of his cave: then we were glad, and plucked up our
spirits.  So we approached up to his den; and lo, when we came there, he
had dragged, by mere force, into his net, this poor man, Mr.  Feeble-
mind, and was about to bring him to his end.  But when he saw us,
supposing, as we thought, he had another prey, he left the poor man in
his hole, and came out.  So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid
about him; but, in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, and
his head cut off, and set up by the way-side for a terror to such as
should after practise such ungodliness.  That I tell you the truth, here
is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the
mouth of the lion.

FEEBLE. Then said Mr.  Feeble-mind, I found this true, to my cost and
comfort: to my cost, when he threatened to pick my bones every moment;
and to my comfort, when I saw Mr.  Great-Heart and his friends, with
their weapons, approach so near for my deliverance.

HOLY. Then said Mr.  Holy-man, There are two things that they have need
to possess who go on pilgrimage; courage, and an unspotted life.  If
they have not courage, they can never hold on their way; and if their
lives be loose, they will make the very name of a pilgrim stink.

LOVE. Then said Mr.  Love-saints, I hope this caution is not needful
among you: but truly there are many that go upon the road, who rather
declare themselves strangers to pilgrimage, than strangers and pilgrims
on the earth.

DARE. Then said Mr.  Dare-not-lie, 'Tis true.  They have neither the
pilgrim's weed, nor the pilgrim's courage; they go not uprightly, but
all awry with their feet; one shoe goeth inward, another outward; and
their hosen are out behind: here a rag, and there a rent, to the
disparagement of their Lord.

PEN. These things, said Mr.  Penitent, they ought to be troubled for;
nor are the pilgrims like to have that grace put upon them and their
Pilgrim's Progress as they desire, until the way is cleared of such
spots and blemishes.  Thus they sat talking and spending the time until
supper was set upon the table, unto which they went, and refreshed their
weary bodies: so they went to rest.

Now they staid in the fair a great while, at the house of Mr.  Mnason,
who in process of time gave his daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christian's
son, to wife, and his daughter Martha to Joseph.

The time, as I said, that they staid here, was long, for it was not now
as in former times.  Wherefore the pilgrims grew acquainted with many of
the good people of the town, and did them what service they could.
Mercy, as she was wont, labored much for the poor: wherefore their
bellies and backs blessed her, and she was there an ornament to her
profession.  And, to say the truth for Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they
were all of a very good nature, and did much good in their places.  They
were also all of them very fruitful; so that Christian's name, as was
said before, was like to live in the world.

While they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, and slew
many of the people of the town.  It would also carry away their
children, and teach them to suck its whelps.  Now, no man in the town
durst so much as face this monster; but all fled when they heard the
noise of his coming.

The monster was like unto no one beast on the earth.  Its body was like
a dragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns.  It made great havoc of
children, and yet it was governed by a woman.  Rev.  17:3.  This monster
propounded conditions to men; and such men as loved their lives more
than their souls, accepted of those conditions.  So they came under.

Now Mr.  Great-Heart, together with those who came to visit the pilgrims
at Mr.  Mnason's house, entered into a covenant to go and engage this
beast, if perhaps they might deliver the people of this town from the
paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent.

Then did Mr.  Great-Heart, Mr.  Contrite, Mr.  Holy-man, Mr.  Dare-not-
lie, and Mr.  Penitent, with their weapons, go forth to meet him.  Now
the monster at first was very rampant, and looked upon these enemies
with great disdain; but they so belabored him, being sturdy men at arms,
that they made him make a retreat: so they came home to Mr.  Mnason's
house again.

The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in, and
to make his attempts upon the children of the people of the town.  At
these seasons did these valiant worthies watch him, and did still
continually assault him; insomuch that in process of time he became not
only wounded, but lame.  Also he has not made that havoc of the
townsmen's children as formerly he had done; and it is verily believed
by some that this beast will die of his wounds.

This, therefore, made Mr.  Great-Heart and his fellows of great fame in
this town; so that many of the people that wanted their taste of things,
yet had a reverent esteem and respect for them.  Upon this account,
therefore, it was, that these pilgrims got not much hurt here.  True,
there were some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole,
nor understand any more than a beast; these had no reverence for these
men, and took no notice of their valor and adventures.



THE SEVENTH STAGE.

Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on their way; wherefore
they prepared for their journey.  They sent for their friends; they
conferred with them; they had some time set apart therein to commit each
other to the protection of their Prince.  There were again that brought
them of such things as they had, that were fit for the weak and the
strong, for the women and the men, and so laded them with such things as
were necessary.  Acts 28:10.  Then they set forward on their way; and
their friends accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again
committed each other to the protection of their King, and parted.

They therefore that were of the pilgrims' company went on, and Mr.
Great-Heart went before them.  Now, the women and children being weakly,
they were forced to go as they could bear; by which means Mr.  Ready-to-
halt and Mr.  Feeble-mind, had more to sympathize with their condition.

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid
them farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful was put to
death.  Therefore they made a stand, and thanked him that had enabled
him to bear his cross so well; and the rather, because they now found
that they had a benefit by such a manly suffering as his was.

They went on therefore after this a good way further, talking of
Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful joined himself to Christian
after that Faithful was dead.

Now they were come up with the hill Lucre, where the silver mine was
which took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some think,
By-ends fell and perished; wherefore they considered that.  But when
they were come to the old monument that stood over against the hill
Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt, that stood also within view of
Sodom and its stinking lake, they marvelled, as did Christian before,
that men of such knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were, should be
so blinded as to turn aside here.  Only they considered again, that
nature is not affected with the harms that others have met with,
especially if that thing upon which they look has an attracting virtue
upon the foolish eye.

I saw now, that they went on till they came to the river that was on
this side of the Delectable Mountains; to the river where the fine trees
grow on both sides, and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good
against surfeits; where the meadows are green all the year long, and
where they might lie down safely.  Psa.  23:2.

By this river-side, in the meadows, there were cotes and folds for
sheep, a house built for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs,
the babes of those women that go on pilgrimage.  Also there was here one
that was intrusted with them, who could have compassion; and that could
gather these lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and gently
lead those that were with young.  Heb.  5:2; Isa.  40:11.  Now, to the
care of this man Christiana admonished her four daughters to commit
their little ones, that by these waters they might be housed, harbored,
succored, and nourished, and that none of them might be lacking in time
to come.  This man, if any of them go astray, or be lost, will bring
them again; he will also bind up that which was broken, and will
strengthen them that are sick.  Jer.  23:4; Ezek.  34:11-16.  Here they
will never want meat, drink, and clothing; here they will be kept from
thieves and robbers; for this man will die before one of those committed
to his trust shall be lost.  Besides, here they shall be sure to have
good nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to walk in right paths,
and that you know is a favor of no small account.  Also here, as you
see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of
trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit: fruit, not like that which
Matthew ate of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's garden; but
fruit that procureth health where there is none, and that continueth and
increaseth it where it is.  So they were content to commit their little
ones to him; and that which was also an encouragement to them so to do,
was, for that all this was to be at the charge of the King, and so was
as an hospital to young children and orphans.

Now they went on.  And when they were come to By-path Meadow, to the
stile over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were
taken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down, and
consulted what was best to be done: to wit, now they were so strong, and
had got such a man as Mr.  Great-Heart for their conductor, whether they
had not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his castle, and
if there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at liberty before they
went any further.  So one said one thing, and another said the contrary.
One questioned if it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground; another
said they might, provided their end was good; but Mr.  Great-Heart said,
Though that assertion offered last cannot be universally true, yet I
have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome evil, to fight the good
fight of faith: and I pray, with whom should I fight this good fight, if
not with Giant Despair?  I will therefore attempt the taking away of his
life, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle.  Then said he, Who will go
with me?  Then said old Honest, I will.  And so will we too, said
Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, Joseph, and James; for they
were young men and strong.  1 John 2:13,14.  So they left the women in
the road, and with them Mr.  Feeble-mind, and Mr.  Ready-to-halt with
his crutches, to be their guard until they came back; for in that place
the Giant Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a little
child might lead them.  Isa.  11:6.

So Mr.  Great-Heart, old Honest, and the four young men, went to go up
to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant Despair.  When they came at the
castle gate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise.  At that
the old Giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife follows.  Then
said he, Who and what is he that is so hardy, as after this manner to
molest the Giant Despair?  Mr.  Great-Heart replied, It is I, Great-
Heart, one of the King of the Celestial country's conductors of pilgrims
to their place; and I demand of thee that thou open thy gates for my
entrance: prepare thyself also to fight, for I am come to take away thy
head; and to demolish Doubting Castle.

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no man could overcome
him: and again thought he, Since heretofore I have made a conquest of
angels, shall Great-Heart make me afraid?  So he harnessed himself, and
went out.  He had a cap of steel upon his head, a breast-plate of fire
girded to him, and he came out in iron shoes, with a great club in his
hand.  Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind and
before: also, when Diffidence the giantess came up to help him, old Mr.
Honest cut her down at one blow.  Then they fought for their lives, and
Giant Despair was brought down to the ground, but was very loth die.  He
struggled hard, and had, as they say, as many lives as a cat; but Great-
Heart was his death, for he left him not till he had severed his head
from his shoulders.

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and that you know might
with ease be done, since Giant Despair was dead.  They were seven days
in destroying of that; and in it of pilgrims they found one Mr.
Despondency, almost starved to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter:
these two they saved alive.  But it would have made you wonder to have
seen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the castle yard, and how
full of dead men's bones the dungeon was.

When Mr.  Great-Heart and his companions had performed this exploit,
they took Mr.  Despondency, and his daughter Much-afraid, into their
protection; for they were honest people, though they were prisoners in
Doubting Castle to that tyrant Giant Despair.  They, therefore, I say,
took with them the head of the giant, (for his body they had buried
under a heap of stones,) and down to the road and to their companions
they came, and showed them what they had done.  Now, when Feeble-mind
and Ready-to-halt saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, they
were very jocund and merry.  Now Christiana, if need was, could play
upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the lute: so, since they were
so merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and Ready-to-halt would
dance.  So he took Despondency's daughter, Much-afraid, by the hand, and
to dancing they went in the road.  True, he could not dance without one
crutch in his hand, but I promise you he footed it well: also the girl
was to be commended, for she answered the music handsomely.

As for Mr.  Despondency, the music was not so much to him; he was for
feeding rather than dancing, for that he was almost starved.  So
Christiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits for present relief,
and then prepared him something to eat; and in a little time the old
gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived.

Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, Mr.  Great-
Heart took the head of Giant Despair, and set it upon a pole by the
highway-side, right over against the pillar that Christian erected for a
caution to pilgrims that came after, to take heed of entering into his
grounds.

Then he writ under it upon a marble stone these verses following:

"This is the head of him whose name only

In former times did pilgrims terrify.

His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife

Brave Mr.  Great-Heart has bereft of life.

Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid,

Great-Heart for them also the man has play'd.

Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye

Up hither, may his scruples satisfy.

This head also, when doubting cripples dance,

Doth show from fears they have deliverance."

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting
Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward, and went on till
they came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful
refreshed themselves with the varieties of the place.  They also
acquainted themselves with the shepherds there, who welcomed them, as
they had done Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains.

Now the shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr.  Great-Heart, (for
with him they were well acquainted,) they said unto him, Good sir, you
have got a goodly company here; pray where did you find all these?

Then Mr.  Great-Heart replied,

"First, here is Christiana and her train,

Her sons, and her sons' wives, who, like the wain,

Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer

From sin to grace, else they had not been here.

Next here's old Honest come on pilgrimage,

Ready-to-halt too, who I dare engage

True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind,

Who willing was not to be left behind.

Despondency, good man, is coming after,

And so also is Much-afraid, his daughter.

May we have entertainment here, or must

We further go?  Let's knew whereon to trust."

Then said the shepherds, This is a comfortable company.  You are welcome
to us; for we have for the feeble, as well as for the strong.  Our
Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of these; therefore
Infirmity must not be a block to our entertainment.  Matt.  25:40.  So
they had them to the palace door, and then said unto them, Come in, Mr.
Feeble-Mind; come in Mr.  Ready-to-halt; Come in, Mr.  Despondency, and
Mrs.  Much-afraid his daughter.  These, Mr.  Great-Heart, said the
shepherds to the guide, we call in by name, for that they are most
subject to draw back; but as for you, and the rest that are strong, we
leave you to your wonted liberty.  Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, This day
I see that grace doth shine in your faces, and that you are my Lord's
shepherds indeed; for that you have not pushed these diseased neither
with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewed their way into the
palace with flowers, as you should.  Ezek.  34:21.

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr.  Great-Heart and the rest did
follow.  When they were also set down, the shepherds said to those of
the weaker sort, What is it that you would have?  for, said they, all
things must be managed here to the supporting of the weak, as well as to
the warning of the unruly.  So they made them a feast of things easy of
digestion, and that were pleasant to the palate and nourishing; the
which when they had received, they went to their rest, each one
respectively unto his proper place.

When morning was come, because the mountains were high and the day
clear, and because it was the custom of the shepherds to show the
pilgrims before their departure some rarities, therefore, after they
were ready, and had refreshed themselves, the shepherds took them out
into the fields, and showed them first what they had shown to Christian
before.

Then they had them to some new places.  The first was Mount Marvel,
where they looked, and beheld a man at a distance that tumbled the hills
about with words.  Then they asked the shepherds what that should mean.
So they told them, that that man was the son of one Mr.  Great-grace, of
whom you read in the first part of the records of the Pilgrim's
Progress; and he is set there to teach pilgrims how to believe down, or
to tumble out of their ways, what difficulties they should meet with, by
faith.  Mark 11:23,24.  Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, I know him; he is a
man above many.

Then they had them to another place, called Mount Innocence.  And there
they saw a man clothed all in white; and two men, Prejudice and Ill-
will, continually casting dirt upon him.  Now behold, the dirt,
whatsoever they cast at him, would in a little time fall off again, and
his garment would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast thereat.
Then said the pilgrims, What means this?  The shepherds answered, This
man is named Godlyman, and this garment is to show the innocency of his
life.  Now, those that throw dirt at him are such as hate his well-
doing; but, as you see the dirt will not stick upon his clothes, so it
shall be with him that liveth innocently in the world.  Whoever they be
that would make such men dirty, they labor all in vain; for God, by that
a little time is spent, will cause that their innocence shall break
forth as the light, and their righteousness as the noonday.

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, where they showed
them a man that had a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he
cut coats and garments for the poor that stood about him; yet his bundle
or roll of cloth was never the less.  Then said they, What should this
be?  This is, said the shepherds, to show you, that he who has a heart
to give of his labor to the poor, shall never want wherewithal.  He that
watereth shall be watered himself.  And the cake that the widow gave to
the prophet did not cause that she had the less in her barrel.

They had them also to the place where they saw one Fool and one Want-wit
washing an Ethiopian, with intention to make him white; but the more
they washed him, the blacker he was.  Then they asked the shepherds what
that should mean.  So they told them, saying, Thus it is with the vile
person; all means used to get such a one a good name, shall in
conclusion tend but to make him more abominable.  Thus it was with the
pharisees; and so it shall be with all hypocrites.

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana her mother, Mother,
I would, if it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that commonly
called the By-way to hell.  So her mother brake her mind to the
shepherds.  Then they went to the door; it was on the side of an hill;
and they opened it, and bid Mercy hearken a while.  So she hearkened,
and heard one saying, Cursed be my father for holding of my feet back
from the way of peace and life.  Another said, Oh that I had been torn
in pieces before I had, to save my life, lost my soul!  And another
said, If I were to live again, how would I deny myself, rather than to
come to this place!  Then there was as if the very earth groaned and
quaked under the feet of this young woman for fear; so she looked white,
and came trembling away, saying, Blessed be he and she that is delivered
from this place!

Now, when the shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had
them back to the palace, and entertained them with what the house would
afford.  But Mercy, being a young and married woman, longed for
something that she saw there, but was ashamed to ask.  Her mother-in-law
then asked her what she ailed, for she looked as one not well.  Then
said Mercy, There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, off
which I cannot take my mind; if, therefore, I have it not, I think I
shall miscarry.  Then said her mother, I will mention thy wants to the
shepherds, and they will not deny thee.  But she said, I am ashamed that
these men should know that I longed.  Nay, my daughter, said she, it is
no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a thing as that.  So Mercy
said, Then mother, if you please, ask the shepherds if they are willing
to sell it.

Now the glass was one of a thousand.  It would present a man, one way,
with his own features exactly; and turn it but another way, and it would
show one the very face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims himself.
Yes, I have talked with them that can tell, and they have said that they
have seen the very crown of thorns upon his head by looking in that
glass; they have therein also seen the holes in his hands, his feet, and
his side.  Yea, such an excellency is there in this glass, that it will
show him to one where they have a mind to see him, whether living or
dead; whether in earth, or in heaven; whether in a state of humiliation,
or in his exaltation; whether coming to suffer, or coming to reign.
James 1:23; 1 Cor.  13:12; 2 Cor.  3:18.

Christiana therefore went to the shepherds apart, (now the names of the
shepherds were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere,) and said
unto them, There is one of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think
doth long for something that she hath seen in this house; and she thinks
that she shall miscarry if she should by you be denied.

EXPERIENCE. Call her, call her, she shall assuredly have what we can
help her to.  So they called her, and said to her, Mercy, what is that
thing thou wouldst have?  Then she blushed, and said, The great glass
that hangs up in the dining-room.  So Sincere ran and fetched it, and
with a joyful consent it was given her.  Then she bowed her head, and
gave thanks, and said, By this I know that I have obtained favor in your
eyes.

They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and
to their husbands great commendations, for that they had joined with Mr.
Great-Heart in the slaying of Giant Despair, and the demolishing of
Doubting Castle.

About Christiana's neck the shepherds put a bracelet, and so did they
about the necks of her four daughters; also they put ear-rings in their
ears, and jewels on their foreheads.

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, but gave
not to them those certain cautions which before were given to Christian
and his companion.  The reason was, for that these had Great-Heart to be
their guide, who was one that was well acquainted with things, and so
could give them their cautions more seasonably, to wit, even when the
danger was nigh the approaching.  What cautions Christian and his
companion had received of the shepherds, they had also lost by that the
time was come that they had need to put them in practice.  Wherefore,
here was the advantage that this company had over the other.

From thence they went on singing, and they said,

"Behold how fitly are the stages set

For their relief that pilgrims are become,

And how they us receive without one let,

That make the other life our mark and home!

What novelties they have to us they give,

That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live;

They do upon us, too, such things bestow,

That show we pilgrims are, where'er we go."



THE EIGHTH STAGE.

When they were gone from the shepherds, they quickly came to the place
where Christian met with one Turn-away that dwelt in the town of
Apostasy.  Wherefore of him Mr.  Great-Heart their guide now put them in
mind, saying, This is the place where Christian met with one Turn-away,
who carried with him the character of his rebellion at his back.  And
this I have to say concerning this man; he would hearken to no counsel,
but once a falling, persuasion could not stop him.  When he came to the
place where the cross and sepulchre were, he did meet with one that did
bid him look there; but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and said
he was resolved to go back to his own town.  Before he came to the gate,
he met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him, to turn him
into the way again; but this Turn-away resisted him, and having done
much despite unto him, he got away over the wall, and so escaped his
hand.

Then they went on; and just at the place where Little-Faith formerly was
robbed, there stood a man with his sword drawn, and his face all over
with blood.  Then said Mr.  Great-Heart, Who art thou?  The man made
answer, saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth.  I am a
pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City.  Now, as I was in my way,
there were three men that did beset me, and propounded unto me these
three things: 1.  Whether I would become one of them.  2.  Or go back
from whence I came.  3.  Or die upon the place.  Prov.  1:11-14.  To the
first I answered, I had been a true man for a long season, and therefore
it could not be expected that I should now cast in my lot with thieves.
Then they demanded what I would say to the second.  So I told them that
the place from whence I came, had I not found incommodity there, I had
not forsaken it at all; but finding it altogether unsuitable to me, and
very unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this way.  Then they asked me
what I said to the third.  And I told them my life cost far more dear
than that I should lightly give it away.  Besides, you have nothing to
do thus to put things to my choice; wherefore at your peril be it if you
meddle.  Then these three, to wit, Wild-head, Inconsiderate, and
Pragmatic, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them.  So we fell to it,
one against three, for the space of above three hours.  They have left
upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their valor, and have also
carried away with them some of mine.  They are but just now gone; I
suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they
betook themselves to flight.

GREAT. But here was great odds, three against one .

VALIANT. 'Tis true; but little and more are nothing to him that has the
truth on his side: "Though an host should encamp against me," said one,
Psa.  27:3, "my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me,
in this will I be confident," etc.  Besides, said he, I have read in
some records, that one man has fought an army: and how many did Samson
slay with the jawbone of an ass!

GREAT. Then said the guide, Why did you not cry out, that some might
have come in for your succor?

VALIANT. So I did to my King, who I knew could hear me, and afford
invisible help, and that was sufficient for me.

GREAT. Then said Great-Heart to Mr.  Valiant-for-truth, Thou hast
worthily behaved thyself; let me see thy sword.  So he showed it him.

When he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon awhile, he said,
Ha, it is a right Jerusalem blade.

VALIANT. It is so.  Let a man have one of these blades, with a hand to
wield it, and skill to use it, and he may venture upon an angel with it.
He need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on.  Its
edge will never blunt.  It will cut flesh and bones, and soul, and
spirit, and all.  Heb.  4:12.

GREAT. But you fought a great while; I wonder you was not weary.

VALIANT. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand; and then they
were joined together as if a sword grew out of my arm; and when the
blood ran through my fingers, then I fought with most courage.

GREAT. Thou hast done well; thou hast resisted unto blood, striving
against sin.  Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us; for we
are thy companions.  Then they took him and washed his wounds, and gave
him of what they had, to refresh him: and so they went together.

Now, as they went on, because Mr.  Great-Heart was delighted in him,
(for he loved one greatly that he found to be a man of his hands,) and
because there were in company those that were feeble and weak, therefore
he questioned with him about many things; as first, what countryman he
was.

VALIANT. I am of Dark-land; for there was I born, and there my father
and mother are still.

GREAT. Dark-land!  said the guide; doth not that lie on the same coast
with the City of Destruction?

VALIANT. Yes, it doth.  Now that which caused me to come on pilgrimage
was this.  We had one Mr.  Tell-true come into our parts, and he told it
about what Christian had done, that went from the City of Destruction;
namely, how he had forsaken his wife and children, and had betaken
himself to a pilgrim's life.  It was also confidently reported, how he
had killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in his journey; and
how he got through to whither he intended.  It was also told what
welcome he had at all his Lord's lodgings, especially when he came to
the gates of the Celestial City; for there, said the man, he was
received with sound of trumpet by a company of shining ones.  He told
also how all the bells in the city did ring for joy at his reception,
and what golden garments he was clothed with; with many other things
that now I shall forbear to relate.  In a word, that man so told the
story of Christian and his travels that my heart fell into a burning
haste to be gone after him; nor could father or mother stay me.  So I
got from them, and am come thus far on my way.

GREAT. You came in at the gate, did you not?

VALIANT. Yes, yes; for the same man also told us, that all would be
nothing if we did not begin to enter this way at the gate.

GREAT. Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the pilgrimage of your
husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near.

VALIANT. Why, is this Christian's wife?

GREAT. Yes, that it is; and these also are his four sons.

VALIANT. What, and going on pilgrimage too?

GREAT. Yes, verily, they are following after.

VALIANT. It glads me at the heart.  Good man, how joyful will he be when
he shall see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in
at the gates into the Celestial City.

GREAT. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; for, next to the joy
of seeing himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his wife and
children.

VALIANT. But now you are upon that, pray let me hear your opinion about
it.  Some make a question whether we shall know one another when we are
there.

GREAT. Do you think they shall know themselves then, or that they shall
rejoice to see themselves in that bliss?  And if they think they shall
know and do this, why not know others, and rejoice in their welfare
also?  Again, since relations are our second self, though that state
will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally concluded that
we shall be more glad to see them there than to see they are wanting?

VALIANT. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this.  Have you any
more things to ask me about my beginning to come on pilgrimage?

GREAT. Yes; were your father and mother willing that you should become a
pilgrim?

VALIANT. O no; they used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at
home.

GREAT. Why, what could they say against it?

VALIANT. They said it was an idle life; and if I myself were not
inclined to sloth and laziness, I would never countenance a pilgrim's
condition.

GREAT. And what did they say else?

VALIANT. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way; yea, the most
dangerous way in the world, said they, is that which the pilgrims go.

GREAT. Did they show you wherein this way is so dangerous?

VALIANT. Yes; and that in many particulars.

GREAT. Name some of them.

VALIANT. They told me of the Slough of Despond, where Christian was well
-nigh smothered.  They told me, that there were archers standing ready
in Beelzebub-castle to shoot them who should knock at the Wicket-gate
for entrance.  They told me also of the wood and dark mountains; of the
hill Difficulty; of the lions; and also of the three giants, Bloody-man,
Maul, and Slay-good.  They said, moreover, that there was a foul fiend
haunted the Valley of Humiliation; and that Christian was by him almost
bereft of life.  Besides, said they, you must go over the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the light is darkness,
where the way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins.  They told me
also of Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the
pilgrims met with here.  Further they said I must go over the Enchanted
Ground, which was dangerous; And that after all this I should find a
river, over which there was no bridge; and that that river did lie
betwixt me and the Celestial country.

GREAT. And was this all?

VALIANT. No.  They also told me that this way was full of deceivers, and
of persons that lay in wait there to turn good men out of the path.

GREAT. But how did they make that out?

VALIANT. They told me that Mr.  Wordly Wiseman did lie there in wait to
deceive.  They said also, that there were Formality and Hypocrisy
continually on the road.  They said also, that By-ends, Talkative, or
Demas, would go near to gather me up; that the Flatterer would catch me
in his net; or that, with green-headed Ignorance, I would presume to go
on to the gate, from whence he was sent back to the hole that was in the
side of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell.

GREAT. I promise you this was enough to discourage you; but did they
make an end here?

VALIANT. No, stay.  They told me also of many that had tried that way of
old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find
something of the glory there that so many had so much talked of from
time to time, and how they came back again, and befooled themselves for
setting a foot out of doors in that path, to the satisfaction of all the
country.  And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable,
Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with several more;
who, they said, had some of them gone far to see what they could find,
but not one of them had found so much advantage by going as amounted to
the weight of a feather.

GREAT. Said they any thing more to discourage you?

VALIANT. Yes.  They told me of one Mr.  Fearing, who was a pilgrim, and
how he found his way so solitary that he never had a comfortable hour
therein; also, that Mr.  Despondency had like to have been starved
therein: yea, and also (which I had almost forgot) that Christian
himself, about whom there has been such a noise, after all his
adventures for a celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black
River, and never went a foot further; however it was smothered up.

GREAT. And did none of these things discourage you?

VALIANT. No; they seemed but as so many nothings to me.

GREAT. How came that about?

VALIANT. Why, I still believed what Mr.  Tell-true had said; and that
carried me beyond them all.

GREAT. Then this was your victory, even your faith.

VALIANT. It was so.  I believed, and therefore came out, got into the
way, fought all that set themselves against me, and, by believing, am
come to this place.

"Who would true valor see,

Let him come hither;

One here will constant be,

Come wind, come weather

There's no discouragement

Shall make him once relent

His first avow'd intent

To be a pilgrim.

Whoso beset him round

With dismal stories,

Do but themselves confound;

His strength the more is.

No lion can him fright,

He'll with a giant fight,

But he will have a right

To be a pilgrim.

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend

Can daunt his spirit;

He knows he at the end

Shall life inherit.

Then fancies fly away,

He'll not fear what men say;

He'll labor night and day

To be a pilgrim.

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air
naturally tended to make one drowsy.  And that place was all grown over
with briars and thorns, excepting here and there, where was an enchanted
arbor, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, it is a
question, some say, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this
world.  Over this forest, therefore, they went, both one and another,
and Mr.  Great-Heart went before, for that he was the guide; and Mr.
Valiant-for-truth came behind, being rear-guard, for fear lest
peradventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon
their rear, and so do mischief.  They went on here, each man with his
sword drawn in his hand; for they knew it was a dangerous place.  Also
they cheered up one another as well as they could.  Feeble-mind, Mr.
Great-Heart commanded should come up after him; and Mr.  Despondency was
under the eye of Mr.  Valiant.

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and darkness fell upon them
all; so that they could scarce, for a great while, the one see the
other.  Wherefore they were forced, for some time, to feel one for
another by words; for they walked not by sight.  But any one must think,
that here was but sorry going for the best of them all; but how much
worse for the women and children, who both of feet and heart were but
tender!  Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that
led in the front, and of him that brought them up behind, they made a
pretty good shift to wag along.

The way also here was very wearisome, through dirt and slabbiness.  Nor
was there, on all this ground, so much as one inn or victualling-house
wherein to refresh the feebler sort.  Here, therefore, was grunting, and
puffing, and sighing, while one tumbleth over a bush, another sticks
fast in the dirt, and the children, some of them, lost their shoes in
the mire; while one cries out, I am down; and another, Ho, where are
you?  and a third, The bushes have got such fast hold on me, I think I
cannot get away from them.

Then they came at an arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the
pilgrims; for it was finely wrought above-head, beautified with greens,
furnished with benches and settles.  It also had in it a soft couch,
whereon the weary might lean.  This, you must think, all things
considered, was tempting; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled
with the badness of the way: but there was not one of them that made so
much as a motion to stop there.  Yea, for aught I could perceive, they
continually gave so good heed to the advice of their guide, and he did
so faithfully tell them of dangers, and of the nature of the dangers
when they were at them, that usually, when they were nearest to them,
they did most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny
the flesh.  This arbor was called The Slothful's Friend, and was made on
purpose to allure, if it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up
their rest when weary.

I saw them in my dream, that they went on in this their solitary ground,
till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way.  Now,
though when it was light their guide could well enough tell how to miss
those ways that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand.  But
he had in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the Celestial
City; wherefore he struck a light (for he never goes without his tinder-
box also), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him to be
careful in that place to turn to the right hand.  And had he not been
careful here to look in his map, they had all, in probability, been
smothered in the mud; for just a little before them, and that at the end
of the cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows how deep, full of nothing
but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in.

Then thought I with myself, Who that goeth on pilgrimage but would have
one of these maps about him, that he may look, when he is at a stand,
which is the way he must take?

Then they went on in this Enchanted Ground till they came to where there
was another arbor, and it was built by the highway-side.  And in that
arbor there lay two men, whose names were Heedless and Too-bold.  These
two went thus far on pilgrimage; but here, being wearied with their
journey, they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep.
When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook their heads; for
they knew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case.  Then they consulted
what to do, whether to go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step
to them and try to awake them; so they concluded to go to them and awake
them, that is, if they could; but with this caution, namely, to take
heed that they themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered
benefit of that arbor.

So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each by his name, for
the guide, it seems, did know them; but there was no voice nor answer.
Then the guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb them.
Then said one of them, I will pay you when I take my money.  At which
the guide shook his head.  I will fight so long as I can hold my sword
in my hand, said the other.  At that, one of the children laughed.

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this?  The guide said, They
talk in their sleep.  If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else
you do to them, they will answer you after this fashion; or, as one of
them said in old time, when the waves of the sea did beat upon him, and
he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, Prov.  23:34,35, When I awake,
I will seek it yet again.  You know, when men talk in their sleep, they
say any thing; but their words are not governed either by faith or
reason.  There is an incoherency in their words now, as there was before
betwixt their going on pilgrimage and sitting down here.  This, then, is
the mischief of it: when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 'tis twenty to
one but they are served thus.  For this Enchanted Ground is one of the
last refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has; wherefore it is, as you
see, placed almost at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us
with the more advantage.  For when, thinks the enemy, will these fools
be so desirous to sit down as when they are weary?  and when so like to
be weary as when almost at their journey's end?  Therefore it is, I say,
that the Enchanted Ground is placed so nigh to the land Beulah, and so
near the end of their race.  Wherefore let pilgrims look to themselves,
lest it happen to them as it has done to these that, as you see, are
fallen asleep, and none can awake them.

Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward; only they prayed
their guide to strike a light, that they might go the rest of their way
by the help of the light of a lantern.  So he struck a light, and they
went by the help of that through the rest of this way, though the
darkness was very great.  2 Pet.  1:19.  But the children began to be
sorely weary, and they cried out unto him that loveth pilgrims, to make
their way more comfortable.  So by that they had gone a little further,
a wind arose that drove away the fog, so the air became more clear.  Yet
they were not off (by much) of the Enchanted Ground; only now they could
see one another better, and the way wherein they should walk.

Now when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that
a little before them was a solemn noise, as of one that was much
concerned.  So they went on and looked before them: and behold they saw,
as they thought, a man upon his knees, with hands and eyes lifted up,
and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that was above.  They
drew nigh, but could not tell what he said; so they went softly till he
had done.  When he had done, he got up, and began to run towards the
Celestial City.  Then Mr.  Great-Heart called after him, saying, Soho,
friend, let us have your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to the
Celestial City.  So the man stopped, and they came up to him.  But as
soon as Mr.  Honest saw him, he said, I know this man.  Then said Mr.
Valiant-for-truth, Prithee, who is it?  It is one, said he, that comes
from whereabout I dwelt.  His name is Standfast; he is certainly a right
good pilgrim.

So they came up to one another; and presently Standfast said to old
Honest, Ho, father Honest, are you there?  Aye, said he, that I am, as
sure as you are there.  Right glad am I, said Mr.  Standfast, that I
have found you on this road.  And as glad am I, said the other, that I
espied you on your knees.  Then Mr.  Standfast blushed, and said, But
why, did you see me?  Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my
heart was glad at the sight.  Why, what did you think?  said Standfast.
Think!  said old Honest; what could I think?  I thought we had an honest
man upon the road, and therefore should have his company by and by.  If
you thought not amiss, said Standfast, how happy am I! But if I be not
as I should, 't is I alone must bear it.  That is true, said the other;
but your fear doth further confirm me that things are right betwixt the
Prince of pilgrims and your soul.  For he saith, "Blessed is the man
that feareth always."  Prov.  28:14.

VALIANT. Well but, brother, I pray thee tell us what was it that was the
cause of thy being upon thy knees even now: was it for that some special
mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how?

STAND. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground; and as I was
coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous nature the
road in this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on
pilgrimage, had here been stopped and been destroyed.  I thought also of
the manner of the death with which this place destroyeth men.  Those
that die here, die of no violent distemper: the death which such die is
not grievous to them.  For he that goeth away in a sleep, begins that
journey with desire and pleasure.  Yea, such acquiesce in the will of
that disease.

HON. Then Mr.  Honest interrupting him, said, Did you see the two men
asleep in the arbor?

STAND. Aye, aye, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there; and for ought I
know, there they will lie till they rot.  Prov.  10:7.  But let me go on
with my tale.  As I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very
pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself to me, and offered me
three things, to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed.  Now the truth
is, I was both weary and sleepy.  I am also as poor as an owlet, and
that perhaps the witch knew.  Well, I repulsed her once and again, but
she put by my repulses, and smiled.  Then I began to be angry; but she
mattered that nothing at all.  Then she made offers again, and said, if
I would be ruled by her, she would make me great and happy; for, said
she, I am the mistress of the world, and men are made happy by me.  Then
I asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble.  This set me
further from her; but she still followed me with enticements.  Then I
betook me, as you saw, to my knees, and with hands lifted up, and cries,
I prayed to Him that had said he would help.  So, just as you came up,
the gentlewoman went her way.  Then I continued to give thanks for this
my

great deliverance; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather
sought to make stop of me in my journey.

HON. Without doubt her designs were bad.  But stay, now you talk of her,
methinks I either have seen her, or have read some story of her.

STAND. Perhaps you have done both.

HON. Madam Bubble!  Is she not a tall, comely dame, something of a
swarthy complexion?

STAND. Right, you hit it: she is just such a one.

HON. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end
of a sentence?

STAND. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very actions.

HON. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand
often in it, fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight.

STAND. 'Tis just so; had she stood by all this while, you could not more
amply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her
features.

HON. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and he that wrote
of her said true.

GREAT. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorceries that
this ground is enchanted.  Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap,
had as good lay it down on that block over which the axe doth hang; and
whoever lay their eyes upon her beauty are counted the enemies of God.
This is she that maintaineth in their splendor all those that are the
enemies of pilgrims.  James 4:4.  Yea, this is she that has bought off
many a man from a pilgrim's life.  She is a great gossiper; she is
always, both she and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another,
now commending, and then preferring the excellences of this life.  She
is a bold and impudent slut: she will talk with any man.  She always
laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the rich.  If there
be one cunning to get money in a place, she will speak well of him from
house to house.  She loveth banqueting and feasting mainly well; she is
always at one full table or another.  She has given it out in some
places that she is a goddess, and therefore some do worship her.  She
has her time, and open places of cheating; and she will say and avow it,
that none can show a good comparable to hers.  She promiseth to dwell
with children's children, if they will but love her and make much of
her.  She will cast out of her purse gold like dust in some places and
to some persons.  She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to
lie in the bosoms of men.  She is never weary of commending her
commodities, and she loves them most that think best of her.  She will
promise to some crowns and kingdoms, if they will but take her advice;
yet many has she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times more to
hell.

STAND. Oh, said Standfast, what a mercy is it that I did resist her; for
whither might she have drawn me!

GREAT. Whither?  nay, none but God knows whither.  But in general, to be
sure, she would have drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful lusts,
which drown men in destruction and perdition.  1 Tim.  6:9.  'T was she
that set Absalom against his father, and Jeroboam against his master.
'T was she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord; and that prevailed
with Demas to forsake the godly pilgrim's life.  None can tell of the
mischief that she doth.  She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects,
betwixt parents and children, betwixt neighbor and neighbor, betwixt a
man and his wife, betwixt a man and himself, betwixt the flesh and the
spirit.  Wherefore, good Mr.  Standfast, be as your name is, and when
you have done all, stand.

At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a mixture of joy and
trembling; but at length they broke out and sang,

"What danger is the Pilgrim in!

How many are his foes!

How many ways there are to sin

No living mortal knows.

Some in the ditch are spoiled, yea, can

Lie tumbling in the mire:

Some, though they shun the frying-pan

Do leap into the fire."

After this, I beheld until they were come into the land of Beulah, where
the sun shineth night and day.  Here, because they were weary, they
betook themselves a while to rest.  And because this country was common
for pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards that were here
belonged to the King of the Celestial country, therefore they were
licensed to make bold with any of his things.  But a little while soon
refreshed them here; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets
continually sound so melodiously, that they could not sleep, and yet
they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep ever
so soundly.  Here also all the noise of them that walked the streets
was, More pilgrims are come to town!  And another would answer, saying,
And so many went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-
day!  They would cry again, There is now a legion of shining ones just
come to town, by which we know that there are more pilgrims upon the
road; for here they come to wait for them, and to comfort them after all
their sorrow.  Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro.  But how
were their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and their eyes
delighted with celestial visions!  In this land they heard nothing, saw
nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing that was offensive
to their stomach or mind; only when they tasted of the water of the
river over which they were to go, they thought that it tasted a little
bitterish to the palate; but it proved sweeter when it was down.

In this place there was a record kept of the names of them that had been
pilgrims of old, and a history of all the famous acts that they had
done.  It was here also much discoursed, how the river to some had had
its flowings, and what ebbings it has had while others have gone over.
It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks
for others.

In this place the children of the town would go into the King's gardens,
and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring them to them with much
affection.  Here also grew camphire, with spikenard and saffron, calamus
and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with
all chief spices.  With these the pilgrims' chambers were perfumed while
they stayed here; and with these were their bodies anointed, to prepare
them to go over the river, when the time appointed was come.

Now, while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, there was a
noise in the town that there was a post come from the Celestial City,
with matter of great importance to one Christiana, the wife of Christian
the pilgrim.  So inquiry was made for her, and the house was found out
where she was.  So the post presented her with a letter.  The contents
were, Hail, good woman; I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth for
thee, and expecteth that thou shouldst stand in his presence in clothes
of immortality within these ten days.

When he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token
that he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be
gone.  The token was, an arrow with a point sharpened with love, let
easily into her heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her,
that at the time appointed she must be gone.

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first
of this company that was to go over, she called for Mr.  Great-Heart her
guide, and told him how matters were.  So he told her he was heartily
glad of the news, and could have been glad had the post come for him.
Then she bid him that he should give advice how all things should be
prepared for her journey.  So he told her, saying, Thus and thus it must
be, and we that survive will accompany you to the river-side.

Then she called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told
them that she had read with comfort the mark that was set in their
foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had
kept their garments so white.  Lastly, she bequeathed to the poor that
little she had, and commanded her sons and daughters to be ready against
the messenger should come for them.

When she had spoken these words to her guide, and to her children, she
called for Mr.  Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him, Sir, you have in
all places showed yourself true-hearted; be faithful unto death, and my
King will give you a crown of life.  Rev.  2:10.  I would also entreat
you to have an eye to my children; and if at any time you see them
faint, speak comfortably to them.  For my daughters, my sons' wives,
they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the promise upon them will
be their end.  But she gave Mr.  Standfast a ring.

Then she called for old Mr.  Honest, and said of him, "Behold an
Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!"  John 1:47.  Then said he, I
wish you a fair day when you set out for Mount Sion, and shall be glad
to see that you go over the river dry-shod.  But she answered, Come wet,
come dry, I long to be gone; for however the weather is in my journey, I
shall have time enough when I come there to sit down and rest me and dry
me.

Then came in that good man Mr.  Ready-to-halt, to see her.  So she said
to him, Thy travel hitherto has been with difficulty; but that will make
thy rest the sweeter.  Watch, and be ready; for at an hour when you
think not, the messenger may come.

After him came Mr.  Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid, to whom
she said, You ought, with thankfulness, forever to remember your
deliverance from the hands of Giant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle.
The effect of that mercy is, that you are brought with safety hither.
Be ye watchful, and cast away fear; be sober, and hope to the end.

Then she said to Mr.  Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from the mouth of
Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the light of the living, and
see thy King with comfort.  Only I advise thee to repent of thine
aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness, before he sends for thee;
lest thou shouldst, when he comes, be forced to stand before him for
that fault with blushing.

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone.  So the road was full
of people to see her take her journey.  But behold, all the banks beyond
the river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down from
above to accompany her to the city gate.  So she came forth, and entered
the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her.  The
last words that she was heard to say were, I come, Lord, to be with thee
and bless thee!  So her children and friends returned to their place,
for those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight.
So she went and called, and entered in at the gate with all the
ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had entered with before
her.  At her departure, the children wept.  But Mr.  Great-Heart and Mr.
Valiant played upon the welltuned cymbal and harp for joy.  So all
departed to their respective places.

In process of time there came a post to the town again, and his business
was with Mr.  Ready-to-halt.  So he inquired him out, and said, I am
come from Him whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches;
and my message is to tell thee, that he expects thee at his table to sup
with him in his kingdom, the next day after Easter; wherefore prepare
thyself for this journey.  Then he also gave him a token that he was a
true messenger, saying, "I have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy
silver cord."  Eccles.  12:6.

After this, Mr.  Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and told
them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also.  So he
desired Mr.  Valiant to make his will.  And because he had nothing to
bequeath to them that should survive him but his crutches, and his good
wishes, therefore thus he said, These crutches I bequeath to my son that
shall tread in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may prove
better than I have been.

Then he thanked Mr.  Great-Heart for his conduct and kindness, and so
addressed himself to his journey.  When he came to the brink of the
river, he said, Now I shall have no more need of these crutches, since
yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on.  The last words he was
heard to say were, Welcome life!  So he went his way.

After this, Mr.  Feeble-mind had tidings brought him that the post
sounded his horn at his chamber door.  Then he came in, and told him,
saying, I am come to tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee, and
that in a very little time thou must behold his face in brightness.  And
take this as a token of the truth of my message: "Those that look out at
the windows shall be darkened."  Eccles.  12:3.  Then Mr.  Feeble-mind
called for his friends, and told them what errand had been brought unto
him, and what token he had received of the truth of the message.  Then
he said, since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose should
I make a will?  As for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind me, for
that I shall have no need of it in the place whither I go, nor is it
worth bestowing upon the poorest pilgrims: wherefore, when I am gone, I
desire that you, Mr.  Valiant, would bury it in a dunghill.  This done,
and the day being come on which he was to depart, he entered the river
as the rest.  His last words were, Hold out, faith and patience!  So he
went over to the other side.

When days had many of them passed away, Mr.  Despondency was sent for;
for a post was come, and brought this message to him: Trembling man!
these are to summon thee to be ready with the King by the next Lord's
day, to shout for joy for thy deliverance from all thy doubtings.  And,
said the messenger, that my message is true, take this for a proof: so
he gave him a grasshopper to be a burden unto him.  Ecclesiastes 12:5.

Now Mr.  Despondency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when
she heard what was done, that she would go with her father.  Then Mr.
Despondency said to his friends, Myself and my daughter, you know what
we have been, and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every
company.  My will and my daughter's is, that our desponds and slavish
fears be by no man ever received, from the day of our departure,
forever; for I know that after my death they will offer themselves to
others.  For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts which we entertained
when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them off
after; and they will walk about, and seek entertainment of the pilgrims:
but for our sakes, shut the doors upon them.  When the time was come for
them to depart, they went up to the brink of the river.  The last words
of Mr.  Despondency were, Farewell, night; welcome, day!  His daughter
went through the river singing, but none could understand what she said.

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post in the town
that inquired for Mr.  Honest.  So he came to the house where he was,
and delivered to his hand these lines: Thou art commanded to be ready
against this day seven-night, to present thyself before thy Lord at his
Father's house.  And for a token that my message is true, "All the
daughters of music shall be brought low."  Eccles.  12:4.  Then Mr.
Honest called for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but shall make
no will.  As for my honesty, it shall go with me; let him that comes
after be told of this.  When the day that he was to be gone was come, he
addressed himself to go over the river.  Now the river at that time over
-flowed its banks in some places; but Mr.  Honest, in his lifetime, had
spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also did,
and lent him his hand, and so helped him over.  The last words of Mr.
Honest were, Grace reigns!  So he left the world.

After this it was noised abroad that Mr.  Valiant-for-truth was taken
with a summons by the same post as the other, and had this for a token
that the summons was true, "That his pitcher was broken at the
fountain."  Eccl.  12:6.  When he understood it, he called for his
friends, and told them of it.  Then said he, I am going to my Father's;
and though with great difficulty I have got hither, yet now I do not
repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am.  My
sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my
courage and skill to him that can get it.  My marks and scars I carry
with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles who will
now be my rewarder.  When the day that he must go hence was come, many
accompanied him to the river-side, into which as he went, he said,
"Death, where is thy sting?"  And as he went down deeper, he said,
"Grave, where is thy victory?"  1 Cor.  15:55.  So he passed over, and
all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.

Then there came forth a summons for Mr.  Standfast.  This Mr.  Standfast
was he whom the rest of the pilgrims found upon his knees in the
Enchanted Ground.  And the post brought it him open in his hands: the
contents thereof were, that he must prepare for a change of life, for
his Master was not willing that he should be so far from him any longer.
At this Mr.  Standfast was put into a muse.  Nay, said the messenger,
you need not doubt of the truth of my message; for here is a token of
the truth thereof, "Thy wheel is broken at the cistern."  Eccles.  12:6.
Then he called to him Mr.  Great-Heart, who was their guide, and said
unto him, Sir, although it was not my hap to be much in your good
company during the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew
you, you have been profitable to me.  When I came from home, I left
behind me a wife and five small children; let me entreat you, at your
return, (for I know that you go and return to your Master's house, in
hopes that you may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims,)
that you send to my family, and let them be acquainted with all that
hath and shall happen unto me.  Tell them moreover of my happy arrival
at this place, and of the present and late blessed condition I am in.
Tell them also of Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and her
children came after her husband.  Tell them also of what a happy end she
made, and whither she is gone.  I have little or nothing to send to my
family, unless it be prayers and tears for them; of which it will
suffice that you acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail.  When
Mr.  Standfast had thus set things in order, and the time being come for
him to haste him away, he also went down to the river.  Now there was a
great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr.  Standfast, when he
was about half-way in, stood a while, and talked with his companions
that had waited upon him thither.  And he said, This river has been a
terror to many; yea, the thoughts of it also have often frightened me;
but now methinks I stand easy; my foot is fixed upon that on which the
feet of the priests that bare the ark of the covenant stood while Israel
went over Jordan.  Josh.  3:17.  The waters indeed are to the palate
bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the thoughts of what I am going to,
and of the convoy that waits for me on the other side, do lie as a
glowing coal at my heart.  I see myself now at the end of my journey; my
toilsome days are ended.  I am going to see that head which was crowned
with thorns, and that face which was spit upon for me.  I have formerly
lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live by sight,
and shall be with him in whose company I delight myself.  I have loved
to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have seen the print of his
shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too.  His name
has been to me as a civet-box; yea, sweeter than all perfumes.  His
voice to me has been most sweet, and his countenance I have more desired
than they that have most desired the light of the sun.  His words I did
use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against my faintings.  He
hath held me, and hath kept me from mine iniquities; yea, my steps hath
he strengthened in his way.

Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong
man bowed under him: and after he had said, Take me, for I come unto
thee, he ceased to be seen of them.

But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with horses
and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players upon
stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and
followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the city.

As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Christiana brought,
with their wives and children, I did not stay where I was till they were
gone over.  Also, since I came away, I heard one say that they were yet
alive, and so would be for the increase of the church, in that place
where they were, for a time.

Should it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire
it an account of what I here am silent about: meantime I bid my reader

FAREWELL.

THE END.