{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39452/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39452","id":"gutenberg_39452","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39452","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christian life -- Juvenile literature","Christian pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"Produced by Julia Neufeld and The Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nText enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\nSmall capital text has been replaced with all capitals.\n\n\n[Illustration: Christian Confides in His Wife.\n                                   See page 13]\n\n\n\n\n  THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS\n\n  BY JOHN BUNYAN\n\n  EVERY CHILD CAN READ\n\n  EDITED BY REV. JESSE LYMAN HURLBUT, D.D.\n\n  ILLUSTRATED\n\n  EVERY CHILD'S LIBRARY\n\n  THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. PHILADELPHIA COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY THE JOHN C.\n  WINSTON CO.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nIt may seem a very bold undertaking to change even a word of the book\nwhich, next to the Bible, has been read by more people, old and young,\nthan any other book in the English language.\n\nBut, it must be remembered that, although the Pilgrim's Progress has\ncome to be a children's book, and is read more often by young people\nthan by those who are older, it was not in the purpose of John Bunyan to\nwrite a book for children or even for the young.\n\nThe Pilgrim's Progress was a book for men and women; and it was aimed to\nteach the great truths of the gospel. Hence while most of it is written\nin a simple style,--as all books should be written,--it contains much\nthat a child cannot understand; not often in the story, but in the\nconversations and discussions between the different persons. Some of\nthese conversations are in reality short sermons on doctrines and\nteachings which Bunyan believed to be of great importance. But these are\nbeyond the minds of children and give them great trouble when the book\nis read. They do not like to have them left out of the reading, thinking\nthat they may lose something interesting. Many a young person has\nstumbled through the dull, doctrinal parts of the book, without\nunderstanding them; and even grown people find them in our time somewhat\nof a blemish upon the wonderful story, valuable as they were supposed to\nbe in Bunyan's own time.\n\nFor many years it has been in my mind, not to re-write the Pilgrim's\nProgress, for that would destroy its greatest charm, but to change the\nwords here and there to simpler ones, and to omit all the conversations\nand arguments concerning subjects belonging to the field of doctrine; in\nother words to place the story of the Pilgrim's Progress in such a form\nthat every child ten years old can understand it. My purpose is to make\nit plain and interesting to children, leaving the older form of the book\nto be read by them when they become older.\n\nPerhaps a short account of Bunyan's own life may add to the interest of\nhis book. John Bunyan was born in 1628 at Elstow, a small village near\nBedford, which is in the heart of England. His father was a poor man,\ntraveling on foot from place to place mending pots and pans and the\nsimple furniture of country kitchens, and the son followed the same\ntrade, and was known as a \"tinker.\" He tells us that he lived a wild\nlife, and was especially known as one of the worst swearers in the\nregion.\n\nWhen the great Civil War broke out in England, in 1642, between King\nCharles the First and the Parliament, Bunyan became a soldier on the\nside of the Commonwealth, as the party against the king was called. He\nserved in the army between 1644 and 1646.\n\nIn 1648, at the age of twenty years, he married a good young woman, who\nled him to prayer and to a new life. But it was hard for one who had led\nsuch a life as his had been to turn to God, and it cost the young man a\ngreat struggle. It seemed to him that his past sins were like a load\nupon his back, just as he afterward wrote of his \"pilgrim,\" and it was\nlong before he found peace.\n\nHe became a member of a little Baptist society, and soon began to\npreach. Crowds came to hear him, drawn by his earnest spirit and his\nquaint striking manner. But when Charles the Second became king, no\nreligious services were allowed except those of the Church of England,\nand all other meetings were forbidden. Bunyan however went on preaching,\nuntil he was sent to prison in Bedford. In Bedford jail he stayed twelve\nyears. To find a means of living in jail, he made lace, and sold it as a\nsupport for himself and his blind daughter.\n\nIf the prison was hard for Bunyan his sufferings were made a blessing to\nuntold millions, for while in Bedford jail he wrote the Pilgrim's\nProgress. This story was intended to be a parable, like many of our\nSaviour's teachings; that is, it put into the form of a story the life\nof one who turns from sin, finds salvation through Christ, and in the\nface of many difficulties makes his way through this world to heaven.\nEven a child who reads or listens to the book will see this meaning in\npart; and he will understand it better as he grows older.\n\nIn 1672 Bunyan was set free, and allowed to begin again his work as a\nBaptist minister, and he soon became one of the most popular preachers\nin all England. He died quite suddenly in 1688, when he was sixty years\nold, and is buried in an old graveyard now near the center of London,\ncalled Bunhill Fields Burial-ground. In the same ground is buried\nanother great writer, Daniel DeFoe, whose story of \"Robinson Crusoe\"\nranks next to the Pilgrim's Progress in the number of its readers; also\nIsaac Watts, the author of many hymns sung in all the churches, and Mrs.\nSusanna Wesley, the mother of the great John Wesley. Four people who\nhave left a deep mark upon the world, all lie near together in this\nsmall cemetery in London.\n\nEvery child should read the Pilgrim's Progress as a story if no more\nthan a story; should read it until he knows it by heart. And the older\nhe grows the deeper will be the meaning that he will see in it.\n\n                                              JESSE LYMAN HURLBUT.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n  CHRISTIAN CONFIDES IN HIS WIFE         _Frontispiece_\n\n                                                  PAGE\n  EVANGELIST POINTS TO WICKET-GATE                  15\n\n  CHRISTIAN BEFORE THE CROSS                        50\n\n  CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL JOIN COMPANY               89\n\n  HOPEFUL AND CHRISTIAN                            129\n\n  ATHEIST LAUGHING AT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL        170\n\n  CHRISTIANA'S BOYS BEGAN TO EAT                   231\n\n  TURN-AWAY RESISTING EVANGELIST                   357\n\n\n\n\nTHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS\n\n\nPART I\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nAs I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain\nplace where was a den,[1] and laid me down in that place to sleep; and\nas I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man\nclothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his\nown house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I\nlooked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he\nwept and trembled; and, not being able longer to contain, he brake out\nwith a lamentable cry, saying, \"What shall I do?\"\n\n  [1] Bedford jail, in which Bunyan was twelve years a prisoner.\n\nIn this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long\nas he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his\ndistress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble\nincreased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and\nchildren; and thus he began to talk to them: \"Oh my dear wife,\" said he,\n\"and you my sweet children, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by\nreason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am told to a\ncertainty that this our city will be burned with fire from heaven; in\nwhich fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my\nsweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except some way of escape\ncan be found whereby we may be delivered.\" At this all his family were\nsore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them\nwas true, but because they thought that some frenzy or madness had got\ninto his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that\nsleep might settle his brain, with all haste they got him to bed. But\nthe night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of\nsleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So when the morning was come,\nthey would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse: he also set\nto talking to them again; but they began to be hardened. They also\nthought to drive away his madness by harsh and surly treatment of him:\nsometimes they would ridicule, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes\nthey would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to\nhis chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to sorrow over his own\nmisery; he would also walk solitary in the fields, sometimes reading,\nand sometimes praying; and thus for some days he spent his time.\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN'S DISTRESS OF MIND]\n\nNow, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was\n(as he was wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his\nmind; and as he read, he burst out as he had done before, crying, \"What\nshall I do to be saved?\"\n\nI saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would run; yet\nhe stood still, because (as I perceived) he could not tell which way to\ngo. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, who\nasked, \"Wherefore dost thou cry?\"\n\n[Illustration: Evangelist Points to Wicket-Gate.\n                                   Page 15]\n\nHe answered, \"Sir, I read in the book in my hand, that I am condemned to\ndie, and after that to come to judgment; and I find that I am not\nwilling to do the first, nor able to do the second.\"\n\nThen said Evangelist, \"Why not willing to die, since this life is\ntroubled with so many evils?\" The man answered, \"Because I fear that\nthis burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and\nI shall fall into Tophet.[2] And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison,\nI am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to death; and the\nthoughts of these things make me cry.\"\n\n  [2] Tophet here means hell.\n\nThen said Evangelist, \"If this be thy condition, why standest thou\nstill?\"\n\nHe answered, \"Because I know not whither to go.\" Then he gave him a\nparchment roll, and there was written within, \"Flee from the wrath to\ncome.\"\n\nThe man, therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully,\nsaid, \"Whither must I fly?\" Then said Evangelist (pointing with his\nfinger over a very wide field), \"Do you see yonder wicket-gate?\" The man\nsaid, \"No.\" Then said the other, \"Do you see yonder shining light?\" He\nsaid, \"I think I do.\" Then said Evangelist, \"Keep that light in your\neye, and go up directly thereto; so shalt thou see the gate; at which,\nwhen thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do.\" So I saw\nin my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far from his\nown door, when his wife and children perceiving it, began to cry after\nhim to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on,\ncrying, \"Life! life! eternal life!\" So he looked not behind him, but\nfled towards the middle of the plain.\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN FLEES FROM THE CITY]\n\nThe neighbors also came out to see him run; and as he ran, some mocked,\nothers threatened, and some cried after him to return; and among those\nthat did so there were two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The\nname of the one was Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable. Now,\nby this time the man was got a good distance from them; but, however,\nthey were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little time\nthey overtook him. Then said the man, \"Neighbors, wherefore are ye\ncome?\" They said, \"To persuade you to go back with us.\" But he said,\n\"That can by no means be: you dwell,\" said he, \"in the City of\nDestruction, the place also where I was born: I see it to be so; and,\ndying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a\nplace that burns with fire and brimstone. Be content, good neighbors,\nand go along with me.\"\n\nOBST. \"What!\" said Obstinate, \"and leave our friends and comforts behind\nus?\"\n\nCHRIS. \"Yes,\" said Christian (for that was his name), \"because that all\nwhich you forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I\nam seeking to enjoy; and if you would go along with me, and hold it, you\nshall fare as I myself; for there, where I go, is enough and to spare.\nCome away, and prove my words.\"\n\nOBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to\nfind them?\n\nCHRIS. I seek a place that can never be destroyed, one that is pure, and\nthat fadeth not away, and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, to be\ngiven, at the time appointed, to them that seek it with all their heart.\nRead it so, if you will, in my book.\n\nOBST. \"Tush!\" said Obstinate, \"away with your book; will you go back\nwith us or no?\"\n\nCHRIS. \"No, not I,\" said the other, \"because I have put my hand to the\nplough.\"\n\n[Sidenote: DISCOURSES WITH PLIABLE]\n\nOBST. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home\nwithout him: there is a company of these crazy-headed fools, that, when\nthey take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men\nthat can render a reason.\n\nPLI. Then said Pliable, \"Don't revile; if what the good Christian says\nis true, the things he looks after are better than ours; my heart\ninclines to go with my neighbor.\"\n\nOBST. What! more fools still? Be ruled by me, and go back; who knows\nwhither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be\nwise.\n\nCHRIS. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbor Pliable; there are such\nthings to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories besides. If you\nbelieve not me, read here in this book; and for the truth of what is\ntold therein, behold, all is made by the blood of Him that made it.\n\nPLI. \"Well, neighbor Obstinate,\" said Pliable, \"I begin to come to a\npoint; I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot\nwith him. But, my good companion, do you know the way to this desired\nplace?\"\n\nCHRIS. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to\na little gate that is before us, where we shall receive directions about\nthe way.\n\nPLI. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be going. Then they went both\ntogether.\n\n\"And I will go back to my place,\" said Obstinate; \"I will be no\ncompanion of such misled, fantastical fellows.\"\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate was gone back, Christian\nand Pliable went talking over the plain; and thus they began:\n\nCHRIS. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do? I am glad you are\npersuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but felt what\nI have felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would\nnot thus lightly have given us the back.\n\nPLI. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are none but us two here,\ntell me now further what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither\nwe are going.\n\nCHRIS. I can better understand them with my mind than speak of them with\nmy tongue; but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them\nin my book.\n\nPLI. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.\n\nPLI. Well said; what things are they?\n\nCHRIS. There is an endless kingdom to be enjoyed, and everlasting life\nto be given us, that we may live in that kingdom forever.\n\nPLI. Well said; and what else?\n\nCHRIS. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will\nmake us shine like the sun in the sky.\n\nPLI. This is very pleasant; and what else?\n\nCHRIS. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; for he that is owner\nof the place will wipe all tears from our eyes.\n\nPLI. And what company shall we have there?\n\nCHRIS. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, creatures that\nshall dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall meet with\nthousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that place; none\nof them are hurtful, but all loving and holy; every one walking in the\nsight of God, and standing in His presence with acceptance for ever. In\na word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns; there we\nshall see the holy women with their golden harps; there we shall see\nmen that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of\nbeasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bear to the Lord of the\nplace, all well, and clothed with everlasting life as with a garment.\n\nPLI. The hearing of this is enough to delight one's heart. But are these\nthings to be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof?\n\nCHRIS. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath written that in this\nbook; the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, He\nwill bestow it upon us freely.\n\nPLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things; come\non, let us mend our pace.\n\nCHRIS. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is\non my back.\n\n[Sidenote: THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND]\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew\nnigh to a very miry slough or swamp, that was in the midst of the plain;\nand they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name\nof the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time,\nbeing grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the\nburden that was on his back, began to sink into the mire.\n\nPLI. Then said Pliable, \"Ah! neighbor Christian where are you now?\"\n\nCHRIS. \"Truly,\" said Christian, \"I do not know.\"\n\nPLI. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his\nfellow, \"Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we\nhave such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect between\nthis and our journey's end? May I get out again with my life, you shall\npossess the brave country alone for me.\" And with that, he gave a\ndesperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the\nswamp which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian\nsaw him no more.\n\nWherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone;\nbut still he tried to struggle to that side of the slough which was\nfarthest from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which, he\ndid but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back;\nbut I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him whose name was Help,\nand asked him, What he did there?\n\nCHRIS. \"Sir,\" said Christian, \"I was bid to go this way by a man called\nEvangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the\nwrath to come; and as I was going there I fell in here.\"\n\nHELP. But why did you not look for the steps?\n\nCHRIS. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way and fell in.\n\nHELP. Then said he, \"Give me thine hand.\" So he gave him his hand, and\nhe drew him out, and set him upon solid ground, and bade him go on his\nway.\n\nThen I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, \"Sir, wherefore,\nsince over this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder\ngate, is it that this place is not mended, that poor travelers might go\nthither with more safety?\" And he said unto me, \"This miry slough is\nsuch a place as cannot be mended; it is the hollow whither the scum and\nfilth that go with the feeling of sin, do continually run, and therefore\nit is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened\nby his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears, and doubts,\nand discouraging alarms, which all of them get together and settle in\nthis place; and this is the reason of the badness of the ground.\n\n\"It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so\nbad. His laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's\nsurveyors, been for about these sixteen hundred years employed about\nthis patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended; yea, and to\nmy knowledge,\" said he, \"here have been swallowed up at least twenty\nthousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome teachings, that have at\nall seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions (and\nthey that can tell say they are the best materials to make good ground\nof the place), if so be it might have been mended; but it is the Slough\nof Despond still, and so will be when they have done what they can.\n\n\"True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and\nsubstantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough;\nbut at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth\nagainst change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or, if they be,\nmen, through the dizziness of their heads, step aside, and then they are\nbemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the ground\nis good when they are got in at the gate.\"\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home to his\nhouse. So his neighbors came to visit him; and some of them called him\nwise man for coming back, and some called him a fool for risking himself\nwith Christian; others again did mock at his cowardliness, saying\n\"Surely since you began to venture, I would not have been so base to\nhave given out for a few difficulties;\" so Pliable sat sneaking among\nthem. But at last he got more confidence; and then they all turned their\ntales, and began to abuse poor Christian behind his back. And thus much\nconcerning Pliable.\n\n[Sidenote: WORLDLY WISEMAN'S COUNSEL]\n\nNow, as Christian was walking solitary by himself, he espied one afar\noff come crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet\njust as they were crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name\nthat met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman: he dwelt in the town of Carnal\nPolicy, a very great town, and also hard by from whence Christian came.\nThis man, then, meeting with Christian, and having heard about\nhim--(for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was\nmuch noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it\nbegan to be the town-talk in some other places)--Mr. Worldly Wiseman\ntherefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going,\nby noticing his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into\nsome talk with Christian:\n\nWORLD. How now, good fellow! whither away after this burdened manner?\n\nCHRIS. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had! And\nwhereas you ask me, Whither away? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder\nwicket-gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into\na way to be rid of my heavy burden.\n\nWORLD. Hast thou a wife and children?\n\nCHRIS. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot take that\npleasure in them as formerly; methinks I am as if I had none.\n\nWORLD. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee counsel?\n\nCHRIS. If it be _good_, I will; for I stand in need of good counsel.\n\nWORLD. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself\nrid of thy burden; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then;\nnor canst thou enjoy the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee\ntill then.\n\nCHRIS. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy\nburden; but get it off myself I cannot; nor is there any man in our\ncountry that can take it off my shoulders; therefore am I going this\nway, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden.\n\nWORLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?\n\nCHRIS. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable\nperson; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist.\n\nWORLD. I curse him for his counsel! there is not a more dangerous and\ntroublesome way in the world than is that into which he hath directed\nthee; and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his advice.\nThou hast met with something, as I perceive, already; for I see the dirt\nof the Slough of Despond is upon thee; but that slough is the beginning\nof the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me: I\nam older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou\ngoest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword,\nlions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These\nthings are certainly true, having been proved by the words of many\npeople. And why should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving\nheed to a stranger?\n\nCHRIS. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than\nall these things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I care not what\nI meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from\nmy burden.\n\nWORLD. How camest thou by the burden at first?\n\nCHRIS. By reading this book in my hand.\n\nWORLD. I thought so. And it has happened unto thee as unto other weak\nmen, who, meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into\nthy crazy thoughts, which thoughts do not only unman men, as thine I\nperceive have done thee, but they run them upon desperate efforts to\nobtain they know not what.\n\nCHRIS. I know what I would obtain; it is ease for my heavy burden.\n\nWORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers\nattend it? Especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me,) I\ncould direct thee to the getting of what thou desirest, without the\ndangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into. Yea, and the remedy\nis at hand. Besides, I will add that, instead of those dangers, thou\nshalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.\n\nCHRIS. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me.\n\nWORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality), there\ndwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very wise man, and a man of\nvery good name, that has skill to help men off with such burdens as\nthine is from their shoulders; yea, to my knowledge he hath done a great\ndeal of good this way; aye, and besides, he hath skill to cure those\nthat are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I\nsaid, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a\nmile from this place; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath a\npretty young man as his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to\nspeak on) as well as the old gentleman himself. There, I say, thou\nmayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not minded to go back to\nthy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee), thou mayest\nsend for thy wife and children to thee in this village, where there are\nhouses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable\nrate; provision is there also cheap and good; and that which will make\nthy life the more happy is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest\nneighbors, in credit and good fashion.\n\nNow was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, \"If\nthis be true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take\nhis advice;\" and with that, he thus further spake:\n\nCHRIS. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house?\n\nWORLD. Do you see yonder high hill?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, very well.\n\nWORLD. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his.\n\n[Sidenote: EVANGELIST AND CHRISTIAN.]\n\nSo Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for\nhelp; but, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so\nhigh, and also that side of it that was next the wayside did hang so\nmuch over, that Christian was afraid to venture farther, lest the hill\nshould fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still, and knew not\nwhat to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was\nin his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made\nChristian afraid that he should be burnt: here, therefore, he sweat and\ndid quake for fear. And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr.\nWorldly Wiseman's counsel; and with that, he saw Evangelist coming to\nmeet him, at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. So\nEvangelist drew nearer and nearer; and, coming up to him, he looked upon\nhim with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason\nwith Christian:\n\nEVAN. \"What dost thou here, Christian?\" said he; at which words\nChristian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood\nspeechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, \"Art thou not the\nman that I found crying, without the walls of the City of Destruction?\"\n\nCHRIS. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.\n\nEVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate?\n\nCHRIS. \"Yes, dear sir,\" said Christian.\n\nEVAN. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside? For thou\nart now out of the way.\n\nCHRIS. I met with a gentleman as soon as I had got over the Slough of\nDespond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before me, find a\nman that could take off my burden.\n\nEVAN. What was he?\n\nCHRIS. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at\nlast to yield: so I came hither, but when I beheld this hill, and how it\nhangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my\nhead.\n\nEVAN. What said that gentleman to you?\n\nCHRIS. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him.\n\nEVAN. And what said he then?\n\nCHRIS. He asked me if I had a family, and I told him. But, said I, I am\nso laden with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure\nin them as formerly.\n\nEVAN. And what said he then?\n\nCHRIS. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was\nease that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to\nreceive further direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So\nhe said that he would show me a better way, and short, not so hard as\nthe way, sir, that you sent me in; which way, said he, will direct you\nto a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these burdens. So I\nbelieved him, and turned out of that way into this, if haply I might\nsoon be eased of my burden. But, when I came to this place, and beheld\nthings as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger; but I now\nknow not what to do.\n\nEVAN. Then said Evangelist, \"Stand still a little, that I may show thee\nthe words of God.\" So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, \"God\nsays in his book, 'See that ye refuse not him that speaketh; for if they\nescaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we\nescape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven.' He said,\nmoreover, 'Now, the righteous man shall live by faith in God, but if any\nman draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him.'\" He also did\nthus apply them: \"Thou art the man that art running into misery; thou\nhast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy\nfoot from the way of peace, even almost to the danger of thy everlasting\nruin.\"\n\nThen Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, \"Woe is me, for I\nam undone!\" At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right\nhand, saying, \"All manner of sin and evil words shall be forgiven unto\nmen.\" \"Be not faithless, but believing.\" Then did Christian again a\nlittle revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist.\n\nThen Evangelist proceeded, saying, \"Give more earnest heed to the things\nthat I shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that led thee\nastray, and who it was also to whom he sent thee. That man that met thee\nis one Worldly Wiseman; and rightly is he so called; partly because he\nseeks only for the things of this world (therefore he always goes to the\ntown of Morality to church), and partly because he loveth that way best,\nfor it saveth him from the Cross; and because he is of this evil\ntemper, therefore he seeketh to turn you from my way though it is the\nright way.\n\n\"He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is not able\nto set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his\nburden by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be set right by any\nsuch plan. Therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an enemy, and Mr. Legality\nis a cheat; and, for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering\nlooks, he is but a fraud and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is\nnothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of these wicked men, but\na design to rob thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in\nwhich I had set thee.\" After this, Evangelist called aloud to the\nheavens for proof of what he had said; and with that there came words\nand fire out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood, which\nmade the hair of his flesh stand up. The words were thus spoken: \"As\nmany as are of the works of the law are under the curse.\"\n\nNow, Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out\nlamentably; even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly\nWiseman; still calling himself a thousand fools for listening to his\ncounsel. He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's\narguments should have the power with him so far as to cause him to\nforsake the right way. This done, he spoke again to Evangelist, in words\nand sense as follows:\n\nCHRIS. Sir, what think you? Is there any hope? May I now go back, and go\nup to the wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back\nfrom thence ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel;\nbut may my sins be forgiven?\n\nEVAN. Then said Evangelist to him, \"Thy sin is very great, for by it\nthou hast committed two evils; thou hast forsaken the way that is good,\nto tread in forbidden paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive thee,\nfor he has good will for men; only,\" said he, \"take heed that thou turn\nnot aside again, lest thou perish from the way, when his anger is\nkindled but a little.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nThen did Christian begin to go back to the right road; and Evangelist,\nafter he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed; so\nhe went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor, if\nany asked him, would he give them an answer. He went like one that was\nall the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think\nhimself safe, till again he was got in the way which he had left to\nfollow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel: so after a time, Christian got up\nto the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, \"Knock, and it shall\nbe opened unto you.\"\n\nHe knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying:\n\n  \"May I now enter here? Will He within\n  Open to sorry me, though I have been\n  An undeserving rebel? Then shall I\n  Not fail to sing His lasting praise on high.\"\n\n[Sidenote: GOODWILL OPENS THE GATE]\n\nAt last there came a grave person to the gate named Goodwill, who asked\nwho was there, and whence he came, and what he would have?\n\nCHRIS. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of\nDestruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be set free from the\nwrath to come; I would therefore, sir, since I am told that by this\ngate is the way thither, know, if you are willing to let me in.\n\nGOOD. \"I am willing with all my heart,\" said he; and, with that, he\nopened the gate.\n\nSo, when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then said\nChristian, \"What means that?\" The other told him, \"A little distance\nfrom this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub, the\nEvil One, is the captain; from whence both he and they that are with him\nshoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die\nbefore they can enter in.\" Then said Christian, \"I rejoice and tremble.\"\nSo when he was got in, the man of the gate asked him who directed him\nthither.\n\nCHRIS. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I did; and he said\nthat you, sir, would tell me what I must do.\n\nGOOD. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.\n\nCHRIS. Now I begin to reap the benefit of the trouble which I have\ntaken.\n\nGOOD. But how is it that you came alone?\n\nCHRIS. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger, as I saw mine.\n\nGOOD. Did any of them know you were coming?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after\nme to turn again; also some of my neighbors stood crying and calling\nafter me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my\nway.\n\nGOOD. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable: but, when they saw that they\ncould not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me\na little way.\n\nGOOD. But why did he not come through?\n\nCHRIS. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of\nDespond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor\nPliable discouraged, and would not venture farther. Wherefore, getting\nout again on the side next his own house, he told me I should win the\nbrave country alone for him: so he went his way, and I came mine; he\nafter Obstinate, and I to this gate.\n\nGOOD. Then said Goodwill, \"Alas, poor man! is the heavenly glory of so\nlittle worth with him, that he counteth it not worth running the risk of\na few difficulties to obtain it?\"\n\nCHRIS. \"Truly,\" said Christian, \"I have said the truth of Pliable; and\nif I should also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is not\nbetterment betwixt him and myself. 'Tis true, he went on back to his own\nhouse; but I also turned aside to go into the way of death, being\npersuaded thereto by the words of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman.\"\n\nGOOD. Oh! did he light upon you? What! he would have had you seek for\nease at the hands of Mr. Legality! They are both of them a very cheat.\nBut did you take his counsel?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I\nthought that the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen\nupon my head: wherefore there I was forced to stop.\n\nGOOD. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of\nmany more; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.\n\nCHRIS. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not\nEvangelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my\ndumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had\nnever come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit\nindeed for death by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my\nLord. But, oh! what a favor this is to me, that yet I am to enter here!\n\nGOOD. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they\nhave done before they come hither; they in no wise are cast out. And\ntherefore, good Christian, come a little with me, and I will teach thee\nabout the way thou must go. Look before thee: dost thou see this narrow\nway? That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the men of old,\nprophets, Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can\nmake it: this is the way thou must go.\n\nCHRIS. \"But,\" said Christian, \"are there no turnings nor windings by\nwhich a stranger may lose his way?\"\n\nGOOD. \"Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are\ncrooked and wide; but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the\nwrong, the right only being straight and narrow.\"\n\nThen I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he could not\nhelp him off with his burden that was upon his back. For as yet he had\nnot got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without help.\n\nHe told him, \"As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest\nto the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of\nitself.\"\n\nThen Christian began to gird up his loins, and to turn again to his\njourney.\n\nSo the other told him that as soon as he was gone some distance from the\ngate, he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he\nshould knock, and he would show him excellent things. Then Christian\ntook his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God speed.\n\n[Sidenote: House of the Interpreter]\n\nThen he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he\nknocked over and over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was\nthere.\n\nCHRIS. Sir, here is a traveler who was bid by a friend of the good man\nof this house to call here for his benefit; I would therefore speak with\nthe master of the house.\n\nSo he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came\nto Christian, and asked him what he would have.\n\nCHRIS. \"Sir,\" said Christian, \"I am a man that am come from the City of\nDestruction, and am going to Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that\nstands at the gate at the head of this way, that, if I called here, you\nwould show me excellent things, such as would be helpful to me on my\njourney.\"\n\nINTER. Then said the Interpreter, \"Come in; I will show thee that which\nwill be profitable to thee.\" So he commanded his man to light the\ncandle, and bid Christian follow him; so he led him into a private room,\nand bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw\nthe picture of a very grave person hung up against the wall; and this\nwas the fashion of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of\nbooks in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world\nwas behind its back; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of\ngold did hang over its head.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"What meaneth this?\"\n\nINTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. He can say,\nin the words of the apostle Paul, \"Though ye have ten thousand teachers\nin Christ, yet have you not many fathers; for in Christ Jesus I have\nbeen your father through the Gospel.\" And whereas thou seest him with\nhis eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law\nof truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know\nand unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as\nif he pleaded with men. And whereas thou seest the world is cast behind\nhim, and that a crown hangs over his head; that is to show thee that,\nslighting and despising the things that are in the world, for the love\nthat he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes\nnext to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have\nshowed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is,\nis the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath\nchosen to be thy guide, in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in\nthy way; wherefore take good heed to what I have showed thee, and bear\nwell in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with\nsome that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death.\n\nThen he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor, that\nwas full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had looked at\nit a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when\nhe began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about that\nChristian had almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to\na girl that stood by, \"Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room;\" the\nwhich when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with ease.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"What means this?\"\n\nINTER. The Interpreter answered, \"This parlor is the heart of a man\nthat was never made pure by the sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is\nhis sin, and inward evils that have defiled the whole man. He that began\nto sweep at first is the law; but she that brought water, and did\nsprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest that, as soon as\nthe first began to sweep, the dust did fly so about that the room could\nnot by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this\nis to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its\nworking) from sin, doth revive, put strength into, and increase it in\nthe soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give\npower to overcome. Again, as thou sawest the girl sprinkle the room with\nwater, upon which it was cleansed with ease; this is to show thee, that\nwhen the Gospel comes, in the sweet and gracious power thereof, to the\nheart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the maiden lay the dust by\nsprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and\nthe soul made clean through the faith of it, and, consequently, fit for\nthe King of Glory to dwell in.\"\n\nI saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand,\nand led him into a little room where sat two little children, each one\nin his own chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of\nthe other Patience. Passion seemed to be much discontented, but Patience\nwas very quiet. The Christian asked, \"What is the reason of the\ndiscontent of Passion?\" The Interpreter answered, \"The governor of them\nwould have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year;\nbut he will have all now. Patience is willing to wait.\"\n\nThen I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure,\nand poured it down at his feet; the which he took up, and rejoiced\ntherein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but awhile,\nand he had wasted all away, and had nothing left him but rags.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, \"Explain this matter more\nfully to me.\"\n\nINTER. So he said, \"These two lads are pictures: Passion, of the men of\nthis world; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come: for, as\nhere thou seest, Passion will have all now, this year, that is to say in\nthis world; so are the men of this world; they must have all their good\nthings now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until the next\nworld, for their portion of good. That proverb, 'A bird in the hand is\nworth two in the bush,' is of more weight with them than all the words\nin the Bible of the good of the world to come. But, as thou sawest that\nhe had quickly wasted all away, and had presently left him nothing but\nrags, so will it be with all such men at the end of this world.\"\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"Now I see that Patience has the best\nwisdom, and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best\nthings. 2. And also because he will have the glory of his when the\nother has nothing but rags.\"\n\nINTER. Nay, you may add another; this, the glory of the next world will\nnever wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not\nso much reason to laugh at Patience because he had his good things at\nfirst, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because he had his\nbest things last; for first must give place to last, because last must\nhave his time to come; but last gives place to nothing, for there is not\nanother to succeed: he, therefore, that hath his portion first, must\nneeds have a time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must\nhave it lastingly.\n\nCHRIS. Then I see it is not best to covet things that are now, but to\nwait for things to come.\n\nINTER. You say truth; \"for the things that are seen soon pass away, but\nthe things that are not seen endure forever.\"\n\nThen I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand\nand led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and\none standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet\ndid the fire burn higher and hotter.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"What means this?\"\n\nINTER. The Interpreter answered, \"This fire is the work of God that is\nwrought in the heart: he that casts water upon it to extinguish and put\nit out, is the devil; but, in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding\nburn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that.\" So\nthen he led him about to the other side of the wall, where he saw a man\nwith a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually\ncast, but secretly, into the fire.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"What means this?\"\n\nINTER. The Interpreter answered, \"This is Christ, who continually, with\nthe oil of His grace, helps the work already begun in the heart; by the\nmeans of which notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of His\npeople prove gracious still. And in that thou sawest that the man stood\nbehind the wall to keep up the fire; this is to teach thee, that it is\nhard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is kept alive in the\nsoul.\"\n\nI saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him\ninto a pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to\nbehold, at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw\nalso upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all\nin gold.\n\nThen said Christian, \"May we go in thither?\"\n\nThen the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the\npalace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as\ndesirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little\ndistance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his ink-horn\nbefore him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; he saw\nalso that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being\nresolved to do to the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they\ncould. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man\nstarted back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very\nstout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying,\n\"Set down my name, sir:\" the which when he had done, he saw the man draw\nhis sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon\nthe armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at\nall discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So that,\nafter he had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to\nkeep him out, he cut his way through them all and pressed forward into\nthe palace; at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that\nwere within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace,\nsaying:\n\n  \"Come in, come in;\n  Eternal glory thou shalt win.\"\n\nSo he went in, and was clothed in such garments as they. Then Christian\nsmiled, and said, \"I think verily I know the meaning of this.\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Christian, \"let me go hence.\" \"Nay, stay,\" said the\nInterpreter, \"until I have showed thee a little more; and after that\nthou shalt go on thy way.\" So he took him by the hand again, and led him\ninto a very dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage.\n\nNow, the man, to look on, seemed very sad. He sat with his eyes looking\ndown to the ground, his hands folded together; and he sighed as if he\nwould break his heart. Then said Christian, \"What means this?\" At which\nthe Interpreter bid him talk with the man.\n\nThen said Christian to the man, \"What art thou?\" The man answered, \"I am\nwhat I was not once.\"\n\nCHRIS. What wast thou once?\n\nMAN. The man said, \"I was once a fair and flourishing Christian, both in\nmine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I was once, as I thought,\nfair for the Celestial City, and had even joy at the thoughts that I\nshould get thither.\"\n\nCHRIS. Well, but what art thou now?\n\nMAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron\ncage. I cannot get out. Oh, _now_ I cannot!\n\nCHRIS. But how camest thou in this condition?\n\nMAN. I left off to watch and be sober. I gave free reins to sin; I\nsinned against the light of the Word and the goodness of God; I have\ngrieved the Spirit, and He is gone; I tempted the devil, and he has come\nto me; I have provoked God to anger, and He has left me; I have so\nhardened my heart that I _cannot_ turn.\n\nThen said Christian to the Interpreter, \"But are there no hopes for such\na man as this?\" \"Ask him,\" said the Interpreter.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"Is there no hope, but you must be kept in\nthe iron cage of despair?\"\n\nMAN. No, none at all.\n\nCHRIS. Why? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.\n\nMAN. I have crucified Him to myself afresh. I have despised His person.\nI have despised His holiness; I have counted His blood an unholy thing;\nI have shown contempt to the Spirit of mercy. Therefore I have shut\nmyself out of all the promises of God, and there now remains to me\nnothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of\ncertain judgment and fiery anger, which shall devour me as an enemy.\n\nCHRIS. For what did you bring yourself into this condition?\n\nMAN. For the desires, pleasures, and gains of this world; in the\nenjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight; but now every\none of those things also bite me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm.\n\nCHRIS. But canst thou not now turn again to God?\n\nMAN. God no longer invites me to come to Him. His Word gives me no\nencouragement to believe; yea, Himself hath shut me up in this iron\ncage; nor can all the men in the world let me out. O eternity! eternity!\nhow shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity?\n\nINTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, \"Let this man's misery be\nremembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE DREAM OF THE JUDGMENT]\n\nCHRIS. \"Well,\" said Christian, \"this is fearful! God help me to watch\nand be sober, and to pray, that I may shun the cause of this man's\nmisery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?\"\n\nINTER. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on\nthy way.\n\nSo he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber,\nwhere there was one rising out of bed; and, as he put on his clothing,\nhe shook and trembled. Then said Christian, \"Why doth this man thus\ntremble?\" The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of\nhis so doing. So he began, and said, \"This night, as I was in my sleep,\nI dreamed, and behold, the heavens grew exceeding black; also it\nthundered and lightened in most fearful manner, that it put me into an\nagony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual\nrate; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a Man\nsitting upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven; they were\nall in flaming fire; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard\nthen a great voice saying, 'Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment.' And\nwith that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were\ntherein came forth: some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward;\nand some thought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the\nMan that sat upon the cloud open the book and bid the world draw near.\nYet there was, by reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came\nbefore Him, a certain distance betwixt Him and them, as betwixt the\njudge and the prisoners at the bar. I heard it also called out to them\nthat stood around on the Man that sat on the cloud, 'Gather together the\ntares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake. And,\nwith that, the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of\nthe mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of\nfire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, 'Gather\nmy wheat into the garner.' And, with that, I saw many catched up and\ncarried away into the clouds; but I was left behind. I also sought to\nhide myself, but I could not; for the Man that sat upon the cloud still\nkept His eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind, and my conscience\ndid accuse me on every side. Upon this I awakened from my sleep.\"\n\nCHRIS. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight?\n\nMAN. Why I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not\nready for it. But this affrighted me most, that the angels gathered up\nseveral, and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth just\nwhere I stood. My conscience, too, troubled me; and, as I thought, the\njudge had always His eye upon me, showing anger in His countenance.\n\nINTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, \"Hast thou considered\nthese things?\"\n\nCHRIS. Yes; and they put me in hope and fear.\n\nINTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a goad\nin thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go.\n\nThen Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his\njourney. Then said the Interpreter, \"The Comforter be always with thee,\ngood Christian, to guide thee into the way that leads to the city.\"\n\nSo Christian went on his way, saying:\n\n  \"Here have I seen things rare and profitable;\n  Things pleasant, dreadful; things to make me stable\n  In what I have begun to take in hand:\n  Then let me think on them, and understand\n  Wherefore they showed me where; and let me be\n  Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nNow, I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was\nfenced on either side with a wall that was called Salvation. Up this\nway, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great\ndifficulty, because of the load on his back.\n\nHe ran thus till he came to a place somewhat ascending; and upon that\nplace stood a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a tomb. So I saw\nin my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden\nloosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to\ntumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the tomb,\nwhere it fell in, and I saw it no more.\n\n[Illustration: Christian Before the Cross.\n                                   Page 50]\n\nThen was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, \"He\nhath given me rest by His sorrow, and life by His death.\" Then he stood\nstill awhile to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him that\nthe sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked,\ntherefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head\nsent the water down his cheeks. Now, as he stood looking and weeping,\nbehold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him with \"Peace be\nto thee.\" So the first said to him, \"Thy sins be forgiven thee;\" the\nsecond stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with a change of\ngarments; the third also set a mark on his forehead, and gave him a roll\nwith a seal upon it, which he bade him look on as he ran, and that he\nshould give it in at the heavenly gate; so they went their way. Then\nChristian gave three leaps for joy, and went on, singing:\n\n  \"Thus far did I come laden with my sin;\n  Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,\n  Till I came hither; what a place is this!\n  Must here be the beginning of my bliss?\n  Must here the burden fall from off my back?\n  Must here the strings that bound it to me crack?\n  Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be\n  The Man that was there put to shame for me!\"\n\n[Sidenote: SIMPLE, SLOTH, PRESUMPTION]\n\nI saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until he came to the\nbottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep,\nwith fetters upon their heels. The name of one was Simple, of another\nSloth, and of the third Presumption.\n\nChristian, then, seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if perhaps\nhe might awake them, and cried, \"You are like them that sleep on the top\nof a mast; for the deep sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom:\nawake, therefore, and come away; be willing, also, and I will help you\noff with your irons.\" He also told them, \"If he that goeth about like a\nroaring lion comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth.\"\nWith that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple\nsaid, \"I see no danger.\" Sloth said, \"Yet a little more sleep.\" And\nPresumption said, \"Every tub must stand upon his own bottom.\" And so\nthey lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.\n\n[Sidenote: FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY]\n\nYet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little\ncare for the kindness of him that so offered to help them, both by\nawakening of them, advising them, and offering to help them off with\ntheir irons. And, as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come\ntumbling over the wall on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made\nup apace to him. The name of one was Formalist, and the name of the\nother was Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus\nbegan talking with them:\n\nCHRIS. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you?\n\nFORM. and HYP. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going for\npraise to Mount Zion.\n\nCHRIS. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning\nof the way? Know ye not that it is written, \"He that cometh not in by\nthe door, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a\nrobber?\"\n\nFORM. and HYP. They said that to go to the gate for entrance was, by all\ntheir countrymen, counted too far about; and that therefore their usual\nway was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they\nhad done.\n\nCHRIS. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the\ncity whither we are bound, thus to disobey His will?\n\nFORM. and HYP. They told him, that as for that, he needed not trouble\nhis head thereabout; for what they did they had custom for, and could\nshow, if need were, testimony that could prove it for more than a\nthousand years.\n\nCHRIS. \"But,\" said Christian, \"will it stand a trial at law?\"\n\nFORM. and HYP. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing\nas above a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as a thing\naccording to law by a fair judge. \"And besides,\" said they, \"if we get\ninto the way, what matter is it which way we may get in? If we are in,\nwe are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the\ngate; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over the wall:\nwherein, now, is thy condition better than ours?\"\n\nCHRIS. I walk by the rule of my Master; you walk by the rude working\nof your fancies. You are counted thieves already by the Lord of the way;\ntherefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way.\nYou come in by yourselves without His word, and shall go out by\nyourselves without His mercy.\n\nTo this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to\nhimself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, without much\ntalking one with another; save that these two men told Christian, that,\nas to law and rules, they doubted not but that they should as carefully\ndo them as he. \"Therefore,\" said they, \"we see not wherein thou\ndifferest from us, but by the coat which is on thy back, which was, as\nwe believe given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide the shame of thy\nnakedness.\"\n\nCHRIS. By laws and rules you will not be saved, since you came not in by\nthe door. And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given to me by\nthe Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my\nnakedness with. And I take it as a token of His kindness to me; for I\nhad nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I comfort myself as I go.\nSurely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, the Lord thereof\nwill know me for good, since I have His coat on my back; a coat that He\ngave me freely in the day that He stripped me of my rags. I have\nmoreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no\nnotice, which one of my Lord's most intimate friends fixed there the day\nthat my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I\nhad then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go in the\nway; I was also bid to give it in at the heavenly gate, in token of my\ncertain going in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want, and want\nthem because you came not in at the gate.\n\nTo these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon each\nother, and laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that\nChristian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, and\nsometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably; also he would be often\nreading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he\nwas refreshed.\n\n[Sidenote: THE HILL OF DIFFICULTY]\n\nI beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the\nHill Difficulty, at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in\nthe same place two other ways, besides that which came straight from the\ngate; one turned to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the\nbottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the\nname of that going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty.\nChristian now went to the spring, and drank thereof to refresh himself,\nand then began to go up the hill, saying:\n\n  \"The hill, though high, I covet to ascend;\n  The difficulty will not me offend,\n  For I perceive the way to life lies here.\n  Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear.\n  Better, though _difficult_, the right way to go,\n  Than wrong, though _easy_, where the end is woe.\"\n\nThe other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw that\nthe hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go;\nand supposing also that these two ways might meet again with that up\nwhich Christian went, on the other side of the hill; therefore they were\nresolved to go in those ways. Now, the name of one of those ways was\nDanger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took the way\nwhich is called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other\ntook directly up the way to destruction, which led him into a wide\nfield, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no\nmore.\n\nI looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I\nperceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering\nupon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place.\nNow, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbor, made\nby the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travelers. Thither,\ntherefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him; then he\npulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he\nalso now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was\ngiven him as he stood by the cross. Thus pleasing himself a while, he at\nlast fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained\nhim in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roll\nfell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him,\nand awaked him, saying, \"Go to the ant, thou sluggard;[3] consider her\nways, and be wise.\" And, with that, Christian suddenly started up, and\nsped on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill.\n\n  [3] Idle one.\n\n[Sidenote: TIMOROUS AND MISTRUST]\n\nNow, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men\nrunning amain: the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other\nMistrust; to whom Christian said, \"Sirs, what's the matter? You run the\nwrong way.\" Timorous answered, that they were going to the city of Zion,\nand had got up that difficult place: \"but,\" said he, \"the farther we go,\nthe more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back\nagain.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mistrust, \"for just before us lie a couple of lions in the\nway, whether sleeping or waking we know not; and we could not think, if\nwe came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces.\"\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"You make me afraid; but whither shall I fly\nto be safe? If I go back to my own country, that is prepared for fire\nand brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there; if I can get to the\nCelestial City, I am sure to be in safety there: I must venture. To go\nback is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and life\neverlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward.\" So Mistrust and Timorous\nran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But, thinking again of\nwhat he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, and found\nit not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do;\nfor he wanted that which used to comfort him, and that which should have\nbeen his pass into the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he began to be\ngreatly troubled, and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself\nthat he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill; and,\nfalling down upon his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that his\nfoolish act, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way he\nwent back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's\nheart? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he blamed\nhimself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was\nerected only for a little refreshment from his weariness. Thus,\ntherefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all\nthe way as he went, if happily he might find his roll that had been his\ncomfort so many times in his journey. He went thus till he came again\nwithin sight of the arbor where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed\nhis sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of\nsleeping into his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his\nsinful sleep, saying, \"O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep in\nthe day-time; that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I\nshould so indulge myself, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which\nthe Lord of the hill hath builded only for the relief of the spirits of\npilgrims! How many steps have I taken in vain! Thus it happened to\nIsrael; for their sin they were sent back again by the way of the Red\nSea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might have\ntrod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might\nI have been on my way by this time! I am made to tread those steps\nthrice over which I needed not to have trod but once; yea, also, now I\nam like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh that I had not\nslept!\"\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN RECOVERS HIS ROLL]\n\nNow, by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for awhile he\nsat down and wept; but at last (as Providence would have it), looking\nsorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the which\nhe, with trembling and haste, caught up, and put it into his bosom. But\nwho can tell how joyful this man was when he had got his roll again? for\nthis roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired\nhaven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, giving thanks to God for\ndirecting his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears\nbetook himself again to his journey. But oh, how nimbly now did he go up\nthe rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon\nChristian; and this made him again recall the folly of his sleeping to\nhis remembrance; and thus he began again to condole with himself, \"Oh,\nthou sinful sleep! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my\njourney. I must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of my\nfeet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of my\nsinful sleep.\" Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and\nTimorous told him, of how they were frighted with the sight of the\nlions. Then said Christian to himself again, \"These beasts range in the\nnight for their prey; and if they should meet with me in the dark, how\nshould I avoid them? how should I escape being torn in pieces?\" Thus he\nwent on his way. But, while he was thus bewailing his unhappy mistake,\nhe lifted up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before\nhim, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway\nside.\n\n[Sidenote: WATCHFUL THE PORTER]\n\nSo I saw in my dream that he made haste, and went forward, that, if\npossible, he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone far, he\nentered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the\nPorter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he\nespied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers by which\nMistrust and Timorous were driven back. (The lions were chained, but he\nsaw not the chains). Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go\nback after them; for he thought nothing but death was before him. But\nthe Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that\nChristian made a halt as if he would go back, cried out unto him,\nsaying, \"Is thy strength so small? fear not the lions, for they are\nchained, and are placed there for the trial of faith where it is, and\nfor the finding out of those that have none: keep in the midst of the\npath, and no hurt shall come unto thee.\"\n\nThen I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions; but, taking\ngood heed to the words of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did\nhim no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and\nstood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the\nPorter, \"Sir, what house is this? and may I lodge here to-night?\"\n\nThe Porter answered, \"This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and\nHe built it for the relief and security of pilgrims.\" The Porter also\nasked whence he was, and whither he was going.\n\nCHRIS. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to Mount\nZion; but, because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here\nto-night.\n\nPORT. What is your name?\n\nCHRIS. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless.\n\nPORT. But how doth it happen that you come so late? The sun is set.\n\nCHRIS. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept\nin the arbor that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had, notwithstanding\nthat, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my roll, and\ncame without it to the brow of the hill; and then, feeling for it and\nfinding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the\nplace where I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come.\n\nPORT. Well, I will call out one of the women of this place, who will, if\nshe likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according\nto the rules of the house.\n\nSo Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of\nthe door of the house a grave and beautiful young woman, named\nDiscretion, and asked why she was called.\n\nThe Porter answered, \"This man is on a journey from the City of\nDestruction to Mount Zion; but, being weary and benighted, he asked me\nif he might lodge here to-night; so I told him I would call for thee,\nwho, after speaking with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even\naccording to the law of the house.\"\n\n[Sidenote: PIETY, PRUDENCE, CHARITY]\n\nThen she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he told\nher. She asked him also how he got into the way; and he told her. Then\nshe asked him what he had seen and met with on the way; and he told her.\nAnd at last she asked his name. So he said, \"It is Christian; and I have\nso much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I\nperceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief\nand safety of pilgrims.\" So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes;\nand after a little pause, she said, \"I will call forth two or three of\nmy family.\" So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and\nCharity, who, after a little more discourse with him brought him in to\nthe family; and many of them, meeting him at the threshold of the house,\nsaid, \"Come in, thou blessed of the Lord: this house was built by the\nLord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in.\" Then he\nbowed his head, and followed them into the house. So, when he was come\nin and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and agreed together,\nthat, until supper was ready, some of them should talk with Christian,\nfor the best use of the time; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and\nCharity to talk with him; and thus they began:\n\nPIETY. Come, good Christian since we have been so loving to you to\nreceive you into our house this night, let us, if perhaps we may better\nourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have happened to you\nin your pilgrimage.\n\nCHRIS. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well\ndisposed.\n\nPIETY. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life?\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN'S ADVENTURES]\n\nCHRIS. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that\nwas in mine ears; to wit, that certain destruction did await me, if I\nabode in that place where I was.\n\nPIETY. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way?\n\nCHRIS. It was as God would have it; for, when I was under the fears of\ndestruction, I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a\nman even to me, as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is\nEvangelist, and he directed me to the wicket-gate, which else I should\nnever have found, and so set me in the way that hath led me directly to\nthis house.\n\nPIETY. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will\nstick by me as long as I live, especially three things; to wit, how\nChrist, in despite of Satan, the Evil One maintains His work of grace\nin the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's\nmercy; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of\njudgment was come.\n\nPIETY. Why? did you hear him tell his dream?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought it made my heart ache\nas he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard of it.\n\nPIETY. Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?\n\nCHRIS. No; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace;\nand how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came\na venturous man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the\ndoor to keep him out; and how he was bid to come in and win eternal\nglory. Methought those things did delight my heart. I would have stayed\nat that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to\ngo.\n\nPIETY. And what saw you else in the way?\n\nCHRIS. Saw? Why, I went but a little farther, and I saw One, as I\nthought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree; and the very sight of Him\nmade my burden fall off my back; for I groaned under a very heavy\nburden, and then it fell down from off me. It was a strange thing to me,\nfor I never saw such a thing before; yea, and while I stood looking up\n(for then I could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came to me.\nOne of them told me that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me\nof my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third\nset the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll.\n(And, with that, he plucked it out of his bosom.)\n\nPIETY. But you saw more than this, did you not?\n\nCHRIS. The things that I have told you were the best; yet some other\nmatters I saw; as namely I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and\nPresumption, lie asleep, a little out of the way as I came, with irons\nupon their heels; but do you think I could wake them? I also saw\nFormalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they\npretended, to Zion; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did\ntell them, but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard\nwork to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' mouths; and\ntruly, if it had not been for the good man the Porter, that stands at\nthe gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have gone back\nagain; but now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving of\nme.\n\nThen Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his\nanswer to them.\n\nPRU. Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been\nmindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have had an\nopportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better country, that\nis, a heavenly one.\n\nPRU. Do you not yet bear away with you in your thoughts some of the\nthings that you did in the former time?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and sinful\nthoughts, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were\ndelighted. But now all those things are my grief; and, might I but\nchoose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things\nmore; but when I would be doing that which is best, that which is worst\nis with me.\n\nPRU. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were overcome, which\nat other times are your trouble?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in\nwhich such things happen to me.\n\nPRU. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances, at times,\nas if they were overcome?\n\nCHRIS. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and\nwhen I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look\ninto the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my\nthoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.\n\nPRU. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?\n\nCHRIS. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the\ncross; and there I hope to be rid of all these things that to this day\nare in me an annoyance to me. There, they say, there is no death; and\nthere I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For, to tell you\nthe truth, I love Him because I was by Him eased of my burden; and I am\nweary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more,\nand with the company that shall continually cry, \"Holy, holy, holy!\"\n\n[Sidenote: CHARITY TALKS WITH CHRISTIAN]\n\nCHAR. Then said Charity to Christian, \"Have you a family? are you a\nmarried man?\"\n\nCHRIS. I have a wife and four small children.\n\nCHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you?\n\nCHRIS. Then Christian wept, and said, \"Oh, how willingly would I have\ndone it! but they were all of them utterly against my going on\npilgrimage.\"\n\nCHAR. But you should have talked to them, and endeavored to have shown\nthem the danger of staying behind.\n\nCHRIS. So I did, and told them also what God had shown to me of the\ndestruction of our city; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and\nthey believed me not.\n\nCHAR. And did you pray to God that He would bless your words to them?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my\nwife and poor children are very dear unto me.\n\nCHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction?\nfor I suppose that you could see your destruction before you.\n\nCHRIS. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my\ncountenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the fear of the\njudgment that did hang over our heads: but all was not enough to prevail\nwith them to come with me.\n\nCHAR. But what could they say for themselves why they came not?\n\nCHRIS. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children\nwere given to the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and\nwhat by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone.\n\nCHAR. But did you not, with your vain life, hinder all that you by words\nused by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?\n\nCHRIS. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of\nmany failings therein. I know also, that a man, by his actions may soon\noverthrow what, by proofs or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon\nothers for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving\nthem occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on\npilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell me I was too\nprecise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which\nthey saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say that, if what they saw in me\ndid hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or\nof doing any wrong to my neighbor.\n\nCHAR. Indeed, Cain hated his brother because his own works were evil,\nand his brother's righteous; and, if thy wife and children have been\noffended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to be\nresolutely opposed to good: thou hast freed thy soul from their blood.\n\nNow I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together till supper\nwas ready. So, when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now, the\ntable was furnished with fat things, and wine that was well refined; and\nall their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill; as, namely,\nabout what He had done, and wherefore He did what He did, and why He had\nbuilded that house; and by what they said, I perceived that He had been\na great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the power of\ndeath, but not without great danger to Himself, which made me love Him\nthe more.\n\nFor, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), He did it with the\nloss of much blood. But that which puts the glory of grace into all He\ndid, was, that He did it out of pure love to this country. And, besides,\nthere were some of them of the household that said they had seen and\nspoken with Him since He did die on the cross; and they have declared\nthat they had it from His own lips, that He is such a lover of poor\npilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west.\nThey moreover gave an instance of what they affirmed; and that was, He\nhad stripped Himself of His glory, that He might do this for the poor;\nand that they had heard Him say and affirm that He would not dwell in\nthe mountains of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that He had made many\npilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their\nhome had been the dunghill.\n\nThus they talked together till late at night; and after they had\ncommitted themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook\nthemselves to rest. The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber,\nwhose window opened towards the sunrising. The name of the chamber was\nPeace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang:\n\n  \"Where am I now? Is this the love and care\n  Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are,\n  Thus to provide that I should be forgiven,\n  And dwell already the next door to heaven?\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE VIRGINS READ TO CHRISTIAN]\n\nSo in the morning they all got up; and after some more talking together,\nthey told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the\nrarities of that place. And first they took him into the study, where\nthey showed him records of the greatest age; in which, as I remember in\nmy dream, they showed him first the history of the Lord of the hill,\nthat He was the son of the Ancient of Days, and had lived from the\nbeginning. Here also were more fully written the acts that He had done,\nand the names of many hundreds that He had taken into his service; and\nhow he had placed them in such houses that could neither by length of\ndays nor decays of nature be destroyed.\n\nThen they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants\nhad done; as, how they had conquered kingdoms, wrought righteousness,\nobtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of\nfire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong,\nwaxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the enemies.\n\nThey then read again in another part of the records of the house, where\nit was shown how willing their Lord was to receive into His favor any\neven any, though they in time past had done great wrongs to His person\nand rule. Here also were several other histories of many other famous\nthings, of all which Christian had a view; as of things both ancient and\nmodern, together with prophecies and foretellings of things that surely\ncome to pass, both to the dread and wonder of enemies, and the comfort\nand happiness of pilgrims.\n\nThe next day they took him and led him into the armory, where they\nshowed him all manner of weapons which their Lord had provided for\npilgrims; as sword, shield, helmet, breast-plate, all-prayer, and shoes\nthat would not wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness\nout as many men for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the\nheaven for multitude.\n\nThey also showed him some of the things with which some of His servants\nhad done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod; the hammer and\nnail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too,\nwith which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed\nhim the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed\nhim also the jaw-bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They\nshowed him, moreover, the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath\nof Gath, and the sword also with which their Lord will kill the Man of\nSin, in the day that He shall rise up to the battle. They showed him,\nbesides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted.\nThis done, they went to their rest again.\n\nThen I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but\nthey desired him to stay till the next day also; \"and then,\" said they,\n\"we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains;\" which\nthey said would yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer\nthe desired haven than the place where at present he was. So he\nconsented and stayed. When the morning was up, they led him to the top\nof the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a great\ndistance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with\nwoods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and\nfountains, very lovely to behold. Then he asked the name of the country.\nThey said it was Immanuel's Land; \"and it is as common,\" said they, \"as\nthis hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there,\nfrom thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the\nshepherds that live there will make appear.\"\n\nNow he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he\nshould. \"But first,\" said they, \"let us go again into the armory.\" So\nthey did; and when he came there, they dressed him from head to foot\nwith armor of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the\nway. He being, therefore, thus armed, walked out with his friends to the\ngate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by. Then\nthe Porter answered, \"Yes.\"\n\nCHRIS. \"Pray, did you know him?\" said he.\n\nPORT. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.\n\nCHRIS. \"Oh,\" said Christian, \"I know him, he is my townsman, my near\nneighbor; he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think\nhe may be before?\"\n\nPORT. He has got by this time below the hill.\n\nCHRIS. \"Well,\" said Christian, \"good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and\nadd to all thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou has shown\nto me!\"\n\nThen he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and\nPrudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went\non together repeating their former discourses, till they came to go down\nthe hill. Then said Christian, \"As it was difficult coming up, so far so\nas I can see, it is dangerous going down.\" \"Yes,\" said Prudence, \"so it\nis; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down the Valley of\nHumiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way;\ntherefore,\" said they, \"are we come out to accompany thee down the\nhill.\" So he began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or\ntwo.\n\nThen I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was\ngone down to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle\nof wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he went his way.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nBut now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to\nit; for he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend\ncoming over the field to meet him: his name is Apollyon. Then did\nChristian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back\nor to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no armor for\nhis back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might give\nhim greater advantage with ease to pierce him with darts; therefore he\nresolved to venture and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no more\nin mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to\nstand. So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now, the monster was hideous\nto behold: he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his\npride; he had wings like a dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his\nbelly came fire and smoke; and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion.\nWhen he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful\ncountenance, and thus began to question with him:\n\n[Sidenote: APOLLYON STAYS CHRISTIAN]\n\nAPOLLYON. Whence come you, and whither are you bound?\n\nCHRIS. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of all\nevil, and am going to the City of Zion.\n\nAPOL. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects; for all that\ncountry is mine, and I am the prince and God of it. How is it then that\nthou hast run away from thy king? Were it not that I hope that thou\nmayest do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the\nground.\n\nCHRIS. I was indeed born in your kingdom; but your service was hard, and\nyour wages such as a man could not live on; for the wages of sin is\ndeath; therefore, when I was come to years, I did as other thoughtful\npersons do, look out, if perhaps I might mend myself.\n\nAPOL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects,\nneither will I as yet lose thee; but, since thou complainest of thy\nservice and wages, be content to go back, and what our country will\nafford I do here promise to give thee.\n\nCHRIS. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes;\nand how can I with fairness go back with thee?\n\nAPOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, \"changed a bad\nfor a worse;\" but it is common for those that have called themselves His\nservants, after awhile to give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do\nthou so too, and all shall be well.\n\nCHRIS. I have given Him my faith, and sworn my service to Him; how,\nthen, can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?\n\nAPOL. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all,\nif now thou wilt yet turn again and go back.\n\nCHRIS. What I promised thee was in my youth, and besides, I count that\nthe Prince under whose banner I now stand is able to set me free, yea,\nand to pardon also what I did as to my service with thee. And besides, O\nthou destroying Apollyon, to speak the truth, I like His service, His\nwages, His servants, His government, His company, and country, better\nthan thine; therefore leave off to persuade me further: I am His\nservant, and I will follow Him.\n\nAPOL. Consider again when thou art in cold blood, what thou art likely\nto meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most\npart His servants come to an ill end, because they are disobedient\nagainst me and my ways. How many of them have been put to shameful\ndeaths! And besides, thou countest His service better than mine; whereas\nHe never came yet from the place where He is, to deliver any that served\nHim out of their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all the world\nvery well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that\nhave faithfully served me, from Him and His, though taken by them! And\nso I will deliver thee.\n\nCHRIS. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try\ntheir love, whether they will cleave to Him to the end; and, as for the\nill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their\naccount. For, for present deliverance, they do not much expect it; for\nthey stay for their glory, and then they shall have it when their prince\ncomes in His and the glory of the angels.\n\nAPOL. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to Him; and how\ndost thou think to receive wages of Him?\n\nCHRIS. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to Him?\n\nAPOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost\nchoked in the Gulf of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid\nof thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had\ntaken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice things. Thou\nwast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions. And when\nthou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, thou\nart inwardly desirous of glory to thyself in all that thou sayest or\ndoest.\n\nCHRIS. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the\nPrince whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. But\nbesides, these infirmities possessed me in thy own country; for there I\nsucked them in, and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and\nhave obtained pardon of my Prince.\n\nAPOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, \"I am an\nenemy to this Prince; I hate His person, His laws, and people. I am come\nout on purpose to withstand thee.\"\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN THE CONQUEROR]\n\nCHRIS. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway,\nthe way of holiness: therefore take heed to yourself.\n\nAPOL. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way,\nand said, \"I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die; for\nI swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no farther: here will I\nspill thy soul.\" And, with that, he threw a flaming dart at his breast;\nbut Christian held a shield in his hand, with which he caught, and so\nprevented the danger of that.\n\nThen did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and\nApollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail, by the\nwhich, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon\nwounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a\nlittle back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian\nagain took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore\ncombat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite\nspent. For you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must\nneeds grow weaker and weaker.\n\nThen Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to\nChristian, and, wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and, with\nthat, Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, \"I am\nsure of thee now.\" And, with that, he had almost pressed him to death,\nso that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God would have it,\nwhile Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end\nof this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword,\nand caught it, saying, \"Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I\nfall I shall arise;\" and, with that, gave him a deadly thrust, which\nmade him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound.\nChristian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying, \"Nay, in all\nthese things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.\"\nAnd, with that, Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him\naway, that Christian for a season saw him no more.\n\nIn this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as I\ndid, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the\nfight: he spake like a dragon; and, on the other side, what sighs and\ngroans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give\nso much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon\nwith his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile and look upward;\nbut it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN GIVES THANKS]\n\nCHRIS. So, when the battle was over, Christian said, \"I will here give\nthanks to Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion; to\nHim that did help me against Apollyon.\" And so he did, saying:\n\n  \"Great Satan, the captain of this fiend,\n  Designed my ruin; therefore to this end\n  He sent him harnessed out: and he with rage\n  That hellish was, did fiercely me engage;\n  But blessed angels helped me; and I,\n  By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly:\n  Therefore to God let me give lasting praise,\n  And thank and bless His holy name always.\"\n\nThen there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of\nlife; the which Christian took, and laid upon the wounds that he had\nreceived in the battle, and was healed immediately. He also sat down in\nthat place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given to\nhim a little before: so, being refreshed, he went forth on his journey,\nwith his sword drawn in his hand; \"For,\" he said, \"I know not but some\nother enemy may be at hand.\" But he met with no other harm from Apollyon\nquite through this valley.\n\nNow, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the\nShadow of Death; and Christian must needs go through it, because the way\nto the Celestial City lay through the midst of it. Now this valley is a\nvery solitary place; the prophet Jeremiah thus describes it: \"A\nwilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought, and of the\nshadow of death, a land that no man\" but a Christian \"passeth through,\nand where no man dwelt.\"\n\nNow here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon,\nas in the story you shall see.\n\nI saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of\nthe Shadow of Death, there met him two men, children of them that\nbrought up an evil report of the good land, making haste to go back; to\nwhom Christian spake as follows:\n\nCHRIS. Whither are you going?\n\nMEN. They said, \"Back, back! and we would have you to do so too, if\neither life or peace is prized by you.\"\n\nCHRIS. \"Why, what's the matter?\" said Christian.\n\nMEN. \"Matter!\" said they: \"we were going that way as you are going, and\nwent as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back; for\nhad we gone a little farther, we had not been here to bring the news to\nthee.\"\n\nCHRIS. \"But what have you met with?\" said Christian.\n\nMEN. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that\nby good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to\nit.\n\nCHRIS. \"But what have you seen?\" said Christian.\n\nMEN. Seen! why, the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch: we also\nsaw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also\nin that valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a people under\nunutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons; and\nover that hung the discouraging clouds of confusion; Death also does\nalways spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful,\nbeing utterly without order.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"I perceive not yet, by what you have said,\nbut that this is my way to the desired haven.\"\n\nMEN. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours.\n\nSo they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword\ndrawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be attacked.\n\nI saw then in my dream, as far as this valley reached, there was on the\nright hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which the blind have\nled the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished.\nAgain, behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, or\nmarsh, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his\nfoot to stand on: into that quag King David once did fall, and had no\ndoubt there been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out.\n\nThe pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good\nChristian was the more put to it; for when he sought, in the dark, to\nshun the ditch, on the one hand he was ready to tip over into the mire\non the other; also when he sought to escape the mire, without great\ncarefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on,\nand I heard him here sigh bitterly, for besides the danger mentioned\nabove, the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lifted up\nhis foot to go forward, he knew not where or upon what he should set it\nnext.\n\n[Sidenote: A COMPANY OF FIENDS]\n\nAbout the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and\nit stood also hard by the wayside. Now, thought Christian, what shall I\ndo? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such\nabundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for\nChristian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to put up\nhis sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called \"All-Prayer.\" So\nhe cried in my hearing, \"O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul.\" Thus\nhe went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards\nhim; also he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so that\nsometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like\nmire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and those dreadful\nnoises were heard by him, for several miles together, and, coming to a\nplace where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to\nmeet him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do.\nSometimes he had half a thought to go back; then again he thought he\nmight be half-way through the valley. He remembered, also, how he had\nalready vanquished many a danger, and that the danger of going back\nmight be much more than going forward. So he resolved to go on; yet the\nfiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But, when they were come even\nalmost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, \"I will walk in\nthe strength of the Lord God.\" So they gave back, and came no farther.\n\n[Sidenote: VALLEY OF SHADOW OF DEATH]\n\nOne thing I would not let slip: I took notice that now poor Christian\nwas so confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I\nperceived it: just when he was come over against the mouth of the\nburning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up\nsoftly to him, and whisperingly suggested many wicked words to him,\nwhich he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put\nChristian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think\nthat he should now speak evil of Him that he had so much loved before.\nYet, if he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had\nnot the wisdom either to stop his ears, or to know from whence those\nwicked words came.\n\nWhen Christian had traveled in this sorrowful condition some\nconsiderable time he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going\nbefore him, saying, \"Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of\nDeath I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.\"\n\nThen he was glad, and that for these reasons:\n\nFirst,--Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were\nin this valley as well as himself.\n\nSecondly,--For that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark\nand dismal state. And why not, thought he, with me, though by reason of\nthe kindness that attends this place, I cannot perceive it?\n\nThirdly,--For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company\nby-and-by. So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew\nnot what to answer, for that he also thought himself to be alone. And\nby-and-by the day broke. Then said Christian, \"He hath turned the shadow\nof death into the morning.\"\n\nNow, morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return,\nbut to see, by the light of the day, what dangers he had gone through in\nthe dark. So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand,\nand the quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way which led\nbetwixt them both. Also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and\ndragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of day they came\nnot nigh; yet they were shown to him according to that which is written,\n\"He showeth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the\nshadow of death.\"\n\nNow was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the\ndangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them much\nbefore, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day\nmade them plain to him. And about this time the sun was rising, and this\nwas another mercy to Christian; for you must note that, though the first\npart of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet this second\npart, which he was yet to go, was if possible far more dangerous; for,\nfrom the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the\nway was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here,\nand so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down there,\nthat, had it now been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the\nway, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away.\nBut, as I said just now the sun was rising. Then said he, \"His candle\nshineth on my head, and by His light I go through darkness.\"\n\n[Sidenote: POPE AND PAGAN]\n\nIn this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now, I saw\nin my dream that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and\nmangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly;\nand, while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a little\nbefore me a cave, where two giants, POPE and PAGAN, dwelt in old time;\nby whose power and tyranny, the men whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay\nthere, were cruelly put to death. But by this place Christian went\nwithout danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but I have learnt since,\nthat Pagan has been dead many a day; and, as for the other, though he be\nyet alive, he is, by reason of age, also of the many shrewd brushes that\nhe met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints,\nthat he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at\npilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come to\nthem.\n\nSo I saw that Christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the old\nman that sat at the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think,\nespecially because he spoke to him, though he could not go after him,\nsaying, \"You will never mend till more of you be burned.\" But he held\nhis peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by and caught no hurt.\nThen sang Christian:\n\n  \"O, world of wonders (I can say no less),\n  That I should be preserved in that distress\n  That I have met with here! Oh, blessed be\n  That hand that from it hath delivered me!\n  Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin,\n  Did compass me, while I this vale was in;\n  Yes, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie\n  My path about, that worthless, silly I\n  Might have been catched, entangled, and cast down;\n  But, since I live, let Jesus wear the crown.\"\n\n[Illustration: Christian and Faithful Join Company.\n                                   Page 89]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nNow as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was\ncast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there,\ntherefore, Christian went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before\nhim upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud, \"Ho, ho! so-ho! stay,\nand I will be your companion.\" At that Faithful looked behind him; to\nwhom Christian cried, \"Stay, stay, till I come up to you.\" But Faithful\nanswered, \"No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind\nme.\"\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN JOINS FAITHFUL]\n\nAt this Christian was somewhat moved; and putting to all his strength,\nhe quickly got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him: so the last\nwas first. Then did Christian boastfully smile, because he had gotten\nthe start of his brother; but, not taking good heed to his feet, he\nsuddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until Faithful came\nup to help him.\n\nThen I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had\nsweet talk together of all things that had happened to them in their\npilgrimage; and thus Christian began:\n\nCHRIS. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I\nhave overtaken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can\nwalk as companions in this so pleasant a path.\n\nFAITH. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from\nour town; but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to\ncome thus much of the way alone.\n\nCHRIS. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction before you set\nout after me on your pilgrimage?\n\n[Sidenote: WHAT WAS SAID IN THE CITY]\n\nFAITH. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great talk, presently\nafter you were gone out, that our city would, in a short time, with fire\nfrom heaven, be burned down to the ground.\n\nCHRIS. What! did your neighbors talk so?\n\nFAITH. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth.\n\nCHRIS. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the\ndanger?\n\nFAITH. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do\nnot think they did firmly believe it. For, in the heat of the talking I\nheard some of them deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate\njourney; for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did believe, and\ndo still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from\nabove; and therefore I have made my escape.\n\nCHRIS. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable?\n\nFAITH. Yes, Christian; I heard that he followed you till he came to the\nSlough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would not be\nknown to have so done; but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that\nkind of dirt.\n\nCHRIS. And what said the neighbors to him?\n\nFAITH. He hath, since his going back, been held greatly in derision, and\nthat among all sorts of people: some do mock and despise him, and scarce\nany will set him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had\nnever gone out of the city.\n\nCHRIS. But why should they be set so against him, since they also\ndespise the way that he forsook?\n\nFAITH. \"Oh,\" they say, \"hang him; he is a turncoat! he was not true to\nhis profession!\" I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at\nhim and laugh at him, because he hath forsaken the way.\n\nCHRIS. Had you no talk with him before you came out?\n\nFAITH. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other\nside, as one ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to him.\n\nCHRIS. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man, but now I\nfear he will perish in the overthrow of the city. For it has happened to\nhim according to the true proverb, \"The dog is turned to his vomit\nagain, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.\"\n\nFAITH. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which will\nbe?\n\nCHRIS. \"Well, neighbor Faithful,\" said Christian, \"let us leave him, and\ntalk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now\nwhat you have met with in the way as you came; for I know you have met\nwith some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder.\"\n\nFAITH. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to\nthe gate without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton,\nthat had like to have done me a mischief.\n\nCHRIS. It was well you escaped her net: Joseph was hard put to it by\nher, and he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his\nlife. But what did she do to you?\n\nFAITH. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering\ntongue she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me\nall manner of enjoyment.\n\nCHRIS. Nay, she did not promise you the enjoyment of a good conscience.\n\nFAITH. You know what I mean--not the enjoyment of the soul, but of the\nbody.\n\nCHRIS. Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall\nfall into her ditch.\n\nFAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.\n\nCHRIS. Why, I suppose you did not consent to her desires?\n\nFAITH. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I\nhad seen which saith, \"Her steps take hold of hell.\" So I shut mine\neyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks. Then she railed\non me, and I went my way.\n\nCHRIS. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?\n\n[Sidenote: FAITHFUL AND ADAM THE FIRST]\n\nFAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with\na very aged man, who asked me what I was and whither bound. I told him\nthat I was a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old\nman, \"Thou lookest like an honest fellow: wilt thou be content to dwell\nwith me, for the wages that I shall give thee?\" Then I asked him his\nname, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that\nhe dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then what was his work, and\nwhat the wages that he would give. He told me that his work was many\ndelights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I further\nasked him what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told\nme that his house was filled with all the dainties of the world, and\nthat his servants were his own children. Then I asked him how many\nchildren he had. He said that he had but three daughters, the Lust of\nthe Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life, and that I\nshould marry them if I would. Then I asked, how long time he would have\nme live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.\n\nCHRIS. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?\n\nFAITH. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the\nman, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as\nI talked with him, I saw there written, \"Put off the old man with his\ndeeds.\"\n\nCHRIS. And how then?\n\nFAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and\nhowever he flattered, when he got home to his house he would sell me for\na slave. So I bid him forbear, for I would not come near the door of his\nhouse. Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send such a one\nafter me that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go\naway from him; but, just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him\ntake hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I\nthought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry, \"O\nwretched man!\" So I went on my way up the hill. Now, when I had got\nabout half-way up, I looked behind me, and saw one coming after me,\nswift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the place where the\nsettle stands.\n\nCHRIS. \"Just there,\" said Christian, \"did I sit down to rest me; but\nbeing overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom.\"\n\nFAITH. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me,\nhe was but a word and a blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for\ndead. But, when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him\nwherefore he served me so. He said, because of my secret inclining to\nAdam the First. And, with that, he struck me another deadly blow on the\nbreast, and beat me down backwards; so I lay at his feet as dead as\nbefore. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said,\n\"I know not how to show mercy;\" and, with that, he knocked me down\nagain. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by, and bid\nhim forbear.\n\nCHRIS. Who was that that bid him forbear?\n\nFAITH. I did not know him at first; but, as He went by, I perceived the\nholes in His hands and His side; then I concluded that He was our Lord.\nSo I went up the hill.\n\nCHRIS. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither\nknoweth he how to show mercy to those that disobey his law.\n\nFAITH. I know it very well: it was not the first time that he has met\nwith me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and\nthat told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.\n\nCHRIS. But Did not you see the house that stood there, on the top of\nthat hill on the side of which Moses met you?\n\nFAITH. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, for the lions,\nI think they were asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so\nmuch of the day before me I passed by the Porter, and came down the\nhill.\n\nCHRIS. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wished you had\ncalled at the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities,\nthat you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your death. But\npray tell me, did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility?\n\nFAITH. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have\npersuaded me to go back again with him: his reason was, for that the\nvalley was altogether without honor. He told me, moreover, that there to\ngo was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy,\nSelf-Conceit, Worldly-Glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would\nbe very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through\nthis valley.\n\nCHRIS. Well, and how did you answer him?\n\nFAITH. I told him that, although all these that he named might claim\nkindred of me, and that rightly (for, indeed, they were my relations\naccording to the flesh), yet, since I became a pilgrim, they have\ndisowned me, as I also have rejected them; and therefore they were to me\nnow no more than if they had never been of my lineage. I told him,\nmoreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing;\nfor before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall.\n\"Therefore,\" said I, \"I had rather go through this valley to the honor\nthat was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he esteemed\nmost worthy of our affections.\"\n\nCHRIS. Met you with nothing else in that valley?\n\n[Sidenote: SHAME A BOLD VILLAIN]\n\nFAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but, of all the men that I met with in my\npilgrimage, he I think, bears the wrong name. The others would take\n\"No\" for an answer, at least after some words of denial; but this\nbold-faced Shame would never have done.\n\nCHRIS. Why, what did he say to you?\n\nFAITH. What? why, he objected against religion itself. He said it was a\npitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion. He said that\na tender conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch\nover his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that liberty that\nthe brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him\nthe ridicule of all the people in our time. He objected also, that but a\nfew of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion; nor any of\nthem neither, before they were persuaded to be fools, to venture the\nloss of all for nobody else knows what. He, moreover, objected the base\nand low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of\nthe times in which they lived; also their ignorance, and want of\nunderstanding in all worldly knowledge. Yea, he did hold me to it at\nthat rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate; as,\nthat it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a\nshame to come sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask my\nneighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to give back what I had taken\nfrom any. He said also that religion made a man grow strange to the\ngreat, because of a few vices (which he called by finer names), and\nbecause religion made him own and respect the base, who were of the same\nreligious company; \"and is not this,\" said he, \"a shame?\"\n\nCHRIS. And what did you say to him?\n\nFAITH. Say? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to\nit that my blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and\nhad almost beat me quite off. But at last I began to consider that that\nwhich is highly esteemed among men is had in abomination with God. And I\nthought again, This Shame tells me what men are, but it tells me nothing\nwhat God, or the Word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the\nday of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life according to the\nspirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the\nHighest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best--is best, though\nall the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers\nHis religion; seeing God prefers a tender conscience; seeing they that\nmake themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest, and that the\npoor man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world\nthat hates Him; Shame, depart! thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall\nI listen to thee against my sovereign Lord? how, then, shall I look Him\nin the face at His coming? Should I now be ashamed of His way and\nservants how can I expect the blessing? But, indeed, this Shame was a\nbold villain: I could scarce shake him out of my company; yea, he would\nbe haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the ear with some\none or other of the weak things that attend religion. But at last I told\nhim it was in vain to attempt further in this business; for those things\nthat he despised, in those did I see most glory; and so, at last, I got\npast this persistent one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began to\nsing,\n\n  \"The trials that those men do meet withal,\n  That are obedient to the heavenly call,\n  Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,\n  And come, and come, and come again afresh;\n  That now, or some time else, we by them may\n  Be taken, overcome, and cast away.\n  Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then,\n  Be vigilant and quit themselves like men!\"\n\nCHRIS. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so\nbravely: for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for\nhe is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us\nto shame before all men; that is, to make us ashamed of that which is\ngood. But, if he was not himself bold, he would never attempt to do as\nhe does. But let us still resist him; for, notwithstanding all his bold\nwords, he promoteth the fool, and none else. \"The wise shall inherit\nglory,\" said Solomon; \"but shame shall be the promotion of fools.\"\n\nFAITH. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame who would have\nus to be valiant for truth upon the earth.\n\nCHRIS. You say true. But did you meet nobody else in that valley?\n\nFAITH. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through\nthat, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.\n\nCHRIS. It was well for you! I am sure it fared far otherwise with me. I\nhad for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a\ndreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he\nwould have killed me, especially when he got me down, and crushed me\nunder him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces. For, as he threw\nme, my sword flew out of my hand; nay, he told me he was sure of me; and\nI cried to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my\ntroubles. Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had\nno light for almost half the way through it. I thought I should have\nbeen killed there over and over: but at last day broke, and the sun\nrose, and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and\nquiet.\n\n[Sidenote: TALKATIVE OVERTAKEN]\n\nMoreover, I saw in my dream that, as they went on, Faithful, as he\nchanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative walking\nat a distance beside them; for in this place there was room enough for\nthem all to walk. He was a tall man, and something better looking at a\ndistance than near at hand. To this man Faithful spoke himself in this\nmanner:\n\nFAITH. Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly country?\n\nTALK. I am going to that same place.\n\nFAITH. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company.\n\nTALK. With a very good will, will I be your companion.\n\nFAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time\nin talking of things that are profitable.\n\nTALK. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with\nyou or with any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that\nincline to so good a work; for, to speak the truth, there are but few\nwho care thus to spend their time as they are in their travels, but\nchoose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and this has\nbeen a trouble to me.\n\nFAITH. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented; for what things so\nworthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the\nthings of the God of heaven?\n\nTALK. I like you wonderfully well, for your saying is full of the truth;\nand I will add, What thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to\ntalk of the things of God? What things so pleasant? that is, if a man\nhath any delight in things that are wonderful. For instance, if a man\ndoth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things, or if a\nman doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he\nfind things written so delightful, or so sweetly penned, as in the Holy\nScripture?\n\nFAITH. That's true; but to be profited by such things in our talk should\nbe that which we design.\n\n[Sidenote: TALKATIVE SELF-DECEIVED]\n\nTALK. That is it that I said; for to talk of such things is most\nprofitable; for, by so doing, a man may get knowledge of many things; as\nof the folly of earthly things, and the benefit of things above.\nBesides, by this a man may learn what it is to turn from sin, to\nbelieve, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this, also, a man may learn\nwhat are the great promises and comforts of the Gospel, to his own\nenjoyment. Further, by this a man may learn to answer false opinions, to\nprove the truth, and also to teach the ignorant.\n\nFAITH. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.\n\nTALK. Alas! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the\nneed of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in\norder to eternal life.\n\nFAITH. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of\nGod; no man attaineth to them by human working, or only by the talk of\nthem.\n\nTALK. All that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it\nbe given him from heaven; I could give you a hundred scriptures for the\nconfirmation of this.\n\nFAITH. \"Well, then,\" said Faithful, \"what is that one thing that we\nshall at this time found our talk upon?\"\n\nTALK. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly;\nthings in life or things in the gospel; things sacred or things worldly;\nthings past or things to come; things foreign or things at home; things\nnecessary or things accidental, provided that all be done to our profit.\n\nFAITH. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and, stepping to Christian (for\nhe walked all this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, \"What\na brave companion have we got! Surely this man will make a very\nexcellent pilgrim.\"\n\n[Sidenote: FAITHFUL DISPUTES TALKATIVE]\n\nCHRIS. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, \"This man with whom\nyou are so taken will deceive with this tongue of his twenty of them\nthat know him not.\"\n\nFAITH. Do you know him, then?\n\nCHRIS. Know him? Yes, better than he knows himself.\n\nFAITH. Pray what is he?\n\nCHRIS. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you\nshould be a stranger to him: only I consider that our town is large.\n\nFAITH. Whose son is he? and whereabout doth he dwell?\n\nCHRIS. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating Row, and is\nknown to all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of\nPrating Row; and notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry\nfellow.\n\nFAITH. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.\n\nCHRIS. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him,\nfor he is best abroad; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he\nis a pretty man brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of\nthe painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but very near more\nunpleasing.\n\nFAITH. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.\n\nCHRIS. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter,\nor that I should accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery\nof him. This man is for any company, and for any talk. As he talketh now\nwith you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench; and the more\ndrink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his\nmouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversation:\nall he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise\ntherewith.\n\nFAITH. Say you so? Then am I in this man greatly deceived.\n\nCHRIS. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, \"They say,\nand do not;\" but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. He\ntalketh of prayer, of turning to God, of faith, and of the new birth;\nbut he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and\nhave seen him both at home and abroad, and I know what I say of him is\nthe truth. His house is as empty of religion as the white of an egg is\nof savor. There is there neither prayer nor sign of turning from sin;\nyea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is the\nvery stain, reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him. It can\nhardly have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells,\nthrough him. Thus say the common people that know him: \"A saint abroad,\nand a devil at home.\" His poor family finds it so: he is such a\nfault-finder, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants,\nthat they neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that have any\ndealings with him say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him,\nfor fairer dealing they shall have at their hands. This Talkative, if it\nbe possible, will go beyond them, cheat, beguile, and overreach them.\nBesides, he brings up his sons to follow his steps; and, if he findeth\nin any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first\nappearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads,\nand by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendation\nbefore others. For my part, I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked\nlife, caused many to stumble and fall, and will be, if God prevent not,\nthe ruin of many more.\n\nFAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, not only because you\nsay you know him, but also because like a Christian you make your\nreports of men. For I cannot think you speak these things of ill-will,\nbut because it is even so as you say.\n\nCHRIS. Had I known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought\nof him as at first you did; yea, had he received this report only from\nthose that are enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a\nslander, a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's\nnames and professions. But all these things, yea, and a great many more\nas bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men\nare ashamed of him: they can neither call him brother nor friend; the\nvery naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know him.\n\nFAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I\nshall better observe the difference between them.\n\nCHRIS. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul\nand the body; for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase,\nso _saying_, if it be alone, is but a dead carcase also. The soul of\nreligion is the practical part. \"Pure religion and undefiled before God\nand the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows in their\naffliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.\" This,\nTalkative is not aware of: he thinks that hearing and saying will make a\ngood Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as\nthe sowing of the seed; talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is\nindeed in the heart and life. And let us assure ourselves that, at the\nday of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits.\n\nFAITH. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick\nof it now. What shall we do to be rid of him?\n\nCHRIS. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he\nwill soon be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart\nand turn it.\n\nFAITH. What would you have me to do?\n\nCHRIS. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious conversation about\nthe power of religion and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it,\nfor that he will) whether this thing be set up in his heart, house or\nconduct.\n\nFAITH. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative,\n\"Come, what cheer? How is it now?\"\n\nTALK. Thank you, well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk\nby this time.\n\nFAITH. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and, since you left it\nwith me to state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace\nof God show itself when it is in the heart of man?\n\nTALK. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things.\nWell, it is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you.\nAnd take my answer in brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in\nthe heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin. Secondly,--\n\nFAITH. Nay, hold; let us consider of one at once. I think you should\nrather say, it shows itself by inclining the soul to hate its sin.\n\nTALK. Why, what difference is there between crying out against and\nhating sin?\n\nFAITH. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin in order to\nappear good; but he cannot hate it except by a real dislike for it. I\nhave heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it\nwell enough in the heart, house, and life. Some cry out against sin,\neven as the mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she\ncalleth it a naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it.\n\nTALK. You are trying to catch me, I perceive.\n\nFAITH. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the\nsecond thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of God in the\nheart?\n\nTALK. Great knowledge of hard things in the Bible.\n\n[Sidenote: TALKATIVE PARTS COMPANY]\n\nFAITH. This sign should have been first; but, first or last, it is also\nfalse; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries\nof the Gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have\nall knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child\nof God. When Christ said, \"Do ye know all these things?\" and the\ndisciples had answered, \"Yes,\" He added, \"Blessed are ye if ye do them.\"\nHe doth not lay the blessing in the knowledge of them, but in the doing\nof them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: \"He\nthat knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not.\" A man may know like\nan angel, and yet be no Christian; therefore your sign of it is not\ntrue. Indeed, to know, is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters;\nbut to do is that which pleaseth God.\n\nTALK. You are trying to catch me again: this is not profitable.\n\nFAITH. Well, if you please, name another sign how this work of grace\nshoweth itself where it is.\n\nTALK. Not I; for I see we shall not agree.\n\nFAITH. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it?\n\nTALK. You may say what you please.\n\nFAITH. God's work in the soul showeth itself either to him that hath it\nor to standers by. To him that has it, it is shown by making him see and\nfeel his own sins. To others who are standing by it is shown by his\nlife, a life of doing right in the sight of God. And now, sir, as to\nthis brief account of the work of grace, and also the showing of it, if\nyou have aught to object, object; if not, then give me leave to ask you\na second question.\n\nTALK. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear; let me, therefore,\nhave your second question.\n\nFAITH. It is this: Have you felt your own sins, and have you turned from\nthem? And do your life and conduct show it the same? Or is your religion\nin word or in tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if you incline to\nanswer me in this, say no more than you know the God above will say\nAmen to, and also nothing but what your conscience can approve you in;\nfor not he that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord\ncommendeth. Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my conduct and all\nmy neighbors tell me I lie, is great wickedness.\n\nTALK. Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself,\nthus he replied: \"This kind of discourse I did not expect; nor am I\ndisposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself\nbound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a questioner; and though\nyou should do so, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray,\nwill you tell me why you ask me such questions?\"\n\nFAITH. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that\nyou had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I\nhave heard of you that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and\nthat your life gives this your mouth-profession the lie. They say you\nare a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth the worse for your\nungodly conduct; that some already have stumbled at your wicked ways,\nand that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby: your religion,\nand an alehouse, and greed for gain, and uncleanness, and swearing, and\nlying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand together. You are a\nshame to all who are members of the church.\n\nTALK. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as\nyou do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or cross man, not fit\nto be talked with; and so adieu.\n\nCHRIS. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, \"I told you how\nit would happen; your words and his heart could not agree. He had rather\nleave your company than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said: let\nhim go; the loss is no man's but his own: he has saved us the trouble of\ngoing from him; for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he\nwould have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the Apostle says,\n'From such withdraw thyself.'\"\n\nFAITH. But I am glad we had this little talk with him; it may happen\nthat he will think of it again: however, I have dealt plainly with him,\nand so am clear of his blood, if he perisheth.\n\nCHRIS. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. There is but\nlittle of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days; and that makes\nreligion to be despised by so many; for they are these talkative fools,\nwhose religion is only in word, and are vile and vain in their life,\nthat, being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly, do puzzle\nthe world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that all\nmen would deal with such as you have done; then should they either be\nmade more suitable to religion, or the company of saints would be too\nhot for them.\n\nFAITH. Then did Faithful say,\n\n  \"How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes!\n  How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes\n  To drive down all before him! But so soon\n  As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon\n  That's past the full, into the wane he goes;\n  And so will all but he who heart-work knows.\"\n\nThus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made\nthat way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to\nthem; for now they went through a wilderness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nNow, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful\nchanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after him, and he\nknew him. \"Oh!\" said Faithful to his brother, \"who comes yonder?\" Then\nChristian looked, and said, \"It is my good friend Evangelist.\" \"Ay, and\nmy good friend, too,\" said Faithful; \"for it was he that set me the way\nto the gate.\" Now was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted\nthem:\n\nEVAN. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers.\n\nCHRIS. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist: the sight of thy face\nbrings to my thought thy former kindness and unwearied laboring for my\neternal good.\n\nFAITH. \"And a thousand times welcome,\" said good Faithful: \"thy company,\nO sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims!\"\n\nEVAN. Then said Evangelist, \"How hath it fared with you, my friends,\nsince the time of our last parting? What have you met with, and how have\nyou behaved yourselves?\"\n\nThen Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to\nthem in the way; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to\nthat place.\n\nEVAN. \"Right glad am I,\" said Evangelist, \"not that you met with trials,\nbut that you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding\nmany weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. I say, right\nglad am I of this thing, and that for my own sake and yours. I have\nsowed, and you have reaped; and the day is coming when 'both he that\nsowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together;' that is, if you\nfaint not. The crown is before you, and it is an uncorruptible one: so\nrun that you may obtain it. Some there be that set out for this crown,\nand after they have gone far for it, another comes in and takes it from\nthem: 'Hold fast, therefore, that you have; let no man take your\ncrown.'\"\n\nThen Christian thanked him for his words, but told him withal that they\nwould have him speak further to them, for their help the rest of the\nway; and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a prophet, and\ncould tell them of things that might happen unto them, and also how they\nmight resist and overcome them. To which request Faithful also\nconsented. So Evangelist began as followeth:\n\n[Sidenote: EVANGELIST EXHORTS CHRISTIAN]\n\nEVAN. My sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the Gospel,\nthat you must \"through many trials enter into the kingdom of heaven;\"\nand again, that \"in every city bonds and afflictions await you;\" and\ntherefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage\nwithout them in some sort or other. You have found something of the\ntruth of these words upon you already, and more will immediately follow;\nfor now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and\ntherefore you will soon come into a town that you will by-and-by see\nbefore you; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies who\nwill strain hard but they will kill you; and be you sure that one or\nboth of you must seal the truth which you hold with blood: but be you\nfaithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown of life. He that\nshall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain,\nperhaps, great, he will yet have the better of his fellow; not only\nbecause he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he\nwill escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of\nhis journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled\nwhat I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves\nlike men, and commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as\nunto a faithful Creator.\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS AT VANITY FAIR]\n\nThen I saw in my dream, that, when they were got out of the wilderness,\nthey presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is\nVanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is\nkept all the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the\ntown where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and also because all that\nis there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity; as is the saying of\nthe Wise, \"All that cometh is vanity.\"\n\nThis is no newly begun business, but a thing of ancient standing. I will\nshow you the original of it.\n\nAlmost five thousand years ago, there were pilgrims walking to the\nCelestial City, as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebub,\nApollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiving by the path that\nthe pilgrims made that their way to the city lay through this town of\nVanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be\nsold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long.\nTherefore at this fair are all such things sold as houses, lands,\ntrades, places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts,\npleasures, and delights of all sorts, as wives, husbands, children,\nmasters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls,\nprecious stones, and what not.\n\nAnd, moreover, at this fair there are at all times to be seen jugglings,\ncheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every\nkind.\n\nHere are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, false\nswearers, and that of a blood-red color.\n\nAnd, as in other fairs of less moment there are several rows and streets\nunder their proper names, where such and such wares are vended; so here\nlikewise you have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries\nand kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found.\nHere are the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish\nRow, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be sold.\nBut, as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the\nfair, so the ware of Rome and her goods are greatly promoted in this\nfair; only our English nation, with some others, have taken dislike\nthereat.\n\nNow, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through this\ntown where this lusty fair is kept; and he that would go to the city,\nand yet not go through this town, \"must needs go out of the world.\" The\nPrince of princes Himself, when here, went through this town to His own\ncountry, and that upon a fair day too; yea, and as I think, it was\nBeelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited Him to buy of his\nvanities; yea, would have made Him lord of the fair, would He but have\ndone him reverence as He went through the town. Yea, because He was such\na person of honor, Beelzebub had Him from street to street, and showed\nHim all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if\npossible, allure that Blessed One to ask for and buy some of his\nvanities; but He had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the\ntown without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities.\nThis fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long-standing, and a very\ngreat fair.\n\nNow, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair. Well,\nso they did; but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the\npeople in the fair were moved and the town itself, as it were, in a\nhubbub about them, and that for several reasons; for,\n\nFirst,--The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of garments as were\ndifferent from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people,\ntherefore, of the fair, made a great gazing upon them: some said they\nwere fools; some, they were bedlams; and some, they were outlandish men.\n\nSecondly,--And, as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise\nat their speech; for few could understand what they said. They naturally\nspoke the language of Canaan; but they that kept the fair were the men\nof this world. So that from one end of the fair to the other, they\nseemed barbarians each to the other.\n\nThirdly,--But that which did not a little amuse the store-keepers was,\nthat these pilgrims set very light by all their wares. They cared not so\nmuch as to look upon them; and if they called upon them to buy, they\nwould put their fingers in their ears, and cry, \"Turn away mine eyes\nfrom beholding vanity,\" and look upwards, signifying that their trade\nand traffic were in heaven.\n\nOne chanced, mockingly, beholding the actions of the men, to say unto\nthem, \"What will you buy?\" But they, looking gravely upon him, said, \"We\nbuy the truth.\" At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men\nthe more: some mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and\nsome calling on others to smite them. At last things came to a hubbub\nand great stir in the fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. Now\nwas word presently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly\ncame down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take these men\nfor trial about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men were\nbrought to trial, and they that sat upon them asked them whence they\ncame, whither they went, and what they did there in such an unusual\ngarb. The men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the\nworld, and that they were going to their own country, which was the\nheavenly Jerusalem, and that they had given no occasion to the men of\nthe town, nor yet to the merchants, thus to abuse them, and to hinder\nthem in their journey, except it was for that, when one asked them what\nthey would buy, they said they would buy the truth. But they that were\nappointed to examine them did not believe them to be any other than\ncrazy people and mad, or else such as came to put all things into a\nconfusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and\nbesmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they\nmight be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, therefore,\nthey lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or\nmalice, or revenge; the great one of the fair laughing still at all that\nbefell them. But, the men being patient, and \"not rendering railing for\nrailing, but contrariwise blessing,\" and giving good words for bad, and\nkindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were more\nobserving and less opposed than the rest, began to check and blame the\nbaser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men. They,\ntherefore, in an angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as\nbad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed to be in\nleague with them, and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. The\nothers replied, that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet and\nsober, and intended nobody any harm; and that there were many that\ntraded in their fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea,\nand pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. Thus, after\ndivers words had passed on both sides (the men behaving themselves all\nthe while very wisely and soberly before them,) they fell to some blows,\nand did harm to one another. Then were these two poor men brought before\nthe court again, and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub\nthat had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons\nupon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example\nand terror to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join\nthemselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet\nmore wisely, and received the wrongs and shame that were cast upon them\nwith so much meekness and patience, that it won to their side (though\nbut few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the fair. This\nput the other party in yet a greater rage, insomuch that they resolved\nupon the death of these two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither\ncage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they should die for the\nabuse they had done, and for deceiving the men of the fair.\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS IN STOCKS]\n\nThen were they remanded to the cage again, until further order should be\ntaken with them. So they put them in, and made their feet fast in the\nstocks.\n\nHere, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from\ntheir faithful friend Evangelist, and were more confirmed in their way\nand sufferings, by what he told them would happen to them. They also now\ncomforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he should\nhave the best of it; therefore each man secretly wished he might have\nthat privilege. But, committing themselves to the all-wise disposal of\nHim that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the\ncondition in which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed\nof.\n\n[Sidenote: LORD HATE-GOOD]\n\nThen a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their\ntrial, in order to their being condemned. When the time was come, they\nwere brought before their enemies, and placed on trial. The judge's name\nwas Lord Hate-good: the charges against both were one and the same in\nsubstance, though somewhat varying in form; the contents whereof were\nthis: \"That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade; that\nthey had made riots and divisions in the town, and had won a party to\ntheir own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their\nprince.\"\n\nThen Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that\nwhich had set itself against Him that is higher than the highest. \"And,\"\nsaid he, \"as for disturbances, I make none, being myself a man of peace;\nthe parties that were won to us, were won by beholding our truth and\ninnocence, and they are only turned from the worse to the better. And,\nas to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our\nLord, I defy him and all his angels.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS ON TRIAL]\n\nThen it was made known that they that had aught to say for their lord\nthe king against the prisoner at the bar should forthwith appear and\ngive in their evidence. So there came in three witnesses; to wit, Envy,\nSuperstition, and Pickthank. They were then asked if they knew the\nprisoner at the bar, and what they had to say for their lord the king\nagainst him.\n\nThen stood forth Envy, and said to this effect: \"My lord, I have known\nthis man a long time, and will attest upon my oath before this honorable\nbench that he is--\"\n\nJUDGE. Hold! Give him his oath.\n\nENVY. So they sware him. Then said he, \"My lord, this man,\nnotwithstanding his name, Faithful is one of the vilest men in our\ncountry. He cares for neither prince nor people, law nor custom, but\ndoth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal\nnotions, which he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness.\nAnd in particular, I heard him once myself affirm that Christianity and\nthe customs of our town of Vanity were opposite, and could not be\nreconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at once not only condemn\nall our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them.\"\n\nJUDGE. Then did the judge say to him, \"Hast thou any more to say?\"\n\nENVY. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tiresome to\nthe court. Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their\nevidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that will dispatch him,\nI will have more to speak against him. So he was bid stand by.\n\nThen they called Superstition, and bade him look upon the prisoner. They\nalso asked what he could say for their lord the king against him. Then\nthey sware him: so he began:\n\nSUPER. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I\ndesire to have further knowledge of him. However, this I know, that he\nis a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse the other day that I had\nwith him in this town; for then, talking with him, I heard him say that\nour religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means\nplease God. Which saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows\nwhat necessarily thence will follow; to wit, that we still do worship in\nvain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be destroyed: and this is\nthat which I have to say.\n\nThen was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf of their\nlord the king, against the prisoner at the bar.\n\nPICK. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I have known a long\ntime, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken, for\nhe hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken\ncontemptuously of his honorable friends, whose names are, the Lord\nOld-man, the Lord Carnal-Delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord\nDesire-of-Vain-Glory, my old Lord Lust, Sir Having Greedy, with all the\nrest of our nobility and he hath said, moreover, that, if all men were\nof his mind, if possible there is not one of these noblemen should have\nany longer a being in this town. Besides, he has not been afraid to rail\non you, my lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an\nungodly villain, with many other such-like abusive terms, with which he\nhath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.\n\nJUDGE. When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge directed his\nspeech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, \"Thou runagate, heretic, and\ntraitor! hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed\nagainst thee?\"\n\nFAITH. May I speak a few words in my own defense?\n\nJUDGE. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain\nimmediately upon the place; yet, that all men may see our gentleness\ntowards thee, let us hear what thou, vile runagate, hast to say.\n\nFAITH. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, I have\nnever said aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or custom, or people\nwere flat against the Word of God, are opposite to Christianity. If I\nhave said amiss in this, convince me of my error, and I am ready here\nbefore you to take back my words.\n\n2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition and his charge against me,\nI said only this, that in the worship of God there is required true\nfaith. But there can be no true faith without a knowledge of the will of\nGod. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of God that is not\nagreeable to the word of God will not profit to eternal life.\n\n3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as that I\nam said to rail, and the like), that the prince of this town, with all\nthe rabblement his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for\na being in hell than in this town and country. And so the Lord have\nmercy upon me!\n\nThen the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to hear\nand observe), \"Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so\ngreat an uproar hath been made in this town; you have also heard what\nthese worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him; also you have heard\nhis reply and confession. It lieth now in your breast to hang him or to\nsave his life; but yet I think meet to instruct you into our law.\n\n\"There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh, the great servant to our\nprince, that, lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow\ntoo strong for him, their males should be thrown into the river. There\nwas also an act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of\nhis servants, that whoever would not fall down and worship his golden\nimage should be thrown into a fiery furnace. There was also an act made\nin the days of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any god but\nhim should be cast into the lions' den. Now, the substance of these laws\nthis rebel has broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne,)\nbut also in word and deed, which must, therefore, needs be intolerable.\nYou see he disputeth against our religion; and for the reason that he\nhath confessed he deserveth to die the death.\"\n\n[Sidenote: FAITHFUL DIES AT THE STAKE]\n\nThen went the jury out, whose names were Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr.\nMalice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr.\nEnmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable, who\nevery one gave in his private voice against him among themselves, and\nafterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the\nJudge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, the foreman, said, \"I\nsee clearly that this man is a heretic.\" Then said Mr. No-good, \"Away\nwith such a fellow from the earth!\" \"Ay,\" said Mr. Malice, \"for I hate\nthe very look of him.\" Then said Mr. Love-lust, \"I could never endure\nhim.\" \"Nor I,\" said Mr. Live-loose; \"for he would always be condemning\nmy way.\" \"Hang him, hang him!\" said Mr. Heady. \"A sorry scrub,\" said Mr.\nHigh-mind. \"My heart riseth against him,\" said Mr. Enmity. \"He is a\nrogue,\" said Mr. Liar. \"Hanging is too good for him,\" said Mr. Cruelty.\n\"Let us dispatch him out of the way,\" said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr.\nImplacable, \"Might I have all the world given to me, I could not be\nreconciled to him; therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty of\ndeath.\"\n\nAnd so they did: therefore he was presently condemned to be had from the\nplace where he was, to the place from whence he came, and there to be\nput to the most cruel death that could be invented.\n\nThey therefore brought him out, to do with him according to their law;\nand first they scourged him, then they buffeted him, then they lanced\nhis flesh with knives; after that they stoned him with stones, then\npricked him with their swords, and, last of all, they burned him to\nashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful to his end.\n\nNow, I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple\nof horses waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his enemies had slain\nhim) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through the\nclouds with sound of trumpet the nearest way to the Celestial Gate. But\nas for Christian, he had some delay, and was sent back to prison; so he\nthere remained for a space. But He who overrules all things, having the\npower of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian\nfor that time escaped them, and went his way. And as he went, he sang,\nsaying,\n\n  \"Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully professed\n  Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest,\n  When faithless ones, with all their vain delights,\n  Are crying out under their hellish plights.\n  Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive;\n  For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive.\"\n\n[Illustration: Hopeful and Christian.\n                                   Page 120]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, that Christian went forth not alone; for there\nwas one whose name was Hopeful (being so made by looking upon Christian\nand Faithful in their words and behavior in their sufferings at the\nfair,) who joined himself unto him, and, entering into a brotherly\npledge told him that he would be his companion. Thus one died to show\nfaithfulness to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a\ncompanion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This Hopeful also told\nChristian that there were many more of the men in the fair that would\ntake their time and follow after.\n\n[Sidenote: BY-ENDS OF FAIR-SPEECH]\n\nSo I saw that, quickly after they were got out of the fair, they\novertook one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends; so they\nsaid to him, \"What countryman, sir? and how far go you this way?\" He\ntold them that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and he was going to\nthe Celestial City; but told them not his name.\n\nCHRIS. \"From Fair-speech! are there any that be good live there?\"\n\nBY. \"Yes,\" said By-ends, \"I hope.\"\n\nCHRIS. Pray, sir, what may I call you?\n\nBY. I am a stranger to you, and you to me: if you be going this way, I\nshall be glad of your company; if not, I must be content.\n\nCHRIS. This town of Fair-speech, I have heard of it; and, as I remember,\nthey say it's a wealthy place.\n\nBY. Yes, I will assure you that it is; and I have very many rich kindred\nthere.\n\nCHRIS. Pray, who are your kindred there? if a man may be so bold.\n\nBY. Almost the whole town; but in particular my Lord Turnabout, my Lord\nTimeserver, my Lord Fair-speech, from whose ancestors that town first\ntook its name; also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything;\nand the parson of our parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own\nbrother by father's side; and to tell you the truth, I am become a\ngentleman of good quality; yet my great-grandfather was but a waterman,\nlooking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the\nsame occupation.\n\nCHRIS. Are you a married man?\n\nBY. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a\nvirtuous woman; she was my Lady Feigning's daughter: therefore she came\nof a very honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding,\nthat she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and peasant. 'Tis\ntrue we somewhat differ in religion from those of the stricter sort, yet\nbut in two small points: First, we never strive against wind and tide;\nsecondly, we are always most zealous when Religion is well dressed and\ngoes in his silver slippers: we love much to walk with him in the\nstreet if the sun shines and the people praise him.\n\nThen Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, \"It\nruns in my mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair-speech; and if it be\nhe, we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these\nparts.\" Then said Hopeful, \"Ask him; methinks he should not be ashamed\nof his name.\" So Christian came up with him again, and said, \"Sir, you\ntalk as if you knew something more than all the world doth; and if I\ntake not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you. Is not your\nname Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech?\"\n\nBY. This is not my name; but, indeed, it is a nickname that is given me\nby some that cannot abide me, and I must be content to bear it as a\nreproach, as other good men have borne theirs before me.\n\nCHRIS. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this\nname?\n\nBY. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to\ngive me this name was, that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment\nwith the present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to\ngain thereby. But if things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a\nblessing; but let not the malicious load me therefore with reproach.\n\nCHRIS. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of; and, to\ntell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly\nthan you are willing we should think it doth.\n\nBY. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it: you shall find me\na fair company-keeper if you still admit me your companion.\n\nCHRIS. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide; the\nwhich, I perceive, is against your opinion; you must also own Religion\nin his rags, as well as when in his silver slippers; and stand by him,\ntoo, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the streets with\napplause.\n\nBY. You must not impose or lord it over my faith; leave it to my\nliberty, and let me go with you.\n\nCHRIS. Not a step farther, unless you will do in what I declare as we\ndo.\n\nBY. Then said By-ends, \"I never desert my old principles, since they are\nharmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I did\nbefore you overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that\nwill be glad of my company.\"\n\n[Sidenote: MONEY-LOVE'S PRINCIPLES]\n\nNow, I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept\ntheir distance before him; but one of them, looking back, saw three men\nfollowing Mr. By-ends; and, behold, as they came up with him, he made\nthem a very low bow, and they also gave him a compliment. The men's\nnames were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Save-all; men\nthat Mr. By-ends had been formerly acquainted with; for in their\nboyhood they were schoolfellows, and taught by one Mr. Gripe-man a\nschoolmaster in Love-gain, which is a market town in the county of\nCoveting, in the North. This schoolmaster taught them the art of\ngetting, either by violence, cheating, flattery, lying, or by putting on\na pretence of religion; and these four gentlemen had learned much of the\nart of their master, so that they could each of them have kept such a\nschool themselves.\n\nWell, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love\nsaid to Mr. By-ends, \"Who are they upon the road before us?\" for\nChristian and Hopeful were yet within view.\n\nBY. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode, are\ngoing on pilgrimage.\n\nMONEY. Alas! why did they not stay, that we might have had their good\ncompany? for they, and we, and you, sir, I hope, are all going on\npilgrimage.\n\nBY. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so\nmuch their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of\nothers, that, let a man be ever so godly, yet, if he agrees not with\nthem in all things, they thrust him quite out of their company.\n\nSAVE. That is bad; but we read of some that are righteous overmuch, and\nsuch men's rigidness makes them to judge and condemn all but themselves.\nBut I pray, what and how many were the things wherein you differed?\n\nBY. Why, they, after their headstrong manner conclude that it is their\nduty to rush on their journey all weathers; and I am for waiting for\nwind and tide. They are for taking the risk of all for God at a clap;\nand I am for taking all advantages to secure my life and property. They\nare for holding their notions, though all other men be against them; but\nI am for religion in what and so far as, the times and my safety will\nbear it. They are for Religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for\nhim when he walks in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with\napplause.\n\nHOLD. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends; for, for my part,\nI can count him but a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he\nhas, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents. It is\nbest to make hay while the sun shines. You see how the bee lieth still\nall winter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit and pleasure.\nGod sends sometimes rain and sometimes sunshine; if they be such fools\nto go through the rain, yet let us be content to take fair weather along\nwith us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand with the\nsafety of God's good blessings unto us; for who can imagine, that is\nruled by his reason, since God has bestowed upon us the good things of\nthis life, but that He would have us keep them for His sake? Abraham and\nSolomon grew rich in religion; and Job says that \"a good man should lay\nup gold as dust;\" but he must not be such as the men before us, if they\nbe as you have described them.\n\nSAVE. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and therefore there\nneeds no more words about it.\n\nMONEY. No, there needs no more words about this matter, indeed; for he\nthat believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on\nour side), neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety.\n\nAnd so these four men, Mr. By-ends, Mr. Money-love, Mr. Save-all, and\nold Mr. Hold-the-world, walked on together, while Christian and Hopeful\nwere far in advance.\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL]\n\nThen Christian and Hopeful went on till they came to a delicate plain,\ncalled Ease, where they went with much content; but that plain was but\nnarrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther side of\nthat plain was a little hill, called Lucre,[4] and in that hill a silver\nmine, which some of them that had formerly gone that way, because of the\nrarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going too near the brink of\nthe pit, the ground, being deceitful under them, broke, and they were\nslain; some also had been maimed there, and could not to their dying day\nbe their own men again.\n\n  [4] An old word meaning \"money\" or \"riches.\"\n\nThen I saw in my dream that a little off the road, over against the\nsilver mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers to come\nand see; who said to Christian and his fellow, \"Ho! turn aside hither,\nand I will show you a thing.\"\n\nCHRIS. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way?\n\nDEMAS. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure; if\nyou will come, with a little pains you may richly provide for\nyourselves.\n\nHOPE. Then said Hopeful, \"Let us go see.\"\n\nCHRIS. \"Not I,\" said Christian. \"I have heard of this place before now,\nand how many have there been slain; and besides, that treasure is a\nsnare to those that seek it, for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage.\"\n\nCHRIS. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, \"Is not the place\ndangerous? Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage?\"\n\nDEMAS. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless. But\nwithal, he blushed as he spake.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian to Hopeful, \"Let us not stir a step, but\nstill keep on our way.\"\n\nHOPE. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same\ninvitation as we, he will turn in thither to see.\n\nCHRIS. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way; and a\nhundred to one but he dies there.\n\nDEMAS. Then Demas called out again, saying, \"But will you not come over\nand see?\"\n\nCHRIS. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, \"Demas, thou art an\nenemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already\ncondemned for thine own turning aside, by one of His Majesty's judges;\nand why seekest thou to have us condemned also? Besides, if we at all\nturn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will\nthere put us to shame where we should stand with boldness before Him.\"\n\nDemas cried again that he also was one of their company, a pilgrim like\nthemselves, and that, if they would tarry a little, he also himself\nwould walk with them.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian, \"What is thy name? Is it not the same by the\nwhich I have called thee?\"\n\nDEMAS. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham.\n\nCHRIS. I know you: Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your\nfather, and you have trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank\nthat thou usest: thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest\nno better reward. Assure thyself that when we come to the King, we will\ntell him of this thy behavior. Thus they went their way.\n\nBy this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight,\nand they at the first beck went over to Demas. Now, whether they fell\ninto the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went\ndown to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps\nthat commonly arise, of these things I am not certain; but this I\nobserved, that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang\nChristian:\n\n  \"By-ends and silver Demas both agree;\n  One calls; the other runs, that he may be\n  A sharer in his lucre; so these two\n  Take up in this world, and no farther go.\"\n\nNow, I saw that just on the other side of the plain the pilgrims came to\na place where stood an old monument hard by the highway-side; at the\nsight of which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness of\nthe form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman\nchanged into the shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, they stood looking\nand looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they should make\nthereof. At last Hopeful espied written above, upon the head thereof, a\nwriting in an unusual hand; but he, being no scholar, called to\nChristian (for he was learned,) to see if he could pick out the meaning;\nso he came, and after a little laying of letters together, he found the\nsame to be this, \"Remember Lot's wife.\" So he read it to his fellow;\nafter which, they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt into\nwhich Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart\nwhen she was going from Sodom. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them\noccasion for speaking thus:\n\nCHRIS. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight. It came just in time\nto us after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the\nhill Lucre; and, had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast\ninclining to do, my brother, we had, for aught I know, been made\nourselves, like this woman, a spectacle for those that shall come after\nto behold.\n\nHOPE. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am\nnot now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin\nand mine? She only looked back, and I had a desire to go see. Let God's\ngoodness be praised; and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing should\nbe in mine heart.\n\nCHRIS. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for time to\ncome. This woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the\ndestruction of Sodom; yet she was destroyed by another, as we see: she\nis turned into a pillar of salt.\n\nHOPE. What a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I, am not\nmade myself this example! This gives reason to us to thank God, to fear\nbefore Him and always to remember Lot's wife.\n\n[Sidenote: RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE]\n\nI saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which\nDavid the King called \"the river of God,\" but John, \"the river of the\nwater of life.\" Now their way lay just upon the bank of this river;\nhere, therefore, Christian and his companion walked with great delight;\nthey drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant and\nenlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river\non either side were green trees that bore all manner of fruit; and the\nleaves of the trees were good for medicine; with the fruit of these\ntrees they were also much delighted; and the leaves they ate to prevent\nillness, especially such diseases that come to those that heat their\nblood by travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow,\ncuriously beautified with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In\nthis meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might lie down\nsafely. When they awoke, they gathered again of the fruit of the trees\nand drank again of the water of the river, and they lay down again to\nsleep. This they did several days and nights. Then they sang:\n\n  \"Behold ye, how these crystal streams do glide,\n  To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side;\n  The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell,\n  Yield dainties for them; and he who can tell\n  What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield,\n  Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field.\"\n\nSo when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at their\njourney's end,) they ate and drank, and departed.\n\nNow, I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far, but the river\nand the way for a time parted, at which they were not a little sorry;\nyet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from the river was\nrough, and their feet tender by reason of their travels; so the souls of\nthe pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way. Wherefore, still\nas they went on they wished for a better way. Now, a little before them\nthere was, on the left hand of the road, a meadow, and a stile to go\nover into it, and that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said\nChristian to his fellow, \"If this meadow lieth along by our wayside,\nlet's go over it.\" Then he went to the stile to see; and behold, a path\nlay along by the way on the other side of the fence. \"It is according to\nmy wish,\" said Christian; \"here is the easiest going. Come, good\nHopeful, and let us go over.\"\n\nHOPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the way?\n\n[Sidenote: VAIN-CONFIDENCE]\n\nCHRIS. \"That is not likely,\" said the other. \"Look, doth it not go along\nby the wayside?\" So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after\nhim over the stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the\npath, they found it very easy to their feet; and withal, they, looking\nbefore them, espied a man walking as they did, and his name was\nVain-Confidence: so they called after him, and asked him whither that\nway led. He said, \"To the Celestial Gate.\" \"Look,\" said Christian, \"did\nnot I tell you so? By this you may see we are right.\" So they followed,\nand he went before them. But, behold, the night came on, and it grew\nvery dark; so that they that were behind lost sight of him that went\nbefore. He, therefore, that went before (Vain-Confidence by name) not\nseeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose\nthere made by the prince of those grounds to catch careless fools,\nwithal and was dashed in pieces with his fall.\n\nNow Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know the\nmatter; but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning. Then\nsaid Hopeful, \"Where are we now?\" Then was his fellow silent, as\nmistrusting that he had led him out of the way; and now it began to\nrain, and thunder, and lighten in a most dreadful manner, and the water\nrose amain.\n\nThen Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, \"Oh that I had kept on my way!\"\n\nCHRIS. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of\nthe way?\n\nHOPE. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore gave you that\ngentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you are older than\nI.\n\nCHRIS. Good brother, be not offended. I am very sorry I have brought\nthee out of the way, and that I have put thee into such great danger.\nPray, my brother, forgive me: I did not do it of any evil intent.\n\nHOPE. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee, and believe, too,\nthat this shall be for our good.\n\nCHRIS. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; but we must not\nstand still: let us try to go back again.\n\nHOPE. But, good brother, let me go before.\n\nCHRIS. No, if you please; let me go first, that, if there be any\ndanger, I may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone out\nof the way.\n\nHOPE. \"No, you shall not go first; for your mind being troubled may lead\nyou out of the way again.\" Then for their encouragement they heard the\nvoice of one saying, \"Let thine heart be towards the highway, even the\nway that thou wentest; turn again.\" But by this time the waters were\ngreatly risen, by reason of which the way of going back was very\ndangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier going out of the way when\nwe are in, than going in when we are out.) Yet they undertook to go\nback; but it was so dark, and the flood so high, that, in their going\nback, they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times.\n\n[Sidenote: GIANT DESPAIR]\n\nNeither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile\nthat night. Wherefore, at last lighting under a little shelter, they sat\ndown there until daybreak; but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now,\nthere was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called\nDoubting Castle the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was in his\ngrounds they now were sleeping; wherefore he, getting up in the morning\nearly, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and\nHopeful asleep in his grounds. Then, with a grim and surly voice, he bid\nthem awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his\ngrounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their\nway. Then said the giant, \"You have this night trespassed on me by\ntrampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along\nwith me.\" So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they.\nThey had also but little to say, for they knew themselves in fault. The\ngiant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle,\ninto a very dark dungeon, nasty and smelling vilely to the spirits of\nthese two men. Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday\nnight, without one bit of bread or drop of drink, or light, or any to\nask how they did; they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far\nfrom friends and people whom they knew. Now, in this place Christian had\ndouble sorrow, because it was through his thoughtless haste that they\nwere brought into this distress.\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS IN A DUNGEON]\n\nNow, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So, when he\nwas gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done; to wit, that he had\ntaken a couple of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon for\ntrespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best to\ndo further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came,\nand whither they were bound; and he told her. Then she advised him, that\nwhen he arose in the morning, he should beat them without any mercy. So,\nwhen he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down\ninto the dungeon to them, and there first fell to abusing them as if\nthey were dogs, although they never gave him a word of distaste. Then he\nfalls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that they were\nnot able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done,\nhe withdraws and leaves them there to sorrow over their misery and to\nmourn under their distress. So all that day they spent their time in\nnothing but sighs and bitter grief. The next night she, talking with her\nhusband about them further, and understanding that they were yet alive,\ndid advise him to tell them to make away with themselves. So, when\nmorning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner, as before and,\nperceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them\nthe day before, he told them that, since they were never like to come\nout of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of\nthemselves, either with knife, halter, or poison: \"For why,\" said he,\n\"should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?\"\nBut they desired him to let them go. With that, he looked ugly upon\nthem, and rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself,\nbut that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sunshiny\nweather, fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hands,\nwherefore he withdrew, and left them as before to consider what to do.\nThen did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best\nto take his advice or no; and thus they began to discourse:\n\nCHRIS. \"Brother,\" said Christian, \"what shall we do? The life we now\nlive is miserable. For my part, I know not whether is best, to live\nthus, or to die out of hand. My soul chooseth strangling rather than\nlife, and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon. Shall we be\nruled by the giant?\"\n\n[Sidenote: HOPEFUL CHEERS CHRISTIAN]\n\nHOPE. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful; and death would be far\nmore welcome to me than thus for ever to abide. But yet, let us think:\nthe Lord of the country to which we are going hath said, \"Thou shalt do\nno murder,\" no, not to another man's person; much more, then, are we\nforbidden to take his advice to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills\nanother can but commit murder upon his body; but for one to kill himself\nis to kill body and soul at once. And, moreover, my brother, thou\ntalkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten the hell, whither,\nfor certain, the murderers go? for \"no murderer hath eternal life.\" And\nlet us consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant\nDespair: others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by him as\nwell as we, and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows but that\nGod, who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair may die? or that,\nat some time or other, he may forget to lock us in? or that he may, in a\nshort time, have another of his fits before us, and he may lose the use\nof his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I\nam resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and try to my utmost to get\nfrom under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it before.\nBut however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure awhile: the time\nmay come that may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own\nmurderers.\n\nWith these words, Hopeful at present did calm the mind of his brother;\nso they continued together in the dark that day, in their sad and\ndoleful condition.\n\nWell, towards evening, the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to\nsee if his prisoners had taken his counsel. But, when he came there, he\nfound them alive; and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of\nbread and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat\nthem, they could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them alive;\nat which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that, seeing they\nhad disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had\nnever been born.\n\nAt this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a\nswoon; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their\ndiscourse about the giant's advice and whether yet they had best to take\nit or no. Now, Christian again seemed for doing it; but Hopeful made his\nsecond reply as followeth:\n\nHOPE. \"My brother,\" said he, \"rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast\nbeen heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou\ndidst hear, or see, or feel in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What\nhardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through! and art\nthou now nothing but fear? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with\nthee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also this giant has\nwounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water\nfrom my mouth; and, with thee, I mourn without the light. But let us\nhave a little more patience. Remember how thou showedst thyself the man\nat Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet\nof bloody death. Wherefore, let us (at least to avoid the shame that it\nbecomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as\nwe can.\"\n\nNow, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed,\nshe asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his\nadvice: to which he replied, \"They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather\nto bear all hardship than to make away with themselves.\" Then said she,\n\"Take them unto the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and\nskulls of those that thou hast already killed; and make them believe,\nere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them also in pieces, as thou\nhast done their fellows before them.\"\n\nSo when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes\nthem into the castle-yard and shows them as his wife had bidden him.\n\"These,\" said he, \"were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed\nin my grounds as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in\npieces; and so within ten days I will do you. Go, get you down to your\nden again.\" And, with that, he beat them all the way thither. They lay,\ntherefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now,\nwhen night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the giant\nwere got to bed, they began to renew their talking of their prisoners;\nand withal, the old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows\nnor counsel bring them to an end. And, with that, his wife replied, \"I\nfear,\" said she, \"that they live in hope that some will come to relieve\nthem; or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they\nhope to escape.\" \"And sayest thou so, my dear?\" said the giant: \"I will\ntherefore search them in the morning.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS ESCAPE]\n\nWell, on Saturday about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in\nprayer till almost break of day.\n\nNow, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed,\nbrake out into this earnest speech: \"What a fool,\" quoth he, \"am I to\nlie in a foul-smelling dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I\nhave a key in my bosom called Promise, that will, I am sure, open any\nlock in Doubting Castle.\" Then said Hopeful, \"That is good news, good\nbrother: pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.\"\n\nThen Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the\ndungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door\nflew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he\nwent to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and with his\nkey opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that\nmust be opened too; but that lock went exceedingly hard, yet the key did\nopen it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed;\nbut that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant\nDespair who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to\nfail; for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after\nthem. Then they went on, and came to the King's highway again, and so\nwere safe because they were out of Giant Despair's rule.\n\nNow, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with\nthemselves what they should do at that stile to prevent those that\nshould come after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they\nagreed to build there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof\nthis sentence: \"Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is\nkept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country,\nand seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims.\" Many, therefore, that followed\nafter, read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they\nsang as follows:\n\n  \"Out of the way we went, and then we found\n  What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground:\n  And let them that come after have a care,\n  Lest heedlessness make them as we to fare;\n  Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are\n  Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n[Sidenote: THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS]\n\n\nThey went then till they came to the Delectable[5] Mountains, which\nmountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken\nbefore. So they went up to the mountains to behold the gardens and\norchards, the vineyards and fountains of water, where also they drank\nand washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there\nwere on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and\nthey stood by the highway-side. The pilgrims, therefore, went to them,\nand leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims when\nthey stand to talk with any by the way), they asked, \"Whose delightful\nmountains are these, and whose be the sheep that feed upon them?\"\n\n  [5] This word means \"pleasant,\" or \"delightful.\"\n\nSHEP. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they are within sight of\nHis city; and the sheep also are His, and He laid down His life for\nthem.\n\nCHRIS. Is this the way to the Celestial City?\n\nSHEP. You are just in your way.\n\nCHRIS. How far is it thither?\n\nSHEP. Too far for any but those who shall get thither indeed.\n\nCHRIS. Is the way safe or dangerous?\n\nSHEP. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; but sinners shall fall\ntherein.\n\nCHRIS. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and\nfaint in the way?\n\nSHEP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be\nforgetful to care for strangers; therefore the good of the place is\nbefore you.\n\nI saw also in my dream that when the shepherds perceived that they were\nwayfaring men, they also put questions to them (to which they made\nanswer as in other places), as, \"Whence came you?\" and \"How got you into\nthe way?\" and, \"By what means have you so persevered therein? for but\nfew of them that begin to come hither do show their faces on these\nmountains.\" But when the shepherds heard their answers, being pleased\ntherewith they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, \"Welcome to the\nDelectable Mountains!\"\n\nThe shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful,\nand Sincere, took them by the hand and took them to their tents, and\nmade them partake of what was ready at present. They said moreover, \"We\nwould that you should stay here awhile, to be acquainted with us, and\nyet more to cheer yourselves with the good of these Delectable\nMountains.\" They then told them that they were content to stay. So they\nwent to rest that night, because it was very late.\n\n[Sidenote: THE SHEPHERDS CONDUCT THEM]\n\nThen I saw in my dream that in the morning the shepherds called up\nChristian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains. So they\nwent forth with them and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on\nevery side. Then said the shepherds one to another, \"Shall we show these\npilgrims some wonders?\" So, when they had concluded to do it, they had\nthem first to the top of the hill called Error, which was very steep on\nthe farthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian\nand Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to\npieces by a fall they had had from the top. Then said Christian, \"What\nmeaneth this?\" Then the shepherds answered, \"Have you not heard of them\nthat were made to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as\nconcerning the faith of the rising from the dead?\" They answered, \"Yes.\"\nThen said the shepherds, \"Those you see lie dashed to pieces at the\nbottom of this mountain are they; and they have continued to this day\nunburied, as you see, for an example to others to take heed how they\nclamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain.\"\n\nThen I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and the\nname of that is Caution and bid them look afar off; and when they did,\nthey perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and down among\nthe tombs that were there; and they perceived that the men were blind,\nbecause they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could\nnot get out from among them. Then said Christian, \"What means this?\"\n\nThe shepherds then answered, \"Did you not see a little below these\nmountains a stile that led into a meadow on the left hand side of this\nway?\" They answered, \"Yes.\" Then said the shepherds, \"From that stile\nthere goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept\nby Giant Despair; and these men\" (pointing to them among the tombs)\n\"came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even until they came to that\nsame stile. And because the right way was rough in that place, they\nchose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant\nDespair, and cast into Doubting Castle, where, after they had been kept\na while in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led them\namong those tombs, where he has left them to wander to this very day,\nthat the saying of the Wise Man might be fulfilled, 'He that wandereth\nout of the way of knowledge, shall remain in the congregation of the\ndead.'\" Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another with tears\ngushing out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds.\n\nThen I saw in my dream, that the shepherds had them to another place in\na bottom, where was a door on the side of a hill; and they opened the\ndoor, and bid them look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that\nwithin it was very dark and smoky; they also thought that they heard\nthere a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some tormented, and\nthat they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, \"What means\nthis?\" The shepherds told them, \"This is a by-way to hell, a way that\nhypocrites go in at: namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau;\nsuch as sell their master, with Judas; such as blaspheme the Gospel,\nwith Alexander; and that lie and deceive with Ananias and Sapphira his\nwife.\"\n\nHOPE. Then said Hopeful to the shepherds, \"I perceive that these had on\nthem, even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they\nnot?\"\n\nSHEP. Yes, and held it a long time too.\n\nHOPE. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their day, since they\nnotwithstanding were thus miserably cast away?\n\nSHEP. Some farther, and some not so far as these mountains.\n\nThen said the pilgrims one to another, \"We have need to cry to the\nStrong for strength.\"\n\nSHEP. Ay, and you will have need to use it when you have it, too.\n\n[Sidenote: GATE OF THE CELESTIAL CITY]\n\nBy this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the shepherds\na desire they should; so they walked together towards the end of the\nmountains. Then said the shepherds one to another, \"Let us here show to\nthe pilgrims the gate of the Celestial City, if they have skill to look\nthrough our perspective glass.\"[6] The pilgrims then lovingly accepted\nthe motion; so they had them to the top of a high hill called Clear, and\ngave them their glass to look.\n\n  [6] \"Perspective glass\" is an old name for a telescope or spy-glass.\n\nThen they tried to look; but the remembrance of that last thing, that\nthe shepherds had showed them, made their hands shake, by means of which\nhindrance they could not look steadily through the glass; yet they\nthought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory of\nthe place. Thus they went away, and sang this song:\n\n  \"Thus by the shepherds secrets are revealed,\n  Which from all other men are kept concealed.\n  Come to the shepherds, then, if you would see\n  Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.\"\n\nWhen they were about to depart, one of the shepherds gave them a note of\nthe way. Another of them bid them beware of the Flatterer. The third bid\nthem take heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the\nfourth bid them God speed.\n\nSo I awoke from my dream.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n[Sidenote: THEY OVERTAKE IGNORANCE]\n\n\nAnd I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two pilgrims going down\nthe mountains along the highway towards the city. Now, a little below\nthese mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit; from\nwhich country there comes into the way in which the pilgrims walked a\nlittle crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met with a very brisk lad,\nthat came out of that country, and his name was Ignorance. So Christian\nasked him from what parts he came, and whither he was going.\n\nIGNOR. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there a little on\nthe left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City.\n\nCHRIS. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may find some\ndifficulty there.\n\nIGNOR. As other people do.\n\nCHRIS. But what have you to show at the gate, that may cause that the\ngate should be opened to you?\n\nIGNOR. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good liver; I pay every\nman his own; I pray, fast, pay money to the church and give to the poor,\nand have left my country for whither I am going.\n\nCHRIS. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate that is at the head of\nthis way: thou camest in hither through that same crooked lane; and\ntherefore I fear, however thou mayest think of thyself, when the\nreckoning day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge that thou\nart a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into the city.\n\nIGNOR. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me: I know you not: be\ncontent to follow the custom of your country, and I will follow the\ncustom of mine. I hope all will be well. And, as for the gate that you\ntalk of, all the world knows that that is a great way off of our\ncountry. I cannot think that any man in all our parts doth so much as\nknow the way to it; nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we\nhave, as you see, a fine, pleasant green lane, that comes down from our\ncountry, the next way into the way.\n\nWhen Christian saw that the man was wise in his own opinion, he said to\nHopeful, whisperingly, \"There is more hope of a fool than of him.\" And\nsaid, moreover \"When he that is a fool walketh by the way, his wisdom\nfaileth him, and he saith to every one that he is a fool. What! shall we\ntalk further with him, or outgo him at present, and so leave him to\nthink of what he hath heard already, and then stop again for him\nafterwards, and see if by degrees we can do any good to him?\"\n\nThen said Hopeful:\n\n  \"Let Ignorance a little while now muse\n  On what is said, and let him not refuse\n  Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain\n  Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain.\n  God saith, those that no understanding have\n  (Although He made them), them He will not save.\"\n\nHOPE. He further added, \"It is not good, I think, to say all to him at\nonce: let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him by and by, even\nas he is able to bear it.\"\n\nSo they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now, when they had\npassed him a little way, they entered into a very dark lane, where they\nmet a man whom seven devils had bound with seven strong cords, and were\ncarrying of him back to the door that they saw on the side of the hill.\nNow good Christian began to tremble, and so did Hopeful his companion;\nyet, as the devils led away the man, Christian looked to see if he knew\nhim; and he thought it might be one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of\nApostasy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his\nhead like a thief that is found; but being gone past, Hopeful looked\nafter him, and espied on his back a paper with this inscription, \"One\nwho was wicked while claiming to be good, and turned away from God.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THREE STURDY ROGUES]\n\nThen said Christian to his fellow, \"Now I call to remembrance that which\nwas told of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout. The name of\nthat man was Little-Faith, but a good man, and dwelt in the town of\nSincere. The thing was this: At the entering in at this passage, there\ncomes down from Broad-way Gate a lane called Dead Man's Lane; so-called\nbecause of the murders that are commonly done there; and this\nLittle-Faith, going on pilgrimage as we do now, chanced to sit down\nthere, and slept. Now, there happened at that time to come down that\nlane, from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were\nFaint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, three brothers; and they espying\nLittle-Faith, where he was, came galloping up with speed. Now, the good\nman was just awaked from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his\njourney. So they came up all to him, and with threatening language bid\nhim stand. At this, Little-Faith looked as white as a sheet and had\nneither power to fight nor fly. Then said Faint-heart, 'Deliver thy\npurse;' but, he making no haste to do it (for he was loth to lose his\nmoney) Mistrust ran up to him, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket,\npulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried out, 'Thieves!\nthieves!' With that, Guilt, with a great club that was in his hand,\nstruck Little-Faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to\nthe ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed to death. All\nthis while the thieves stood by. But, at last, they hearing that some\nwere upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great-Grace, that\ndwells in the city of Good-Confidence, they betook themselves to their\nheels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now, after a while,\nLittle-Faith came to himself, and, getting up, made shift to scramble on\nhis way. This was the story.\"\n\nHOPE. But did they take from him all that ever he had?\n\nCHRIS. No; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked; so\nthose he kept still. But as I was told, the good man was much afflicted\nfor his loss, for the thieves got most of his spending money. That which\nthey got not, as I said, were jewels; also he had a little odd money\nleft, but scarce enough to bring him to his journey's end. Nay, if I was\nnot misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alive,\nfor his jewels he might not sell; but, beg and do what he could, he\nwent, as we say, often with a hungry stomach the most part of the rest\nof the way.\n\nHOPE. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his certificate, by\nwhich he was to receive admission at the Celestial Gate?\n\nCHRIS. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they missed it not\nthrough any cunning of his; for he, being dismayed by their coming upon\nhim, had neither power nor skill to hide anything; so it was more by\ngood providence than by his endeavor, that they missed of that good\nthing.\n\nHOPE. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got not his jewels\nfrom him.\n\nCHRIS. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it as he\nshould; but they that told me the story said, that he made but little\nuse of it all the rest of the way, and that because of the alarm that he\nhad in their taking away his money. Indeed, he forgot it a great part of\nthe rest of his journey; and besides, when at any time it came into his\nmind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts\nof his loss come again upon him, and those thoughts would swallow up\nall.\n\n[Sidenote: HOPEFUL REBUKED]\n\nHOPE. Alas, poor man! this could not but be a great grief unto him.\n\nCHRIS. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any of\nus, had we been used as he, to be robbed and wounded too, and that in a\nstrange place, as he was? It is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor\nheart! I was told that he scattered almost all the rest of the way with\nnothing but doleful and bitter complaints; telling also to all that\novertook him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where he was\nrobbed, and how; who they were that did it, and what he had lost; how he\nwas wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life.\n\nHOPE. But it is a wonder that his necessities did not put him upon\nselling or pawning some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith to\nrelieve himself in his journey.\n\nCHRIS. Thou talkest like one whose head is thick to this very day. For\nwhat should he pawn them, or to whom should he sell them? In all that\ncountry where he was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; nor did\nhe want that relief which could from thence be administered to him.\nBesides, had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial City,\nhe had (and that he knew well enough) been shut out from an inheritance\nthere; and that would have been worse to him than the coming and villany\nof ten thousand thieves.\n\nHOPE. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart,\nare but a company of cowards: would they have run else, think you, as\nthey did at the noise of one that was coming on the road? Why did not\nLittle-Faith pluck up a greater heart? He might, methinks, have stood\none brush with them, and have yielded when there had been no remedy.\n\nCHRIS. That they are cowards many have said, but few have found it so in\nthe time of trial. As for a great heart, Little-Faith had none; and I\nperceive by thee, my brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou\nart but for a brush, and then to yield. And, verily, since this is the\nheight of thy courage now they are at a distance from us, should they\nappear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to second\nthoughts. But consider again, they are but journeymen-thieves; they\nserve under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come\nin to their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a lion. I\nmyself have been engaged as this Little-Faith was, and I found it a\nterrible thing. These three villains set upon me: and I beginning like a\nChristian to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I\nwould, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny, but that, as\nGod would have it, I was clothed with armor of proof. Ay, and yet,\nthough I was so protected, I found it hard work to quit myself like a\nman. No man can tell what in that combat attends us, but he that hath\nbeen in the battle himself.\n\n[Sidenote: LITTLE-FAITH AND GREAT-GRACE]\n\nHOPE. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose that one\nGreat-Grace was in the way.\n\nCHRIS. True, they have often fled, both they and their master, when\nGreat-Grace hath but appeared; and no marvel, for he is the King's\nchampion. But I trow you will put some difference between Little-Faith\nand the King's champion? All the King's subjects are not His champions,\nnor can they when tried do such feats of war as he. Is it meet to think\nthat a little child should handle Goliath as David did? or that there\nshould be the strength of an ox in a wren? Some are strong, some are\nweak; some have great faith, some have little: this man was one of the\nweak, and therefore he went to the wall.\n\nHOPE. I would it had been Great-Grace for their sakes.\n\nCHRIS. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full; for I must\ntell you that though Great-Grace is excellent good at his weapons, and\nhas, and can, so long as he keeps them at sword's point, do well enough\nwith them; yet, if they get within him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or\nthe other, it shall go hard but they will throw up his heels. And when a\nman is down, you know, what can he do?\n\nWhoso looks well upon Great-Grace's face will see those scars and cuts\nthere, that shall easily give proof of what I say. Yea, once I heard\nthat he should say (and that when he was in the combat), \"We despaired\neven of life.\" How did these sturdy rogues and their fellows make David\ngroan, mourn, and roar! Yea, Heman, and Hezekiah too, though champions\nin their days, were forced to bestir when by these attacked; and yet,\nnotwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by them. Peter,\nupon a time, would go try what he could do; but though some do say of\nhim that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him so that they\nmade him at last afraid of a sorry girl.\n\n[Sidenote: LITTLE-FAITH AMONG THIEVES]\n\nBesides, their king is at their whistle--he is never out of hearing; and\nif at any time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to\nhelp them; and of him it is said, \"The sword of him that layeth at him\ncannot hold; the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. He esteemeth iron\nas straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee;\nsling-stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as\nstubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.\" What can a man do in\nthis case? It is true, if a man could at every turn have Job's horse,\nand had skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable things. For\nhis neck is clothed with thunder. He will not be afraid as the\ngrasshopper: \"the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the\nvalley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed\nmen. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth he his\nback from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering\nspear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage;\nneither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among\nthe trumpets, Ha! ha! and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder\nof the captains, and the shouting.\"\n\nBut for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with\nan enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of others\nthat have been foiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts of our manhood;\nfor such commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I\nmade mention before: he would swagger, ay, he would; he would, as his\nvain mind prompted him to say, do better and stand more for his Master\nthan all men; but who so foiled and run down by those villains as he?\n\nThen Christian sang:\n\n  \"Poor Little-Faith! hast been among the thieves?\n  Wast robbed? Remember this: whoso believes\n  And gets more faith, shall then a victor be\n  Over ten thousand; else, scarce over three.\"\n\nSo they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came\nto a place where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed\nwithal to lie as straight as the way which they should go; and here they\nknew not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them;\ntherefore here they stood still to consider. And, as they were thinking\nabout the way, behold, a man, black of flesh, but covered with a very\nlight robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there. They\nanswered they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of\nthese ways to take. \"Follow me,\" said the man; \"it is thither that I am\ngoing.\" So they followed him to the way that but now came into the road,\nwhich by degrees turned and turned them so from the city that they\ndesired to go to, that, in a little time, their faces were turned away\nfrom it; yet they followed him. But by-and-by, before they were aware,\nhe led them both within the folds of a net, in which they were both so\nentangled that they knew not what to do; and with that, the white robe\nfell off the black man's back. Then they saw where they were. Wherefore,\nthere they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian to his fellow, \"Now do I see myself in an\nerror. Did not the shepherds bid us beware of flatterers? As is the\nsaying of the Wise Man, so we have found it this day: 'A man that\nflattereth his neighbor, spreadeth a net at his feet.'\"\n\n[Sidenote: A SHINING ONE APPEARS]\n\nHOPE. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more\nsure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and\nhave not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer. Thus they lay\nbewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a Shining One\ncoming towards them with a whip of small cord in his hand. When he was\ncome to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, and\nwhat they did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to\nZion, but were led out of their way by a black man clothed in white,\n\"Who bid us,\" said they, \"follow him, for he was going thither too.\"\nThen said he with the whip, \"It is Flatterer, a false prophet, that hath\nchanged himself into an angel of light.\" So he rent the net, and let the\nmen out. Then said he to them, \"Follow me, that I may set you in your\nway again.\" So he led them back to the way which they had left to follow\nthe Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, \"Where did you lie the last\nnight?\" They said, \"With the shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains.\"\nHe asked them then if they had not of those shepherds a note of\ndirection for the way. They answered, \"Yes.\" \"But did you not,\" said he,\n\"when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note?\" They answered,\n\"No.\" He asked them, \"Why?\" They said they forgot. He asked them,\nmoreover, if the shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer.\nThey answered, \"Yes; but we did not imagine,\" said they, \"that this\nfine-spoken man had been he.\"\n\nThen I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down; which when\nthey did, he whipped them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they\nshould walk; and, as he whipped them, he said, \"As many as I love, I\nrebuke and chasten; be zealous, therefore, and repent.\" This done, he\nbid them go on their way, and take good heed to the other directions of\nthe shepherds. So they thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly\nalong the right way, singing:\n\n  \"Come hither, you that walk along the way,\n  See how the pilgrims fare that go astray;\n  They catched are in an entangling net,\n  'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget;\n  'Tis true, they rescued were; but yet, you see,\n  They're scourged to boot: let this your caution be.\"\n\nNow, after awhile they perceived afar off, one coming softly and alone,\nall along the highway, to meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow,\n\"Yonder is a man with his back towards Zion, and he is coming to meet\nus.\"\n\nHOPE. I see him: let us take heed to ourselves lest he should prove a\nflatterer also.\n\n[Sidenote: THEY MEET ATHEIST]\n\nSo he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His name was\nAtheist,[7] and he asked them whither they were going.\n\n  [7] An atheist is one who does not believe that there is a God.\n\nCHRIS. We are going to Mount Zion.\n\nThen Atheist fell into a very great laughter.\n\nCHRIS. What is the meaning of your laughter?\n\nATHEIST. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon\nyourselves so tedious a journey, and yet are like to have nothing but\nyour travel for your pains.\n\n[Illustration: Atheist Laughing at Christian and Hopeful.\n                                   Page 170]\n\nCHRIS. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received?\n\nATHEIST. Received! There is no such a place as you dream of in all this\nworld.\n\nCHRIS. But there is in the world to come.\n\nATHEIST. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as you now\naffirm, and, from that hearing, went out to see, and have been seeking\nthis city these twenty years, but find no more of it than I did the\nfirst day I set out.\n\nCHRIS. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place to be\nfound.\n\nATHEIST. Had not I, when at home, believed I had not come thus far to\nseek; but, finding none (and yet I should had there been such a place to\nbe found, for I have gone to seek it farther than you), I am going back\nagain, and will seek to refresh myself with the things that I then cast\naway for hopes of that which I now see is not.\n\nCHRIS. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, \"Is it true which this\nman hath said?\"\n\nHOPE. Take heed; he is one of the flatterers. Remember what it hath cost\nus once already for hearkening to such kind of fellows. What! no Mount\nZion? Did we not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of the city?\nAlso, are we not now to walk by faith? Let us go on, lest the man with\nthe whip overtake us again. I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and\nlet us believe to the saving of the soul.\n\nCHRIS. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I\ndoubted of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to\nfetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I\nknow that he is blinded. Let thee and me go on, knowing that we have\nbelief of the truth, and no lie is of the truth.\n\nHOPE. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God.\n\nSo they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at them, went his\nway.\n\nI then saw in my dream that they went till they came into a certain\ncountry, whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy if he came a\nstranger into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of\nsleep; wherefore he said unto Christian, \"I do now begin to grow so\ndrowsy, that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes; let us lie down here, and\ntake one nap.\"\n\nCHRIS. \"By no means,\" said the other, \"lest sleeping, we never awake\nmore.\"\n\nHOPE. Why, my brother? sleep is sweet to the laboring man: we may be\nrefreshed if we take a nap.\n\nCHRIS. Do not you remember that one of the shepherds bid us beware of\nthe Enchanted Ground? He meant by that that we should beware of\nsleeping; wherefore let us not sleep as others, but let us watch and be\nsober.\n\nHOPE. I acknowledge myself in fault; and had I been here alone, I had,\nby sleeping, run the danger of death. I see it is true that the Wise\nMan saith, \"Two are better than one.\" Hitherto hath thy company been my\nhelp; and thou shalt have a good reward for thy labor.\n\nCHRIS. \"Now, then,\" said Christian, \"to prevent drowsiness in this\nplace, let us talk about something profitable.\"\n\nHOPE. With all my heart.\n\n[Sidenote: HOPEFUL NARRATES CONVERSION]\n\nCHRIS. Where shall we begin?\n\nHOPE. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please.\n\nCHRIS. I will sing you first this song:\n\n  \"When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither,\n  And hear how these two pilgrims talk together;\n  Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise,\n  Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumbering eyes.\n  Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well,\n  Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell.\"\n\nCHRIS. Then Christian began, and said, \"I will ask you a question. How\ncame you to think at first of doing as you do now?\"\n\nHOPE. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good of my\nsoul?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, that is my meaning.\n\nHOPE. I continued a great while in the delight of those things which\nwere seen and sold at our fair; things which I believe now would have,\nhad I continued in them still, drowned me in ruin and destruction.\n\nCHRIS. What things were they?\n\nHOPE. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted much\nin rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness,\nSabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I\nfound at last, by hearing and considering of things that are holy, which\nindeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, that was put to\ndeath for his faith, and good living in Vanity Fair, that the end of\nthese things is death; and that, for these things' sake, the wrath of\nGod cometh upon those who disobey him.\n\nCHRIS. And did you presently fall under the power of this feeling?\n\nHOPE. No; I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor the\ndestruction that follows upon the doing of it; but tried, when my mind\nat first began to be shaken with the Word, to shut mine eyes against the\nlight thereof.\n\nCHRIS. But what was the cause of your waiting so long?\n\nHOPE. The causes were,--Firstly, I was ignorant that this was the work\nof God upon me. Secondly, Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was\nloth to leave it. Thirdly, I could not tell how to part with mine old\ncompanions, their presence and actions were so desirable unto me.\nFourthly, The hours in which these feelings were upon me, were such\ntroublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not bear, no,\nnot so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart.\n\nCHRIS. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble?\n\nHOPE. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again, and then I\nshould be as bad, nay, worse than I was before.\n\nCHRIS. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again?\n\nHOPE. Many things; as,\n\n  1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or,\n\n  2. If I have heard any read in the Bible; or,\n\n  3. If mine head did begin to ache; or,\n\n  4. If I were told that some of my neighbors\n  were sick; or,\n\n  5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were\n  dead; or,\n\n  6. If I thought of dying myself; or,\n\n  7. If I heard that sudden death happened to\n  others;\n\n  8. But especially when I thought of myself that\n  I must quickly come to judgment.\n\nCHRIS. And could you at any time with ease get off the guilt of sin,\nwhen by any of these ways it came upon you?\n\nHOPE. No, not I; for then they got faster hold of my conscience; and\nthen, if I did but think of going back to sin (though my mind was turned\nagainst it,) it would be double torment to me.\n\nCHRIS. And how did you do then?\n\nHOPE. I thought I must endeavor to mend my life; for else, thought I, I\nam sure to be lost forever.\n\nCHRIS. And did you endeavor to mend?\n\nHOPE. Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too, and\nbetook me to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin,\nspeaking truth to my neighbors, etc. These things did I, with many\nothers, too much here to tell.\n\nCHRIS. And did you think yourself well then?\n\nHOPE. Yes, for a while; but, at the last, my trouble came tumbling upon\nme again, and that over the neck of all my trying to do right.\n\nCHRIS. How came that about, since you were now doing right, as far as\nyou knew?\n\nHOPE. There were several things brought it upon me; especially such\nsayings as these: \"All our righteousness are as filthy rags;\" \"By the\nworks of the law shall no flesh be made righteous;\" \"When ye shall have\ndone all those things which are commanded you, say, We are\nunprofitable;\" with many more such like. From whence I began to reason\nwith myself thus: If all my righteousness are filthy rags, if by the\ndeeds of the law no man can be made righteous, and if, when we have done\n_all_, we are yet unprofitable, then it is but a folly to think of\nheaven by the law. I further thought thus; If a man runs a hundred\npounds into the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay for all that\nhe shall buy; yet his old debt stands still in the book uncrossed; for\nthe which the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison till he\nshall pay the debt.\n\nCHRIS. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself?\n\nHOPE. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have by my sins run a great\nway into God's book, and my now reforming will not pay off that score.\nTherefore I should think still, under all my present trying. But how\nshall I be freed from that punishment that I have brought myself in\ndanger of by my former sins.\n\nCHRIS. A very good application; but pray go on.\n\nHOPE. Another thing that hath troubled me ever since my late turning\nfrom sin is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what I do now, I\nstill see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of that I do; so\nthat now I am forced to conclude that, notwithstanding my former fond\nopinion of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in one duty to\nsend me to hell, though my former life had been faultless.\n\nCHRIS. And what did you do then?\n\nHOPE. Do! I could not tell what to do, till I brake my mind to Faithful;\nfor he and I were well acquainted. And he told me, that unless I could\nobtain the righteousness of a Man that never had sinned, neither mine\nown nor all the righteousness of the world could save me.\n\nCHRIS. And did you think he spake true?\n\nHOPE. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with mine own\ntrying, I had called him fool for his pains; but now, since I see mine\nown weakness and the sin which cleaves to my best performance, I have\nbeen forced to be of his opinion.\n\nCHRIS. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you, that\nthere was such a Man to be found, of whom it might justly be said that\nHe never committed sin?\n\nHOPE. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely; but after a\nlittle more talk and company with him I had full certainty about it.\n\nCHRIS. And did you ask him what Man this was, and how you must be made\nrighteous by Him?\n\nHOPE. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on the\nright hand of the Most High. And thus, said he, you must be made right\nby Him, even by trusting what He hath done by Himself in the days of His\nflesh, and suffered when He did hang on the tree. I asked him further,\nHow that Man's righteousness could be of that power to help another\nbefore God? And he told me He was the mighty God, and did what He did,\nand died the death also, not for Himself, but for me; to whom His\ndoings, and the worthiness of them, should be given if I believed on\nHim.\n\nCHRIS. And what did you do then?\n\nHOPE. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought He\nwas not willing to save me.\n\nCHRIS. And what said Faithful to you then?\n\nHOPE. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said it was too much for me to\nask for. But he said No, for I was invited to come. Then he gave me a\nbook of Jesus' own writing to encourage me the more freely to come; and\nhe said concerning that book, that every word and letter thereof stood\nfirmer than heaven and earth. Then I asked him what I must do when I\ncame; and he told me I must entreat on my knees, with all my heart and\nsoul, the Father to reveal Him to me. Then I asked him further how I\nmust make my prayer to Him; and he said, Go, and thou shalt find Him\nupon a mercy-seat, where He sits all the year long to give pardon and\nforgiveness to them that come. I told him that I knew not what to say\nwhen I came; and he bid me say to this effect: God be merciful to me a\nsinner, and make me to know and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see that\nif His righteousness had not been, or I have not faith in that\nrighteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, I have heard that Thou art\na merciful God, and hast given that Thy Son Jesus Christ should be the\nSaviour of the world; and, moreover, that Thou art willing to bestow Him\nupon such a poor sinner as I am. And I am a sinner indeed. Lord, take\ntherefore this opportunity, and show Thy grace in the salvation of my\nsoul, through Thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen.\n\nCHRIS. And did you do as you were bidden?\n\nHOPE. Yes, over, and over, and over.\n\nCHRIS. And did the Father show His son to you?\n\nHOPE. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor fifth;\nno, nor at the sixth time neither.\n\nCHRIS. What did you do then?\n\nHOPE. What! why, I could not tell what to do.\n\nCHRIS. Had you no thoughts of leaving off praying?\n\nHOPE. Yes; a hundred times twice told.\n\nCHRIS. And what was the reason you did not?\n\nHOPE. I believed that that was true which had been told me; to wit, that\nwithout the righteousness of this Christ, all the world could not save\nme; and therefore, thought I with myself, if I leave off I die, and I\ncan but die at the throne of grace. And withal, this came into my mind:\n\"Though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not\ntarry.\" So I continued praying until the Father showed me His Son.\n\nCHRIS. And how was He shown unto you?\n\nHOPE. I did not see Him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of my\nheart, and thus it was: One day I was very sad, I think sadder than at\nany one time in my life; and this sadness was through a fresh sight of\nthe greatness and vileness of my sins. And, as I was then looking for\nnothing but hell and the everlasting loss of my soul, suddenly, as I\nthought, I saw the Lord Jesus look down from heaven upon me, and saying,\n\"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.\"\n\nBut I replied, \"Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner.\" And He\nanswered, \"My grace is sufficient for thee.\" Then I said, \"But, Lord,\nwhat is believing?\" And then I saw from that saying, \"He that cometh to\nme shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst,\"\nthat believing and coming was all one; and that he that came, that is,\nran out in his heart and desire after salvation by Christ, he indeed\nbelieved in Christ. Then the water stood in mine eyes, and I asked\nfurther, \"But, Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted\nof Thee, and be saved by thee?\" and I heard Him say, \"And him that\ncometh to me I will in no wise cast out.\" Then said I, \"But how Lord,\nmust I consider of Thee in my coming to Thee, that my faith may be\nplaced aright upon Thee?\" Then he said, \"Christ Jesus came into the\nworld to save sinners. He is the end of the law for righteousness to\nevery one that believes. He died for our sins, and rose again for our\nrighteousness. He loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own\nblood. He is Mediator between God and us. He ever liveth to plead for\nus.\" From all which I gathered that I must look for righteousness in His\nperson, and for satisfaction for my sins by His blood; that what He did\nin obedience to His Father's law, and in submitting to the penalty\nthereof, was not for Himself, but for him that will accept it for his\nsalvation, and be thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes\nfull of tears, and mine affections running over with love to the name,\npeople, and ways of Jesus Christ.\n\nCHRIS. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed. But tell me\nparticularly what effect this had upon your spirit.\n\nHOPE. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all the\nrighteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. It made me see\nthat God the Father, though He be just, can justly forgive the coming\nsinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former life,\nand confounded me with the sense of my own ignorance; for there never\ncame thought into my heart before now, that showed me so the beauty of\nJesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do something for\nthe honor and glory of the name of the Lord Jesus. Yea, I thought that\nhad I now a thousand gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all\nfor the sake of the Lord Jesus.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nI saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back, and saw Ignorance, whom\nthey had left behind, coming after. \"Look,\" said he to Christian, \"how\nfar yonder youngster loitereth behind.\"\n\nCHRIS. Ay, ay, I see him: he careth not for our company.\n\nHOPE. But I think it would not have hurt him, had he kept pace with us\nhitherto.\n\nCHRIS. That is true; but I warrant you he thinks otherwise.\n\nHOPE. That I think he doth; but, however, let us tarry for him. So they\ndid.\n\nCHRIS. Then Christian said to him, \"Come away, man; why do you stay so\nbehind?\"\n\nIGNOR. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal than\nin company, unless I like it the better.\n\nThen said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), \"Did I not tell you he\ncared not for our company? But, however,\" said he, \"come up, and let us\ntalk away the time in this solitary place.\" Then, directing his speech\nto Ignorance, he said, \"Come how do you? How stands it between God and\nyour soul now?\"\n\nIGNOR. I hope well; for I am always full of good thoughts, that come\ninto my mind to comfort me as I walk.\n\nCHRIS. What good motions? pray tell us.\n\nIGNOR. Why, I think of God and heaven.\n\nCHRIS. So do the devils and lost souls.\n\nIGNOR. But I think of them and desire them.\n\nCHRIS. So do many that are never like to come there. \"The soul of the\nsluggard desireth and hath nothing.\"\n\nIGNOR. But I think of them, and leave all for them.\n\nCHRIS. That I doubt, for leaving of all is a very hard matter; yea, a\nharder matter than many are aware of. But why, or by what, art thou\npersuaded that thou hast left all for God and heaven?\n\nIGNOR. My heart tells me so.\n\nCHRIS. The Wise Man says, \"He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool.\"\n\nIGNOR. This is spoken of an evil heart; but mine is a good one.\n\nCHRIS. But how dost thou prove that?\n\nIGNOR. It comforts me in the hopes of heaven.\n\nCHRIS. That may be through its deceitfulness; for a man's heart may\nminister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing for which he has yet\nno ground to hope.\n\nIGNOR. But my heart and life agree together; and therefore my hope is\nwell grounded.\n\nCHRIS. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together?\n\nIGNOR. My heart tells me so.\n\nCHRIS. Ask my fellow if I be a thief! Thy heart tells thee so! Except\nthe Word of God telleth thee in this matter, other testimony is of no\nvalue.\n\nIGNOR. But is it not a good heart that hath good thoughts? and is not\nthat a good life that is according to God's commandments?\n\nCHRIS. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is a\ngood life that is according to God's commandments; but it is one thing,\nindeed, to have these, and another thing only to think so.\n\nIGNOR. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life according to God's\ncommandments?\n\nCHRIS. There are good thoughts of many kinds: some respecting ourselves,\nsome God, some Christ, and some other things.\n\nIGNOR. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do you go on before:\nI must stay awhile behind.\n\nThen they said:\n\n  \"Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be,\n  To slight good counsel, ten times given thee?\n  And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know,\n  Ere long, the evil of thy doing so.\n  Remember, man, in time; stoop, do not fear;\n  Good counsel, taken well, saves; therefore hear:\n  But, if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be\n  The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee.\"\n\nThen Christian addressed himself thus to his fellow:\n\nCHRIS. Well, come, my good Hopeful; I perceive that thou and I must\nwalk by ourselves again.\n\n[Sidenote: THE TWO PILGRIMS PROCEED]\n\nSo I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and Ignorance he\ncame hobbling after. Then said Christian to his companion, \"It pities me\nmuch for this poor man: it will certainly go ill with him at last.\"\n\nHOPE. Alas! there are abundance in our town in his condition, whole\nfamilies, yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims, too; and if there be\nso many in our parts, how many, think you, must there be in the place\nwhere he was born?\n\nCHRIS. Indeed, the Word saith, \"He hath blinded their eyes, lest they\nshould see.\"\n\nHOPE. Well said; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost\ngot past the Enchanted Ground?\n\nCHRIS. Why, art thou weary of our talking?\n\nHOPE. No, verily; but that I would know where we are.\n\nCHRIS. We have not now above two miles farther to go thereon. Well, we\nwill leave at this time our neighbor Ignorance by himself, and fall upon\nanother subject.\n\nHOPE. With all my heart; but you shall still begin.\n\nCHRIS. Well, then, did you not know, about ten years ago, one Temporary\nin your parts, who was a forward man in religion then?\n\nHOPE. Know him! yes; he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles off\nof Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback.\n\nCHRIS. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that man was\nmuch awakened once: I believe that then he had some sight of his sins,\nand of the punishment that was due thereto.\n\nHOPE. I am of your mind; for (my house not being above three miles from\nhim) he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many tears. Truly, I\npitied the man, and was not altogether without hope of him; but one may\nsee, it is not every one that cries \"Lord! Lord!\"\n\nCHRIS. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage as we do\nnow; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and then\nhe became a stranger to me, for at that time he gave up going on\npilgrimage.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n[Sidenote: BEULAH LAND]\n\n\nNow I saw in my dream, that by this time the pilgrims were got over the\nEnchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was\nvery sweet and pleasant: the way lying directly through it, they enjoyed\nthemselves there for a season. Yea, here they heard continually the\nsinging of birds and saw every day the flowers appear on the earth, and\nheard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the sun\nshineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the\nShadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair; neither\ncould they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they\nwere within sight of the City they were going to; also here met them\nsome of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the Shining Ones\ncommonly walked, because it was upon the borders of heaven. Here they\nhad no want of corn and wine; for in this place they met with abundance\nof what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage. Here they heard\nvoices from out of the City, loud voices, saying, \"Say ye to the\ndaughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh! Behold, His reward is\nwith Him!\" Here all the inhabitants of the country called them \"The holy\npeople, and redeemed of the Lord, sought out,\" etc.\n\nNow, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts\nmore remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing near\nto the City, they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of\npearls and precious stones, also the streets thereof were paved with\ngold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the City, and the\nreflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick;\nHopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease, wherefore here they\nlay by it awhile, crying out because of their pangs, \"If you see my\nBeloved tell Him that I am sick of love.\"\n\nBut being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sickness,\nthey walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were\norchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their gates opened into the\nhighway. Now, as they came up to these places, behold, the gardener,\nstood in the way; to whom the pilgrims said, \"Whose goodly vineyards and\ngardens are these?\" He answered, \"They are the King's, and are planted\nhere for His own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims.\" So the\ngardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves\nwith the dainties. He also showed them there the King's walks, and the\narbors where He delighted to be; and here they tarried and slept.\n\nNow I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their sleep at this\ntime than ever they did in all their journey; and being in thought\nthereabout, the gardener said even to me, \"Wherefore dost thou meditate\nat the matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these\nvineyards to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are\nasleep to speak.\"\n\nSo I saw, when they awoke they undertook to go up to the City. But, as I\nsaid, the reflection of the sun upon the City (for the City was pure\ngold) was so extremely glorious, that they could not, as yet, with open\nface behold it, but through a glass made for that purpose. So I saw\nthat, as they went on, there met them two men in raiment that shone like\ngold, also their faces shone as the light.\n\nThese men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them. They\nalso asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers,\nwhat comforts and pleasures, they had met in the way; and they told\nthem. Then said the men that met them, \"You have but two difficulties\nmore to meet with, and then you are in the City.\"\n\nChristian, then, and his companion, asked the men to go along with them;\nso they told them that they would. \"But,\" said they, \"you must obtain it\nby your own faith.\" So I saw in my dream that they went on together till\nthey came in sight of the gate.\n\n[Sidenote: A RIVER INTERVENES]\n\nNow I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river; but there\nwas no bridge to go over, and the river was very deep. At the sight,\ntherefore, of this river, the pilgrims were much stunned; but the men\nthat went with them said, \"You must go through, or you cannot come at\nthe gate.\"\n\nThe pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the\ngate; to which they answered, \"Yes; but there hath not any save two, to\nwit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the\nfoundation of the world, nor shall until the last trumpet shall sound.\"\nThe pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to be anxious in his\nmind, and looked this way and that; but no way could be found by them by\nwhich they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters\nwere all of a depth. They said, \"No,\" yet they could not help them in\nthat case; \"for,\" said they, \"you shall find it deeper or shallower as\nyou believe in the King of the place.\"\n\nThey then addressed themselves to the water; and, entering, Christian\nbegan to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, \"I\nsink in deep waters; the billows go over my head; all His waves go over\nme.\"\n\nThen said the other, \"Be of good cheer, my brother; I feel the bottom,\nand it is good.\" Then said Christian, \"Ah! my friend, the sorrows of\ndeath have compassed me about; I shall not see the land that flows with\nmilk and honey.\" And with that, a great darkness and horror fell upon\nChristian, so that he could not see before him. Also here he in a great\nmeasure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly\ntalk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way\nof his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to show\nthat he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that\nriver, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that\nstood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins\nthat he had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim.\nIt was also observed that he was troubled with the sight of demons and\nevil spirits; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words.\n\nHopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above\nwater; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while\nhe would rise up again half dead. Hopeful would also endeavor to comfort\nhim, saying, \"Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive\nus;\" but Christian would answer, \"It is you, it is you they wait for:\nyou have been hopeful ever since I knew you.\" \"And so have you,\" said he\nto Christian. \"Ah, brother,\" said he, \"surely, if I were right, He would\nnow arise to help me; but for my sins He hath brought me into this\nsnare, and hath left me.\" Then said Hopeful, \"My brother, these troubles\nand distresses that you go through in these waters are no sign that God\nhath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to\nmind that which hitherto you have received of His goodness, and live\nupon Him in your distresses.\"\n\nThen I saw in my dream that Christian was in thought awhile. To whom\nalso Hopeful added these words, \"Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh\nthee whole.\" And, with that, Christian brake out with a loud voice, \"Oh,\nI see Him again; and He tells me, 'When thou passest through the waters,\nI will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow\nthee.'\" Then they both took courage; and the enemy was, after that, as\nstill as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian, therefore,\npresently found ground to stand upon; and so it followed that the rest\nof the river was but shallow. Thus they got over.\n\n[Sidenote: TWO SHINING MEN]\n\nNow, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two\nShining Men again, who there waited for them. Wherefore, being come out\nof the river, they saluted them, saying, \"We are heavenly spirits, sent\nforth to help those that shall be heirs of salvation.\" Thus they went\nalong towards the gate. Now, you must note that the City stood upon a\nmighty hill; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they\nhad these two men to lead them up by the arms; also they had left their\nmortal garments behind them in the river; for though they went in with\nthem, they came out without them. They therefore went up here with much\nactivity and speed, though the foundation upon which the City was framed\nwas higher than the clouds. They therefore went up through the regions\nof the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted because they\nhad safely got over the river, and had such glorious companions to\nattend them.\n\n[Sidenote: MOUNT ZION]\n\nThe talk they had with the Shining Ones, was about the glory of the\nplace; who told them that the beauty and glory of it were such as could\nnot be put into words. \"There,\" said they, \"is the Mount Zion, the\nheavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits\nof good men made perfect. You are going now,\" said they, \"to the\nParadise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the\nnever-fading fruits thereof; and when you come there, you shall have\nwhite robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with\nthe King, even all the days of an eternal life. There you shall not see\nagain such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the\nearth; to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death; 'for the former\nthings are passed away.' You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and to\nJacob, and to the prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil\nto come, and that are now resting upon their beds, each one walking in\nhis righteousness.\" The men then asked, \"What must we do in the holy\nplace?\" To whom it was answered, \"You must there receive the comfort of\nall your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap what you\nhave sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings\nfor the King by the way. In that place you must wear crowns of gold,\nand enjoy the perpetual sight and visions of the Holy One; for there you\nshall see Him as He is. There also you shall serve Him continually with\npraise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the\nworld, though with much difficulty, because of the weakness of your\nbodies. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing and your ears\nwith hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy\nyour friends again that are gone thither before you; and there you shall\nwith joy receive even every one that follows into the holy place after\nyou. There also you shall be clothed with glory and majesty, and put\ninto a state fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When He shall come\nwith sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you\nshall come with Him; and when He shall sit upon the throne of judgment,\nyou shall sit by Him; yea, and when He shall pass sentence upon all the\nworkers of evil, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice\nin that judgment because they were His and your enemies. Also, when He\nshall again return to the City, you shall go too, with sound of trumpet,\nand be ever with Him.\"\n\nNow, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold, a company of\nthe heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it was said by the\nother two Shining Ones, \"These are the men that have loved our Lord when\nin the world, and that have left all for His holy name; and He hath\nsent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their\ndesired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face\nwith joy.\" Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, \"Blessed\nare they which are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb.\" There\ncame out also at this time to meet them several of the King's\ntrumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment who, with melodious\nnoises and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These\ntrumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes\nfrom the world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.\n\n[Sidenote: THE CELESTIAL CITY]\n\nThis done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before,\nsome behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to\nguard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they\nwent, with melodious noise, in notes on high: so that the very sight was\nto them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to meet\nthem. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and, as they walked,\never and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing\ntheir music, with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his\nbrother how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness\nthey came to meet them. And now were these two men as it were in heaven\nbefore they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and\nwith hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the City\nitself in view, and thought they heard all the bells therein to ring,\nand welcome them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts\nthat they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that\nfor ever and ever, oh! by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be\nexpressed?\n\nAnd thus they came up to the gate. Now, when they were come up to the\ngate, there was written over it in letters of gold, \"BLESSED ARE THEY\nTHAT DO HIS COMMANDMENTS, THAT THEY MAY HAVE RIGHT TO THE TREE OF LIFE,\nAND MAY ENTER IN THROUGH THE GATES INTO THE CITY.\"\n\nThen I saw in my dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate:\nthe which when they did, some from above looked over the gate: such as\nEnoch, Moses, and Elijah, and others, to whom it was said, \"These\npilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they\nbear to the King of this place.\" And then the pilgrims gave in unto them\neach man his certificate, which they had received in the beginning;\nthose therefore were carried in to the King, who, when He had read them,\nsaid, \"Where are the men?\" To whom it was answered, \"They are standing\nwithout the gate.\" The King then commanded to open the gate, \"that the\nrighteous nation,\" said He, \"which keepeth the truth, may enter in.\"\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, that these two men went in at the gate; and lo!\nas they entered, their looks were changed so that their faces became\nbright; and they had garments put on that shone like gold. There were\nalso that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them--the\nharps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I heard\nin my dream that all the bells in the City rang again for joy, and that\nit was said unto them, \"Enter ye into the joy of your Lord.\" I also\nheard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying,\n\"Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth\nupon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever!\"\n\nNow, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after\nthem, and behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also were\npaved with gold; and in them walked many men with crowns on their heads,\npalms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal.\n\nThere were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another\nwithout ceasing, saying, \"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord!\" And, after\nthat, they shut up the gates; which when I had seen, I wished myself\namong them.\n\n[Sidenote: IGNORANCE FAILS TO ENTER]\n\nNow while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look\nback, and saw Ignorance come up to the river-side; but he soon got over,\nand that without half the difficulty which the other two men met with.\nFor it happened that there was then in the place one Vain-Hope, a\nferryman, that with his boat helped him over; so he, as the others I\nsaw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate; only he came alone,\nneither did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When he was\ncome up to the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and\nthen began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly\ngiven to him; but he was asked by the men that looked over the top of\nthe gate, \"Whence came you? and what would you have?\" He answered, \"I\nhave eaten and drunk in the presence of the King, and He has taught in\nour streets.\" Then they asked him for his certificate, that they might\ngo in and show it to the King: so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and\nfound none. Then said they, \"Have you none?\" But the man answered never\na word. So they told the King; but He would not come down to see him,\nbut commanded the two Shining Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful\nto the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot,\nand have him away. Then they took him up, and carried him through the\nair to the door that I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in\nthere. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of\nheaven, as well as from the City of Destruction!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo I awoke, and behold, it was a dream.\n\n\n\n\nCONCLUSION.\n\n\n  Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee,\n  See if thou canst interpret it to me,\n  Or to thyself or neighbor; but take heed\n  Of misinterpreting; for that, instead\n  Of doing good, will but thyself abuse:\n  By misinterpreting, evil ensues.\n    Take heed also that thou be not extreme\n  In playing with the outside of my dream;\n  Nor let my figure or similitude\n  Put thee into a laughter or a feud.\n  Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee,\n  Do thou the substance of my matter see.\n    Put by the curtains, look within my veil;\n  Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail,\n  There, if thou seekest them, such things to find\n  As will be helpful to an honest mind.\n    What of my dross thou findest there, be bold\n  To throw away; but yet preserve the gold.\n  What if my gold be wrapped up in ore?--\n  None throws away the apple for the core.\n  But if thou shalt cast all away as vain,\n  I know not but t'will make me dream again.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.\n\nPART II.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nCOURTEOUS COMPANIONS,--\n\n\nSome time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the\nPilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial Country, was\npleasant to me and profitable to you. I told you then, also, what I saw\nconcerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they were to go with\nhim on pilgrimage, insomuch that he was forced to go on his progress\nwithout them; for he durst not run the danger of that destruction which\nhe feared would come by staying with them in the City of Destruction;\nwherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed.\n\nNow, it hath so happened, through the abundance of business, that I have\nbeen much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts\nwhence he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to\nmake further inquiry after those whom he left behind, that I might give\nyou an account of them. But, having had some concerns that way of late,\nI went down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my lodgings in a\nwood about a mile off the place, as I slept I dreamed again.\n\n[Sidenote: THE AUTHOR AND MR. SAGACITY]\n\nAnd as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by where I lay;\nand, because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling,\nmethought I got up and went with him. So, as we walked, and as travelers\nusually do, I was as if we fell into discourse; and our talk happened to\nbe about Christian and his travels; for thus I began with the old man:\n\n\"Sir,\" said I, \"what town is that there below, that lieth on the left\nhand of our way?\"\n\nThen said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), \"It is the City of\nDestruction; a populous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditioned\nand idle sort of people.\"\n\n\"I thought that was that city,\" quoth I: \"I went once myself through\nthat town, and therefore know that this report you give of it is true.\"\n\nSAG. Too true! I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them\nthat dwell therein.\n\n\"Well, sir,\" quoth I, \"then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man, and\nso one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray,\ndid you never hear what happened to a man some time ago of this town\n(whose name was Christian), that went on pilgrimage up towards the\nhigher regions?\"\n\nSAG. Hear of him! Ay, and I also heard of the difficulties, troubles,\nwars, captivities, cries, groans, frights and fears that he met with and\nhad in his journey. Besides, I must tell you all our country rings of\nhim: there are but few houses that have heard of him and his doings but\nhave sought after and got the record of his pilgrimage. Yea, I think I\nmay say that his hazardous journey has got many wellwishers to his ways;\nfor though, when he was here, he was a fool in every man's mouth, yet\nnow he is gone he is highly commended of all. For 'tis said he lives\nbravely where he is: yea, many of them that are resolved never to run\nhis risks yet have their mouths water at his gains.\n\n\"They may,\" quoth I, \"well think, if they think anything that is true,\nthat he liveth well where he is; for he now lives at and in the Fountain\nof Life, and has what he has without labor and sorrow; for there is no\ngrief mixed therewith. But, pray, what talk have the people about him?\"\n\nSAG. Talk! the people talk strangely about him: some say that he now\nwalks in white; that he has a chain of gold about his neck; that he has\na crown of gold beset with pearls upon his head. Others say that the\nShining Ones, that sometimes showed themselves unto him in his journey,\nare become his companions, and that he is as familiar with them in the\nplace where he is, as here one neighbor is with another. Besides, it is\nconfidently spoken concerning him, that the King of the place where he\nis has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at\ncourt, and that he every day eateth and drinketh and walketh with Him,\nand receiveth of the smiles and favors of Him that is judge of all\nthere. Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of\nthat country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the\nreason, if they can give any, why his neighbors set so little by him,\nand had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a\nPilgrim. For they say, now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and\nthat his Sovereign is so much concerned with the wrongs that were cast\nupon Christian when he became a Pilgrim, that He will look upon all as\nif done unto Himself; and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had\nto his Prince that he ventured as he did.\n\n[Sidenote: SAGACITY TELLS OF CHRISTIANA]\n\n\"I daresay,\" quoth I; \"I am glad on't; I am glad for the poor man's\nsake, for that he now has rest from his labor, and for that he reapeth\nthe benefit of his tears with joy, and for that he has got beyond\ngunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him. I\nalso am glad for that a rumor of these things is noised abroad in this\ncountry: who can tell but that it may work some good effect on some that\nare left behind? But pray, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you\nhear anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts! I wonder in my mind\nwhat they do.\"\n\nSAG. Who? Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as well as did\nChristian himself; for, though they all played the fool at first, and\nwould by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of\nChristian, yet, second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them, so\nthey have packed up, and are also gone after him.\n\n\"Better and better,\" quoth I: \"but, what! wife and children and all?\"\n\nSAG. It is true: I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon\nthe spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole\naffair.\n\n\"Then,\" said I, \"a man, it seems, may report it for a truth?\"\n\nSAG. You need not fear to declare it. I mean, that they are all gone on\npilgrimage, both the good woman and her four boys. And, since (we are,\nas I perceive) going some considerable way together, I will give you an\naccount of the whole matter.\n\nThis Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she, with her\nchildren betook themselves to a pilgrim's life) after her husband had\ngone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts\nbegan to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, and\nof that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt\nthem. For you know (said he to me) it is only natural that the living\nshould have many sad thoughts, in the remembrance of the loss of loving\nrelations. This, therefore, of her husband, did cost her many a tear.\nBut this was not all; for Christiana did also begin to consider with\nherself, whether unbecoming behavior towards her husband was not one\ncause that she saw him no more, and that in such sort he was taken away\nfrom her. And, upon this, came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind,\nunnatural, and ungodly treatment of her dear friend; which also troubled\nher conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much\nbroken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears,\nand self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart\nagainst all his entreaties and loving persuasions of her and her sons to\ngo with him; yea, there was not anything that Christian either said to\nher or did before her, all the while that his burden did hang on his\nback, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent her\nheart in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of his, \"What shall I do\nto be saved?\" did ring in her ears most dolefully.\n\nThen said she to her children, \"Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned\naway your father, and he is gone; he would have had us with him, but I\nwould not go myself; I also have hindered you of life.\"\n\nWith that, the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after their\nfather.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Christiana, \"that it had been but our lot to go with him!\nthen had it fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do now. For\nthough I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your\nfather, that they came from a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he\nwas overrun with melancholy humors; yet now it will not out of my mind\nbut that they sprang from another cause; and it was this, that the light\nof life was given him, by the help of which, as I perceive, he has\nescaped the snares of death.\"\n\n[Sidenote: OF CHRISTIANA'S DREAM]\n\nThen they all wept again, and cried out, \"Oh, woe worth the day!\"\n\nThe next night Christiana had a dream; and, behold, she saw as if a\nbroad parchment were opened before her, in which were recorded the sum\nof her ways; and the times, as she thought, looked very black upon her.\nThen she cried out aloud in her sleep, \"Lord, have mercy upon me a\nsinner!\" and the little children heard her.\n\nAfter this, she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by\nher bed-side, and saying, \"What shall we do with this woman? for she\ncries out for mercy waking and sleeping: if she be suffered to go on as\nshe begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. Wherefore we\nmust, by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts of\nwhat shall be hereafter; else, all the world cannot help but she will\nbecome a pilgrim.\"\n\nNow she awoke in a great sweat; also a trembling was upon her; but after\na while, she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw\nChristian her husband in a place of bliss, among many immortals, with a\nharp in his hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat upon\na throne, with a rainbow about His head.\n\nShe saw, also, as if he bowed his head with his face to the paved work\nthat was under the Prince's feet, saying, \"I heartily thank my Lord and\nKing for bringing of me into this place.\" Then shouted a company of them\nthat stood round about, and harped with their harps; but no man living\ncould tell what they said, but Christian and his companions.\n\nNext morning, when she was up, and had prayed to God and talked with her\nchildren a while, one knocked hard at the door; to whom she spake out,\nsaying, \"If thou comest in God's name, come in.\" So he said, \"Amen,\" and\nopened the door, and saluted her with \"Peace be to this house!\" The\nwhich, when he had done, he said, \"Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I\nam come?\" Then she blushed and trembled, also her heart began to wax\nwarm with desires to know from whence he came, and what was his errand\nto her. So he said unto her, \"My name is Secret: I dwell with those that\nare on high. It is talked of where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to\ngo thither; also there is a report that thou art aware of the evil thou\nhast formerly done to thy husband, in hardening thy heart against his\nway, and in keeping of these thy babes in their ignorance. Christiana,\nthe Merciful One hath sent me to tell thee, that He is a God ready to\nforgive, and that He taketh delight to pardon offences. He also would\nhave thee know that He inviteth thee to come into His presence, to His\ntable, and that He will feed thee with the fat of His house, and with\nthe heritage of Jacob thy father.\n\n\"There is Christian, thy husband that was, with legions more, his\ncompanions, ever behold that face that doth minister life to beholders;\nand they will be glad when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step\nover thy Father's threshold.\"\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIANA IS SENT FOR]\n\nChristiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowed her head to\nthe ground.\n\nThis visitor proceeded, and said, \"Christiana, here is also a letter for\nthee, which I have brought from thy husband's King.\" So she took it, and\nopened it; but it smelt after the manner of the best perfume; also it\nwas written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter were these:\n\"That the King would have her to do as Christian her husband; for that\nwas the way to come to His City, and to dwell in His presence with joy\nfor ever.\"\n\nAt this the good woman was quite overcome; so she cried out to her\nvisitor, \"Sir, will you carry me and my children with you, that we also\nmay worship this King?\"\n\nThen said the visitor, \"Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. Thou\nmust through troubles, as did he that went before thee, enter the\nCelestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy\nhusband: go to the wicket-gate yonder over the plain, for that stands in\nthe head of the way up which you must go; and I wish thee all good\nspeed. Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom, that thou\nread therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have got it by\nrote of heart: for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou\nart in this house of thy pilgrimage. Also this thou must deliver in at\nthe farther gate.\"\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he told me the\nstory, did himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He moreover\nwent on, and said:\n\nSo Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to address\nherself unto them: \"My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late\nunder much trouble in my soul about the death of your father: not for\nthat I doubt at all of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that he is\nwell. I have also been much affected with the thoughts of mine own state\nand yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My treatment\nalso of your father in his distress is a great load to my conscience,\nfor I hardened both mine own heart and yours against him, and refused to\ngo with him on pilgrimage.\n\n\"The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but for a\ndream which I had last night, and but for the encouragement that this\nstranger has given me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up,\nand be gone to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, that we may\nsee your father, and be with him and his companions in peace, according\nto the laws of that land.\"\n\nThen did her children burst out into tears, for joy that the heart of\ntheir mother was so inclined. So their visitor bade them farewell; and\nthey began to prepare to set out for their journey.\n\n[Sidenote: MRS. TIMOROUS AND CHRISTIANA]\n\nBut while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women that were\nChristiana's neighbors came up to the house, and knocked at the door.\nTo whom she said as before, \"if you come in God's name, come in.\" At\nthis the women were stunned; for this kind of language they used not to\nhear, or to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet they came\nin; but, behold they found the good woman preparing to be gone from her\nhouse.\n\nSo they began, and said, \"Neighbor, pray what is your meaning by this?\"\n\nChristiana answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs.\nTimorous, \"I am preparing for a journey.\"\n\nThis Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill\nDifficulty, and would have had him go back for fear of the lions.\n\nTIM. For what journey, I pray you?\n\nCHR. Even to go after my good husband. And with that she fell a weeping.\n\nTIM. I hope not so, good neighbor. Pray, for your poor children's sake,\ndo not so unwomanly cast away yourself.\n\nCHR. Nay, my children shall go with me; not one of them is willing to\nstay behind.\n\nTIM. I wonder in my very heart what or who has brought you into this\nmind!\n\nCHR. Oh, neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that\nyou would go with me.\n\nTIM. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got that so worketh off thy\nmind from thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where?\n\nCHR. Then Christiana replied, \"I have been sorely afflicted since my\nhusband's departure from me, but especially since he went over the\nriver. But that which troubleth me most is my unkind treatment of him\nwhen he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was then:\nnothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I was a-dreaming last\nnight that I saw him. Oh that my soul was with him! He dwelleth in the\npresence of the King of the country; he sits and eats with Him at His\ntable; he has become a companion of immortals, and has a house now given\nhim to dwell in, to which the best palaces on earth, if compared, seem\nto me but as a dunghill. The Prince of the place has also sent for me,\nwith promises of entertainment if I shall come to Him; His messenger was\nhere even now, and has brought me a letter which invites me to come.\"\nAnd with that she plucked out the letter, and read it, and said to them,\n\"What now will you say to this?\"\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY ALSO DESIRES TO GO]\n\nTIM. Oh, the madness that hath possessed thee and thy husband, to run\nyourselves upon such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure, what your\nhusband did meet with, even in a manner at the first step that he took\non his way, as our neighbor Obstinate can yet testify, for he went along\nwith them, yea, and Pliable too; until they, like wise men, were afraid\nto go any farther. We also heard, over and above, how he met with the\nlions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor is the\ndanger he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he,\nthough a man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor\nwoman, do? Consider also that these four sweet babes are thy children,\nthy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldest be so rash as\nto cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of thy children, keep thou at\nhome.\n\nBut Christiana said unto her, \"Tempt me not, my neighbor. I have now a\nprice put into my hands to get gain, and I should be a fool of the\ngreatest size if I should have no heart to strike in with the\nopportunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles which I am\nlike to meet with in the way, they are so far off from being to me a\ndiscouragement, that they show I am in the right. The bitter must come\nbefore the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter.\nWherefore, since you came not to my house in God's name, as I said, I\npray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me further.\"\n\nThen Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, \"Come, neighbor\nMercy, let us leave her in her own hands, since she scorns our counsel\nand company.\" But Mercy was at a stand, and could not so readily comply\nwith her neighbor, and that for a twofold reason. 1. Her heart yearned\nover Christiana; so she said within herself, \"If my neighbor will needs\nbe gone, I will go a little way with her, and help her.\" 2. Her heart\nyearned over her own soul; for what Christiana had said had taken hold\nupon her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, \"I will yet have\nmore talk with this Christiana, and if I find truth and life in what she\nshall say, myself, with my heart, shall also go with her.\" Wherefore\nMercy began thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous:\n\nMER. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this\nmorning; and since she is, as you see, taking her last farewell of her\ncountry, I think to walk this sunshiny morning a little with her, to\nhelp her on her way.\n\nBut she told her not of the second reason, but kept that to herself.\n\nTIM. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too; but take heed in\ntime, and be wise. While we are out of danger, we are out; but when we\nare in, we are in.\n\nSo Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to\nher journey. But when Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for\nsome of her neighbors; to wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs.\nLight-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. So, when they were come to her house,\nshe falls to telling of the story of Christiana and of her intended\njourney. And thus she began her tale:\n\n[Sidenote: MRS. TIMOROUS' NEIGHBORS]\n\nTIM. Neighbors, having had little to do this morning, I went to give\nChristiana a visit; and when I came at the door, I knocked, as you know\nit is our custom; and she answered, \"If you come in God's name come in.\"\nSo in I went, thinking all was well; but when I came in I found her\npreparing herself to depart the town, she and also her children. So I\nasked her what was her meaning by that. And she told me, in short, that\nshe was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told\nme also a dream that she had, and how the King of the country where her\nhusband was had sent her an inviting letter to come thither.\n\nThen said Mrs. Know-nothing, \"And, what! do you think she will go?\"\n\nTIM. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on't; and methinks I know it by\nthis: for that which was my great reason in persuading her to stay at\nhome (that is, the troubles she was like to meet with in the way) is one\ngreat reason with her to put her forward on her journey. For she told\nme, in so many words, \"The bitter goes before the sweet; yea, and\nforasmuch as it so doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter.\"\n\nMRS. BAT'S-EYES. \"Oh, this blind and foolish woman!\" said she; \"will she\nnot take warning by her husband's trials? For my part, I see, if he were\nhere again, he would rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so\nmany dangers for nothing.\"\n\nMrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, \"Away with such fantastical\nfools from the town! a good riddance, for my part, I say, of her! Should\nshe stay where she dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live\nquietly by her? for she will either be dumpish, or unneighborly, or\ntalk of such matters as no wise body can abide. Wherefore, for my part,\nI shall never be sorry for her departure: let her go, and let better\ncome in her room. It was never a good world since these whimsical fools\ndwelt in it.\"\n\nThen Mrs. Light-mind added as followeth: \"Come, put this kind of talk\naway. I was yesterday at Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the\nmaids. For who do you think should be there, but I and Mrs.\nLove-the-Flesh, and three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth,\nand some others. So there we had music and dancing, and what else was\nmeet to fill up the pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady herself is an\nadmirable well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a\nfellow.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE WICKET-GATE.\n\n\nBy this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with\nher. So as they went, her children being there also, Christiana began to\ndiscourse. \"And, Mercy,\" said Christiana, \"I take this as an unexpected\nfavor, that thou shouldest set forth out of doors with me, to accompany\nme a little in my way.\"\n\nMER. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), \"If I thought it\nwould be a good purpose to go with you, I would never go near the town\nany more.\"\n\nCHR. \"Well, Mercy,\" said Christiana, \"cast in thy lot with me: I well\nknow what will be the end of our pilgrimage: my husband is where he\nwould not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou\nbe turned away, though thou goest but upon my invitation. The King who\nhath sent for me and my children is One that delighteth in mercy.\nBesides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me\nas my servant; yet we will have all things in common betwixt thee and\nme, only go along with me.\"\n\nMER. But how shall I be sure that I also shall be welcomed? Had I this\nhope but from one that can tell, I would have no hesitation at all, but\nwould go, being helped by Him that can help, though the way be never so\ntedious.\n\nCHR. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do: go with me\nto the wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee; and if\nthere thou dost not meet with encouragement, I will be content that thou\nshalt return to thy place: I also will pay thee for thy kindness which\nthou showest to me and my children, in the accompanying of us in our way\nas thou dost.\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY GOES WITH CHRISTIANA]\n\nMER. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow; and the\nLord grant that my lot may there fall, even as the King of heaven shall\nhave His heart upon me!\n\nChristiana was then glad at her heart, not only that she had a\ncompanion, but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to\nfall in love with her own salvation. So they went on together and Mercy\nbegan to weep.\n\nThen said Christiana, \"Wherefore weepeth my sister so?\"\n\nMER. \"Alas!\" said she, \"who can but lament, that shall but rightly\nconsider what a state and condition my poor relations are in, that yet\nremain in our sinful town? And that which makes my grief the more heavy\nis, because they have no one to teach them nor to tell them what is to\ncome.\"\n\nCHR. Tenderness becometh pilgrims; and thou dost for thy friends as my\ngood Christian did for me when he left me: he mourned for that I would\nnot heed nor regard him; but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears,\nand put them into His bottle; and now both I and thou, and these my\nsweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them I hope, Mercy,\nthat these tears of thine will not be lost; for the Truth hath said that\n\"they that sow in tears shall reap in joy,\" in singing; and \"he that\ngoeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come\nagain with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.\"\n\nThen said Mercy:\n\n  \"Let the Most Blessed be my guide,\n    If 't be His blessed will,\n  Unto His gate, into His fold,\n    Up to His holy hill.\n\n  \"And never let Him suffer me\n    To swerve or turn aside\n  From His free grace and holy ways,\n    Whate'er shall me betide.\n\n  \"And let Him gather them of mine\n    That I have left behind:\n  Lord, make them pray they may be Thine,\n    With all their heart and mind.\"\n\nNow my old friend proceeded, and said, \"But when Christiana came to the\nSlough of Despond, she began to be at a stand; 'For,' said she, 'this is\nthe place in which my dear husband had like to have been smothered with\nmud.' She perceived also that, notwithstanding the command of the King\nto make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse than\nformerly.\" So I asked if that was true.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the old gentleman, \"too true, for many there be that pretend\nto be the King's laborers, and say they are for mending the King's\nhighway, that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead\nof mending. Here Christiana, therefore, with her boys, did make a stand.\nBut said Mercy, 'Come, let us venture, only let us be wary.' Then they\nlooked well to their steps, and made shift to get staggeringly over. Yet\nChristiana had to have been in, and that not once nor twice.\n\n\"Now, they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words\nthat said unto them, 'Blessed is she that believeth, for there shall be\na performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.'\n\n\"Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, 'Had I as good\nground to hope for a loving reception at the wicket-gate as you, I think\nno Slough of Despond would discourage me.'\n\n\"'Well,' said the other, 'You know your trouble, and I know mine; and,\ngood friend, we shall have enough evil before we come at our journey's\nend. For can it be imagined that the people that design to attain such\nexcellent glories as we do, and that are so envied that happiness as we\nare, but that we shall meet with what fears, with what troubles and\nafflictions they can possibly assault us with, that hate us?'\"\n\n[Sidenote: AT THE WICKET GATE]\n\nAnd now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by myself. Wherefore,\nmethought I saw Christiana, and Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up\nto the gate; to which when they were come they betook themselves to a\nshort debate about how they must manage their calling at the gate, and\nwhat should be said unto him that did open unto them: so it was\nconcluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock for\nentrance, and that she should speak to him that did open, for the rest.\nSo Christiana began to knock, and, as her poor husband did, she knocked\nand knocked again. But instead of any that answered, they all thought\nthat they heard as if a dog came barking upon them; a dog, and a great\none too: and this made the women and children afraid, nor durst they for\na while to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon them.\nNow, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their minds,\nand knew not what to do. Knock they durst not, for fear of the dog; go\nback they durst not, for fear the keeper of the gate should espy them as\nthey so went, and should be offended with them. At last they thought of\nknocking again, and knocked more loudly than they did at first. Then\nsaid the Keeper of the gate, \"Who is there?\" So the dog left off to\nbark, and He opened unto them.\n\nThen Christiana made low obeisance, and said, \"Let not our Lord be\noffended with His handmaidens, for that we have knocked at His princely\ngate.\"\n\nThen said the Keeper, \"Whence come ye? and what is it that you would\nhave?\"\n\nChristiana answered, \"We are come from whence Christian did come, and\nupon the same errand as he; to wit, to be, if it shall please you,\ngraciously admitted by this gate into the way that leads to the\nCelestial City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next place, that I am\nChristiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above.\"\n\nWith that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, \"What! is she now\nbecome a pilgrim, that, but a while ago hated that life?\"\n\nThen she bowed her head, and said, \"Yes; and so are these my sweet babes\nalso.\"\n\nThen He took her by the hand, and let her in, and said also, \"Suffer the\nlittle children to come unto me;\" and with that He shut up the gate.\nThis done, He called to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to\nentertain Christiana with shouting and sound of trumpet for joy. So he\nobeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious notes.\n\nNow, all this while poor Mercy did stand without trembling and crying,\nfor fear that she was rejected. But when Christiana had got admittance\nfor herself and her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy.\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY FALLS IN A SWOON]\n\nCHR. And she said, \"My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet\nwithout, that is come hither upon the same account as myself, one that\nis much troubled in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, without\nsending for; whereas I was sent to by my husband's King to come.\"\n\nNow Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute was as long to her\nas an hour; wherefore she prevented Christiana from asking for her more\nfully by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud that\nshe made Christiana to start. Then said the Keeper of the gate, \"Who is\nthere?\" And said Christiana, \"It is my friend.\"\n\nSo He opened the gate and looked out; but Mercy was fallen down without\nin a swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no gate would be opened\nto her.\n\nThen he took her by the hand, and said, \"Maiden, I bid thee arise.\"\n\n\"Oh, sir,\" said she, \"I am faint: there is scarce life left in me.\"\n\nBut He answered that \"One once said, 'When my soul fainted within me, I\nremembered the Lord; and my prayer came in unto Thee, into Thy holy\ntemple.' Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me wherefore thou\nart come.\"\n\nMER. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend\nChristiana was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her.\nWherefore I fear I presume.\n\nKEEP. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place?\n\nMER. Yes; and, as my Lord sees, I am come. And if there is any grace and\nforgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that I, Thy poor handmaiden, may\nbe partaker thereof.\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY PERMITTED TO ENTER]\n\nThen He took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and said, \"I\npray for all them that believe on me, by what means soever they come\nunto me.\" Then said He to those that stood by, \"Fetch something, and\ngive it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her fainting.\" So they\nfetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while after she was revived.\n\nAnd now was Christiana and her boys and Mercy received of the Lord at\nthe head of the way, and spoke kindly unto by Him. Then said they yet\nfurther unto Him, \"We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord His\npardon and further information what we must do.\"\n\n\"I grant pardon,\" said He, \"by word and deed: by word, in the promise of\nforgiveness; by deed, in the way I obtained it. Take the first from my\nlips with a kiss, and the other as it shall be revealed.\"\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, that He spake many good words unto them, whereby\nthey were greatly gladded. He also had them up to the top of the gate,\nand showed them by what deed they were saved; and told them withal that\nthat sight they would have again as they went along the way, to their\ncomfort.\n\nSo He left them a while in a summer parlor below, where they entered\ninto a talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began:\n\n\"O Lord, how glad am I that we are got in hither!\"\n\nMER. So you well may; but I of all have cause to leap for joy.\n\nCHR. I thought one time as I stood at the gate, because I knocked, and\nnone did answer, that all our labor had been lost, specially when that\nugly cur made such a heavy barking against us.\n\nMER. But my worst fear was after I saw that you were taken into His\nfavor, and that I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which\nis written, \"Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be\ntaken, and the other left.\" I had much ado to forbear crying out,\n\"Undone! undone!\" And afraid I was to knock any more: but when I looked\nup to what was written over the gate, I took courage. I also thought\nthat I must either knock again or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell\nhow, for my spirit now struggled betwixt life and death.\n\n_Chr._ Can you not tell how you knocked? I am sure your knocks were so\nearnest, that the very sound of them made me start. I thought I never\nheard such knocking in all my life; I thought you would come in by\nviolent hands, or take the kingdom by storm.\n\n_Mer._ Alas! to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so?\nYou saw that the door was shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel\ndog thereabout. Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, would not\nhave knocked with all their might? But, pray, what said my Lord to my\nrudeness? Was He not angry with me?\n\nCHR. When He heard your lumbering noise, He gave a wonderful innocent\nsmile; I believe what you did pleased Him well enough, for He showed no\nsign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog;\nhad I known that afore, I should not have had heart enough to have\nventured myself in this manner. But now we are in, we are in, and I am\nglad with all my heart.\n\n_Mer._ I will ask, if you please, next time He comes down, why He keeps\nsuch a filthy cur in His yard. I hope He will not take it amiss.\n\n\"Ay, do,\" said the children, \"and persuade Him to hang him, for we are\nafraid he will bite us when we go hence.\"\n\nSo at last He came down to them again, and Mercy fell to the ground on\nher face before Him, and worshiped, and said, \"Let my Lord accept the\noffering of praise which I now offer unto Him with my lips.\"\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY EXPRESSES HER FEARS]\n\nSo He said unto her, \"Peace be to thee; stand up.\" But she continued\nupon her face, and said, \"Righteous art Thou, O Lord, when I plead with\nThee; yet let me talk with Thee of Thy judgments. Wherefore dost Thou\nkeep so cruel a dog in Thy yard, at the sight of which such women and\nchildren as we are ready to fly from the gate with fear?\" He answered\nand said, \"That dog has another owner; he also is kept close in another\nman's ground, only my pilgrims hear his barking: he belongs to the\ncastle which you see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls\nof this place. He has frighted many an honest pilgrim from worse to\nbetter, by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him\ndoth not keep him out of any good-will to me or mine, but with intent to\nkeep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may be afraid to come\nand knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken out,\nand has worried some that I love; but I take all at present patiently. I\nalso give my pilgrims timely help, so that they are not delivered up to\nhis power, to do with them what his doggish nature would prompt him to.\nBut, what! my beloved one, I should suppose, hadst thou known even so\nmuch beforehand, thou wouldst not have been afraid of a dog. The beggars\nthat go from door to door will, rather than lose a supposed alms, run\nthe danger of the bawling, barking, and biting too, of a dog; and shall\na dog in another man's yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of\npilgrims, keep any one from coming to me? I deliver them from the lions,\ntheir darling from the power of the dog.\"\n\nMER. Then said Mercy, \"I confess my ignorance, I spake what I understood\nnot: I acknowledge that Thou doest all things well.\"\n\nCHR. Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and to inquire\nafter the way.\n\nSo He fed them, and washed their feet, and set them in the way of His\nsteps, according as He had dealt with her husband before.\n\nSo I saw in my dream that they walked on in their way, and had the\nweather very comfortable to them.\n\nThen Christiana began to sing:\n\n  \"Blessed be the day that I began\n    A pilgrim for to be;\n  And blessed also be the man\n    That thereto moved me.\n\n  \"'Tis true 'twas long ere I began\n    To seek to live for ever;\n  But now I run fast as I can:\n    'Tis better late than never.\n\n  \"Our tears to joy, our fears to faith,\n    Are turned, as we see;\n  Thus our beginning (as one saith)\n    Shows what our end will be.\"\n\nNow, there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way up\nwhich Christiana and her companions were to go, a garden, and that\ngarden belonged to him whose was that barking dog, of whom mention was\nmade before. And some of the fruit-trees that grew in that garden shot\ntheir branches over the wall; and, being mellow, they that found them\ndid gather them up and oft eat of them to their hurt. So Christiana's\nboys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and the fruit\nthat did hang thereon, did bend the branches down, and pluck the fruit,\nand begin to eat. Their mother did also chide them for so doing; but\nstill the boys went on.\n\n[Illustration: Christiana's Boys Began to Eat.\n                                   Page 231]\n\n\"Well,\" said she, \"my sons, you do wrong, for that fruit is none of\nours;\" but she did not know that it did belong to the enemy: I'll\nwarrant you, if she had, she would have been ready to die for fear. But\nthat passed, and they went on their way.\n\n[Sidenote: THE ILL-FAVORED ONES]\n\nNow, by that they were gone about two bow-shots from the place that led\nthem unto the way, they espied two very ill-favored ones coming down\napace to meet them. With that, Christiana, and Mercy her friend, covered\nthemselves with their veils, and so kept on their journey; the children\nalso went on before; so that, at last, they met together. Then they that\ncame down to meet them came just up to the women, as if they would\nembrace them; but Christiana said, \"Stand back, or go peaceably by, as\nyou should.\"\n\nYet these two, as men that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's words,\nbut began to lay hands upon them. At that, Christiana, waxing very\nwroth, spurned at them with her feet. Mercy also, as well as she could,\ndid what she could to shift them. Christiana again said to them, \"Stand\nback, and be gone; for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as you\nsee, and such, too, as live upon the charity of our friends.\"\n\nILL-FAVORED ONE. Then said one of the two men, \"We make no assault upon\nyou for money, but are come out to tell you that, if you will grant one\nsmall request which we shall ask, we will make women of you for ever.\"\n\nCHR. Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made answer again,\n\"We will neither hear nor regard, nor yield to what you shall ask. We\nare in haste, and cannot stay; our business is a business of life or\ndeath.\"\n\nSo again she and her companions made a fresh attempt to go past them;\nbut they letted them in their way.\n\nILL-FAV. And they said, \"We intend no hurt to your lives; it is another\nthing we would have.\"\n\nCHR. \"Ay,\" quoth Christiana, \"you would have us body and soul, for I\nknow it is for that you are come; but we will die rather upon the spot,\nthan to suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares as shall risk\nthe loss of our well-being hereafter.\" And, with that, they both\nshrieked out, and cried, \"Murder! murder!\" and so put themselves under\nthose laws that are provided for the protection of women. But the men\nstill made their approach upon them, with design to prevail against\nthem. They therefore cried out again.\n\n[Sidenote: A RELIEVER APPEARS]\n\nNow, they being, as I said, far from the gate in at which they came,\ntheir voices were heard from where they were, thither; wherefore some of\nthe house came out, and, knowing it was Christiana's tongue, they made\nhaste to her relief. But by the time that they were got within sight of\nthem, the women were in a very great terror; the children also stood\ncrying by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the\nruffians, saying, \"What is that thing you do? Would you make my Lord's\npeople to do wrong?\" He also attempted to take them, but they did make\ntheir escape over the wall into the garden of the man to whom the great\ndog belonged; so the dog became their protector. This Reliever then came\nup to the women and asked them how they did.\n\nSo they answered, \"We thank thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been\nsomewhat affrighted: we thank thee also for that thou camest in to our\nhelp, otherwise we had been overcome.\"\n\nRELIEVER. So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth:\n\"I marvelled much when you were entertained at the gate above, being ye\nknew that ye were but weak women, that you asked not the Lord for a\nconductor. Then might you have avoided these troubles and dangers; for\nHe would have granted you one.\"\n\nCHR. \"Alas!\" said Christiana, \"we were taken so with our present\nblessing, that dangers to come were forgotten by us. Besides, who could\nhave thought that, so near the King's palace, there could have lurked\nsuch naughty ones? Indeed, it had been well for us had we asked our Lord\nfor one; but, since our Lord knew it would be for our profit, I wonder\nHe sent not one along with us.\"\n\nREL. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest, by\nso doing, they become of little value; but when the want of a thing is\nfelt, then he who needs it feels its preciousness; and so when it is\ngiven it will be used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would\nnot either have so bewailed that oversight of yours, in not asking for\none, as now you have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and\ntend to make you more wary.\n\nCHR. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our folly, and ask\none?\n\nREL. Your confession of your folly I will present Him with. To go back\nagain you need not; for, in all places where you shall come, you will\nfind no want at all; for, in every one of my Lord's lodgings, which He\nhas prepared for the care of His pilgrims, there is sufficient to\nfurnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I said, He will be\nasked of by them, to do it for them. And 'tis a poor thing that is not\nworth asking for.\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS PROCEED]\n\nWhen he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went\non their way.\n\nMER. Then said Mercy, \"What a sudden blank is here! I made account we\nhad been past all danger, and that we should never see sorrow more.\"\n\nCHR. \"Thy innocence, my sister,\" said Christiana to Mercy, \"may excuse\nthee much; but as for me, fault is so much the greater, for that I saw\nthe danger before I came out of the doors, and yet did not provide for\nit when provision might have been had. I am, therefore, much to be\nblamed.\"\n\nMER. Then said Mercy, \"How knew you this before you came from home?\nPray, open to me this riddle.\"\n\nCHR. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, one night, as\nI lay in my bed, I had a dream about this; for methought I saw two men,\nas like these as ever any in the world could look, stand at my bed's\nfeet, plotting how they might prevent my salvation. I will tell you\ntheir very words. They said (it was when I was in my troubles), \"What\nshall we do with this woman? for she cries out waking and sleeping for\nforgiveness: if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose\nher as we have lost her husband.\" This, you know, might have made me\ntake heed, and have provided when provision might have been had.\n\nMER. \"Well,\" said Mercy, \"as by this neglect we have been made to behold\nour own imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion thereby to make\nmanifest the riches of His grace; for He, as we see, has followed us\nwith unasked kindness, and has delivered us from their hands that were\nstronger than we, of His mere good pleasure.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE.\n\n\nThus, now, when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near\nto a house which stood in the way, which house was built for the relief\nof pilgrims, as you will find more fully related in the first part of\nthese records of the Pilgrim's Progress. So they drew on towards the\nhouse (the house of the Interpreter); and, when they came to the door,\nthey heard a great talk in the house. Then they gave ear, and heard, as\nthey thought, Christiana mentioned by name; for you must know that there\nwent along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's going on\npilgrimage. And this was the more pleasing to them, because they had\nheard she was Christian's wife, that woman who was some time ago so\nunwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they stood\nstill, and heard the good people within commending her, who, they little\nthought, stood at the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done\nat the gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came to the door a\nyoung maiden, and opened the door and looked; and, behold, two women\nwere there.\n\n[Sidenote: THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE]\n\nMAID. Then said the maid to them, \"With whom would you speak in this\nplace?\"\n\nCHR. Christiana answered, \"We understand that this is a place prepared\nfor those that are become pilgrims, and we now at this door are such;\nwherefore we pray that we may be partakers of that for which we at this\ntime are come; for the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and we are\nloth to-night to go any farther.\"\n\nDAM. Pray, what may I call your name, that I may tell it to my lord\nwithin?\n\nCHR. My name is Christiana: I was the wife of that pilgrim that some\nyears ago did travel this way; and these be his four children. This\nyoung woman is my companion, and is going on pilgrimage too.\n\nINNOCENT. Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name,) and said to\nthose within, \"Can you think who is at the door? There are Christiana\nand her children, and her companion, all waiting for entertainment\nhere.\"\n\nThen they leaped for joy, and went and told their master. So he came to\nthe door, and looking upon her, he said, \"Art thou that Christiana whom\nChristian the good man left behind him, when he betook himself to a\npilgrim's life?\"\n\nCHR. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's\ntroubles, and then left him to go on his journey alone; and these are\nhis four children. But now also I am come, for I am convinced that no\nway is right but this.\n\nINTER. Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the man that\nsaid to his son, \"Go, work to-day in my vineyard;\" and he said to his\nfather, \"I will not;\" but afterwards he repented, and went.\n\nCHR. Then said Christiana, \"So be it: Amen. God make it a true saying\nupon me, and grant that I may be found at the last of Him in peace,\nwithout spot and blameless!\"\n\nINTER. But why standest thou thus at the door? Come in, thou blessed\none. We were talking of thee but now; for tidings have come to us before\nhow thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in; come, maiden,\ncome in.\n\nSo he had them all into the house.\n\n[Sidenote: PILGRIMS ENTERTAINED]\n\nSo when they were within, they were bidden to sit down and rest them;\nthe which when they had done, those that attended upon the pilgrims in\nthe house came into the room to see them. And one smiled, and another\nsmiled, and they all smiled for joy that Christiana was become a\npilgrim. They also looked upon the boys; they stroked them over the\nfaces with the hand, in token of their kind reception of them; they also\ncarried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their\nmaster's house.\n\nAfter a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took them\ninto his significant rooms, and showed them what Christian, Christiana's\nhusband, had seen some time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in\nthe cage, the man and his dream, the man that cut his way through his\nenemies, and the picture of the biggest of them all, together with the\nrest of those things that were then so profitable to Christian.\n\nThis done, and after those things had been seen and thought of by\nChristiana and her company, the Interpreter takes them apart again, and\nhas them first into a room where was a man that could look no way but\ndownwards, with a muck-rake in his hand. There stood also one over his\nhead, with a celestial crown in his hand, and proffered to give him that\ncrown for his muck-rake; but the man did neither look up nor regard, but\nraked to himself the straws, the small sticks, and the dust of the\nfloor.\n\nThen said Christiana, \"I persuade myself that I know somewhat the\nmeaning of this; for this is a figure of a man of this world. Is it not,\ngood sir?\"\n\nINTER. \"Thou hast said the right,\" said he; \"and his muck-rake doth show\nhis worldly mind. And whereas thou seest him rather give heed to rake up\nstraws and sticks, and the dust of the floor, than to do what he says\nthat calls to him from above with the celestial crown in his hand; it is\nto show that heaven is but a fable to some, and that things here are\ncounted the only things substantial. Now, whereas it was also showed\nthee that the man could look no way but downwards; it is to let thee\nknow that earthly things, when they are with power upon men's minds,\nquite carry their hearts away from God.\"\n\nCHR. Then said Christiana, \"Oh, deliver me from this muck-rake!\"\n\nINTER. \"That prayer,\" said the Interpreter, \"has lain by till it is\nalmost rusty. 'Give me not riches' is scarce the prayer of one of ten\nthousand. Straws, and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things\nnow looked after.\"\n\nWith that, Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, \"It is, alas! too true.\"\n\n[Sidenote: INTERPRETER'S ALLEGORIES]\n\nWhen the Interpreter had showed them this, he had them into the very\nbest room in the house; a very brave room it was. So he bid them look\nround about, and see if they could find anything there. Then they looked\nround and round; for there was nothing to be seen but a very great\nspider on the wall, and that they overlooked.\n\nMER. Then said Mercy, \"Sir, I see nothing.\"\n\nBut Christiana held her peace.\n\nINTER. \"But,\" said the Interpreter, \"look again.\"\n\nShe therefore looked again, and said, \"Here is not anything but an ugly\nspider, who hangs by her hands upon the wall.\"\n\nThen said he, \"Is there but one spider in all this spacious room?\"\n\nThen the water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a woman quick of\nmind; and she said, \"Yes, my lord; there is here more than one; yea, and\nspiders whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her.\"\n\nThe Interpreter then looked pleasantly upon her, and said, \"Thou hast\nsaid the truth.\"\n\nThis made Mercy blush and the boys to cover their faces; for they all\nbegan now to understand the riddle.\n\nThen said the Interpreter again, \"The spider taketh hold with her hands\n(as you see), and is in kings' palaces. And wherefore is this recorded,\nbut to show you that, how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet\nyou may, by the hand of faith, lay hold of and dwell in the best room\nthat belongs to the king's house above.\"\n\nCHR. \"I thought,\" said Christiana, \"of something of this; but I could\nnot imagine it all. I thought that we were like spiders, and that we\nlooked like ugly creatures, in what fine rooms soever we were: but that\nby this spider, this venomous and ill-favored creature, we were to learn\nhow to act faith, that came not into my mind; and yet she has taken hold\nwith her hands, and, as I see, dwelleth in the best room in the house.\nGod has made nothing in vain.\"\n\nThen they seemed all to be glad, but the water stood in their eyes; yet\nthey looked one upon another, and also bowed before the Interpreter.\n\nHe had them then into another room, where were a hen and chickens, and\nbid them observe a while. So one of the chickens went to the trough to\ndrink; and every time she drank, she lifted up her head and her eyes\ntoward heaven. \"See,\" said he, \"what this little chick doth; and learn\nof her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, by receiving them with\nlooking up. Yet again,\" said he, \"observe and look.\"\n\nSo they gave heed, and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold\nmethod towards her chickens. First, she had a common call, and that she\nhath all day long. Secondly, she had a special call, and that she had\nbut sometimes. Thirdly, she had a brooding note. And, fourthly she had\nan outcry.\n\nINTER. \"Now,\" said he, \"compare this hen to your King, and these\nchickens to His obedient ones: for, answerable to her, He Himself hath\nHis methods which He walketh in toward His people. By His common call,\nHe gives nothing; by His special call, He always has something to give;\nHe also has a brooding voice for them that are under His wing; and He\nhath an outcry, to give the alarm when He seeth the enemy come. I chose,\nmy darlings, to lead you into the room where such things are, because\nyou are women, and they are easy for you.\"\n\nCHR. \"And, sir,\" said Christiana, \"pray let us see some more.\"\n\nSo he had them into the slaughter-house, where the butcher was killing a\nsheep; and, behold, the sheep was quiet, and took her death patiently.\nThen said the Interpreter, \"You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and\nto put up with wrongs without murmurings and complaints. Behold how\nquietly she takes her death; and, without objecting, she suffereth her\nskin to be pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you His sheep.\"\n\nAfter this, he led them into his garden, where was great variety of\nflowers; and he said, \"Do you see all these?\" So Christiana said, \"Yes.\"\nThen said he again, \"Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in\nquality, and color, and smell, and virtue, and some are better than\nothers; also, where the gardener has set them, there they stand, and\nquarrel not one with another.\"\n\nAgain, he had them into his field, which he had sowed with wheat and\ncorn; but when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off, and only the\nstraw remained. He said again, \"This ground was made rich, and was\nploughed, and sowed; but what shall we do with the crop?\" Then said\nChristiana, \"Burn some, and make muck of the rest.\" Then said the\nInterpreter again, \"Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for; and, for\nwant of that, you send it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of\nmen. Beware that in this you condemn not yourselves.\"\n\nThen, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little robin\nwith a great spider in his mouth. So the Interpreter said, \"Look here.\"\nSo they looked, and Mercy wondered; but Christiana said, \"What a\ndisparagement is it to such a pretty little bird as the robin-redbreast\nis; he being also a bird above many, that loveth to maintain a kind of\nsociableness with man! I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of\nbread, or upon other such harmless matter. I like him worse than I\ndid.\"\n\nThe Interpreter then replied, \"This robin is an emblem very apt, to set\nforth some people by; for to sight they are as this robin, pretty of\nnote, color, and conduct. They seem also to have a very great love for\nthose that are sincere followers of Christ; and above all other to\ndesire to associate with them, and to be in their company, as if they\ncould live upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend, also, that\ntherefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly and the\nappointments of the Lord; but, when they are by themselves, as the\nrobin, they can catch and gobble up spiders, they can change their diet,\ndrink wickedness, and swallow down sin like water.\"\n\nSo, when they were come again into the house, because supper as yet was\nnot ready, Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either\nshow, or tell of, some other things that were profitable.\n\nThen the Interpreter began, and said, \"The fatter the sow is the more\nshe desires the mire; the fatter the ox is, the more thoughtlessly he\ngoes to the slaughter; and the more healthy the lusty man is, the more\nprone he is unto evil. There is a desire in women to go neat and fine;\nand it is a comely thing to be adorned with that which in God's sight is\nof great price. 'Tis easier watching a night or two than to sit up a\nwhole year together; so 'tis easier for one to begin to profess well\nthan to hold out as he should to the end. Every ship-master, when in a\nstorm, will willingly cast that overboard which is of the smallest value\nin the vessel; but who will throw the best out first? None but he that\nfeareth not God. One leak will sink a ship, and one sin will destroy a\nsinner. He that forgets his friends is ungrateful unto him but he that\nforgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin, and\nlooks for happiness hereafter, is like him that soweth weeds, and thinks\nto fill his barn with wheat or barley. If a man would live well, let him\nbring before him his last day, and make it always his company-keeper.\nWhispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the world. If\nthe world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of that worth\nwith men, what is heaven, that God commendeth! If the life that is\nattended with so many troubles is so loth to be let go by us, what is\nthe life above! Everybody will cry up the goodness of men; but who is\nthere that is, as he should be, affected with the goodness of God?\"\n\nWhen the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his garden again,\nand had them to a tree, whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it\ngrew and had leaves.\n\nThen said Mercy, \"What means this?\"\n\n\"This tree,\" said he, \"whose outside is fair, and whose inside is\nrotten, is that to which many may be compared that are in the garden of\nGod, who with their mouths speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will\ndo nothing for Him; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good for\nnothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box.\"\n\nNow supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the board;\nso they sat down, and did eat when one had given thanks. And the\nInterpreter did usually entertain those that lodged with him with music\nat meals; so the minstrels played. There was also one that did sing, and\na very fine voice he had. His song was this:\n\n  \"The Lord is only my support,\n    And He that doth me feed;\n  How can I then want anything\n    Whereof I stand in need?\"\n\n[Sidenote: DISCOURSE AT SUPPER]\n\nWhen the song and music were ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana\nwhat it was that first did move her to betake herself to a pilgrim's\nlife. Christiana answered, \"First, the loss of my husband came into my\nmind, at which I was heartily grieved; but all that was but natural\naffection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pilgrimages of my\nhusband into my mind, and also how unkindly I had behaved to him as to\nthat. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me into the\npond, to drown myself, but that, just at the right time, I had a dream\nof the well-being of my husband, and a letter sent by the King of that\ncountry where my husband dwells, to come to him. The dream and the\nletter together so wrought upon my mind, that they forced me to this\nway.\"\n\nINTER. But met you with no opposition afore you set out of doors?\n\nCHR. Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous: she was akin to him\nthat would have persuaded my husband to go back for fear of the lions.\nShe all-to-be-fooled me for, as she called it, my intended desperate\nadventure; she also urged what she could to dishearten me from it--the\nhardship and troubles that my husband met with in the way; but all this\nI got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of two ill-looked ones,\nthat I thought did plot how to make me fail in my journey, that hath\ntroubled me much: yea, it still runs in my mind, and makes me afraid of\nevery one that I meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, and\nto turn me out of my way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not\nhave everybody know it, that, between this and the gate by which we got\ninto the way, we were both so sorely attacked that we were made to cry\nout \"murder;\" and the two that made this attack upon us were like the\ntwo that I saw in my dream.\n\nThen said the Interpreter, \"Thy beginning is good; thy latter end shall\ngreatly increase.\" So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto her,\n\"And what moved thee to come hither, sweetheart?\"\n\nThen Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while continued silent.\n\nINTER. Then said he, \"Be not afraid; only believe, and speak thy mind.\"\n\nMER. So she began, and said, \"Truly, sir, my lack of knowledge is that\nwhich makes me wish to be in silence, and that also that fills me with\nfears of coming short at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as\nmy friend Christiana can nor know I what it is to mourn for my refusing\nthe advice of those that were good relations.\"\n\nINTER. What was it, then, dear heart, that hath prevailed with thee to\ndo as thou hast done?\n\nMER. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone from our town,\nI and another went accidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door\nand went in. When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we\nasked her what was her meaning. She said she was sent for to go to her\nhusband; and then she up and told us how she had seen him in a dream,\ndwelling in a wonderful place, among immortals, wearing a crown, playing\nupon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing\npraises to Him for bringing him thither, and so on. Now, methought while\nshe was telling these things unto us, my heart burned within me. And I\nsaid in my heart, If this be true, I will leave my father and my mother,\nand the land of my birth, and will, if I may, go along with Christiana.\nSo I asked her further of the truth of these things, and if she would\nlet me go with her; for I saw now that there was no dwelling but with\nthe danger of ruin any longer in our town. But yet I came away with a\nheavy heart; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so\nmany of my relations were left behind. And I am come with all the desire\nof my heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana, unto her husband\nand his King.\n\nINTER. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth:\nthou art a Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi and to the Lord\nher God, leave father and mother, and the land of her birth, to come out\nand go with a people that she knew not heretofore. The Lord bless thy\nwork, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel, under\nwhose wings thou art come to trust.\n\nNow supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed: the women were\nlaid singly alone, and the boys by themselves. Now, when Mercy was in\nbed, she could not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at\nlast were removed farther from her than ever they were before. So she\nlay blessing and praising God, who had had such favor for her.\n\nIn the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared themselves for\ntheir departure; but the Interpreter would have them tarry a while:\n\"For,\" said he, \"you must orderly go from hence.\" Then said he to the\nmaid that first opened to them, \"Take them and have them into the\ngarden, to the bath, and there wash them, and make them clean from the\nsoil which they have gathered by traveling.\"\n\nThen Innocent the maid took them and had them into the garden, and\nbrought them to the bath; so she told them they must wash and be clean,\nfor so her master would have the women to do that called at his house as\nthey were going on pilgrimage. Then they went in and washed, yea, they\nand the boys and all; and they came out of that bath, not only sweet and\nclean, but also much enlivened, and strengthened in their joints. So,\nwhen they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they went out to\nthe washing.\n\nWhen they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter\ntook them, and looked upon them, and said unto them, \"Fair as the moon.\"\nThen he called for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed that were\nwashed in this bath. So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon\nthem, that they might be known in the places whither they were yet to\ngo; and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal added greatly to\ntheir beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to\ntheir glory, and made their countenances more like those of angels.\n\n[Sidenote: CLOTHED IN WHITE RAIMENT]\n\nThen said the Interpreter again to the maid that waited upon these\nwomen, \"Go into the vestry, and fetch out garments for these people.\" So\nshe went and fetched out white raiment and laid it down before him; so\nhe commanded them to put it on; it was fine linen, white and clean. When\nthe women were thus adorned, they seemed to be afraid one of the other,\nfor that they could not see that glory each one had in herself, which\nthey could see in each other. Now, therefore, they began to esteem each\nother better than themselves. For \"You are fairer than I am,\" said one;\nand \"You are more beautiful than I am,\" said another. The children also\nstood amazed, to see into what fashion they were brought.\n\nThe Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-heart,\nand bid him take sword, and helmet, and shield, and \"Take these my\ndaughters,\" said he, \"and conduct them to the house called Beautiful, at\nwhich place they will rest next.\" So he took his weapons, and went\nbefore them; and the Interpreter said, \"God speed!\" Those also that\nbelonged to the family sent them away with many a good wish. So they\nwent on their way and sang:\n\n  \"This place hath been our second stage:\n    Here we have heard and seen\n  Those good things that from age to age\n    To others hid have been.\n  The Dunghill-raker, Spider, Hen,\n    The Chicken, too, to me\n  Have taught a lesson: let me then\n    Conformed to it be.\n\n  \"The Butcher, Garden, and the Field,\n    The Robin and his bait,\n  Also the Rotten Tree, doth yield\n    Me argument of weight:\n  To move me for to watch and pray,\n    To strive to be sincere,\n  To take my cross up day by day,\n    And serve the Lord with fear.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE CROSS AND THE CONSEQUENCES.\n\n\nNow, I saw in my dream that they went on, and Great-heart before them.\nSo they went, and came to the place where Christian's burden fell off\nhis back and tumbled into a sepulchre. Here, then, they made a pause,\nand here also they blessed God. \"Now,\" said Christiana, \"comes to my\nmind what was said to us at the gate, to wit, that we should have pardon\nby word and deed: by word, that is, by the promise; by deed, that is, in\nthe way it was obtained. What the promise is, of that I know something;\nbut what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it was\nobtained, Mr. Great-heart, I suppose you know; wherefore, if you please,\nlet us hear you speak thereof.\"\n\n[Sidenote: GREAT-HEART DISCOURSES]\n\nGREAT. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained by some one for\nanother that hath need thereof; not by the person pardoned, but in the\nway, saith another, in which I have obtained it. So then, to speak to\nthe question at large, the pardon that you, and Mercy, and these boys\nhave obtained, was obtained by another; to wit, by Him that let you in\nat the gate. And He hath obtained it in this double way: He has shown\nrighteousness to cover you, and spilt His blood to wash you in.\n\nCHR. This is brave! Now I see that there was something to be learnt by\nour being pardoned by word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labor to keep\nthis in mind; and, my children, do you remember it also. But, sir, was\nnot this it that made my good Christian's burden fall from off his\nshoulders, and that made him give three leaps for joy?\n\nGREAT. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut off those strings that\ncould not be cut by other means; and it was to give him proof of the\nvirtue of this that he was suffered to carry his burden to the Cross.\n\nCHR. I thought so; for though my heart was lightsome and joyous before,\nyet it is ten times more lightsome and joyous now. And I am persuaded by\nwhat I have felt, though I have felt but little as yet, that, if the\nmost burdened man in the World was here, and did see and believe as I\nnow do, it would make his heart merry and blithe.\n\nGREAT. There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us\nby the sight and consideration of these, but an endeared love born in us\nby it; for who can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes, not\nonly by promise, but thus, but be affected with the way and means of his\nredemption, and so love the Man that hath wrought it for him?\n\nCHR. True: methinks it makes my heart bleed, to think that He should\nbleed for me. Oh, Thou loving One! Oh, Thou blessed One! Thou deservest\nto have me: Thou hast bought me. Thou deservest to have me all: Thou\nhast paid for me ten thousand times more than I am worth. No marvel that\nthis made the water stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made him\ntrudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he wished me with him; but, vile\nwretch that I was! I let him come all alone. Oh, Mercy, that thy father\nand mother were here! yea, and Mrs. Timorous also! Nay, I wish now with\nall my heart that here was Madam Wanton too. Surely, surely, their\nhearts would be affected; nor could the fear of the one, nor the\npowerful passions of the other, prevail with them to go home again, and\nrefuse to become good pilgrims.\n\nGREAT. You speak now in the warmth of your affections: will it, think\nyou, be always thus with you? Besides, this is not given to every one,\nnor to every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood\nby, and that saw the blood run from His heart to the ground, and yet\nwere so far off this, that instead of lamenting, they laughed at Him,\nand instead of becoming His disciples, did harden their hearts against\nhim. So that all that you have, my daughters, you have by a peculiar\nfeeling made by a thinking upon what I have spoken to you. This you\nhave, therefore, by a special grace.\n\n[Sidenote: SIMPLE, SLOTH, PRESUMPTION]\n\nNow, I saw still in my dream, that they went on till they were come to\nthe place that Simple, and Sloth, and Presumption lay and slept in, when\nChristian went by on pilgrimage; and, behold, they were hanged up in\nirons a little way off on the other side.\n\nMER. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, \"What\nare those three men? and for what are they hanged there?\"\n\nGREAT. These three men were men of very bad qualities: they had no mind\nto be pilgrims themselves, and whomsoever they could they hindered. They\nwere for sloth and folly themselves, and whomsoever they could persuade\nwith, they made so too, and withal taught them to presume that they\nshould do well at last. They were asleep when Christian went by; and,\nnow you go by, they are hanged.\n\nMER. But could they persuade any to be of their opinion?\n\nGREAT. Yes, they turned several out of the way. There was Slow-pace that\nthey persuaded to do as they. They also prevailed with one Short-wind,\nwith one No-heart, with one Linger-after-lust, and with one Sleepy-head,\nand with a young woman--her name was Dull--to turn out of the way and\nbecome as they. Besides, they brought up an ill report of your Lord,\npersuading others that He was a hard task-master. They also brought up\nan evil report of the good land, saying it was not half so good as some\npretended it was. They also began to speak falsely about His servants,\nand to count the very best of them meddlesome, troublesome busy-bodies.\nFurther, they would call the bread of God, husks; the comforts of His\nchildren, fancies; the travel labor of pilgrims, things to no purpose.\n\nCHR. \"Nay,\" said Christiana, \"if they were such, they never shall be\nbewailed by me: they have but what they deserve; and I think it is well\nthat they hang so near the highway, that others may see and take\nwarning. But had it not been well if their crimes had been engraven on\nsome plate of iron or brass, and left here where they did their\nmischiefs, for a caution to other bad men?\"\n\nGREAT. So it is, as you well may perceive, if you will go a little to\nthe wall.\n\nMER. No, no: let them hang, and their names rot, and their crimes live\nfor ever against them. I think it a high favor that they were hanged\nafore we came hither who knows, else, what they might have done to such\npoor women as we are?\n\nThen she turned it into a song, saying:\n\n  \"Now, then, you three, hang there, and be a sign\n  To all that shall against the truth combine;\n  And let him that comes after fear this end,\n  If unto pilgrims he is not a friend.\n  And thou, my soul, of all such men beware\n  That unto holiness opposers are.\"\n\nThus they went on till they came at the foot of the Hill Difficulty,\nwhere again their good friend Mr. Great-heart took an occasion to tell\nthem of what happened there when Christian himself went by. So he had\nthem first to the spring. \"Lo,\" saith he, \"this is the spring that\nChristian drank of before he went up this hill: and then it was clear\nand good; but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not\ndesirous that pilgrims here should quench their thirst.\" Thereat Mercy\nsaid, \"And why are they so envious, I wonder?\" But said their guide, \"It\nwill do if taken up and put into a vessel that is sweet and good; for\nthen the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the water come out by itself\nmore clear.\" Thus, therefore, Christiana and her companions were\ncompelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot, and so\nlet it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they drank\nthereof.\n\n[Sidenote: TWO DANGEROUS PATHS]\n\nNext he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the hill,\nwhere Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. And said he, \"These are\ndangerous paths. Two were here cast away when Christian came by; and\nalthough, as you see, these ways are since stopped up with chains,\nposts, and a ditch, yet there are that will choose to adventure here,\nrather than take the pains to go up this hill.\"\n\nCHR. The way of transgressors is hard. It is a wonder that they can get\ninto those ways without danger of breaking their necks.\n\nGREAT. They will venture: yea, if at any time any of the King's servants\ndoth happen to see them, and doth call unto them, and tell them that\nthey are in the wrong ways, and do bid them beware the danger, then they\nwill railingly return them answer, and say, \"As for the word that thou\nhast spoken unto us in the name of the King, we will not hearken unto\nthee; but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our\nown mouth.\" Nay, if you look a little farther, you shall see that these\nways are warned against enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and\nchain, but also by being hedged up; yet they will choose to go there.\n\nCHR. They are idle: they love not to take pains: up-hill way is\nunpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written, \"The\nway of the slothful man is a hedge of thorns.\" Yea, they will rather\nchoose to walk upon a snare than go up this hill, and the rest of this\nway to the City.\n\nThen they set forward, and began to go up the hill; and up the hill they\nwent. But, before they got to the top, Christiana began to pant, and\nsaid, \"I dare say this is a breathing hill: no marvel if they that love\ntheir ease more than their souls choose to themselves a smoother way.\"\nThen said Mercy, \"I must sit down;\" also the least of the children began\nto cry. \"Come, come,\" said Great-heart, \"sit not down here, for a little\nabove is the Prince's arbor.\" Then took he the little boy by the hand,\nand led him up thereto.\n\n[Sidenote: THE ARBOR ON THE HILL]\n\nWhen they were come to the arbor, they were very willing to sit down,\nfor they were all in a pelting heat. Then said Mercy, \"How sweet is rest\nto them that labor, and how good is the Prince of pilgrims to provide\nsuch resting-places for them! Of this arbor I have heard much, but I\nnever saw it before. But here let us beware of sleeping; for, as I have\nheared, for that it cost poor Christian dear.\"\n\nThen said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, \"Come, my pretty boys, how\ndo you do? what think you now of going on pilgrimage?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the least, \"I was almost beat out of heart; but I thank you\nfor lending me a hand at my need. And I remember now what my mother has\ntold me, namely, 'That the way to heaven is as up a ladder, and the way\nto hell is as down a hill.' But I rather go up the ladder to life, than\nthe hill to death.\"\n\nThen said Mercy, \"But the proverb, is, 'To go down the hill is easy.'\"\n\nBut James said (for that was his name), \"The day is coming when, in my\nopinion, going down-hill will be the hardest of all.\"\n\n\"That's a good boy,\" said his master; \"thou hast given her a right\nanswer.\"\n\nThen Mercy smiled, but the little boy did blush.\n\nCHR. \"Come,\" said Christiana, \"will you eat a bit, a little to sweeten\nyour mouths, while you sit here to rest your legs? for I have here a\npiece of pomegranate, which Mr. Interpreter put in my hand just when I\ncame out of his doors: he gave me also a piece of a honeycomb, and a\nlittle bottle of spirits.\"\n\n\"I thought he gave you something,\" said Mercy, \"because he called you\naside.\"\n\n\"Yes, so he did,\" said the other; \"but, Mercy, it shall still be as I\nsaid it should, when at first we came from home; thou shalt be a sharer\nin all the good that I have, because thou so willingly didst become my\ncompanion.\"\n\nThen she gave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And\nsaid Christiana to Mr. Great-heart, \"Sir, will you do as we and take\nsome refreshment?\"\n\nBut he answered, \"You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall\nreturn; much good may have do to you: at home I eat the same every day.\"\n\nNow, when they had eaten and drunk, and had chatted a little longer,\ntheir guide said to them, \"The day wears away; if you think good, let us\nprepare to be going.\" So they got up to go, and the little boys went\nbefore; but Christiana forgot to take her bottle of spirits with her, so\nshe sent her little boy back to fetch it.\n\nThen said Mercy, \"I think this is a losing place: here Christian lost\nhis roll, and here Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is\nthe cause of this?\"\n\nSo their guide made answer, and said, \"The cause is sleep or\nforgetfulness: some sleep when they should keep awake, and some forget\nwhen they should remember. And this is the very cause why often at the\nresting-places some pilgrims, in some things, come off losers. Pilgrims\nshould watch, and remember what they have already received, under their\ngreatest enjoyments; but, for want of doing so, ofttimes their rejoicing\nends in tears, and their sunshine in a cloud: witness the story of\nChristian at this place.\"\n\n[Sidenote: MISTRUST AND TIMOROUS]\n\nWhen they were come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous met\nChristian, to persuade him to go back for fear of the lions, they\nperceived as it were a stage, and before it, towards the road, a broad\nplate, with a copy of verses written thereon, and underneath the reason\nof the raising up of that stage in that place rendered. The verses were\nthese:\n\n  \"Let him that sees this stage take heed\n    Unto his heart and tongue;\n  Lest, if he do not, here he speed\n    As some have, long agone.\"\n\nThe words underneath the verses were, \"This stage was built to punish\nsuch upon, who, through timorousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go\nfarther on pilgrimage. Also on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous\nwere burned through the tongue with a hot iron, for endeavoring to\nhinder Christian in his journey.\"\n\nThen said Mercy, \"This is much like to the saying of the Beloved, 'What\nshall be given unto thee, or what shall be done unto thee, thou false\ntongue? Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper.'\"\n\nSo they went on till they came within sight of the lions. Now, Mr.\nGreat-heart was a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion. But yet,\nwhen they were come up to the place where the lions were, the boys, that\nwent before, were glad to cringe behind, for they were afraid of the\nlions so they stepped back, and went behind.\n\nAt this their guide smiled, and said, \"How now, my boys! do you love to\ngo before when no danger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon\nas the lions appear?\"\n\nNow, as they went up, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword, with intent to\nmake a way for the pilgrims in spite of the lions. Then there appeared\none that, it seems, had taken upon him to back the lions; and he said to\nthe pilgrims' guide, \"What is the cause of your coming hither?\" Now, the\nname of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of his slaying of\npilgrims; and he was of the race of the giants.\n\nGREAT. Then said the pilgrims' guide, \"These women and children are\ngoing on pilgrimage, and this is the way they must go; and go it they\nshall, in spite of thee and the lions.\"\n\nGRIM. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. I am come\nforth to withstand them, and to that end will back the lions.\n\n[Sidenote: GREAT-HEART OVERCOMES GRIM]\n\nNow, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of the\ngrim carriage of him that did back them, this way had of late lain much\nunoccupied, and was almost all grown over with grass.\n\nCHR. Then said Christiana, \"Though the highways have been unoccupied\nheretofore, and though the travellers have been made in times past to\nwalk through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen. 'Now I am risen\na mother in Israel.'\"\n\nGRIM. Then he swore by the lions, \"But it should,\" and therefore bid\nthem turn aside, for they should not passage there.\n\nBut Great-heart their guide made first his approach unto Grim, and laid\nso heavily at him with his sword, that he forced him to a retreat.\n\nGRIM. Then said he that attempted to back the lions, \"Will you slay me\nupon mine own ground?\"\n\nGREAT. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in His way it is\nthat thou hast placed thy lions; but these women, and these children,\nthough weak, shall hold on their way in spite of thy lions.\n\nAnd, with that, he gave him again a downright blow, and brought him upon\nhis knees. With this blow he also broke his helmet, and with the next he\ncut off an arm. Then did the giant roar so hideously, that his voice\nfrighted the women, and yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon\nthe ground. Now, the lions were chained, and so of themselves could do\nnothing.\n\nWherefore, when old Grim, that intended to back them, was dead, Mr.\nGreat-heart said to the pilgrims, \"Come now, and follow me, and no hurt\nshall happen to you from the lions.\" They therefore went on; but the\nwomen trembled as they passed by them: the boys also looked as if they\nwould die; but they all got by without further hurt.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE PALACE BEAUTIFUL.\n\n\nNow, then, they were within sight of the Porter's lodge, and they soon\ncame up unto it; but they made the more haste after this to go thither,\nbecause it is dangerous travelling there in the night. So, when they\nwere come to the gate, the guide knocked, and the Porter cried, \"Who is\nthere?\" But as soon as the guide had said \"It is I,\" he knew his voice,\nand came down, for the guide had oft before that come thither as a\nconductor of pilgrims. When he was come down he opened the gate; and,\nseeing the guide stand just before it (for he saw not the women, for\nthey were behind him), he said unto him, \"How now, Mr. Great-heart! what\nis your business here so late to-night?\"\n\n\"I have brought,\" said he, \"some pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's\ncommandment, they must lodge. I had been here some time ago, had I not\nbeen opposed by the giant that did use to back the lions; but I, after a\nlong and tedious combat with him, have cut him off, and have brought the\npilgrims hither in safety.\"\n\nPORT. Will you not go in, and stay till morning?\n\nGREAT. No, I will return to my Lord to-night.\n\nCHR. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our\npilgrimage: you have been so faithful and so loving to us, you have\nfought so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in counselling of us,\nthat I shall never forget your favor towards us.\n\nMER. Then said Mercy, \"Oh that we might have thy company to our\njourney's end! How can such poor women as we hold out in a way so full\nof troubles as this way is, without a friend and defender?\"\n\nJAMES. Then said James, the youngest of the boys, \"Pray, sir, be\npersuaded to go with us, and help us, because we are so weak, and the\nway so dangerous as it is.\"\n\nGREAT. I am at my Lord's commandment. If he shall allot me to be your\nguide quite through, I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed\nat first; for when he bid me come thus far with you, then you should\nhave begged me of him to have gone quite through with you, and he would\nhave granted your request. However, at present I must withdraw; and so,\ngood Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children, adieu.\n\nThen the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country and of\nher kindred. And she said, \"I come from the City of Destruction. I am a\nwidow woman, and my husband is dead: his name was Christian, the\npilgrim.\"\n\n\"How!\" said the Porter, \"was he your husband?\"\n\n[Sidenote: A JOYFUL RECEPTION]\n\n\"Yes,\" said she, \"and these are his children, and this\" (pointing to\nMercy) \"is one of my townswomen.\"\n\nThen the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there\ncame to the door one of the maids, whose name was Humble-mind; and to\nher the Porter said, \"Go, tell it within that Christiana, the wife of\nChristian, and her children, are come hither on pilgrimage.\"\n\nShe went in, therefore, and told it. But oh, what a noise for gladness\nwas there within when the maid did but drop that word out of her mouth!\n\nSo they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana stood still at the\ndoor. Then some of those within said unto her, \"Come in, Christiana,\ncome in, thou wife of that good man; come in, thou blessed woman; come\nin, with all that are with thee.\"\n\nSo she went in, and they followed her that were her children and her\ncompanions. Now, when they were gone in, they were had into a very large\nroom, where they were bidden to sit down. So they sat down, and the\nchief of the house were called to see and welcome the guests. Then they\ncame in and understanding who they were did salute each other with a\nkiss, and said, \"Welcome, ye that bear the grace of God; welcome to us,\nyour friends!\"\n\nNow, because it was somewhat late, and because the pilgrims were weary\nwith their journey, and also made faint with the sight of the fight, and\nof the terrible lions, therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to\nprepare to go to rest. \"Nay,\" said those of the family, \"refresh\nyourselves first with a morsel of meat;\" for they had prepared for them\na lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto, for the Porter had\nheard before of their coming, and had told it to them within. So, when\nthey had supped, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired they\nmight go to rest.\n\n\"But let us,\" said Christiana, \"if we may be so bold as to choose, be in\nthat chamber that was my husband's when he was here.\"\n\nSo they had them up thither, and they lay all in a room. When they were\nat rest, Christiana and Mercy entered into discourse about things that\nwere convenient.\n\nCHR. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrimage, that I\nshould ever have followed.\n\nMER. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber\nto rest, as you do now.\n\nCHR. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and\nof worshipping the Lord the King with him; and yet now I believe I\nshall.\n\nMER. Hark! don't you hear a noise?\n\nCHR. Yes, it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are\nhere.\n\nMER. Wonderful! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also\nin heaven, for joy that we are here!\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY'S DREAM]\n\nThus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep. So in the\nmorning, when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy, \"What was the\nmatter, that you did laugh in your sleep to-night? I suppose you were in\na dream.\"\n\nMER. So I was, and a sweet dream it was; but are you sure I laughed?\n\nCHR. Yes, you laughed heartily; but, prithee, Mercy, tell me thy dream.\n\nMER. I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was\nbemoaning of the hardness of my heart. Now, I had not sat there long,\nbut methought many were gathered about me to see me, and to hear what it\nwas that I said. So they hearkened, and I went on bemoaning the hardness\nof my heart. At this, some of them laughed at me, some called me fool,\nand some thrust me about. With that, methought I looked up, and saw one\ncoming with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said,\n\"Mercy, what aileth thee?\" Now, when he had heard me make my complaint,\nhe said, \"Peace be to thee;\" he also wiped mine eyes with his\nhandkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He put a chain about my\nneck, and ear-rings in mine ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head.\nThen he took me by the hand, and said, \"Mercy, come after me.\" So he\nwent up, and I followed, till we came to a golden gate. Then he knocked;\nand when they within opened, the man went in, and I followed him up to a\nthrone upon which One sat; and He said to me, \"Welcome, daughter!\" The\nplace looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or rather like the\nsun; and I thought that I saw your husband there. So I awoke from my\ndream. But did I laugh?\n\nCHR. Laugh! ay, and well you might, to see yourself so well. For you\nmust give me leave to tell you, that I believe it was a good dream; and\nthat, as you have begun to find the first part true, so you shall find\nthe second at last. \"God speaks once, yea, twice, yet man perceiveth it\nnot; in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon\nmen, in slumberings upon the bed.\" We need not, when abed, to lie awake\nto talk with God: He can visit us while we sleep, and cause us then to\nhear His voice. Our heart oftentimes wakes when we sleep; and God can\nspeak to that, either by words, by proverbs, or by signs and\nsimilitudes, as well as if one was awake.\n\nMER. Well, I am glad of my dream; for I hope ere long to see it\nfulfilled, to the making of me laugh again.\n\nCHR. I think it is now high time to rise, and to know what we must do.\n\nMER. Pray, if they invite us to stay, a while, let us willingly accept\nof the proffer. I am the willinger to stay a while here, to grow better\nacquainted with these maids. Methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have\nvery lovely and sober countenances.\n\nCHR. We shall see what they will do.\n\nSo, when they were up and ready, they came down; and they asked one\nanother of their rest, and if it was comfortable or not.\n\nMER. \"Very good,\" said Mercy; \"it was one of the best nights' lodging\nthat ever I had in my life.\"\n\nThen said Prudence and Piety, \"If you will be persuaded to stay here a\nwhile, you shall have what the house will afford.\"\n\nCHAR. \"Ay, and that with a very good will,\" said Charity.\n\nSo they consented, and stayed there about a month, or above, and became\nvery profitable one to another.\n\n[Sidenote: MR. BRISK VISITS MERCY]\n\nNow, by that these pilgrims had been at this place a week, Mercy had a\nvisitor that pretended some good-will unto her; and his name was Mr.\nBrisk; a man of some breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a man\nthat stuck very close to the world. So he came once or twice, or more,\nto Mercy, and offered love unto her. Now, Mercy was a fair countenance,\nand therefore the more alluring.\n\nHer mind also was, to be always busying of herself in doing; for, when\nshe had nothing to do for herself, she would be making of hose and\ngarments for others, and would bestow them upon them that had need. And\nMr. Brisk, not knowing where or how she disposed of what she made,\nseemed to be greatly taken, for that he found her never idle. \"I will\nwarrant her a good housewife,\" quoth he to himself.\n\nMercy then told the matter to the maidens that were of the house, and\ninquired of them concerning him; for they did know him better than she.\nSo they told her that he was a very busy young man, and one who\npretended to serve the Lord, but was, as they feared, a stranger to the\npower of that which is good.\n\n\"Nay, then,\" said Mercy, \"I will look no more on him; for I purpose\nnever to have a clog to my soul.\"\n\nPrudence then replied that \"There needed no great matter of\ndiscouragement to be given to him; her continuing so as she had begun to\ndo for the poor would quickly cool his courage.\"\n\nSo, the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, a-making of\nthings for the poor. Then said he, \"What! always at it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said she, \"either for myself or for others.\"\n\n\"And what canst thou earn a day?\" quoth he.\n\n\"I do these things,\" said she, \"that I may be rich in good works, laying\nup in store for myself a good foundation against the time to come, that\nI may lay hold on eternal life.\"\n\n\"Why, prithee, what doest thou with them?\" said he.\n\n\"Clothe the naked,\" said she.\n\nWith that, his countenance fell. So he forbore to come at her again. And\nwhen he was asked the reason why, he said that \"Mercy was a pretty lass,\nbut troubled with too much working for others.\"\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY REJECTS THE SUITOR]\n\nWhen he had left her, Prudence said, \"Did I not tell thee that Mr. Brisk\nwould soon forsake thee? yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee;\nfor, notwithstanding his pretence to serve bad and his seeming love to\nMercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different, that I believe they\nwill never come together.\"\n\nMER. I might have had husbands afore now, though I spake not of it to\nany; but they were such as did not like my ways, though never did any of\nthem find fault with my person. So they and I could not agree.\n\nPRUD. Mercy in our days is little set by, any further than as to its\nname: the practice, which is set forth by thy works, there are but few\nthat can abide.\n\nMER. \"Well,\" said Mercy, \"if nobody will have me, I will die a maid, or\nmy works shall be to me as a husband; for I cannot change my nature; and\nto have one that lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to admit\nof as long as I live. I had a sister, named Bountiful, that was married\nto one of these selfish people; but he and she could never agree; but,\nbecause my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that is, to show\nkindness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried her down in\npublic, and then turned her out of his doors.\"\n\nPRUD. And yet he was a church-member, I warrant you?\n\nMER. Yes, such a one as he was; and of such as he the world is now\nfull; but I am for none of them at all.\n\n[Sidenote: MATTHEW FALLS SICK]\n\nNow Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and his sickness\nwas sore upon him for he was much pained in his bowels; so that he was\nwith it, at times, pulled as it were both ends together.\n\nThere dwelt also not far from thence one Mr. Skill, an ancient and\nwell-approved physician. So Christiana desired it and they sent for him,\nand he came. When he was entered the room, and had a little observed the\nboy, he concluded that he was sick of the gripes. Then he said to his\nmother, \"What diet has Matthew of late fed upon?\"\n\n\"Diet!\" said Christiana, \"nothing but that which is wholesome.\"\n\nThe physician answered, \"This boy has been tampering with something that\nlies in his stomach undigested, and that will not away without means.\nAnd I tell you he must be purged, or else he will die.\"\n\nSAM. Then said Samuel, \"Mother, what was that which my brother did\ngather up and eat, so soon as we were come from the gate that is at the\nhead of this way? You know that there was an orchard on the left hand,\non the other side of the wall, and some of the trees hung over the wall,\nand my brother did pull down the branches and did eat.\"\n\nCHR. \"True, my child,\" said Christiana, \"he did take thereof and did\neat; naughty boy as he was, I did chide him, and yet he would eat\nthereof.\"\n\nSKILL. I knew he had eaten something that was not wholesome food; and\nthat food, to wit, that fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. It is\nthe fruit of Beelzebub's orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of\nit: many have died thereof.\n\nCHR. Then Christiana began to cry, and she said, \"Oh, naughty boy! and\noh, careless mother! What shall I do for my son?\"\n\nSKILL. Come, do not be too much dejected; the boy may do well again, but\nhe must purge and vomit.\n\nCHR. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it\ncosts.\n\nSKILL. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable.\n\n[Sidenote: DOCTOR SKILL PRESCRIBES]\n\nSo he made him a purge, but it was too weak; it was said, it was made of\nthe blood of a goat, the ashes of an heifer, and with some of the juice\nof hyssop, etc. When Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, he\nmade him one to the purpose. It was made [the name was written in Latin]\n_ex carne et sanguine Christi_;[8] (you know physicians give strange\nmedicines to their patients)--and it was made up into pills, with a\npromise or two, and a proportionable quantity of salt. Now, he was to\ntake them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the\ntears of sorrow.\n\n  [8] That is, \"of the body and blood of Christ.\"\n\nWhen this potion was prepared and brought to the boy, he was loth to\ntake it, though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in\npieces.\n\n\"Come, come,\" said the physician, \"you must take it.\"\n\n\"It goes against my stomach,\" said the boy.\n\n\"I must have you take it,\" said his mother.\n\n\"I shall vomit it up again,\" said the boy.\n\n\"Pray, sir,\" said Christiana to Mr. Skill, \"how does it taste?\"\n\n\"It has no ill taste,\" said the doctor; and with that she touched one of\nthe pills with the tip of her tongue.\n\n\"O Matthew,\" said she, \"this potion is sweeter than honey. If thou\nlovest thy mother, if thou lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if\nthou lovest thy life, take it.\"\n\nSo, with much ado, after a short prayer for the blessing of God upon it,\nhe took it, and it wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge, it\ncaused him to sleep and rest quietly; it put him into a fine heat and\nbreathing sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes. So, in a little\ntime he got up, and walked about with a staff, and would go from room to\nroom, and talk with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his sickness, and\nhow he was healed.\n\nSo, when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, \"Sir,\nwhat will content you for your pains and care to and of my child?\"\n\nAnd he said, \"You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians,\naccording to the rules made in that case and provided.\"\n\nCHR. \"But, sir,\" said she, \"what is this pill good for else?\"\n\nSKILL. It is an universal pill: it is good against all the diseases that\npilgrims are troubled with; and when it is well prepared, it will keep\ngood time out of mind.\n\nCHR. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them; for if I can get these,\nI will never take other physic.\n\nSKILL. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure when\none is sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but\nuse this physic as he should, it will make him live for ever. But, good\nChristiana, thou must give these pills no other way than as I have\nprescribed; for if you do, they will do no good. So he gave unto\nChristiana physic for herself and her boys, and for Mercy; and bid\nMatthew take heed how he ate any more green plums; and kissed them and\nwent his way.\n\nIt was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, if at any time they\nwould, they should ask her some questions that might be profitable, and\nshe would say something to them.\n\nMATT. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, \"Why, for the most\npart, physic should be bitter to our palates?\"\n\nPRUD. To show how unwelcome the Word of God, and the effects thereof,\nare to a sinful heart.\n\nMATT. Why does physic, if it does good, purge and cause that we vomit?\n\nPRUD. To show that the Word, when it works effectually, cleanseth the\nheart and mind. For look, what the one doth to the body, the other doth\nto the soul.\n\nMATT. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go upwards,\nand by seeing the beams and sweet influences of the sun strike\ndownwards?\n\nPRUD. By the going up of the fire, we are taught to ascend to heaven by\nfervent and hot desires. And by the sun's sending his heat, beams, and\nsweet influences downwards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world,\nthough high reaches down with His grace and love to us below.\n\nMATT. Where have the clouds their water?\n\nPRUD. Out of the sea.\n\nMATT. What may we learn from that?\n\nPRUD. That ministers should fetch their teaching from God.\n\nMATT. Why do they empty themselves upon the earth?\n\nPRUD. To show that ministers should give out what they know of God to\nthe world.\n\nMATT. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun?\n\nPRUD. To show that the promise of God's grace is made sure to us in\nChrist.\n\nMATT. Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the earth?\n\nPRUD. To show that the grace of God comes to us through the body of\nChrist.\n\nMATT. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops of high hills?\n\nPRUD. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up in some that are\ngreat and mighty, as well as in many that are poor and low.\n\nMATT. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick?\n\nPRUD. To show that, unless grace doth kindle upon the heart, there will\nbe no true light of life in us.\n\nMATT. Why is the wick, and tallow, and all, spent to maintain the light\nof the candle?\n\nPRUD. To show that body, and soul, and all, should be at the service of,\nand spend themselves to maintain in good condition, that grace of God\nthat is in us.\n\nMATT. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill?\n\nPRUD. To nourish her young ones with her blood, and thereby to show that\nChrist the Blessed so loveth His young (His people), as to save them\nfrom death by His blood.\n\nMATT. What may one learn by hearing the cock to crow?\n\nPRUD. Learn to remember Peter's sin and Peter's sorrow. The cock's\ncrowing shows also that day is coming on: let, then, the crowing of the\ncock put thee in mind of that last and terrible day of judgment.\n\nNow, about this time, their month was out; wherefore they signified to\nthose of the house that it was convenient for them to be up and going.\nThen said Joseph to his mother, \"It is convenient that you forget not to\nsend to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him to grant that Mr.\nGreat-heart should be sent unto us, that he may be our conductor the\nrest of our way.\"\n\n\"Good boy,\" said she, \"I had almost forgot.\" So she drew up a petition,\nand prayed Mr. Watchful the Porter to send it by some fit man to her\ngood friend Mr. Interpreter, who, when it was come, and he had seen the\ncontents of the petition, said to the messenger, \"Go, tell them that I\nwill send him.\"\n\nWhen the family where Christiana was saw that they had a purpose to go\nforward, they called the whole house together, to give thanks to their\nKing for sending of them such profitable guests as these. Which done,\nthey said unto Christiana, \"And shall we not show thee something,\naccording, as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest\nmeditate when thou art upon the way?\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS VIEW CURIOSITIES]\n\nSo they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy, into the closet, and\nshowed them one of the apples that Eve did eat of, and that which she\nalso did give to her husband, and that for the eating of which they were\nboth turned out of Paradise, and asked her what she thought that was.\n\nThen Christiana said, \"It is food or poison, I know not which.\"\n\nSo they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands and\nwondered.\n\nThen they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's ladder. Now, at\nthat time there were some angels ascending upon it. So Christiana looked\nand looked, to see the angels go up, and so did the rest of the company.\nThen they were going into another place, to show them something else;\nbut James said to his mother, \"Pray bid them stay here a little longer,\nfor this is a curious sight.\" So they turned again, and stood feeding\ntheir eyes with this so pleasing a prospect.\n\nAfter this they had them into a place where did hang up a golden anchor.\nSo they bid Christiana take it down; \"For,\" said they, \"you shall have\nit with you, for it is of absolute necessity that you should, that you\nmay lay hold of that within the veil, and stand steadfast, in case you\nshould meet with turbulent weather.\" So they were glad thereof.\n\nThen they took them, and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our\nfather had offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the\nwood, the fire, and the knife; for they remain to be seen to this very\nday. When they had seen it, they held up their hands, and blessed\nthemselves, and said, \"Oh! what a man for love to his Master, and for\ndenial to himself, was Abraham!\"\n\nAfter they had showed them all these things, Prudence took them into the\ndining-room, where stood a pair of excellent virginals;[9] so she\nplayed upon them, and turned what she had showed them into this\nexcellent song, saying:\n\n  \"Eve's apple we have showed you--\n    Of that be you aware;\n  You have seen Jacob's ladder too,\n    Upon which angels are.\n  An anchor you received have:\n    But let not these suffice,\n  Until with Abra'm, you have gave\n    Your best a sacrifice.\"\n\n  [9] An instrument of music, used in the time of John Bunyan, somewhat\n  like a very small piano.\n\n[Sidenote: GREAT-HEART CONDUCTS THEM]\n\nNow, about this time, one knocked at the door. So the Porter opened, and\nbehold, Mr. Great-heart was there; but when he was come in, what joy was\nthere! For it came now fresh again into their minds, how, but a while\nago, he had slain old Grim Bloody-man, the giant, and had delivered them\nfrom the lions.\n\nThen said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, \"My lord has sent\neach of you a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn, together with\na couple of pomegranates; he has also sent the boys some figs and\nraisins, to refresh you in your way.\"\n\nThen they addressed themselves to their journey; and Prudence and Piety\nwent along with them. When they came at the gate, Christiana asked the\nPorter if any one of late went by.\n\nHe said, \"No; only one some time since, who also told me that, of late,\nthere had been a great robbery committed on the King's highway as you\ngo. But he saith the thieves are taken, and will shortly be tried for\ntheir lives.\"\n\nThen Christiana and Mercy were afraid; but Matthew said, \"Mother, fear\nnothing as long as Mr. Great-heart is to go with us, and to be our\nconductor.\"\n\nThen said Christiana to the Porter, \"Sir, I am much obliged to you for\nall the kindnesses that you have shown me since I came hither, and also\nfor that you have been so loving and kind to my children. I know not how\nto gratify your kindness; wherefore, pray, as a token of my respects to\nyou, accept of this small mite.\"\n\nSo she put a gold angel[10] in his hand; and he made her a low\nobeisance, and said, \"Let thy garments be always white, and let thy head\nwant no ointment. Let Mercy live and not die, and let not her works be\nfew.\" And to the boys he said, \"Do you flee youthful passions, and\nfollow after godliness with them that are grave and wise, so shall you\nput gladness into your mother's heart, and obtain praise of all that are\nsober-minded.\"\n\n  [10] An old English coin, bearing the figure of an angel.\n\nSo they thanked the Porter, and departed.\n\nNow I saw in my dream that they went forward until they were come to the\nbrow of the hill; where Piety, bethinking herself, cried out, \"Alas! I\nhave forgot what I intended to bestow upon Christiana and her\ncompanions: I will go back and fetch it.\" So she ran and fetched it.\nWhile she was gone, Christiana thought she heard, in a grove a little\nway off on the right hand, a most curious melodious note, with words\nmuch like these:\n\n  \"Through all my life Thy favor is\n    So frankly showed to me,\n  That in Thy house for evermore\n    My dwelling-place shall be.\"\n\nAnd listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, saying:\n\n  \"For why? the Lord our God is good;\n    His mercy is for ever sure;\n  His truth at all times firmly stood,\n    And shall from age to age endure.\"\n\nSo Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made those curious notes.\n\"They are,\" said she, \"our country birds: they sing these notes but\nseldom, except it be at the spring, when the flowers appear and the sun\nshines warm, and then you may hear them all day long. I often,\" said\nshe, \"go out to hear them; we also ofttimes keep them tame in our house.\nThey are very fine company for us when we are melancholy; also they make\nthe woods, and groves, and solitary places, places desirable to be in.\"\n\nBy this time Piety was come again. So she said to Christiana, \"Look\nhere: I have brought thee a plan of all those things that thou hast seen\nat our house, upon which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself\nforgetful, and call those things again to remembrance for thy teaching\nand comfort.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION.\n\n\nNow they began to go down the hill into the Valley of Humiliation. It\nwas a steep hill, and the way was slippery; but they were very careful,\nso they got down pretty well. When they were down in the valley, Piety\nsaid to Christiana, \"This is the place where Christian, your husband,\nmet with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they had that dreadful fight\nthat they had: I know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be of good\ncourage: as long as you have here Mr. Great-heart to be your guide and\nconductor, we hope you will fare the better.\"\n\nSo when these two had given the pilgrims unto the care of their guide,\nhe went forward, and they went after.\n\nGREAT. Then said Mr. Great-heart, \"We need not to be so afraid of this\nvalley, for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we procure it to\nourselves. It is true that Christian did here meet with Apollyon, with\nwhom he had also a sore combat; but that fray was the fruit of those\nslips that he got in his going down the hill; for they that get slips\nthere, must look for combats here. And hence it is that this valley has\ngot so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear that some\nfrightful thing has befallen such a one in such a place, are of an\nopinion that that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit;\nwhen, alas! it is for the fruit of their doing that such things do\nbefall them there. This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a\nplace as any the crow flies over; and I am persuaded, if we could hit\nupon it, we might find, somewhere hereabouts, something that might give\nus an account why Christian was so hardly beset in this place.\"\n\nThen James said to his mother, \"Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks\nas if something was written thereon: let us go and see what it is.\" So\nthey went, and found there written, \"Let Christian's slips before he\ncame hither, and the battles that he met with in this place, be a\nwarning to those that come after.\"\n\n\"Lo!\" said their guide, \"did not I tell you that there was something\nhereabouts that would give intimation of the reason why Christian was so\nhard beset in this place?\" Then turning himself to Christiana, he said,\n\"No disgrace to Christian, more than to many others whose hap and loss\nhis was; for it is easier going up than down this hill; and that can be\nsaid but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave\nthe good man: he is at rest; he also had a brave victory over his enemy.\nLet Him that dwelleth above grant that we fare no worse, when we come to\nbe tried, than he.\n\n\"But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best\nand most fruitful piece of ground in all these parts. It is fat ground,\nand, as you see, consisteth much in meadows; and if a man was to come\nhere in the summer-time, as we do now, if he knew not anything before\nthereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, he\nmight see that that would be delightful to him. Behold how green this\nvalley is, also how beautified with lilies! I have also known many\nlaboring men that have got good estates in this valley of Humiliation;\nfor 'God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble.' Indeed,\nit is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also\nhave wished that the next way to their Father's house were here, that\nthey might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go\nover; but the way is the way, and there's an end.\"\n\nNow, as they were going along and talking, they espied a boy feeding his\nfather's sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a very fresh\nand well-favored countenance; and as he sat by himself he sang. \"Hark,\"\nsaid Mr. Great-heart, \"to what the shepherd's boy saith.\" So they\nhearkened, and he said:\n\n  \"He that is down needs fear no fall\n    He that is low, no pride;\n  He that is humble ever shall\n    Have God to be his guide.\n\n  \"I am content with what I have\n    Little be it or much:\n  And, Lord, contentment still I crave\n    Because Thou savest much.\n\n  \"Fulness to such a burden is,\n    That go on pilgrimage;\n  Here little, and hereafter bliss,\n    Is best from age to age.\"\n\nThen said their guide, \"Do you hear him? I will dare to say that this\nboy lives a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called\nheart's-ease in his bosom, than he that is clad in silk and velvet. But\nwe will proceed in our account of this valley.\n\n\"In this valley our Lord formerly had His country house: He loved much\nto be here. He loved also to walk these meadows, for He found the air\nwas pleasant. Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise and from\nthe hurryings of this life. All states are full of noise and confusion,\nonly the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here a\nman shall not be so let and hindered in his thoughts as in other places\nhe is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in but those that\nlove a pilgrim's life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet\nhere with Apollyon, and to enter with him into a brisk encounter, yet I\nmust tell you that in former times men have met with angels here, have\nfound pearls here, and have in this place found the words of life.\n\n\"Did I say, our Lord had here in former days His country house, and\nthat He loved here to walk? I will add, in this place, and to the people\nthat love to tread these grounds, He has left a yearly sum of money, to\nbe faithfully paid them at certain seasons, for their support by the\nway, and for their further encouragement to go on their pilgrimage.\"\n\nSAM. Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, \"Sir, I\nperceive that in this valley my father and Apollyon had their battle;\nbut whereabout was the fight? for I perceive this valley is large.\"\n\n[Sidenote: FORGETFUL GREEN]\n\nGREAT. Your father had that battle with Apollyon at a place yonder\nbefore us, in a narrow passage just beyond Forgetful Green. And, indeed,\nthat place is the most dangerous place in all these parts. For, if at\nany time the pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they forget what\nfavors they have received, and how unworthy they are of them. This is\nthe place also where others have been hard put to it. But more of the\nplace when we are come to it; for I persuade myself, that to this day\nthere remains either some sign of the battle, or some monument to\ntestify that such a battle there was fought.\n\nMER. Then said Mercy, \"I think that I am as well in this valley as I\nhave been anywhere else in all our journey: the place, methinks, suits\nwith my spirit. I love to be in such places, where there is no rattling\nwith coaches nor rumbling with wheels. Methinks here one may, without\nmuch trouble, be thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has done,\nand to what the King has called him. Here one may think and break at\nheart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes become like the\nfish-pools in Heshbon. They that go rightly through this Valley of Baca,\nmake it a well; the rain that God sends down from heaven upon them that\nare here also filleth the pools. This valley is that from whence also\nthe King will give to His their vineyards; and they that go through it\nshall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon.\"\n\nGREAT. \"'Tis true,\" said their guide; \"I have gone through this valley\nmany a time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a\nconductor to several pilgrims, and they have confessed the same. 'To\nthis man will I look,' saith the King, 'even to him that is poor and of\na contrite spirit, and that trembleth at my word.'\"\n\nNow they were come to the place where the afore-mentioned battle was\nfought. Then said the guide to Christiana, her children, and Mercy,\n\"This is the place; on this ground Christian stood, and up there came\nApollyon against him. And look--did not I tell you?--here is some of\nyour husband's blood upon these stones to this day. Behold, also, how\nhere and there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers of\nApollyon's broken darts. See also how they did beat the ground with\ntheir feet as they fought, to make good their places against each other;\nhow also, with their by-blows, they did split the very stones in\npieces. Verily, Christian did here play the man, and showed himself as\nstout as could, had he been there, even Hercules himself. When Apollyon\nwas beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the\nValley of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come soon. Lo, yonder\nalso stands a monument, on which is engraven this battle, and\nChristian's victory, to his fame throughout all ages.\"\n\n[Sidenote: VALLEY OF SHADOW OF DEATH]\n\nSo, because it stood just on the way-side before them, they stepped to\nit, and read the writing, which word for word was this:\n\n  \"Hard by here was a battle fought,\n    Most strange, and yet most true;\n  Christian and Apollyon sought\n    Each other to subdue.\n\n  \"The man so bravely played the man,\n    He made the fiend to fly;\n  Of which a monument I stand,\n    The same to testify.\"\n\nWhen they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the\nShadow of Death. This valley was longer than the other; a place also\nmost strangely haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify;\nbut these women and children went the better through it, because they\nhad daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their conductor.\n\nWhen they were entered upon this valley, they thought that they heard a\ngroaning, as of dead men--a very great groaning. They thought also that\nthey did hear words of moaning spoken, as of some in extreme torment.\nThese things made the boys to quake; the women also looked pale and wan;\nbut their guide bid them be of good comfort.\n\nSo they went on a little farther, and they thought that they felt the\nground begin to shake under them, as if some hollow place was there;\nthey heard also a kind of hissing, as of serpents; but nothing as yet\nappeared. Then said the boys, \"Are we not yet at the end of this doleful\nplace?\" But the guide also bid them be of good courage, and look well to\ntheir feet; \"lest haply,\" said he, \"you be taken in some snare.\"\n\nNow James began to be sick; but I think the cause thereof was fear; so\nhis mother gave him some of that glass of spirits that had been given\nher at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill\nhad prepared; and the boy began to revive. Thus they went on till they\ncame to about the middle of the valley; and then Christiana said,\n\"Methinks I see something yonder upon the road before us, a thing of\nsuch a shape as I have not seen.\" Then said Joseph, \"Mother, what is\nit?\" \"An ugly thing, child, an ugly thing,\" said she. \"But, mother, what\nis it like?\" said he. \"'Tis like I cannot tell what,\" said she, \"and now\nit is but a little way off.\" Then said she, \"It is nigh!\"\n\n[Sidenote: RESIST THE DEVIL]\n\n\"Well, well,\" said Mr. Great-heart, \"let them that are most afraid keep\nclose to me.\" So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; but, when\nit was just come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then\nremembered they what had been said some time ago, \"Resist the devil, and\nhe will flee from you.\"\n\nThey went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. But they had not\ngone far before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought,\nsomething most like a lion, and it came a great padding pace after; and\nit had a hollow voice of roaring, and at every roar that it gave it made\nall the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, save the heart of him\nthat was their guide. So it came up, and Mr. Great-heart went behind,\nand put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and\nMr. Great-heart addressed himself to give him battle. But, when he saw\nthat it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew\nback, and came no farther.\n\nThey then went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till\nthey came to a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the\nway; and before they could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and\ndarkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then said the\npilgrims, \"Alas! what now shall we do?\" But their guide made answer,\n\"Fear not, stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also.\"\nSo they stayed there, because their path was marred. They then also\nthought that they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the\nenemies; the fire also, and the smoke of the pit, were much easier to be\ndiscerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, \"Now I see what my poor\nhusband went through. I have heard much of this place, but I never was\nhere before now. Poor man! he went here all alone in the night; he had\nnight almost quite through the way; also these fiends were busy about\nhim, as if they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it,\nbut none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean,\nuntil they come in it themselves. 'The heart knoweth its own bitterness,\nand a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.' To be here is a fearful\nthing.\"\n\nGREAT. This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down\ninto the deep. This is like being in the heart of the sea, and like\ngoing down to the bottoms of the mountains. Now it seems as if the\nearth, with its bars, were about us for ever. But let them that walk in\ndarkness and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon\ntheir God. For my part, as I have told you already, I have gone often\nthrough this valley, and have been much harder put to it than now I am;\nand yet, you see, I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not mine\nown saviour; but I trust we shall have a good deliverance. Come, let us\npray for light to Him that can lighten our darkness, and that can\nrebuke not only these, but all the Satans in hell.\n\nSo they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliverance; for there\nwas now no hindrance in their way, no, not there where but now they were\nstopped with a pit. Yet they were not got through the valley; so they\nwent on still; and behold, great stinks and loathsome smells, to the\ngreat annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, \"It is not so\npleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the\nhouse where we lay last.\"\n\n\"Oh, but,\" said one of the boys, \"it is not so bad to go through here as\nit is to abide here always; and, for aught I know, one reason why we\nmust go this way to the house prepared for us is, that our home might be\nmade the sweeter to us.\"\n\n\"Well said, Samuel,\" quoth the guide; \"thou hast now spoke like a man.\"\n\n\"Why, if ever I get out here again,\" said the boy, \"I think I shall\nprize light and good way better than ever I did in all my life.\"\n\nThen said the guide, \"We shall be out by-and-by.\"\n\nSo on they went, and Joseph said, \"Cannot we see to the end of this\nvalley as yet?\"\n\n[Sidenote: AMONG THE SNARES]\n\nThen said the guide, \"Look to your feet, for we shall presently be among\nthe snares.\"\n\nSo they looked to their feet, and went on; but they were troubled much\nwith the snares. Now, when they were come among the snares, they espied\na man cast into the ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and\ntorn.\n\nThen said the guide, \"That is one Heedless, that was going this way; he\nhas lain there a great while. There was one Take-heed with him when he\nwas taken and slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how\nmany are killed hereabouts; and yet men are so foolishly venturous as to\nset out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come without a guide. Poor\nChristian! it is a wonder that he here escaped; but he was beloved of\nhis God, also he had a good heart of his own, or else he could never\nhave done it.\"\n\n[Sidenote: GREAT-HEART ENCOUNTERS MAUL]\n\nNow they drew towards the end of the way; and just where Christian had\nseen the cave when he went by, out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This\nMaul did use to spoil young pilgrims by deceiving them; and he called\nGreat-heart by his name, and said unto him, \"How many times have you\nbeen forbidden to do these things?\"\n\nThen said Mr. Great-heart, \"What things?\"\n\n\"What things!\" quoth the giant; \"you know what things; but I will put an\nend to your trade.\"\n\n\"But pray,\" said Mr. Great-heart, \"before we fall to it, let us\nunderstand wherefore we must fight.\"\n\nNow the women and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do.\n\nQuoth the giant, \"You rob the country, and rob it with the worst of\nthefts.\"\n\n\"These are but random words,\" said Mr. Great-heart; \"tell what robberies\nI have done, man.\"\n\nThen said the giant, \"Thou practicest the craft of a kidnapper: thou\ngatherest up women and children, and carriest them into a strange\ncountry, to the weakening of my master's kingdom.\"\n\nBut now Great-heart replied, \"I am a servant of the God of heaven; my\nbusiness is to persuade sinners to turn to God. I am commanded to do my\nbest to turn men, women, and children from darkness to light, and from\nthe power of Satan unto God; and if this be indeed the ground of thy\nquarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE GIANT IS SLAIN]\n\nThen the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to meet him; and as he\nwent, he drew his sword, but the giant had a club. So without more ado\nthey fell to it; and, at the first blow, the giant struck Mr.\nGreat-heart down upon one of his knees. With that, the women and\nchildren cried out. So Mr. Great-heart, recovering himself, laid about\nhim in full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm. Thus he\nfought for the space of an hour, to that height of heat, that the breath\ncame out of the giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling\ncauldron.\n\nThen they sat down to rest them; but Mr. Great-heart betook himself to\nprayer. Also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the\ntime that the battle did last.\n\nWhen they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again;\nand Mr. Great-heart with a blow fetched the giant down to the ground.\n\"Nay, hold, and let me recover,\" quoth he. So Mr. Great-heart fairly let\nhim get up: so to it they went again; and the giant missed but little of\nbreaking Mr. Great-heart's skull with his club.\n\nMr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit,\nand pierceth him under the fifth rib. With that the giant began to\nfaint, and could hold up his club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart\nseconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his shoulders.\nThen the women and the children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart also\npraised God for the deliverance He had wrought.\n\nWhen this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar, and fastened the\ngiant's head thereon, and wrote under it in letters that passengers\nmight read:\n\n  \"He that did wear this head, was one\n    That pilgrims did misuse;\n  He stopped their way, he spared none,\n    But did them all abuse;\n  Until that I, Great-heart, arose,\n    The pilgrims' guide to be;\n  Until that I did him oppose\n    That was their enemy.\"\n\nNow, I saw that they went to the high ground that was a little way off,\ncast up to be a prospect for pilgrims. That was the place from whence\nChristiana had the first sight of Faithful his brother. Wherefore here\nthey sat down and rested. They also here did eat and drink and make\nmerry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an\nenemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he\nhad caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, \"No, save a\nlittle on my flesh; yet that also shall be so far from being to my harm\nthat it is at present a proof of my love to my Master and you, and shall\nbe a means, by grace, to increase my reward at last.\"\n\nCHR. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come out with\nhis club?\n\nGREAT. \"It is my duty,\" said he, \"to mistrust my own ability, that I may\nhave trust in Him who is stronger than all.\"\n\nCHR. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at\nthe first blow?\n\nGREAT. \"Why, I thought,\" replied he, \"that so my Master Himself was\nserved; and yet He it was that conquered at the last.\"\n\nMATT. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been\nwonderful good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in\ndelivering us out of the hand of this enemy. For my part, I see no\nreason why we should distrust our God any more, since He has now, and in\nsuch a place as this, given us such proof of His love as this.\n\n[Sidenote: OLD HONEST]\n\nThen they got up and went forward. Now, a little before them stood an\noak; and under it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast\nasleep. They knew that he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and his staff,\nand his girdle.\n\nSo the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him; and the old gentleman, as he\nlifted up his eyes, cried out, \"What's the matter? what are you, and\nwhat is your business here?\"\n\nGREAT. Come, man, be not so hot; here are none but friends.\n\nYet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and will know of\nthem what they are. Then said the guide, \"My name is Great-heart; I am\nthe guide of these pilgrims, that are going to the Celestial Country.\"\n\nHONEST. Then said Mr. Honest, \"I cry you mercy: I feared that you had\nbeen of the company of those that some time ago did rob Little-Faith of\nhis money; but now I look better about me I perceive you are honester\npeople.\"\n\nGREAT. Why, what would or could you have done to have helped yourself,\nif we indeed had been of that company?\n\nHON. Done! why, I would have fought as long as breath had been in me;\nand, had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst\non't, for a Christian can never be overcome unless he shall yield of\nhimself.\n\nGREAT. \"Well said, Father Honest,\" quoth the guide; \"for by this I know\nthou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.\"\n\nHON. And by this also I know that thou knowest what true pilgrimage is;\nfor all others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any.\n\n[Sidenote: CONVERSES WITH HONEST]\n\nGREAT. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and\nthe name of the place you came from.\n\nHON. My name I cannot; but I came from the town of Stupidity; it lieth\nabout four degrees beyond the City of Destruction.\n\nGREAT. Oh! are you that countryman? then I deem I have half a guess of\nyou: your name is old Honesty, is it not?\n\nHON. So the old gentleman blushed, and said, \"Not Honesty, but Honest is\nmy name; and I wish that my nature may agree to what I am called. But,\nsir,\" said the old gentleman, \"how could you guess that I am such a man,\nsince I came from such a place?\"\n\nGREAT. I had heard of you before by my Master; for He knows all things\nthat are done on the earth. But I have often wondered that any should\ncome from your place, for your town is worse than is the City of\nDestruction itself.\n\nHON. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and\nsenseless. But were a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of\nRighteousness should rise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw;\nand thus it hath been with me.\n\nGREAT. I believe it, Father Honest, I believe it; for I know the thing\nis true.\n\nThen the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of\nlove, and asked them their names, and how they had fared since they had\nset out on their pilgrimage.\n\nCHR. Then said Christiana, \"My name I suppose you have heard of: good\nChristian was my husband, and these are his children.\"\n\nBut can you think how the old gentleman was taken when she told him who\nshe was? He skipped, he smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good\nwishes, saying:\n\nHON. I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars\nwhich he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name\nof your husband rings all over these parts of the world: his faith, his\ncourage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, have made his name\nfamous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked of them their names,\nwhich they told him. Then he said unto them, \"Matthew, be thou like\nMatthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue. Samuel,\" said he, \"be\nthou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer. Joseph,\" said\nhe, \"be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, pure, and one that flees\nfrom temptation. And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James\nthe brother of our Lord.\" Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had\nleft her town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and with her\nsons. At that, the old honest man said, \"Mercy is thy name? by Mercy\nshalt thou be sustained and carried through all those difficulties that\nshall attack thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou\nshalt look the Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort.\"\n\nAll this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very well pleased and\nsmiled upon his companion.\n\n[Sidenote: THEY DISCUSS MR. FEARING]\n\nNow, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentleman if\nhe did not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his\nparts.\n\nHON. \"Yes, very well,\" said he. \"He was a man that had the root of the\nmatter in him; but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that ever\nI met with in all my days.\"\n\nGREAT. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right\ncharacter of him.\n\nHON. Knew him! I was a great companion of his; I was with him most an\nend: when he first began to think upon what would come upon us\nhereafter, I was with him.\n\nGREAT. I was his guide from my master's house to the gates of the\nCelestial City.\n\nHON. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one?\n\nGREAT. I did so; but I could very well bear it, for men of my calling\nare oftentimes entrusted with the conduct of such as he was.\n\nHON. Well, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed\nhimself under your conduct.\n\nGREAT. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he\nhad a desire to go. Everything frightened him that he heard anybody\nspeak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I hear\nthat he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for above a month together;\nnor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though\nthey, many of them, offered to lend him their hand. He would not go back\nagain neither. The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he came not\nto it; and yet was discouraged at every difficulty, and stumbled at\nevery straw that anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the\nSlough of Despond a great while, as I have told you, one sunshine\nmorning, I don't know how, he ventured, and so got over; but, when he\nwas over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of\nDespond in his mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or\nelse he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the gate (you\nknow what I mean) that stands at the head of this way, and here also he\nstood a good while before he would venture to knock. When the gate was\nopened, he would give back, and give place to others, and say that he\nwas not worthy. For, for all he got before some to the gate, yet many of\nthem went in before him. There the poor man would stand shaking and\nshrinking: I dare say it would have pitied one's heart to have seen him.\nNor would he go back again. At last, he took the hammer that hanged on\nthe gate in his hand, and gave a small rap or two; then One opened to\nhim, but he shrank back as before. He that opened stepped out after\nhim, and said, \"Thou trembling one, what wantest thou?\" With that, he\nfell down to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him so\nfaint; so He said to him, \"Peace be to thee: up, for I have set open the\ndoor to thee; come in, for thou are blessed.\" With that, he got up, and\nwent in trembling; and when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face.\nWell, after he had been entertained there a while, as you know how the\nmanner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way he should\ntake. So he came till he came to our house; but as he behaved himself at\nthe gate, so he did at my master the Interpreter's door. He lay\nthereabout in the cold a good while before he would venture to call: yet\nhe would not go back; and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he\nhad a note of need in his bosom to my master, to receive him and grant\nhim the comfort of his house, and also to allow him a stout and valiant\nconductor, because he was himself so chicken-hearted a man; and yet, for\nall that, he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down\nthereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved; yea, so great was\nhis fear, though he had seen several others for knocking get in, yet he\nwas afraid to venture. At last, I think I looked out of the window, and\nperceiving a man to be up and down about the door, I went out to him,\nand asked what he was; but, poor man, the water stood in his eyes; so I\nperceived what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in the\nhouse, and we showed the things to our Lord: so he sent me out again, to\nentreat him to come in; but I dare say I had hard work to do it. At last\nhe came in; and I will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonderful\nlovingly to him. There were but few good bits at the table, but some of\nit was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented the note; and my Lord\nlooked thereon, and said his desire should be granted. So, when he had\nbeen there a good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to be a little\nmore comfortable. For my master, you must know, is one of very tender\nheart, specially to them that are afraid; wherefore he carried it so\ntowards him as might tend most to his encouragement. Well, when he had a\nsight of the things of the place, and was ready to take his journey to\ngo to the City, my Lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a\nbottle of spirits, and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we set\nforward, and I went before him; but the man was but of few words, only\nhe would sigh aloud.\n\n[Sidenote: GREAT-HEART'S REMINISCENCES]\n\nWhen we were come to the place where the three fellows were hanged, he\nsaid that he doubted that that would be his end also. Only he seemed\nglad when he saw the Cross and the sepulchre. There, I confess, he\ndesired to stay a little to look; and he seemed, for a little while\nafter, to be a little cheery. When we came at the Hill Difficulty, he\nmade no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions, for you must know\nthat his trouble was not about such things as those; his fear was about\nhis acceptance at last.\n\nI got him in at the House Beautiful, I think, before he was willing.\nAlso, when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels that\nwere of the place; but he was ashamed to make himself much for company.\nHe desired much to be alone; yet he always loved good talk, and often\nwould get behind the screen to hear it. He also loved much to see\nancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told me,\nafterwards, that he loved to be in those two houses from which he came\nlast; to wit, at the gate, and that of the Interpreter; but that he\ndurst not be so bold as to ask.\n\nWhen we went also from the House Beautiful, down the hill into the\nValley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my\nlife: for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last.\nYea, I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that valley and him;\nfor I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than when he was in\nthat valley.\n\nHere he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers\nthat grew in this valley. He would now be up every morning by break of\nday, tracing and walking to and fro in this valley.\n\nBut when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of\nDeath, I thought I should have lost my man: not for that he had any\ninclination to go back--that he always abhorred; but he was ready to\ndie for fear. \"Oh, the hobgoblins will have me! the hobgoblins will have\nme!\" cried he, and I could not beat him out of it. He made such a noise\nand such an outcry here, that, had they but heard him, it was enough to\nencourage them to come and fall upon us.\n\nBut this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as quiet\nwhile we went through it as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose\nthose enemies here had now a special check from our Lord, and a command\nnot to meddle until Mr. Fearing had passed over it.\n\n[Sidenote: FEARING AT VANITY FAIR]\n\nIt would be too tedious to tell you of all, I will therefore only\nmention a passage or two more. When he was come at Vanity Fair, I\nthought he would have fought with all the men in the fair. I feared\nthere we should both have been knocked on the head, so hot was he\nagainst their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was also very\nwakeful. But, when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there\nagain he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he should be drowned\nfor ever, and so never see that face with comfort that he had come so\nmany miles to behold.\n\nAnd here also I took notice of what was very remarkable: the water of\nthat river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life: so\nhe went over at last, not much above wetshod. When he was going up to\nthe gate, I began to take leave of him, and to wish him a good\nreception above. So he said, \"I shall, I shall.\" Then parted we\nasunder, and I saw him no more.\n\nHON. Then it seems he was well at last?\n\nGREAT. Yes, yes; I never had a doubt about him. He was a man of choice\nspirit; only he was always kept very low, and that made his life so\nburthensome to himself and so troublesome to others. He was, above many,\ntender of sin: he was so afraid of doing injuries to others, that he\noften would deny himself of that which was lawful because he would not\noffend.\n\nHON. But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all\nhis days so much in the dark?\n\nGREAT. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One is, the wise God will\nhave it so; some must pipe, and some must weep. Now Mr. Fearing was one\nthat played upon this bass. He and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose\nnotes are more doleful than the notes of other music are; though,\nindeed, some say the bass is the ground of music. And, for my part, I\ncare not at all for that profession which begins, not in heaviness of\nmind. The first string that the musician usually touches is the bass,\nwhen he intends to put all in tune. God also plays upon this string\nfirst, when He sets the soul in tune for Himself. Only here was the\nimperfection of Mr. Fearing: he could play upon no other music but this\ntill toward his latter end.\n\nI make bold to talk thus in figures, for the ripening of the wits of\nyoung readers, and because, in the book of the Revelation, the saved\nare compared to a company of musicians, that play upon their trumpets\nand harps, and sing their songs before the throne.\n\nHON. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by the relation which you\nhave given of him. Difficulties, lions, or Vanity Fair he feared not at\nall; it was only sin, death, and hell that were to him a terror, because\nhe had some doubts about his interest in that Celestial Country.\n\nGREAT. You say right: those were the things that were his troublers, and\nthey, as you have well observed, arose from the weakness of his mind\nthereabout, not from weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a\npilgrim's life. I dare believe that, as the proverb is, he would have\nbit a firebrand, had it stood in his way; but the things with which he\nwas oppressed no man ever yet could shake off with ease.\n\nCHR. Then said Christiana, \"This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me\ngood. I thought nobody had been like me; but I see there was some\nsemblance betwixt this good man and I: only we differed in two things.\nHis troubles were so great that they broke out; but mine I kept within.\nHis also lay so hard upon him, they made him that he could not knock at\nthe houses provided for entertainment; but my trouble was always such as\nmade me knock the louder.\"\n\nMER. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that something of him\nhas also dwelt in me; for I have ever been more afraid of the lake, and\nthe loss of a place in Paradise, than I have been of the loss of other\nthings. Oh, thought I, may I have the happiness to have a habitation\nthere, it is enough, though I part with all the world to win it!\n\nMATT. Then said Matthew, \"Fear was one thing that made me think that I\nwas far from having that within me which makes me sure of being saved.\nBut if it were so with such a good man as he, why may it not also go\nwell with me?\"\n\nJAMES. \"No fears, no grace,\" said James, \"Though there is not always\ngrace where there is the fear of hell, yet, to be sure, there is no\ngrace where there is no fear of God.\"\n\nGREAT. Well said, James; thou hast hit the mark. For the fear of God is\nthe beginning of wisdom; and, to be sure, they that want the beginning\nhave neither middle nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse of\nMr. Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell:\n\n  \"Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear\n    Thy God, and wast afraid\n  Of doing anything while here\n    That would have thee betrayed.\n\n  \"And didst thou fear the lake and pit?\n    Would others did so too!\n  For, as for them that want thy wit,\n    They do themselves undo.\"\n\n[Sidenote: HONEST TELLS OF MR. SELF-WILL]\n\nNow I saw that they still went on in their talk; for, after Mr.\nGreat-heart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began to tell\nthem of another, but his name was Mr. Self-will. \"He pretended himself\nto be a pilgrim,\" said Mr. Honest, \"but I persuade myself he never came\nin at the gate that stands at the head of the way.\"\n\nGREAT. Had you ever any talk with him about it?\n\nHON. Yes, more than once or twice; but he would always be like himself,\nself-willed. He neither cared for man, nor argument, nor yet example;\nwhat his mind prompted him to, that he would do, and nothing else could\nhe be got to do.\n\nGREAT. Pray, what principles did he hold? for I suppose you can tell.\n\nHON. He held that a man might follow the sins as well as the virtues of\npilgrims; and that, if he did both, he should be certainly saved.\n\nGREAT. How! If he had said it is possible for the best to be guilty of\nthe vices, as well as to partake of the virtues, of pilgrims, he could\nnot much have been blamed; for, indeed, we are free from no sin\nabsolutely, but on condition that we watch and strive. But this, I\nperceive, is not the thing; but, if I understood you right, your meaning\nis that he was of opinion that it was allowable so to be.\n\nHON. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed and acted.\n\nGREAT. But what grounds had he for his so saying?\n\nHON. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant.\n\n[Sidenote: HONEST QUOTES SELF-WILL]\n\nGREAT. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few particulars.\n\nHON. So I will. He said, To have to do with other men's wives had been\npracticed by David, God's beloved; and therefore he could do it. He\nsaid, To have more women than one was a thing that Solomon practiced;\nand therefore he could do it. He said that Sarah lied, and so did Rahab;\nand therefore he could do it. He said that the disciples went at the\nbidding of their Master, and took away the owner's ass; and therefore he\ncould do so too. He said that Jacob got the inheritance of his father in\na way of guile and cheating; and therefore he could do so too.\n\nGREAT. Highly base, indeed! And you are sure he was of this opinion?\n\nHON. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, bring\nargument for it, and so on.\n\nGREAT. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world!\n\nHON. You must understand me rightly: he did not say that _any_ man might\ndo this; but that they who had the virtues of those that did such\nthings, might also do the same.\n\nGREAT. But what more false than such a conclusion? For this is as much\nas to say that, because good men heretofore have sinned through weakness\nor forgetfulness, therefore he had an allowance to do it of a purpose;\nor if, because a child, by the blast of the wind, or for that it\nstumbled at a stone, fell down and defiled itself in the mire,\ntherefore he might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who\ncould have thought that any one could so far have been blinded by the\npower of sin. But what is written must be true: they \"stumble at the\nWord, being disobedient; whereunto also they were appointed.\" His\nsupposing that such may have the godly man's virtues, who accustom\nthemselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the other. To\neat up the sin of God's people as a dog licks up filth, is no sign of\none that is possessed with their virtues. Nor can I believe that one who\nis of this opinion can have faith or love in him. But I know you have\nmade strong objections against him: prithee, what can he say for\nhimself?\n\nHON. Why, he says, \"To do this openly and by way of opinion, seems\nabundantly more honest than to do it and yet hold contrary to it in\nopinion.\"\n\nGREAT. A very wicked answer. For, though to let loose the bridle to\nlusts while our opinions are against such things is bad; yet to sin, and\nplead a toleration so to do, is worse. The one stumbles beholders\naccidentally, the other _pleads_ them into the snare.\n\nHON. There are many of this man's mind, that have not this man's mouth;\nand that makes going on pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is.\n\nGREAT. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented; but he that\nfeareth the King of Paradise shall come out of them all.\n\nCHR. There are strange opinions in the world. I know one that said it\nwas time enough to turn from sin when they come to die.\n\nGREAT. Such are not overwise. That man would have been loth, might he\nhave had a week to run twenty miles in for his life, to have deferred\nthat journey to the last hour of that week.\n\nHON. You say right; and yet the most of them who count themselves\npilgrims do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been\na traveller in this road many a day, and I have taken notice of many\nthings. I have seen some that have set out as if they would drive all\nthe world afore them, who yet have, in a few days, died as they in the\nwilderness, and so never got sight of the promised land. I have seen\nsome that have promised nothing at first, setting out to be pilgrims,\nand that one would have thought could not have lived a day, that have\nyet proved very good pilgrims. I have seen some that have run hastily\nforward, that again have, after a little time, run just as fast back\nagain. I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at\nfirst, that, after a while, have spoken as much against it. I have heard\nsome, when they first set out for Paradise, say positively there is such\na place, who, when they have been almost there, have come back again,\nand said there is none. I have heard some boast what they would do in\ncase they should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled\nfaith, the pilgrim's way, and all.\n\nNow, as they were thus in their way, there came one running to meet\nthem, and said, \"Gentlemen, and you of the weaker sort, if you love\nlife, shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you.\"\n\nGREAT. \"They be the three that set upon Little-Faith heretofore. Well,\"\nsaid he, \"we are ready for them.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE PILGRIMS PROCEED]\n\nSo they went on their way. Now they looked at every turning when they\nshould have met with the villains; but whether they heard of Mr.\nGreat-heart, or whether they had some other game, they came not up to\nthe pilgrims.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nENTERTAINED BY GAIUS.\n\n\nChristiana then wished for an inn for herself and her children, because\nthey were weary.\n\nThen said Mr. Honest, \"There is one a little before us, where a very\nhonorable disciple, one Gaius, dwells.\" So they all concluded to turn in\nthither, and the rather because the old gentleman gave him so good a\nreport. When they came to the door, they went in, not knocking, for\nfolks use not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the\nmaster of the house, and he came to them; so they asked if they might\nlie there that night.\n\nGAIUS. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men, for my house is for none but\npilgrims.\n\nThen were Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the more glad, for that the\nInnkeeper was a lover of pilgrims. So they called for rooms, and he\nshowed them one for Christiana, and her children, and Mercy, and another\nfor Mr. Great-heart and the old gentleman.\n\nGREAT. \"Good Gaius, what hast thou for supper? for these pilgrims have\ncome far to-day, and are weary.\"\n\nGAIUS. \"It is late, so we cannot conveniently go out to seek food; but\nsuch as we have you shall be welcome to, if that will content.\"\n\nGREAT. We will be content with what thou hast in the house; forasmuch as\nI have proved thee, thou art never without that which is suitable.\n\nThen he went down and spake to the cook, whose name was\nTaste-that-which-is-good, to get ready supper for so many pilgrims. This\ndone, he came up again, saying, \"Come, my good friends, you are welcome\nto me, and I am glad that I have a house to entertain you in; and, while\nsupper is making ready, if you please, let us entertain one another with\nsome good talking together.\"\n\nSo they all said, \"Content.\"\n\nGAIUS. \"Whose wife is this aged matron? and whose daughter is this young\ndamsel?\"\n\nGREAT. The woman is the wife of one Christian, a pilgrim of former\ntimes; and these are his four children. The maid is one of her\nacquaintance, one that she hath persuaded to come with her on\npilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, and wish to tread in\nhis steps; yea, if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim hath\nlain, or any print of his foot, it bringeth joy to their hearts, and\nthey are eager to lie or tread in the same.\n\n[Sidenote: FAMILY OF THE CHRISTIANS]\n\nGAIUS. \"Is this Christian's wife, and are these Christian's children? I\nknew your husband's father; yea, also his father's father. Many have\nbeen good of this stock; their ancestors dwelt first at Antioch.\nChristian's ancestors, the early fathers from whom he came (I suppose\nyou have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy men. They\nhave, above any that I know, showed themselves men of great virtue and\ncourage, for the Lord of pilgrims, His ways, and them that loved Him. I\nhave heard of many of your husband's relations that have stood all\ntrials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, who was one of the first of\nthe family from whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the head with\nstones. James, another of this generation, was slain with the edge of\nthe sword. To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family\nfrom whence your husband came; there was Ignatius, who was cast to the\nlions; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones; and\nPolycarp, that played the man in the fire; there was he that was hanged\nup in a basket in the sun for the wasps to eat; and he whom they put\ninto a sack, and cast him into the sea to be drowned. It would be\nutterly impossible to count up all of that family who have suffered\ninjuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be\nglad to see that thy husband has left behind him four such boys as\nthese. I hope they will bear out their father's name, and tread in their\nfather's steps, and come to their father's end.\"\n\nGREAT. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads; they seem to choose heartily\ntheir father's ways.\n\nGAIUS. That is it that I said; wherefore Christian's family is like\nstill to spread abroad upon the face of the ground, and yet to be\nnumerous upon the face of the earth. Wherefore let Christiana look out\nsome damsels for her sons, to whom they may be married, etc., that the\nname of their father and the house of his family may never be forgotten\nin the world.\n\nHON. 'Tis pity this family should fall and die out of the world.\n\nGAIUS. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may; but let Christiana take\nmy advice, and that is the way to uphold it. \"And Christiana,\" said this\nInnkeeper, \"I am glad to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a\nlovely couple. And may I advise, take Mercy into a nearer relation to\nthee; if she will, let her be given to Matthew, thy eldest son. It is\nthe way to give you a family in the earth.\"\n\nSo this match was arranged, and in process of time they were married;\nbut more of that hereafter.\n\nGaius also proceeded, and said, \"I will now speak on the behalf of\nwomen, to take away their reproach. For as death and the curse came into\nthe world by a woman, so also did life and health: 'God sent forth His\nSon, born of a woman.' I will say again, that when the Saviour was come,\nwomen rejoiced in Him before either man or angel. I read not that man\never gave unto Christ so much as one penny; but the women followed Him,\nand ministered to Him of their substance. 'Twas a woman that washed His\nfeet with tears, and a woman that anointed His body to the burial. They\nwere women that wept when He was going to the cross, and women that\nfollowed Him from the cross; and that sat over against the sepulchre\nwhen He was buried. They were women that were first with Him at His\nresurrection-morn, and women that brought tidings first to His disciples\nthat He was risen from the dead. Women, therefore, are highly favored,\nand show by these things that they are sharers with us in the grace of\nlife.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE SUPPER AT GAIUS'S HOUSE]\n\nNow the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and sent\none to lay the cloth, the dishes, and to set the salt and bread in\norder.\n\nThen said Matthew, \"The sight of this cloth, and of this forerunner of\nthe supper, awaketh in me a greater appetite to my food than I had\nbefore.\"\n\nGAIUS. So let all teaching truth to thee in this life awaken in thee a\ngreater desire to sit at the supper of the great King in His kingdom;\nfor all preaching, books, and services here, are but as the laying of\nthe dishes, and as setting of salt upon the board, when compared with\nthe feast which our Lord will make for us when we come to His house.\n\nSo supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and a wave-breast were set\non the table before them, to show that they must begin their meal with\nprayer and praise to God. The heave-shoulder David lifted up his heart\nto God with; and with the wave-breast, where his heart lay, he used to\nlean upon his harp when he played. These two dishes were very fresh and\ngood, and they all ate heartily well thereof.\n\nThe next they brought up was a bottle of wine, red as blood. So Gaius\nsaid to them, \"Drink freely: this is the true juice of the vine, that\nmakes glad the heart of God and man.\" So they drank and were merry. The\nnext was a dish of milk, well crumbed; but Gaius said, \"Let the boys\nhave that, that they may grow thereby.\"\n\nThen they brought up in course of dish of butter and honey. Then said\nGaius, \"Eat freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen\nyour judgments and understandings. This was our Lord's dish when He was\na child: 'Butter and honey shall He eat, that He may know to refuse the\nevil and choose the good.'\"\n\nThen they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very good\ntasted fruit. Then said Matthew, \"May we eat apples, since they were\nsuch by and with which the serpent deceived our first mother Eve?\"\n\nThen said Gaius:\n\n  \"Apples were they with which we were beguiled;\n  Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled.\n  Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood;\n  To eat such, when commanded, does us good.\n  Drink of His flagons, then, thou Church, His dove,\n  And eat His apples who are sick of love.\"\n\nThen said Matthew, \"I made the objection, because I, a while since, was\nsick with eating of fruit.\"\n\nGAIUS. Forbidden fruit will make you sick; but not what our Lord has\nallowed.\n\nWhile they were thus talking, they were presented with another dish, and\nit was a dish of nuts. Then said some at the table, \"Nuts spoil tender\nteeth, specially the teeth of children;\" which, when Gaius heared, he\nsaid;\n\n  \"Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters),\n  Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters;\n  Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat:\n  They here are brought for you to crack and eat.\"\n\nThen were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time, talking of\nmany things. Then said the old gentleman, \"My good landlord, while we\nare cracking your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle;\n\n  \"A man there was, though some did count him mad,\n  The more he cast away, the more he had.\"\n\nThen they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would say: so he\nsat still awhile, and then thus replied:\n\n  \"He that bestows his goods upon the poor\n  Shall have as much again, and ten times more.\"\n\nThen said Joseph, \"I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have found\nit out.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Gaius, \"I have been trained up in this way a great while:\nnothing teaches like experience, I have learned of my Lord to be kind,\nand have found by experience that I have gained thereby. 'There is that\nscattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than\nis meet, but it tendeth to poverty.' 'There is that maketh himself rich,\nyet hath nothing; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great\nriches.'\"\n\n[Sidenote: MERCY AND MATTHEW]\n\nThen Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, \"Mother, this\nis a very good man's house; let us stay here a good while, and let my\nbrother Matthew be married here to Mercy before we go any farther.\" The\nwhich Gaius, the host, overhearing, said, \"With a very good will, my\nchild.\"\n\nSo they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew\nto wife. While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, would be\nmaking coats and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought up a\nvery good report upon the pilgrims.\n\nBut to return again to our story. After supper, the lads desired a bed,\nfor that they were weary with travelling. Then Gaius called to show them\ntheir chamber; but said Mercy, \"I will have them to bed.\" So she had\nthem to bed, and they slept well; but the rest sat up all night, for\nGaius and they were such suitable company, that they could not tell how\nto part.\n\nThen, after much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old\nMr. Honest, he that put forth the riddle to Gaius, began to nod.\n\nThen said Great-heart, \"What, sir! you begin to be drowsy? Come, rub up.\nNow, here's a riddle for you.\"\n\nThen said Mr. Honest, \"Let us hear it.\"\n\nThen said Mr. Great-heart:\n\n  \"He that will kill, must first be overcome;\n  Who live abroad would, first must die at home.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" said Mr. Honest, \"it is a hard one; hard to explain, and harder to\ndo. But come, landlord,\" said he, \"I will, if you please, leave my part\nto you: do you expound it, and I will hear what you say.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gaius, \"it was put to you, and it is expected you should\nanswer it.\" Then said the old gentleman:\n\n  \"He first by grace must conquered be,\n    That sin would mortify;\n  And who that lives would convince me,\n    Unto himself must die.\"\n\nThus they sat talking till break of day. Now, when the family were up,\nChristiana bade her son James read a chapter; so he read the fifty-third\nof Isaiah.\n\n\"Well,\" said Gaius, \"now you are here, and since, as I know Mr.\nGreat-heart is good at his weapons, if you please, after we have\nrefreshed ourselves we will walk into the fields, to see if we can do\nany good. About a mile from hence there is one Slay-good, a giant, that\ndoth much annoy the King's highway in these parts; and I know\nwhereabout his haunt is. He is master of a number of thieves: 'twould be\nwell if we could clear these parts of him.\"\n\nSo they consented and went; Mr. Great-heart with his sword, helmet, and\nshield, and the rest with spears and staves.\n\n[Sidenote: SLAY-GOOD DESTROYED]\n\nWhen they were come to the place where he was, they found him with one\nFeeble-minded in his hands, whom his servants had brought unto him,\nhaving taken him in the way. Now the giant was picking his pockets, with\na purpose after that to pick his bones; for he was of the nature of\nflesh-eaters.\n\nWell, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends at the mouth of\nhis cave with their weapons, he demanded what they wanted.\n\nGREAT. We want thee, for we are come to revenge the quarrel of the many\nthat thou hast slain of the pilgrims, when thou has dragged them out of\nthe King's highway; wherefore come out of thy cave.\n\nSo he armed himself and came out; and to battle they went, and fought\nfor above an hour, and then stood still to take wind.\n\nSLAY. Then said the giant, \"Why are you here on my ground?\"\n\nGREAT. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told thee before.\n\n[Sidenote: FEEBLE-MIND RESCUED]\n\nSo they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. Great-heart give back;\nbut he came up again, and in the greatness of his mind he let fly with\nsuch stoutness at the giant's head and sides, that he made him let his\nweapon fall out of his hand. So he smote him, and slew him, and cut off\nhis head, and brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeble-mind, the\npilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings. When they were come\nhome, they showed his head to the family, and then set it up as they had\ndone others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to do as\nhe hereafter.\n\nThen they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into his hands.\n\nFEEBLE. Then said the poor man, \"I am a sickly man, as you see; and\nbecause death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I\nshould never be well at home: so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life,\nand have travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, where I and my\nfather were born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor yet of\nmind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in\nthe pilgrims' way. When I came at the gate that is at the head of the\nway, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; neither objected He\nagainst my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind, but gave me such\nthings as were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the end.\nWhen I came to the house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness\nthere; and because the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was\ncarried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much\nrelief from pilgrims: though none were willing to go so softly as I am\nforced to do, yet still as they came on they bid me be of good cheer,\nand said that it was the will of their Lord that comfort should be given\nto the feeble-minded, and so went on their own pace. When I was come to\nAssault Lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for an\nencounter. But, alas! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a\ncordial; so he came up and took me. I believed not that he should kill\nme. Also when he got me into his den, since I went not with him\nwillingly, I believed I should come out alive again; for I have heard\nthat not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps\nheart-whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of Providence, to die by\nthe hands of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I\nam; but I have, as you see, escaped with life, for the which I thank my\nKing as author, and you as the means. Other brunts I also look for; but\nthis I have resolved on--to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot\nrun, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the principal thing, I thank\nHim that loves me, I am fixed: my way is before me, my mind is beyond\nthe river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble\nmind.\"\n\nHON. Then said old Mr. Honest, \"Have not you some time ago been\nacquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim?\"\n\nFEEBLE. Acquainted with him! yes; he came from the town of Stupidity,\nwhich lies four degrees northward of the City of Destruction, and as\nmany off of where I was born; yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he\nwas my uncle, my father's brother. He and I have been much of a temper:\nhe was a little shorter than I, but yet we were much of a complexion.\n\nHON. I perceive you know him, and I am apt to believe also that you are\nrelated one to another; for you have his whitely look, a cast like his\nwith your eye, and your speech is much alike.\n\nFEEBLE. Most have said so that have known us both; and besides, what I\nhave read in him I have for the most part found in myself.\n\nGAIUS. \"Come, sir,\" said good Gaius, \"be of good cheer: you are welcome\nto me and to my house. What thou hast a mind to, call for freely; and\nwhat thou wouldst have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a\nready mind.\"\n\nThen said Mr. Feeble-mind, \"This is an unexpected favor, and as the sun\nshining out of a very dark cloud. Did Giant Slay-good intend me this\nfavor when he stopped me, and resolved to let me go no farther? Did he\nintend that, after he had rifled my pockets, I should go to Gaius, mine\nhost? Yet so it is.\"\n\nNow, just as Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in talk, there came one\nrunning, and called at the door, and said, that \"About a mile and a half\noff there was one Mr. Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place\nwhere he was, with a thunderbolt.\"\n\nFEEBLE. \"Alas!\" said Mr. Feeble-mind, \"is he slain? He overtook me some\ndays before I came so far as hither, and would be my company-keeper. He\nalso was with me when Slay-good, the giant, took me; but he was nimble\nof his heels, and escaped; but it seems he escaped to die, and I was\ntaken to live.\n\n  \"What, one would think, doth seek to slay outright,\n  Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight,\n  That very Providence, whose face is death,\n  Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath.\n  I was taken, he did escape and flee;\n  Hands crossed gives death to him, and life to me.\"\n\n[Sidenote: PHOEBE AND JAMES]\n\nNow, about this time, Matthew and Mercy were married; also Gaius gave\nhis daughter Phoebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife; after which\ntime, they yet stayed about ten days at Gaius's house, spending their\ntime and the seasons like as pilgrims use to do.\n\nWhen they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did eat and\ndrink and were merry. Now, the hour was come that they must be gone,\nwherefore Mr. Great-heart called for the bill of charges. But Gaius told\nhim that at his house it was not the custom of pilgrims to pay for their\nentertainment. He boarded them by the year, but looked for his pay from\nthe Good Samaritan, who had promised him, at His return, whatsoever\ncharge he was at with them, faithfully to repay him.\n\nThen said Mr. Great-heart to him,\n\nGREAT. Beloved, thou doest faithfully, whatsoever thou doest to the\nbrethren and to strangers, which have borne witness of thy liberal\ngiving before the Church; whom if thou yet bring forward on their\njourney after a godly sort, thou shalt do well.\n\nThen Gaius took his leave of them all, and his children, and\nparticularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to drink by\nthe way.\n\nNow, Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were going out of the door, made as if\nhe intended to linger. The which when Mr. Great-heart espied, he said,\n\"Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with us: I will be your\nconductor, and you shall fare as the rest.\"\n\nFEEBLE. Alas! I want a suitable companion. You are all lusty and strong,\nbut I, as you see, am weak; I choose, therefore, rather to come behind,\nlest, by reason of my many weaknesses, I should be both a burden to\nmyself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and\nshall be injured and made weak at that which others can bear. I shall\nlike no laughing; I shall like no gay attire; I shall like no\nunprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be harmed with\nthat which others have a liberty to do. I do not yet know all the truth;\nI am a very ignorant Christian man. Sometimes, if I hear any rejoice in\nthe Lord, it troubles me, because I cannot do so too. It is with me as\nit is with a weak man among the strong, or as with a sick man among the\nhealthy, or as a lamp despised. \"He that is ready to slip with his feet\nis as a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease;\" so that I\nknow not what to do.\n\nGREAT. \"But, brother,\" said Mr. Great-heart, \"I have it in my work to\ncomfort the feeble-minded and to support the weak. You must needs go\nalong with us: we will wait for you; we will lend you our help; we will\ndeny ourselves of some things, for your sake; we will not enter into\ndoubtful questions before you! we will be made all things to you, rather\nthan you shall be left behind.\"\n\nNow, all this while they were at Gaius's door, and, behold, as they were\nthus in the heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-to-halt came by, with his\ncrutches in his hands; and he also was going on pilgrimage.\n\nFEEBLE. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, \"How camest thou hither? I was\nbut now complaining that I had not a suitable companion, but thou art\naccording to my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt; I hope\nthou and I may be some help.\"\n\nREADY. \"I shall be glad of thy company,\" said the other; \"and, good Mr.\nFeeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I\nwill lend thee one of my crutches.\"\n\nFEEBLE. \"Nay,\" said he, \"though I thank thee for thy good-will, I am not\ninclined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think, when occasion is,\nit may help me against a dog.\"\n\nREADY. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a pleasure, we are\nboth at thy command, good Mr. Feeble-mind.\n\nThus, therefore, they went on. Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Honest went\nbefore, Christiana and her children went next, and Mr. Feeble-mind came\nbehind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt with his crutches. Then said Mr. Honest,\n\nHON. Pray, sir, now that we are upon the road, tell us some profitable\nthings of some that have gone on pilgrimage before us.\n\n[Sidenote: REVIEWS OTHER PILGRIMAGES]\n\nGREAT. With a good will. I suppose you have heard how Christian of old\ndid meet with Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also what hard\nwork he had to go through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Also I\nthink you cannot but have heard how Faithful was put to it by Madam\nWanton, with Adam the first, with one Discontent, and Shame; four as\ndeceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the road.\n\nHON. Yes, I believe I have heard of all this; but, indeed, good Faithful\nwas hardest put to it with Shame: he was an unwearied one.\n\nGREAT. Ay; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all men had the wrong\nname.\n\nHON. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met\nTalkative? That same was also a notable one.\n\nGREAT. He was a confident fool; yet many follow his ways.\n\nHON. He had liked to have deceived Faithful.\n\nGREAT. Ay, but Christian put him into a way quickly to find him out.\n\nThus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist met with\nChristian and Faithful, and foretold them what should befall them at\nVanity Fair. Then said their guide, \"Hereabouts did Christian and\nFaithful meet with Evangelist, who foretold them of their troubles which\nthey should meet with at Vanity Fair.\"\n\nHON. Say you so? I dare say it was a hard chapter, then, that he did\nread unto them!\n\nGREAT. It was; but he gave them encouragement withal. But what do we\ntalk of them? they were a couple of lion-like men: they had set their\nfaces like flint. Do not you remember how undaunted they were when they\nstood before the judge?\n\nHON. Well. Faithful bravely suffered.\n\nGREAT. So he did, and as brave things came on't; for Hopeful and some\nothers, as the story relates it, were converted by his death.\n\nHON. Well, but pray go on, for you are well acquainted with things.\n\nGREAT. Above all that Christian met with after he had passed through\nVanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch one.\n\nHON. By-ends! what was he?\n\nGREAT. A very arch fellow--a downright deceiver; one that would be\nreligious, which way soever the world went; but so cunning that he would\nbe sure never to lose or suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for\nevery fresh occasion, and his wife was as good at it as he. And he would\nturn and change from opinion to opinion; yea, and plead for so doing,\ntoo. But, as far as I could learn, he came to an ill end with his\nby-ends; nor did I ever hear that any of his children were ever of any\nesteem with any that truly feared God.\n\n[Sidenote: THEY ARRIVE AT VANITY FAIR]\n\nNow, by this time they were come within sight of the town of Vanity,\nwhere Vanity Fair is kept. So, when they saw that they were so near the\ntown, they consulted with one another how they should pass through the\ntown; and some said one thing, and some another. At last Mr. Great-heart\nsaid, \"I have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of pilgrims\nthrough this town. Now, I am acquainted with one Mr. Mnason, a Cyprusian\nby nature, an old disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If you think\ngood,\" said he, \"we will turn in there.\"\n\n[Sidenote: MNASON ENTERTAINS PILGRIMS]\n\n\"Content,\" said old Honest; \"Content,\" said Christiana; \"Content,\" said\nMr. Feeble-mind; and so they said all. Now, you must think it was\neventide by that they got to the outside of the town; but Mr.\nGreat-heart knew the way to the old man's house. So thither they came,\nand he called at the door; and the old man within knew his tongue so\nsoon as ever he heard it; so he opened the door, and they all came in.\nThen said Mnason, their host, \"How far have ye come to-day?\"\n\nSo they said, \"From the house of Gaius, our friend.\"\n\n\"I promise you,\" said he, \"you have come a good stitch: you may well be\nweary. Sit down.\" So they sat down.\n\nGREAT. Then said their guide, \"Come, what cheer, sirs? I dare say you\nare welcome to my friend.\"\n\nMNAS. \"I also,\" said Mr. Mnason, \"do bid you welcome; and whatever you\nwant, do but say, and we will do what we can to get it for you.\"\n\nHON. Our great want a while since was a resting-place and good company,\nand now I hope we have both.\n\nMNAS. For resting-place, you see what it is; but for good company, that\nwill appear in the trial.\n\nGREAT. \"Well,\" said Great-heart, \"will you have the pilgrims up into\ntheir lodging?\"\n\nMNAS. \"I will,\" said Mr. Mnason. So he had them up to their several\nplaces, and also showed them a very fair dining-room, where they might\nbe, and sup together, until time should come to go to rest.\n\nNow, when they were set in their places, and were a little cheery after\ntheir journey, Mr. Honest asked his landlord if there were any store of\ngood people in the town.\n\nMNAS. We have a few; for, indeed, they are but a few when compared with\nthem on the other side.\n\nHON. But how shall we do to see some of them? for the sight of good men\nto them that are going on pilgrimage is like the appearing of the moon\nand stars to them that are sailing upon the seas.\n\n[Sidenote: FRIENDS CALL ON THE PILGRIMS]\n\nMNAS. Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his daughter Grace came\nup. So he said unto her, \"Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite,\nMr. Holy-man, Mr. Love-saint, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I\nhave a friend or two at my house who have a mind this evening to see\nthem.\" So Grace went to call them, and they came; and, after salutation\nmade, they sat down together at the table.\n\nThen said Mr. Mnason, their landlord, \"My neighbors, I have, as you see,\na company of strangers come to my house: they are pilgrims; they come\nfrom afar, and are going to Mount Zion. But who,\" quoth he, \"do you\nthink this is?\" pointing with his finger to Christiana. \"It is\nChristiana, the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim who, with\nFaithful his brother, was so shamefully handled in our town.\"\n\nAt that they stood amazed, saying, \"We little thought to see Christiana\nwhen Grace came to call us; wherefore this is a very comfortable\nsurprise.\" They then asked her of her welfare, and if these young men\nwere her husband's sons. And when she told them they were, they said,\n\"The King whom you love and serve, make you as your father, and bring\nyou where he is in peace!\"\n\nHON. Then Mr. Honest (when they had all sat down) asked Mr. Contrite and\nthe rest, in what posture their town was at present.\n\nCONTRITE. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time. 'Tis hard\nkeeping our hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered\ncondition. He that lives in such a place as this, and has to do with\nsuch as we have, has need of a hint to caution him to take heed, every\nmoment of the day.\n\nHON. But how are your neighbors for quietness?\n\nCONTR. They are much more moderate now than formerly. You know how\nChristian and Faithful were used at our town; but of late, I say, they\nhave been far more moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth as a\nload upon them till now; for since they burned him they have been\nashamed to burn any more. In those days we were afraid to walk the\nstreet; but now we can show our heads. Then the name of a Christian was\nhated; now, specially in some parts of our town (for you know our town\nis large), religion is counted honorable.\n\nThen said Mr. Contrite to them, \"Pray, how fareth it with you in your\npilgrimage? how stands the country towards you?\"\n\nHON. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men: sometimes our\nway is clean, sometimes up-hill, sometimes down-hill: we are seldom at a\ncertainty. The wind is not always on our back, nor is every one a friend\nthat we meet with in the way. We have met with some notable rubs\nalready, and what are yet behind we know not; but, for the most part we\nfind it true that has been talked of, of old, \"A good man must suffer\ntrouble.\"\n\nCONTR. You talk of rubs; what rubs have you met withal?\n\nHON. Nay, ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide; for he can give the best\naccount of that.\n\nGREAT. We have been beset three or four times already. First, Christiana\nand her children were beset by two ruffians, who, they feared, would\ntake away their lives. We were beset by Giant Bloody-man, Giant Maul,\nand Giant Slay-good. Indeed, we did rather beset the last, than were\nbeset of him. And thus it was: After we had been some time at the house\nof Gaius mine host, and of the whole Church, we were minded upon a time\nto take our weapons with us, and go and see if we could light upon any\nof those that were enemies to pilgrims; for we heard that there was a\nnotable one thereabouts. Now Gaius knew his haunt better than I, because\nhe dwelt thereabout. So we looked, and looked, till at last we saw the\nmouth of his cave; then we were glad and plucked up our spirits. So we\napproached up to his den; and, lo! when we came there, he had dragged,\nby mere force, into his net, this poor man, Mr. Feeble-mind, and was\nabout to bring him to his end. But, when he saw us, supposing, as he\nthought, he had had another prey, he left the poor man in his house, and\ncame out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about him;\nbut, in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, and his head cut\noff, and set up by the wayside, for terror to such as should after\npractice such ungodliness. That I tell you the truth, here is the man\nhimself to affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of the\nlion.\n\nFEEBLE. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, \"I found this true, to my cost and\ncomfort: to my cost, when he threatened to pick my bones every moment;\nand to my comfort, when I saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends with their\nweapons approach so near for my deliverance.\"\n\nHOLY. Then said Mr. Holy-man, \"There are two things that they have need\nto possess who go on pilgrimage--courage and an unspotted life. If they\nhave not courage, they can never hold on their way; and if their lives\nbe loose, they will make the very name of the pilgrim stink.\"\n\nLOVE. Then said Mr. Love-saint, \"I hope this caution is not needful\namong you. But truly there are many that go upon the road, who rather\ndeclare themselves strangers to pilgrimage than strangers and pilgrims\nin the earth.\"\n\nDARE. Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, \"'Tis true. They have neither the\npilgrim's weed nor the pilgrim's courage: they go not uprightly, but all\nawry with their feet; one shoe goeth inward, another outward, and their\nhosen out behind; there is here a rag, and there a rent, to the\ndisparagement of their Lord.\"\n\nPEN. \"These things,\" said Mr. Penitent, \"they ought to be troubled for;\nnor are the pilgrims like to have that grace upon them and their\npilgrim's progress as they desire, until the way is cleared of such\nspots and blemishes.\"\n\nThus they sat talking and spending the time until supper was set upon\nthe table, unto which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies; so\nthey went to rest.\n\n[Sidenote: GRACE AND SAMUEL]\n\nNow, they stayed in this fair a great while, at the house of Mnason,\nwho, in process of time, gave his daughter Grace unto Samuel,\nChristiana's son, to wife; and his daughter Martha to Joseph.\n\nThe time, as I said, that they stayed here was long; for it was not now\nas in former times. Wherefore the pilgrims grew acquainted with many of\nthe good people of the town, and did them what service they could.\nMercy, as she was wont, labored much for the poor; wherefore their\nbodies and backs blessed her, and she was there an ornament to her\nprofession. And to say the truth for Grace, Phoebe, and Martha, they\nwere all of a very good nature, and did much good in their places. They\nwere also all of them very fruitful; so that Christian's name, as was\nsaid before, was like to live in the world.\n\nWhile they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, and slew\nmany of the people of the town. It would also carry away their children,\nand teach them to suck its whelps. Now, no man in the town durst so much\nas face this monster, but all fled when they heard the noise of his\ncoming.\n\nThe monster was like unto no one beast on the earth. Its body was like a\ndragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns. It made great havoc of\nchildren, and yet it was governed by a woman. This monster gave\nconditions to men, and such men as loved their lives more than their\nsouls accepted of those conditions; so they came under.\n\nNow, this Mr. Great-heart, together with those that came to visit the\npilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered into a covenant to go and engage\nthis beast, if perhaps they might deliver the people of this town from\nthe paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent.\n\nThen did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare-not-lie,\nand Mr. Penitent, with their weapons, go forth to meet him. Now, the\nmonster was at first very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with\ngreat disdain; but they so belabored him, being sturdy men-at-arms, that\nthey made him make a retreat. So they came home to Mr. Mnason's house\nagain.\n\n[Sidenote: MARTHA AND JOSEPH]\n\nThe monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in, and\nto make his attempts upon the children of the people of the town. Also,\nthese seasons did these valiant worthies watch him in, and did still\ncontinually assault him; insomuch that in process of time he became not\nonly wounded, but lame. Also he has not made that havoc of the\ntownsmen's children as formerly he had done; and it is verily believed\nby some that this beast will die of his wounds.\n\nThis, therefore, made Mr. Great-heart and his fellows of great fame in\nthis town; so that many of the people that wanted their taste of things,\nyet had a reverent esteem and respect for them. Upon this account,\ntherefore, it was that these pilgrims got not much hurt here. True,\nthere were some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole,\nnor understand any more than a beast; these had no reverence for these\nmen, and took no notice of their valor or adventures.\n\nWell, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on their way; wherefore\nthey prepared for their journey. They sent for their friends; they\ntalked with them; they had some time set apart, therein to commit each\nother to the protection of their Prince. There were again that brought\nthem of such things as they had, that were fit for the weak and the\nstrong, for the women and the men, and so laded them with such things as\nwere necessary. Then they set forward on their way; and, their friends\naccompanying them so far as was convenient, they again committed each\nother to the protection of their King, and parted.\n\nThey, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company, went on, and Mr.\nGreat-heart went before them. Now, the women and children being weakly,\nthey were forced to go as they could bear; by which means, Mr.\nReady-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had more to sympathize with their\ncondition.\n\nWhen they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid\nthem farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful was put to\ndeath. There, therefore, they made a stand, and thanked Him that had\nenabled him to bear his cross so well; and the rather, because they now\nfound that they had a benefit by such manly suffering as his was.\n\nThey went on, therefore, after this a good way farther, talking of\nChristian and Faithful, and how Helpful joined himself to Christian\nafter that Faithful was dead.\n\nNow they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the silver mine was\nwhich took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some think,\nBy-ends fell and perished; wherefore they considered that. But, when\nthey were come to the old monument that stood over against the Hill\nLucre, to wit, the pillar of salt, that stood also within view of Sodom\nand its stinking lake, they marvelled, as did Christian before, that men\nof that knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were, should be so blind\nas to turn aside here.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS AND THE SHEPHERDS.\n\n\nI saw now that they went on till they came at the river that was on this\nside of the Delectable Mountains; to the river where the fine trees grow\non both sides, and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against\nsickness; where the meadows are green all the year long, and where they\nmight lie down safely.\n\nBy this river-side, in the meadow, there were cotes and folds for sheep,\na house built for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs, the\nbabes of those women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here One that\nwas entrusted with them, who could have pity, and that could gather\nthese lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and that could\ngently lead those that were with young.\n\nNow, to the care of this Man Christiana admonished her four daughters to\ncommit their little ones, that by these waters they might be housed,\ncared for, helped and nourished, and that none of them might be lacking\nin time to come. This Man, if any of them go astray or be lost, He will\nbring them again; He will also bind up that which was broken, and will\nstrengthen them that are sick. Here they will never want food and drink\nand clothing; here they will be kept from thieves and robbers; for this\nMan will die before one of those committed to His trust shall be lost.\nBesides, here they shall be sure to have good nurture and training, and\nshall be taught to walk in right paths; and that, you know, is a favor\nof no small account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters,\npleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear\nwholesome fruit--fruit not like that that Matthew ate of, that fell over\nthe wall out of Beelzebub's garden; but fruit that giveth health where\nthere is none, and that continueth and increaseth it where it is. So\nthey were content to commit their little ones to Him; and that which was\nalso an encouragement to them so to do, was, for that all this was to be\nat the charge of the King, and so was as an hospital for young children\nand orphans.\n\n[Sidenote: DOUBTING CASTLE]\n\nNow they went on. And, when they were come to By-path Meadow, to the\nstile over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were\ntaken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down, and\nconsulted what was best to be done; to wit, now they were so strong, and\nhad got such a man as Mr. Great-heart for their conductor, whether they\nhad not best make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his castle, and if\nthere were any pilgrims in it, to set them at liberty, before they went\nany farther. So one said one thing, and another said the contrary. One\nquestioned if it were lawful to go upon ground that was not the King's;\nanother said they might providing their end was good; but Mr.\nGreat-heart said, \"Though that reason given last cannot be always true,\nyet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome evil, to fight the\ngood fight of faith; and, I pray, with whom should I fight this good\nfight, if not with Giant Despair? I will therefore attempt the taking\naway of his life and the demolishing of Doubting Castle.\" Then said he,\n\"Who will go with me?\" Then said old Honest, \"I will.\" \"And so will we,\ntoo,\" said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, Joseph, and James;\nfor they were young men and strong. So they left the women in the road,\nand with them Mr. Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt, with his crutches,\nto be their guard until they came back; for, in that place, though Giant\nDespair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, \"a little child might\nlead them.\"\n\nSo Mr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young men went to go up to\nDoubting Castle, to look for Giant Despair. When they came at the castle\ngate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that, the old\ngiant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife follows. Then said he,\n\"Who and what is he that is so hardy as after this manner to disturb the\nGiant Despair?\"\n\nMr. Great-heart replied, \"It is I, Great-heart, one of the King of the\nCelestial Country's conductors of pilgrims to their place; and I demand\nof thee that thou open thy gates for my entrance; prepare thyself also\nto fight, for I am come to take away thy head, and to demolish Doubting\nCastle.\"\n\n[Sidenote: GIANT DESPAIR IS BEHEADED]\n\nNow, Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no man could\novercome him; and again thought he, \"Since heretofore I have made a\nconquest of angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid?\" So he harnessed\nhimself with his armor, and went out. He had a cap of steel upon his\nhead, a breast-plate of fire girded to him, and he came out in iron\nshoes, with a great club in his hand. Then these six men made up to him,\nand beset him behind and before; also when Diffidence, the giantess,\ncame up to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at one blow. Then they\nfought for their lives, and Giant Despair was brought down to the\nground, but was very loath to die. He struggled hard, and had, as they\nsay, as many lives as a cat; but Great-heart was his death, for he left\nhim not till he had severed his head from his shoulders.\n\nThen they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and that, you know, might\nwith ease be done, since Giant Despair was dead. They were seven days in\ndestroying of that; and in it of pilgrims, they found one Mr.\nDespondency, almost starved to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter:\nthese two they saved alive. But it would have made you wonder to have\nseen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the castle-yard, and how\nfull of dead men's bones the dungeon was.\n\nWhen Mr. Great-heart and his companions had performed this great work\nthey took Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid into their care;\nfor they were honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting\nCastle to that tyrant Giant Despair.\n\nThey therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant (for his\nbody they had buried under a heap of stones), and down to the road and\nto their companions they came, and showed them what they had done. Now,\nwhen Feeble-mind and Ready-to-halt saw that it was the head of Giant\nDespair indeed, they were very jocund and merry. Now, Christiana, if\nneed was, could play upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the\nlute; so, since they were so merry disposed, she played them a lesson,\nand Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despondency's daughter\nMuch-afraid by the hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he\ncould not dance without one crutch in his hand; but I promise you he\nfooted it well; also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the\nmusic handsomely.\n\nAs for Mr. Despondency, the music was not so much to him; he was for\nfeeding rather than dancing, for that he was almost starved. So\nChristiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits for present relief,\nand then prepared him something to eat; and in a little time the old\ngentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived.\n\nNow, I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, Mr.\nGreat-heart took the head of Giant Despair, and set it upon a pole by\nthe highway-side, right over against the pillar that Christian erected\nfor a caution to pilgrims that came after to take heed of entering into\nhis grounds. Then he writ under it, upon a marble stone, these verses\nfollowing:\n\n  \"This is the head of him whose name only\n  In former times did pilgrims terrify;\n  His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife\n  Brave Mr. Great-heart has bereft of life.\n  Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid,\n  Great-heart for them also the man has played.\n  Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye\n  Up hither, may his scruples satisfy.\n  This head also, when doubting cripples dance,\n  Doth show from fears they have deliverance.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS]\n\nWhen these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting\nCastle, and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward, and went on till\nthey came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful\nrefreshed themselves with the varieties of the place. They also\nacquainted themselves with the shepherds there, who welcomed them, as\nthey had done Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains.\n\nNow, the shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great-heart (for\nwith him they were well acquainted), they said unto him, \"Good sir, you\nhave got a goodly company here; pray, where did you find all these?\"\n\nThen Mr. Great-heart replied:\n\n  \"First, here is Christiana and her train,\n  Her sons, and her sons' wives, who, like the wain,\n  Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer\n  From sin to grace; else they had not been here.\n  Next, here's old Honest come on pilgrimage,\n  Ready-to-halt too, who I dare engage\n  True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind,\n  Who willing was not to be left behind.\n  Despondency, good man, is coming after\n  And so also is Much-afraid his daughter.\n  May we have entertainment here, or must\n  We farther go? Let's know whereon to trust.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE SHEPHERDS ENTERTAIN]\n\nThen said the shepherds, \"This is a comfortable company. You are welcome\nto us, for we have care for the feeble, as well as for the strong. Our\nPrince has an eye to what is done, to the least of these; therefore\nweakness must not be a block to our entertainment.\" So they had them to\nthe palace door, and then said unto them, \"Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind;\ncome in, Mr. Ready-to-halt; come in, Mr. Despondency and Mrs.\nMuch-afraid, his daughter. These, Mr. Great-heart,\" said the shepherds\nto the guide, \"we call in by name, for that they are most subject to\ndraw back; but as for you and the rest that are strong, we leave you to\nyour wonted liberty.\"\n\nThen said Mr. Great-heart, \"This day I see that grace doth shine in your\nfaces, and that you are my Lord's shepherds indeed; for that you have\nnot pushed these helpless ones neither with side nor shoulder, but have\nrather strewed their way into the palace with flowers, as you should.\"\n\nSo the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart and the rest did\nfollow. When they were also sat down, the shepherds said to those of the\nweaker sort, \"What is it that you would have? for,\" said they, \"all\nthings must be managed here for the supporting of the weak, as well as\nthe warning of the unruly.\" So they made them a feast of things easy of\ndigestion, and that were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing; the\nwhich when they had received, they went to their rest, each one\nseparately unto his proper place.\n\nWhen morning was come, because the mountains were nigh and the day\nclear, and because it was the custom of the shepherds to show the\npilgrims before their departure some rarities; therefore, after they\nwere ready and had refreshed themselves, the shepherds took them out\ninto the fields, and showed them first what they had showed to Christian\nbefore.\n\nThen they had them to some new places. The first was to Mount Marvel,\nwhere they looked, and beheld a man at a distance that tumbled the hills\nabout with words. Then they asked the shepherds what that should mean.\nSo they told them that that man was the son of Mr. Great-grace of whom\nyou read in the first part of the records of the Pilgrim's Progress; and\nhe is set down there to teach the pilgrims how to believe, or to tumble\nout of their ways what difficulties they should meet with, by faith.\nThen said Mr. Great-heart, \"I know him; he is a man above many.\"\n\nThen they had them to another place, called Mount Innocent; and there\nthey saw a man clothed all in white, and two men, Prejudice and\nIll-will, continually casting dirt upon them. Now, behold, the dirt,\nwhatsoever they cast at him, would in a little time fall off again, and\nhis garment would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast thereat.\nThen said the pilgrims, \"What means this?\"\n\nThe shepherds answered, \"This man is named Godly-man, and this garment\nis to show the innocency of his life. Now, those that throw dirt at him\nare such as hate his well-doing; but, as you see, the dirt will not\nstick upon his clothes: so it shall be with him that liveth truly\ninnocently in the world. Whoever they be that would make such men dirty,\nthey labor all in vain; for God, by that a little time is spent, will\ncause that their innocence shall break forth as the light, and their\nrighteousness as the noon-day.\"\n\nThen they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, where they showed\nthem a man that had a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he\ncut coats and garments for the poor that stood about him; yet his bundle\nor roll of cloth was never the less.\n\nThen said they, \"What should this be?\"\n\n\"This is,\" said the shepherds, \"to show you that he who has a heart to\ngive of his labor to the poor, shall never want wherewithal. He that\nwatereth shall be watered himself. And the cake that the widow gave to\nthe prophet did not cause that she had ever the less in her barrel.\"\n\nThey had them also to a place where they saw one Fool, and one Want-wit,\nwashing of an Ethiopian, with intention to make him white; but the more\nthey washed him the blacker he was. Then they asked the shepherds what\nthat should mean. So they told them, saying, \"Thus shall it be with the\nvile person: all means used to get such an one a good name, shall, in\nthe end tend but to make him more abominable. Thus it was with the\nPharisees, and so shall it be with all pretenders to religion.\"\n\nThen said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana her mother, \"Mother,\nI would, if it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that commonly\ncalled the By-way to Hell.\" So her mother brake her mind to the\nshepherds. Then they went to the door: it was in the side of a hill; and\nthey opened it, and bid Mercy hearken awhile. So she hearkened, and\nheard one saying, \"Cursed be my father for holding of my feet back from\nthe way of peace and life.\" And another said, \"Oh that I had been torn\nin pieces before I had, to save my life, lost my soul!\" And another\nsaid, \"If I were to live again, how would I deny myself rather than come\nto this place!\" Then there was as if the very earth groaned and quaked\nunder the feet of this young woman for fear; so she looked white, and\ncame trembling away, saying, \"Blessed be he and she that are delivered\nfrom this place.\"\n\n[Sidenote: THE GREAT GLASS]\n\nNow, when the shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had\nthem back to the palace, and entertained them with what the house would\nafford. But Mercy longed for something that she saw there, but was\nashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for she\nlooked as one not well. Then said Mercy, \"There is a looking-glass hangs\nup in the dining-room, off of which I cannot take my mind; if,\ntherefore, I have it not, I think I shall be unhappy.\" Then said her\nmother, \"I will mention thy wants to the shepherds, and they will not\ndeny it thee.\" But she said, \"I am ashamed that these men should know\nthat I longed.\" \"Nay, my daughter,\" said she, \"it is no shame, but a\nvirtue, to long for such a thing as that.\" So Mercy said, \"Then, mother,\nif you please, ask the shepherds if they are willing to sell it.\"\n\nNow, the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man, one way,\nwith his own features exactly; and, turn it but another way, and it\nwould show one the very face and likeness of the Prince of pilgrims\nHimself. Yea, I have talked with them that can tell, and they have said\nthat they have seen the very crown of thorns upon His head, by looking\nin that glass; they have therein also seen the holes in His hands, in\nHis feet, and in His side. Yea, such an excellency is there in this\nglass, that it will show Him to one where they have a mind to see Him,\nwhether living or dead, whether in earth or in heaven, whether in a\nstate of lowliness or in His kingliness, whether coming to suffer or\ncoming to reign.\n\nChristiana, therefore went to the shepherds apart--(now, the names of\nthe shepherds were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere),--and\nsaid unto them, \"There is one of my daughters, that I think doth long\nfor something that she hath seen in this house, and she thinks that she\nshall be unhappy if she should by you be denied.\"\n\nEXPERIENCE. Call her, call her; she shall assuredly have what we can\nhelp her to. So they called her, and said to her, \"Mercy, what is that\nthing thou wouldst have?\" Then she blushed, and said, \"The great glass\nthat hangs up in the dining-room.\" So Sincere ran and fetched it; and\nwith a joyful consent it was given her. Then she bowed her head, and\ngave thanks, and said, \"By this I know that I have obtained favor in\nyour eyes.\"\n\nThey also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and\nto their husbands great praise for that they joined with Great-heart to\nthe slaying of Giant Despair and the destroying of Doubting Castle.\n\nAbout Christiana's neck the shepherds put a necklace, and so they did\nabout the necks of her four daughters; also they put ear-rings in their\nears, and jewels on their foreheads.\n\n[Illustration: Turn-away Resisting Evangelist.\n                                   Page 357]\n\n[Sidenote: THEY LEAVE THE SHEPHERDS]\n\nWhen they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, but gave\nnot to them those certain cautions which before were given to Christian\nand his companion. The reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be\ntheir guide, who was one that was well acquainted with things, and so\ncould give them their cautions more seasonably; that is, even then when\nthe danger was nigh the approaching. What cautions Christian and his\ncompanion had received of the shepherds, they had also lost by that the\ntime was come that they had need to put them in practice. Wherefore,\nhere was the advantage that this company had over the other.\n\nFrom hence they went on singing, and they said:\n\n  \"Behold, how fitly are the stages set,\n    For their relief that pilgrims are become,\n  And how they us receive without one let[11]\n    That make the other life our mark and home!\n\n  \"What novelties they have, to us they give,\n    That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live;\n  They do upon us, too, such things bestow,\n    That show we pilgrims are, where'er we go.\"\n\n  [11] The word \"let\" here means \"hindrance.\"\n\nWhen they were gone from the shepherds, they quickly came to the place\nwhere Christian met with one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of\nApostasy. Wherefore of him Mr. Great-heart, their guide, did now put\nthem in mind, saying, \"This is the place where Christian met with one\nTurn-away, who carried with him the character of his rebellion at his\nback. And this I have to say concerning this man: he would hearken to no\ncounsel, but, once falling, persuasion could not stop him. When he came\nto the place where the Cross and the sepulchre were, he did meet with\none that bid him look there; but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped,\nand said he was resolved to go back to his own town. Before he came to\nthe gate, he met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him, to\nturn him into the way again. But this Turn-away resisted him; and having\ndone much harm unto him, he got away over the wall, and so escaped his\nhand.\"\n\n[Sidenote: MEET VALIANT FOR TRUTH]\n\nThen they went on; and just at the place where Little-Faith formerly was\nrobbed, there stood a man with his sword drawn, and his face all bloody.\nThen said Mr. Great-heart, \"Who art thou?\" The man made answer, saying,\n\"I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a pilgrim, and am going\nto the Celestial City. Now, as I was in my way, there were three men did\nbeset me, and propounded unto me these three things: 1. Whether I would\nbecome one of them? 2. Or go back to the place from whence I came? 3. Or\ndie upon the place? To the first I answered, I had been a true man a\nlong season, and therefore it could not be expected that I should now\ncast in my lot with thieves. Then they demanded what I should say to the\nsecond. So I told them that the place from whence I came, had I not\nfound it unsatisfactory I had not forsaken at all; but, finding it\naltogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it\nfor this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I told\nthem my life cost more dear far than that I should lightly give it away.\nBesides you have nothing to do thus to put things to my choice,\nwherefore at your peril be it if you meddle. Then these three, to wit,\nWild-head, Inconsiderate, and Pragmatic, drew their weapons upon me, and\nI also drew upon them. So we fell to it, one against three, for the\nspace of above three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of\nthe marks of their valor, and have also carried away with them some of\nmine. They are but just now gone: I suppose they might, as the saying\nis, hear your horse dash, and so they betook them to flight.\"\n\nGREAT. But here was great odds, three against one.\n\n[Sidenote: HOW VALIANT BORE HIMSELF]\n\nVALIANT. 'Tis true; but little or more are nothing to him that has the\ntruth on his side. \"Though an host should encamp against me,\" said one,\n\"my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this\nwill I be confident. Besides,\" said he, \"I have read in some records\nthat one man has fought an army; and how many did Samson slay with the\njaw-bone of an ass?\"\n\nGREAT. Then said the guide, \"Why did you not cry out, that some might\nhave come in for your succor?\"\n\nVALIANT. So I did, to my King, who, I knew, could hear me, and afford\ninvisible help; and that was sufficient for me.\n\nGREAT. Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, \"Thou hast\nworthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy sword.\" So he showed it him.\nWhen he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while, he said,\n\"Ha! it is a right Jerusalem blade.\"\n\nVALIANT. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, with a hand to\nwield it and skill to use it, and he may venture upon an angel with it.\nHe need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its\nedges will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and soul and\nspirit, and all.\n\nGREAT. But you fought a great while. I wonder you were not weary.\n\nVALIANT. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand; and when they\nwere joined together, as if a sword grew out of my arm, and when the\nblood ran through my fingers, then I fought with most courage.\n\nGREAT. Thou hast done well; thou hast resisted unto blood, striving\nagainst sin. Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us, for we\nare thy companions.\n\nThen they took him, washed his wounds, and gave him of what they had, to\nrefresh him; and so they went on together.\n\nNow, as they went on, because Mr. Great-heart was delighted in him (for\nhe loved one greatly that he found to be a man of his own sort), and\nbecause there were in company them that were feeble and weak, therefore\nhe questioned with him about many things; as, first, what countryman he\nwas.\n\nVALIANT. I am of Dark-land; for there I was born, and there my father\nand mother are still.\n\nGREAT. \"Dark-land!\" said the guide; \"doth not that lie upon the same\ncoast with the City of Destruction?\"\n\nVALIANT. Yes, it doth. Now, that which caused me to come on pilgrimage\nwas this. We had one Mr. Tell-true come into our parts, and he told it\nabout what Christian had done, that went from the City of Destruction;\nnamely, how he had forsaken his wife and children, and had betaken\nhimself to a pilgrim's life. It was also reported, and believed, how he\nhad killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in his journey; and\nhow he got through to whither he intended. It was also told what welcome\nhe had at all his Lord's lodgings, specially when he came to the gates\nof the Celestial City; \"For there,\" said the man, \"he was received with\nsound of trumpet by a company of Shining Ones.\" He told also how all the\nbells in the City did ring for joy at his entering in, and what golden\ngarments he was clothed with; with many other things that now I shall\nforbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian\nand his travels, that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone\nafter him; nor could father or mother stay me. So I got from them, and\nam come thus far on my way.\n\nGREAT. You came in at the gate, did you not?\n\nVALIANT. Yes, yes; for the same man also told us, that all would be\nnothing if we did not begin to enter this way at the gate.\n\nGREAT. \"Look you,\" said the guide to Christiana, \"the pilgrimage of your\nhusband, with what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and\nnear.\"\n\nVALIANT. Why, is this Christian's wife?\n\nGREAT. Yes, that it is, and these also are his four sons.\n\nVALIANT. What! and going on pilgrimage too?\n\nGREAT. Yes, verily, they are following after.\n\nVALIANT. It glads me at heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he\nshall see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at\nthe gates into the City!\n\nGREAT. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; for, next to the joy\nof seeing himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his wife and\nchildren.\n\nVALIANT. But, now you are upon that, pray let me hear your opinion about\nit. Some make a question whether we shall know one another when we are\nthere.\n\n[Sidenote: VALIANT'S OBSTACLES]\n\nGREAT. Do they think they shall know themselves, then? or that they\nshall rejoice to see themselves in that happiness? And if they think\nthey shall know and do this, why not know others, and rejoice in their\nwelfare also? Again, since relations are our second self, though that\nstate will cease there, yet why may it not be wisely concluded that we\nshall be more glad to see them there than to see they are wanting?\n\nVALIANT. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have you any\nmore things to ask me about my beginning to come on pilgrimage?\n\nGREAT. Yes. Were your father and mother willing that you should become a\npilgrim?\n\nVALIANT. Oh, no; they used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay\nat home.\n\nGREAT. Why, what could they say against it?\n\nVALIANT. They said it was an idle life; and, if I myself were not\ninclined to sloth and laziness, I would never favor a pilgrim's\ncondition.\n\nGREAT. And what did they say else?\n\nVALIANT. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way: \"Yea, the most\ndangerous way in the world,\" said they, \"is that which the pilgrims go.\"\n\nGREAT. Did they show you wherein this way is so dangerous?\n\nVALIANT. Yes; and that in many particulars.\n\nGREAT. Name some of them.\n\n[Sidenote: VALIANT'S DISCOURAGEMENTS]\n\nVALIANT. They told me of the Slough of Despond, where Christian was\nwell-nigh smothered. They told me that there were archers standing ready\nin Beelzebub's castle to shoot them who should knock at the wicket-gate\nfor entrance. They told me also of the wood and dark mountains of the\nHill Difficulty; of the lions; and also of the three giants, Bloody-man,\nMaul, and Slay-good. They said moreover that there was a foul fiend\nhaunted the Valley of Humiliation, and that Christian was by him almost\nbereft of life. \"Besides,\" said they, \"you must go over the Valley of\nthe Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the light is\ndarkness, where the way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins.\" They\ntold me also of Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that\nthe pilgrims met with there. Further, they said I must go over the\nEnchanted Ground, which was dangerous; and that, after all this, I\nshould find a river, over which I should find no bridge, and that that\nriver did lie betwixt me and the Celestial Country.\n\nGREAT. And was this all?\n\nVALIANT. No. They also told me that this way was full of deceivers, and\nof persons that laid wait there to turn good men out of the path.\n\nGREAT. But how did they make that out?\n\nVALIANT. They told me that Mr. Worldly Wiseman did there lie in wait to\ndeceive. They also said that there were Formality and Hypocrisy\ncontinually on the road. They said also that By-ends, Talkative, or\nDemas would go near to gather me up; that the Flatterer would catch me\nin his net; or that, with green-headed Ignorance, I would presume to go\non to the gate, from whence he was sent back to the hole that was in the\nside of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell.\n\nGREAT. I promise you, this was enough to discourage you; but did they\nmake an end here?\n\nVALIANT. No stay. They told me also of many that had tried that way of\nold, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find\nsomething of the glory there that so many had so much talked of from\ntime to time; and how they came back again, and befooled themselves for\nsetting a foot out of doors in that path, to the satisfaction of all the\ncountry. And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable,\nMistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist; with several more,\nwho, they said, had some of them gone far to see what they could find,\nbut not one of them found so much advantage by going as amounted to the\nweight of a feather.\n\nGREAT. Said they anything more to discourage you?\n\nVALIANT. Yes; they told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim, and\nhow he found this way so solitary, that he never had a comfortable hour\ntherein; also that Mr. Despondency had like to have been starved\ntherein; yea, and also (which I had almost forgot) that Christian\nhimself, about whom there had been such a noise, after all his ventures\nfor a celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, and\nnever went a foot farther, however it was smothered up.\n\nGREAT. And did none of these things discourage you?\n\nVALIANT. No; they seemed but as so many nothings to me.\n\nGREAT. How came that about?\n\nVALIANT. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-true had said; and that\ncarried me beyond them all.\n\nGREAT. Then this was your victory, even your faith.\n\nVALIANT. It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, got into the\nway, fought all that set themselves against me, and, by believing, am\ncome to this place.\n\n  \"Who would true valor see,\n    Let him come hither;\n  One here will constant be,\n    Come wind, come weather;\n  There's no discouragement\n  Shall make him once relent\n  His first avowed intent\n                To be a pilgrim.\n\n  \"Whoso beset him round\n    With dismal stories,\n  Do but themselves confound--\n    His strength the more is.\n  No lion can him fright;\n  He'll with a giant fight,\n  But he will have a right\n                To be a pilgrim.\n\n  \"Hobgoblin nor foul fiend\n    Can daunt his spirit;\n  He knows he at the end\n    Shall life inherit.\n  Then, fancies fly away,\n  He'll fear not what men say;\n  He'll labor night and day\n                To be a pilgrim.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE ENCHANTED GROUND.\n\n\nBy this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air\nnaturally tended to make one drowsy. And that place was all grown over\nwith briers and thorns, excepting here and there, where was an enchanted\narbor, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, it is a\nquestion, say some, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this\nworld. Over this forest, therefore, they went, both one and another; and\nMr. Great-heart went before, for that he was the guide, and Mr.\nValiant-for-truth came behind, being rear-guard, for fear lest\nperadventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon\ntheir rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, each man with his\nsword drawn in his hand, for they knew it was a dangerous place. Also\nthey cheered up one another as well as they could. Feeble-mind, Mr.\nGreat-heart commanded, should come up after him; and Mr. Despondency was\nunder the eye of Mr. Valiant.\n\nNow, they had not gone far, but a great mist and darkness fell upon them\nall, so that they could scarce, for a great while, see the one the\nother; wherefore they were forced, for some time, to feel for one\nanother by words; for they walked not by sight. But any one must think\nthat here was but sorry going for the best of them all; but how much\nworse for the women and children, who both of feet and heart were but\ntender! Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that\nled in the front, they made a pretty good shift to wag along.\n\nThe way also was here very wearisome through dirt and slabbiness. Nor\nwas there on all this ground so much as one inn or victualling-house,\ntherein to refresh the feebler sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and\npuffing and sighing. While one tumbleth over a brush, another sticks\nfast in the dirt; and the children, some of them, lost their shoes in\nthe mire. While one cries out, \"I am down!\" and another, \"Ho! where are\nyou?\" and a third, \"The bushes have got such fast hold on me, I think I\ncannot get away from them.\"\n\nThen they came at an arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the\npilgrims; for it was finely wrought above head, beautified with greens,\nfurnished with benches and settles. It also had in it a soft couch,\nwhereon the weary might lean. This, you must think, all things\nconsidered, was tempting; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled\nwith the badness of the way; but there was not one of them that made so\nmuch as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could perceive, they\ncontinually gave so good heed to the advice of their guide, and he did\nso faithfully tell them of dangers, and of the nature of dangers when\nthey were at them, that usually, when they were nearest to them, they\ndid most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny the\nflesh. This arbor was called \"The Slothful's Friend,\" on purpose to\nallure, if it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest\nwhen weary.\n\nI saw then in my dream, that they went on in this their solitary ground,\ntill they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now,\nthough when it was light their guide could well enough tell how to miss\nthose ways that led wrong, yet, in the dark, he was put to a stand. But\nhe had in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the Celestial\nCity; wherefore he struck a light (for he also never goes without his\ntinder-box), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him be\ncareful in that place to turn to the right-hand way. And had he not here\nbeen careful to look in his map, they had, in all probability been\nsmothered in the mud; for, just a little before them, and that at the\nend of the cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows how deep, full of\nnothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in.\n\nThen thought I with myself, \"Who that goeth on pilgrimage but would have\none of those maps about him, that he may look, when he is at a stand,\nwhich is the way he must take?\"\n\nThey went on then in this Enchanted Ground till they came to where was\nanother arbor, and it was built by the highway-side. And in that arbor\nthere lay two men, whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two\nwent thus far on pilgrimage; but here, being wearied with their journey,\nthey sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep. When the\npilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook their heads; for they\nknew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what\nto do,--whether to go on, and leave them in their sleep, or to step to\nthem, and try to awake them. So they concluded to go to them and wake\nthem; that is, if they could; but with this caution, namely, to take\nheed that themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered benefit of\nthat arbor.\n\nSo they went in and spake to the men, and called each one by his name\n(for the guide, it seems, did know them); but there was no voice or\nanswer. Then the guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb\nthem. Then said one of them, \"I will pay you when I take my money.\" At\nwhich the guide shook his head. \"I will fight so long as I can hold my\nsword in my hand,\" said the other. At that, one of the children laughed.\n\n[Sidenote: THE LAND OF BEULAH]\n\nThen said Christiana, \"What is the meaning of this?\" The guide said,\n\"They talk in their sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or whatever\nelse you do to them, they will answer you after this fashion; or, as one\nof them said in old time, when the waves of the sea did beat upon him,\nand he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, 'When shall I awake? I will\nseek it yet again.' You know, when men talk in their sleep, they say\nanything, but their words are not governed either by faith or reason.\nThere is an unsuitableness in their words now, as there was before\nbetwixt their going on pilgrimage and sitting down there. This, then, is\nthe mischief of it: when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 'tis twenty to\none but they are served thus. For this Enchanted Ground is one of the\nlast refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has; wherefore, it is, as you\nsee, placed almost at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us\nwith the more advantage. For when, thinks the enemy, will these fools be\nso desirous to sit down as when they are weary? and when so like to be\nweary as when almost at their journey's end? Therefore it is, I say,\nthat the Enchanted Ground is placed so near to the Land of Beulah, and\nso near the end of their race. Wherefore, let pilgrims look to\nthemselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these, that, as you\nsee, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them.\"\n\nThen the pilgrims desired, with trembling, to go forward; only they\nprayed their guide to strike a light, that they might go the rest of\ntheir way by the help of the light of a lantern. So he struck a light,\nand they went by the help of that through the rest of this way, though\nthe darkness was very great. But the children began to be sorely weary;\nand they cried out to Him that loveth pilgrims to make their way more\ncomfortable. So, by that they had gone a little farther, a wind arose\nthat drove away the fog; so the air became more clear. Yet they were\nnot off, by much, of the Enchanted Ground; only now they could see one\nanother better, and the way wherein they should walk.\n\nNow, when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived\nthat a little before them was a solemn noise, as of one that was much\nconcerned. So they went on, and looked before them; and behold, they\nsaw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, with hands and eyes lift up,\nand speaking, as they thought, earnestly to One that was above. They\ndrew nigh, but could not tell what he said; so they went softly till he\nhad done. When he had done, he got up, and began to run towards the\nCelestial City.\n\nThen Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, \"So-ho, friend! let us\nhave your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial\nCity.\"\n\nSo the man stopped, and they came up to him. But, as soon as Mr. Honest\nsaw him, he said, \"I know this man.\"\n\nThen said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, \"Prithee, who is it?\"\n\n\"It is one,\" said he, \"that comes from whereabout I dwelt. His name is\nStand-fast; he is certainly a right good pilgrim.\"\n\nSo they came up one to another. And presently Stand-fast said to old\nHonest, \"Ho, father Honest, are you there?\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said he, \"that I am, as sure as you are there.\"\n\n[Sidenote: HEEDLESS AND TOO-BOLD]\n\n\"Right glad am I,\" said Mr. Stand-fast, \"that I have found you on this\nroad.\"\n\n\"And as glad am I,\" said the other, \"that I espied you upon your knees.\"\n\nThen Mr. Stand-fast blushed, and said, \"But why? did you see me?\"\n\n\"Yes, that I did,\" quoth the other, \"and with my heart was glad at the\nsight.\"\n\n\"Why, what did you think?\" said Stand-fast.\n\n\"Think!\" said old Honest; \"what should I think? I thought we had an\nhonest man upon the road, and therefore should have his company\nby-and-by.\"\n\n\"If you thought not amiss,\" said Stand-fast, \"how happy am I! But, if I\nbe not as I should, I alone must bear it.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said the other; \"but your fear doth further show me that\nthings are right betwixt the Prince of pilgrims and your soul; for He\nsaith, 'Blessed is the man that feareth always.'\"\n\nVALIANT. Well, but, brother, I pray thee, tell us what was it that was\nthe cause of thy being upon thy knees even now: was it for that some\nspecial mercy laid upon thee, the need of prayer, or how?\n\nSTAND. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground; and as I was\ncoming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous road the road\nin this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on\npilgrimage, had here been stopped and been destroyed. I thought also of\nthe manner of the death with which this place destroyeth men. Those that\ndie here die of no violent, painful disease: the death which such die is\nnot grievous to them. For he that goeth away in such a sleep, begins\nthat journey with desire and pleasure. Yea, such sink into the will of\nthat disease.\n\nHON. Then Mr. Honest, interrupting of him, said, \"Did you see the two\nmen asleep in the arbor?\"\n\n[Sidenote: STAND-FAST REPULSES MADAM]\n\nSTAND. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there; and, for aught I know,\nthere they will lie till they rot. But let me go on in my tale. As I was\nthus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old,\nwho presented herself to me, and offered me three things; to wit, her\nbody, her purse, and her bed. Now, the truth is, I was both aweary and\nsleepy; I am also as poor as an owlet, and that, perhaps, the witch\nknew. Well, I repulsed her once or twice; but she put by my repulses,\nand smiled. Then I began to be angry; but she mattered that nothing at\nall. Then she made offers again, and said, if I would be ruled by her,\nshe would make me great and happy. \"For,\" said she, \"I am the mistress\nof the world, and men are made happy by me.\" Then I asked her name, and\nshe told me it was Madam Bubble. This set me farther from her; but she\nstill followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to my\nknees; and, with hands lift up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had said\nHe would help. So, just as you came up, the gentlewoman went her way.\nThen I continued to give thanks for this my great deliverance; for I\nverily believe she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of\nme in my journey.\n\nHON. Without doubt her designs were bad. But stay: now you talk of her,\nmethinks I either have seen her, or have read some story of her.\n\nSTAND. Perhaps you have done both.\n\nHON. Madam Bubble? Is she not a tall, comely dame, somewhat of a swarthy\ncomplexion?\n\nSTAND. Right, you hit it: she is just such a one.\n\nHON. Does she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end\nof a sentence?\n\nSTAND. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very actions.\n\nHON. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand\noften in it, fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight?\n\nSTAND. 'Tis just so. Had she stood by all this while, you could not more\namply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her\nfeatures.\n\nHON. Then he that drew her picture was a good artist, and he that wrote\nof her said true.\n\n[Sidenote: MADAM BUBBLE'S INFLUENCE]\n\nGREAT. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her witchcraft that\nthis ground is enchanted. Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap, had\nas good lay it down upon that block over which the axe doth hang; and\nwhoever lay their eyes upon her beauty, are accounted the enemies of\nGod. This is she that maintaineth in their splendor all those that are\nthe enemies of pilgrims. Yea, this is she that hath bought off many a\nman from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gossiper: she is always, both\nshe and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or other; now commanding,\nand then preferring the excellences of this life. She is a bold and\nimpudent creature; she will talk with any man. She always laugheth poor\npilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the rich. If there be one cunning\nto get money in a place, she will speak well of him from house to house.\nShe loveth banqueting and feasting mainly well; she is always at one\nfull table or another. She has given it out in some places that she is a\ngoddess, and therefore some do worship her. She has her times and open\nplaces of cheating; and she will say and avow it, that none can show a\ngood comparable to hers. She promiseth to dwell with children's\nchildren, if they will but love her and make much of her. She will cast\nout of her purse gold like dust, in some places and to some persons. She\nloves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie in the bosoms of\nmen. She is never weary of praising her gifts and she loves them most\nthat think best of her. She will promise, to some, crowns and kingdoms,\nif they will but take her advice; yet many hath she brought to the\nhalter, and ten thousand times more to hell.\n\nSTAND. \"Oh,\" said Mr. Stand-fast, \"what a mercy it is that I did resist\nher! for whither might she have drawn me?\"\n\nGREAT. Whither! nay, none but God knows whither; but in general, to be\nsure, she would have drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful lusts,\nwhich drown men in destruction and ruin. 'Twas she that set Absalom\nagainst his father, and Jeroboam against his master. 'Twas she that\npersuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and that prevailed with Demas to\nforsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can tell of the mischief that she\ndoth. She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects, betwixt parents\nand children, betwixt neighbor and neighbor, betwixt a man and his wife,\nbetwixt a man and himself, betwixt the flesh and the heart. Wherefore,\ngood Master Stand-fast, be as your name is, and when you have done all,\nstand.\n\nAt this course there was among the pilgrims a mixture of joy and\ntrembling; but at length they brake out, and sang:\n\n  \"What danger is the pilgrim in!\n    How many are his foes!\n  How many ways there are to sin\n    No living mortal knows.\n\n  \"Some of the ditch shy are, yet can\n    Lie tumbling in the mire;\n  Some, though they shun the frying-pan,\n    Do leap into the fire.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nTHE PILGRIMS AT HOME.\n\n\nAfter this, I beheld until they were come unto the Land of Beulah, where\nthe sun shineth night and day. Here, because they were weary, they\nbetook themselves awhile to rest. And because this country was common\nfor pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards that were here\nbelong to the King of the Celestial Country, therefore they were\npermitted to make bold with any of His things. But a little while soon\nrefreshed them here; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets\ncontinually sound so melodiously, that they could not sleep and yet they\nreceived as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep never so\nsoundly. Here also the noise of them that walked in the streets was,\n\"More pilgrims are come to town!\" And another would answer, saying, \"And\nso many went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates,\nto-day!\" They would cry again, \"There is now a legion of Shining Ones\njust come to town, by which we know that there are more pilgrims upon\nthe road; for here they come to wait for them, and comfort them after\nall their sorrow!\" Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But\nhow were their ears now filled with heavenly voices, and their eyes\ndelighted with celestial visions! In this land they heard nothing, saw\nnothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing, that was offensive\nto their stomach or mind; only when they tasted of the water of the\nriver over which they were to go, they thought that it tasted a little\nbitterish to the palate, but it proved sweeter when it was down.\n\nIn this place there was a record kept of the names of them that had been\npilgrims of old, and a history of all the famous acts that they had\ndone. It was here also much spoken of, how the river to some had had its\nflowings, and what ebbings it had had while others have gone over. It\nhas been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for\nothers.\n\nIn this place, the children of the town would go into the King's\ngardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring them to them\nwith much affection. Here also grew camphire, with spikenard, and\nsaffron, calamus, and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense,\nmyrrh, and aloes, with all chief spices. With these the pilgrims'\nchambers were perfumed while they stayed here; and with these were their\nbodies anointed, to prepare them to go over the river, when the time\nappointed was come.\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIANA RECEIVES MESSAGE]\n\nNow, while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, there was a\nnoise in the town that there was a messenger come from the Celestial\nCity with matter of great importance to one Christiana, the wife of\nChristian the pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her, and the house was\nfound out where she was. So the messenger presented her with a letter;\nthe contents whereof were, \"Hail, good woman! I bring thee tidings that\nthe Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest stand in\nHis presence, in clothes of everlasting life, within these ten days.\"\n\nWhen he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token\nthat he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be\ngone. The token was an arrow, with a point sharpened with love, let\neasily into her heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her,\nthat at the time appointed she must be gone.\n\nWhen Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first\nof this company that was to go over, she called for Mr. Great-heart, her\nguide, and told him how matters were. So he told her he was heartily\nglad of the news, and could have been glad had the post come for him.\nThen she bid that he should give advice how all things should be\nprepared for her journey. So he told her, saying, \"Thus and thus it must\nbe; and we that are left will accompany you to the river-side.\"\n\nThen she called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told\nthem that she yet read with comfort the mark that was set in their\nforeheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had\nkept their garments so white. Lastly, she gave to the poor that little\nshe had, and commanded her sons and her daughters to be ready against\nthe messenger should come for them.\n\nWhen she had spoken these words to her guide and to her children, she\ncalled for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him, \"Sir, you have in\nall places shown yourself true-hearted. Be faithful unto death, and my\nKing will give you a crown of life. I would also entreat you to have an\neye to my children; and if at any time you see them faint, speak\ncomfortably to them. For my daughters, my sons' wives, they have been\nfaithful; and a fulfilling of the promise upon them will be their end.\"\nBut she gave Mr. Stand-fast a ring.\n\nThen she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, \"Behold an\nIsraelite indeed, in whom is no guile.\"\n\nThen said he, \"I wish you a fair day when you set out for Mount Zion,\nand shall be glad to see that you go over the river dry shod.\"\n\nBut she answered, \"Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone; for, however\nthe weather is in my journey, I shall have time enough when I come there\nto sit down and rest me and dry me.\"\n\nThen came in that good man, Mr. Ready-to-halt, to see her. So she said\nto him, \"Thy travel hitherto has been with difficulty; but that will\nmake thy rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready; for, at an hour when\nyou think not, the messenger may come.\"\n\nAfter him came in Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid; to whom\nshe said, \"You ought with thankfulness for ever to remember your\ndeliverance from the hands of Giant Despair and out of Doubting Castle.\nThe effect of that mercy is that you are brought with safety hither. Be\nye watchful, and cast away fear; be sober, and hope to the end.\"\n\nThen she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, \"Thou wast delivered from the mouth of\nGiant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the light of the living for\never, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise thee to turn thee of\nthy aptness to fear and doubt of His goodness, before He sends for thee;\nlest thou shouldest, when He comes, be forced to stand before Him for\nthat fault with blushing.\"\n\n[Sidenote: CHRISTIANA CROSSES THE RIVER]\n\nNow, the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was full\nof people to see her take her journey. But, behold, all the banks beyond\nthe river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down from\nabove to accompany her to the City gate. So she came forth and entered\nthe river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her to the\nriver-side. The last words that she was heard to say were, \"I come,\nLord, to be with Thee, and bless Thee!\"\n\nSo her children and friends returned to their place, for that those that\nwaited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went\nand called, and entered in at the gate with all the tokens of joy that\nher husband Christian had done before her. At her departure her\nchildren wept. But Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Valiant played upon the\nwell-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. So all departed to their respective\nplaces.\n\n[Sidenote: PILGRIMS RECEIVE MESSAGES]\n\nIn process of time, there came a messenger to the town again, and his\nbusiness was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and said to\nhim, \"I am come to thee from Him whom thou hast loved and followed,\nthough upon crutches; and my message is to tell thee, that He expects\nthee at His table, to sup with Him in His kingdom, the next day after\nEaster; wherefore prepare thyself for this journey.\" Then he also gave\nhim a token that he was a true messenger, saying, \"I have broken thy\ngolden bowl and loosed thy silver cord.\"\n\nAfter this Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and told\nthem, saying, \"I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also.\" So\nhe desired Mr. Valiant to make his will. And because he had nothing to\nbequeath to them that should survive him but his crutches and his good\nwishes, therefore thus he said: \"These crutches I bequeath to my son\nthat shall tread in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may\nprove better than I have done.\" Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his\nconduct and kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he\ncame to the brink of the river, he said, \"Now I shall have no more need\nof these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride\non.\" The last words he was heard to say were, \"Welcome life!\" So he\nwent his way.\n\nAfter this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him, that the messenger\nsounded his horn at his chamber-door. Then he came in, and told him,\nsaying, \"I am come to tell thee that thy Master has need of thee, and\nthat in a very little time thou must behold His face in brightness. And\ntake this as a token of the truth of my message: 'Those that look out at\nthe windows shall be darkened.'\" Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his\nfriends, and told them what errand had been brought unto him, and what\ntoken he had received of the truth of the message. Then he said, \"Since\nI have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make a will?\nAs for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind me, for that I shall\nhave no need of in the place whither I go, nor is it worth bestowing\nupon the poorest pilgrim: wherefore, when I am gone, I desire that you,\nMr. Valiant, would bury it in a dunghill.\" This done, and the day being\ncome on which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His\nlast words were, \"Hold out, faith and patience!\" So he went over to the\nother side.\n\nWhen days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was sent for;\nfor a messenger was come, and brought this message to him: \"Trembling\nman, these are to summon thee to be ready with thy King by the next\nLord's day, to shout for joy for thy deliverance from all thy\ndoubtings. And,\" said the messenger, \"that my message is true, take\nthis for a proof.\" So he gave him the grasshopper to be a burden unto\nhim.\n\nNow, Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said when\nshe heard what was done, that she would go with her father. Then Mr.\nDespondency said to his friends, \"Myself and my daughter, you know what\nwe have been, and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every\ncompany. My will and my daughter's is, that our discouraged feelings and\nslavish fears be by no man received, from the day of our departure for\never; for I know that after my death they will offer themselves to\nothers. For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts the which we\nentertained when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake\nthem off after; and they will walk about and seek entertainment of the\npilgrims; but, for our sakes, shut ye the doors upon them.\" When the\ntime was come for them to depart, they went to the brink of the river.\nThe last words of Mr. Despondency were, \"Farewell, night! welcome, day!\"\nHis daughter went through the river singing, but none could understand\nwhat she said.\n\nThen it came to pass a while after, that there was a messenger in the\ntown that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he came to his house where he was,\nand delivered to his hand these lines: \"Thou art commanded to be ready\nagainst this day seven-night, to present thyself before thy Lord at His\nFather's house. And for a token that my message is true, 'All thy\ndaughters of music shall be brought low.'\" Then Mr. Honest called for\nhis friends, and said unto them, \"I die, but shall make no will. As for\nmy honesty, it shall go with me: let them that come after me be told\nthis.\" When the day that he was to be gone was come, he prepared himself\nto go over the river. Now, the river at that time overflowed its banks\nin some places; but Mr. Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one\nGood-conscience to meet him there; the which also he did, and lent him\nhis hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr. Honest were,\n\"Grace reigns!\" So he left the world.\n\n[Sidenote: THE FINAL SUMMONS]\n\nAfter this, it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was taken\nwith a summons by the same messenger as the other, and had this for a\ntoken that the summons was true, that his pitcher was broken at the\nfountain. When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told\nthem of it. Then said he, \"I am going to my Father's; and though with\ngreat difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the\ntrouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that\nshall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that\ncan get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me\nthat I have fought His battles who now will be my rewarder.\" When the\nday that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the\nriver-side, into which as he went he said, \"Death, where is thy sting?\"\nAnd, as he went down deeper, he said, \"Grave, where is thy victory?\" So\nhe passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.\n\nThen there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast (this Mr. Stand-fast\nwas he whom the pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground),\nfor the messenger brought it him open in his hands; the contents thereof\nwere, that he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master was not\nwilling that he should be so far from Him any longer. At this Mr.\nStand-fast was put into a muse.\n\n\"Nay,\" said the messenger, \"you need not doubt the truth of my message,\nfor here is a token of the truth thereof: 'Thy wheel is broken at the\ncistern.'\"\n\nThen he called to him Mr. Great-heart, who was their guide, and said\nunto him, \"Sir, although it was not my hap to be much in your good\ncompany in the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew you,\nyou have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left behind me\na wife and five small children: let me entreat you at your return (for I\nknow that you will go and return to your master's house, in hopes that\nyou may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims), that you send\nto my family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath or shall\nhappen unto me. Tell them moreover of my happy arrival to this place,\nand of the present and late blessed condition that I am in. Tell them\nalso of Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and her children\ncame after her husband. Tell them also what a happy end she made, and\nwhither she is gone. I have little or nothing to send to my family,\nunless it be my prayers and tears for them; of which it will suffice\nthat you acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail.\"\n\n[Sidenote: END OF THE PILGRIMAGE]\n\nWhen Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and the time being\ncome for him to haste him away, he also went down to the river. Now,\nthere was a great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr.\nStand-fast, when he was about half-way in, stood a while, and talked to\nhis companions that had waited upon him thither. And he said, \"This\nriver has been a terror to many; yea, the thoughts of it have also\nfrighted me; but now methinks I stand easy; my foot is fixed upon that\non which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of the covenant stood\nwhile Israel went over Jordan. The waters, indeed, are to the palate\nbitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the thought of what I am going to,\nand of the conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a\nglowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey; my\ntoilsome days are ended. I am going to see that head which was crowned\nwith thorns, and that face which was spit upon for me. I have formerly\nlived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live by sight,\nand shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself. I have loved to\nhear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have seen the print of His shoe\nin the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too. His name has been\nto me as a perfume box; yea, sweeter than all sweet smells. His voice to\nme has been most sweet, and His countenance I have more desired than\nthey that have most desired the light of the sun. His Word I did use to\ngather for my food, and for medicine against my faintings. He has held\nme, and hath kept me from my sins; yea, my steps hath He strengthened in\nHis way.\"\n\nNow, while he was thus speaking, his countenance changed, his strong man\nbowed under him; and, after he had said, \"Take me, for I come unto\nThee!\" he ceased to be seen of them.\n\nBut glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with horses\nand chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players on\nstringed instruments to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and\nfollowed one another in at the beautiful gate of the City.\n\nAs for Christian's children, the four boys that Christiana brought with\nher, with their wives and children, I did not stay where I was till they\nwere gone over. Also, since I came away, I heard one say that they were\nyet alive, and so would be for the help of the Church in that place\nwhere they were for a time.\n\nShall it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it\nan account of what I here am silent about: meantime I bid my reader\n\n  ADIEU.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE PILGRIM.\n\nTHE STORY OF A LITTLE GIRL WHO TRIED TO GO ON PILGRIMAGE.\n\n\n  In a large old house, with two kind aunts,\n    The little Marian dwelt;\n  And a happy child she was, I ween,\n    For though at times she felt\n  That playmates would be better far\n    Than either birds or flowers,\n  Yet her kind old aunts, and story books,\n    Soothed many lonely hours.\n\n  Her favorite haunt, in the summer-time,\n    Was a large old apple-tree;\n  And oft amid the boughs she sat,\n    With her pet book on her knee.\n  The \"Pilgrim's Progress\" was its name,\n    And Marian loved it much;\n  It is, indeed, a glorious book,\n    There are not many such!\n\n  She read it in her little bed,\n    Beside the winter fire,\n  And in summer-time, in the apple-tree,\n    As though she would never tire.\n\n  But, unexplained, 'tis just the book\n    To puzzle the young brain;\n  And the poor child had no kind friend,\n    Its meaning to explain.\n\n  For though her aunts were very kind,\n    They were not overwise,\n  And only said, \"Don't read so, child,\n    I'm sure you'll spoil your eyes.\"\n\n  But Marian still went reading on,\n    And visions strange and wild\n  Began to fill the little head\n    Of the lonely, dreaming child;\n  For she thought that Christian and his wife,\n    And all their children too,\n  Had left behind their pleasant home,\n    And done what she must do.\n\n  \"I'll take my Bible,\" said the child,\n    \"And seek the road to heaven;\n  I'll try to find the Wicket Gate,\n    And hope to be forgiven.\n  I wish my aunts would go with me,\n    But 'tis in vain to ask;\n  They are so deaf and rather lame,\n    They'd think it quite a task.\n\n  \"No! I must go alone, I see,\n    So I'll not let them know;\n  Or, like poor Christian's friends, they'll say,\n    'My dear, you must not go.'\n\n  \"But I must wait till some grand scheme\n    Can all their thoughts engage;\n  And then I'll leave my pleasant home,\n    And go on pilgrimage.\"\n\n  She had not waited long, before,\n    One fine autumnal day,\n  She saw the large old coach arrive,\n    To take her aunts away.\n  \"We're going out to spend the day,\"\n    The two old ladies said;\n  \"We mean to visit Mrs. Blair--\n    Poor soul!--she's ill in bed.\n\n  \"But, Marian, you must stay at home,\n    For the lady's ill, you see;\n  You can have your dinner, if you like,\n    In the large old apple-tree,\n  And play in the garden all the day,\n    Quite happy and content.\"\n  A few more parting words were said,\n    And off the ladies went.\n\n  The servants, too, were all engaged;\n    \"The day is come at last,\"\n  Said Marian, \"but oh, I wish,\n    My pilgrimage was past.\"\n  She knelt beside the apple-tree,\n    And for God's assistance prayed;\n  Then, with her basket in her hand,\n    Forth tripped the little maid.\n\n  Behind the house where Marian dwelt,\n    Far off in the distance, lay\n  A high steep hill, which the sun at morn\n    Tinged with its earliest ray.\n  \"Difficulty\" was its rightful name,\n    The child had often thought;\n  Towards this hill she turned her steps,\n    With hopeful visions fraught.\n\n  The flowers seemed to welcome her,\n    'Twas a lovely autumn morn,\n  The little lark sang merrily,\n    Above the waving corn.\n  \"Ah, little lark, you sing,\" said she,\n    \"On your early pilgrimage;\n  I, too, will sing, for pleasant thoughts\n    Should now my mind engage.\"\n\n  In clear, sweet strains she sang a hymn,\n    And tripped lightly on her way;\n  Until a pool of soft, thick mud\n    Across her pathway lay.\n  \"This is the Slough of Despond,\" she cried,\n    But she bravely ventured through;\n  And safely reached the other side,\n    But she lost one little shoe.\n\n  On an old gray stone she sat her down,\n    To eat some fruit and bread;\n  Then took her little Bible out,\n    And a cheering psalm she read.\n\n  Then with fresh hope she journeyed on,\n    For many miles away;\n  And she reached the bottom of the hill,\n    Before the close of day.\n\n  She clambered up the steep ascent,\n    Though faint and weary, too;\n  But firmly did our Marian keep\n    Her purpose still in view.\n\n  \"I'm glad, at least, the arbor's past,\"\n    Said the little tired soul;\n  \"I'm sure I should have sat me down\n    And lost my little roll!\"\n  On the high hill-top she stands at last,\n    And our weary Pilgrim sees\n  A porter's lodge, of ample size,\n    Half hid by sheltering trees.\n\n  She clapped her hands with joy, and cried,\n    \"Oh, there's the Wicket Gate,\n  And I must seek admittance there,\n    Before it is too late.\"\n  Gently she knocks--'tis answered soon,\n    And at the open door\n  Stands a tall, stout man--poor Marian felt\n    As she ne'er had felt before.\n\n  With tearful eyes, and trembling hand,\n    Flushed cheek, and anxious brow,\n  She said, \"I hope you're Watchful, Sir,\n    I want Discretion now.\"\n\n  \"Oh yes, I'm watchful,\" said the man,\n    \"As a porter ought to be;\n  I s'pose you've lost your way, young Miss,\n    You've lost your shoe, I see.\n\n  \"Missus,\" he cried to his wife within,\n    \"Here's a child here, at the door,\n  You'll never see such a one again,\n    If you live to be fourscore.\n  She wants discretion, so she says,\n    Indeed I think 'tis true;\n  But I know some who want it more,\n    Who will not own they do.\"\n\n  \"Go to the Hall,\" his wife replies,\n    \"And take the child with you,\n  The ladies there are all so wise,\n    They'll soon know what to do.\"\n  The man complied, and led the child\n    Through many a flowery glade;\n  \"Is that the Palace Beautiful?\"\n    The little Pilgrim said.\n\n  \"There, to the left, among the trees?\n    Why, Miss, 'tis mighty grand;\n  Call it a palace, if you please,\n    'Tis the finest in the land.\n  Now we be come to the fine old porch,\n    And this is the Marble Hall;\n  Here, little lady, you must stay,\n    While I the servants call.\"\n\n  Tired and sad he left the child,\n    But he quickly re-appeared,\n  And with him the lady of the house--\n    Poor Marian's heart was cheered.\n  \"Sweet little girl,\" the lady said,\n    In accents soft and kind,\n  \"I'm sure you sadly want some rest,\n    And rest you soon shall find.\"\n\n  To a room where three young ladies sat,\n    The child was quickly led;\n  \"Piety, Prudence, and Charity,\"\n    To herself she softly said.\n  \"What is your name, my little dear?\"\n    Said the eldest of the three,\n  Whom Marian, in her secret thought,\n    Had christened Piety.\n\n  \"We'll send a servant to your friends,\n    How uneasy they must be!\"\n  Admiringly she watched the child,\n    Who, indeed, was fair to see;\n  Around her bright and lovely face\n    Fell waves of auburn hair,\n  As modestly she told her name,\n    With whom she lived and where.\n\n  \"How did you lose your way, my love?\"\n    She gently raised her head;\n  \"I do not think I've lost my way,\"\n    The little Pilgrim said.\n\n  \"This is the Palace Beautiful,\n    May I stay here to-night?\"\n  They smiled and said, \"We're glad our house\n    Finds favor in your sight:--\n\n  \"Yes, gladly will we keep you here,\n    For many nights to come.\"\n  \"Thank you,\" said Marian, \"but I soon\n    Must seek my heavenly home.\n  The Valley of the Shadow of Death\n    Is near this house, I know\"--\n  She stopped, for she saw, with great surprise,\n    Their tears began to flow.\n\n  She little thought the mourning dress,\n    Which all the ladies wore,\n  Was for one whom they had dearly loved,\n    And should see on earth no more.\n  Their brother had been called away,\n    Their brightest and their best;\n  No wonder, then, that Marian's words\n    Roused grief in every breast.\n\n  Sobs only for awhile were heard;\n    At length the ladies said,\n  \"My, love, you have reminded us\n    Of our loved and early dead;\n  But this you could not know, my dear,\n    And it indeed is true;\n  We are all near to Death's dark door,\n    Even little girls like you.\"\n\n  \"Yes,\" said the timid, trembling child,\n    \"I know it must be so;\n  But, ma'am, I hope that Piety\n    May be with me when I go.\n  And will you show me your armory,\n    When you have time to spare?\n  I hope you have some small enough\n    For a little girl to wear.\"\n\n  No more she said, for Piety,\n    As Marian called her, cast\n  Her arms around the Pilgrim's neck,\n    The secret's out at last.\n  \"You puzzled all,\" said Piety;\n    \"But now, I see, you've read\n  A glorious book, which, unexplained,\n    Has turned your little head.\n\n  \"Oh, dearly, when I was a child,\n    I loved that Pilgrim Tale;\n  But then mamma explained it well--\n    And if we can prevail\n  On your kind aunts to let you stay\n    Some time with us, my dear,\n  You shall read that book with my mamma,\n    And she will make it clear.\"\n\n  Now we'll return to Marian's home,\n    And see what's passing there.\n  The servants all had company,\n    And a merry group they were.\n\n  They had not missed our Pilgrim long,\n    For they knew she oft would play\n  In that old garden, with a book,\n    The whole of the livelong day.\n\n  \"Betty,\" at last, said the housekeeper,\n    \"Where can Miss Marian be?\n  Her dinner was in the basket packed,\n    But sure, she'll come in to tea!\"\n  They sought her here, they sought her there,\n    But they could not find the child;\n  And her poor old aunts, when they came home,\n    With grief were almost wild.\n\n  The coachman and the footman too,\n    In different ways were sent;\n  But none thought of the narrow way\n    In which the Pilgrim went.\n  \"Perhaps she followed us to town,\"\n    Poor Aunt Rebecca said,\n  \"I wish we had not left our home;\n    I fear the child is dead.\"\n\n  And to the town the coachman went,\n    For they knew not what to do;\n  And night drew on, when a country boy\n    Brought Marian's little shoe.\n  With the shoe in her hand, the housekeeper\n    Into the parlor ran,\n  \"Oh, Mistress, here is all that's left\n    Of poor Miss Marian.\n\n  \"It was found sticking in the mud,\n    Just above Harlem Chase;\n  I fear the poor child's perished there,\n    For 'tis a frightful place.\"\n  Then louder grew the ladies' grief;\n    But soon their hearts were cheered,\n  When a footman grand, with a note in his hand,\n    From the distant Hall appeared.\n\n  Aunt Ruth now read the note, and cried,\n    \"Oh, sister, all is well!\n  The child is safe at Brookland Hall,\n    With Lady Arundel,\n  Who wants to keep her for a month;\n    Why, yes; I think she may--\n  Such friends as Lady Arundel\n    Are not met with every day.\n\n  \"Our compliments, and thanks to her,\n    When you return, young man;\n  We'll call to-morrow at the Hall,\n    And see Miss Marian.\"\n  Then came a burst of grateful joy,\n    That could not be suppressed,\n  And, with thankful hearts and many tears,\n    The ladies went to rest.\n\n  We'll take a peep at our Marian now,\n    There in her bed lies she;\n  How blissful were her dreams that night,\n    In the arms of Piety.\n\n  Oh, that happy month at Brookland Hall,\n    How soon it passed away!\n  Cheerful and good were Marian's friends,\n    And who so kind as they?\n\n  And, more than all, while there she stayed\n    They did their best to bring\n  The little lamb to that blest fold\n    Where reigns the Shepherd King.\n  For many a lesson ne'er forgot,\n    The little Marian learned;\n  And a thoughtful and a happier child\n    She to her home returned.\n\n  Years rolled away, the scene has changed,\n    A wife and mother now,\n  Marian has found the Wicket Gate,\n    She and her children too.\n  And oh! how sweet it is to see\n    This little Pilgrim band,\n  As on towards their heavenly home,\n    They travel hand in hand.\n  When cloudy days fall to their lot,\n    They see a light afar,\n  The light that shone on Bethlehem's plain,\n    The Pilgrim's guiding star.\n\n  And now, dear children, whosoe'er,\n    Or whereso'er you be,\n  Who ponder o'er this strange, true tale\n    Of Marian's history,--\n\n  If to the Flowers of your young hearts,\n    Instructions dews are given,\n  Oh! be earnest as our Marian was,\n    To find the road to Heaven.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTransriber's note:\n\nMinor typographical errors, punctuation and inconsistencies have been\nsilently normalized. Archaic spelling has been retained.\n\nPage 365: 'Tell-truth' has been changed to 'Tell-true'.","title":"The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan Every Child Can Read","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":99872}