Pilgrim's progress from this world to that which is to come

Material Information

Pilgrim's progress from this world to that which is to come delivered under the similitude of a dream
Bunyan, John, 1628-1688
Nimmo, William Philip, 1831-1883 ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
William P. Nimmo
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
312, 12 p., [1] leaf of plates : col. ill. ; 15 cm.


Subjects / Keywords:
Christian life -- Fiction ( lcsh )
Salvation -- Fiction ( lcsh )
Christian pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Fiction ( lcsh )
Allegories -- 1871 ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1871 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1871
Allegories ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
Scotland -- Edinburgh


General Note:
Date from inscription.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue follows text.
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by John Bunyan.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections ( with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
002448059 ( ALEPH )
AMF3323 ( NOTIS )
57510278 ( OCLC )

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Full Text


The Baldwin Library University QmB of







pfll',W6 UAW ftt 21"milituh of a ram.




To the great mass of mankind the most prominent name in English history is that of John Bunyan. In lands where the renown of William Conqueror is utterly unknown, the fame of John Bunyan the tinker has spread. And in our own country, amoniclasses where the names of even his great contemporaries, Cromwell and Milton, are never heard, or heard are known only as names, that of John Bunyai is 0- familiar in their mouths as household words," and exercises through his wonderful allegory, a vital and beneficial influence. Strange that this poor tinker's son should, of all the men of that very memorable era in which he lived, be the one who now, two centuries afterwards, attracts most eyes. Without rank, wealth, position, learning-a mere kettlemender, in fact-with no such opportunities of knowledge and distinction as men in a similar sphere of life now possess, nothing but genius of the highest order could have placed him on that pre-eminently proud pinnacle which, in the opinion of the masses, he occupied alone, and which even scholars are now disposed to admit he shares with such mindkings as Shakspeare and Milton.
JOHN BUNYAN was born at the village of Elstow, in the immediate vicinity of the town of Bedford, in the year 1628. His father was by trade a tinker, though less nomadic and more respectable than the generality of his tribe. At the birth of his son, he was settled at Elstow, and does not appear to have wandered about the country afterwards; at all events his family did not, for John was sent to the Harpur Grammar School in Bedford, which was founded by Sir William Harpurt


Lord Mayor of London, in 1556, for the teaching of " grain. mar and good manners" to the children of the poor. Hem young Bunyafi does not seem to have profited much by the moral instruction imparted, for he himself tells us-doubtless, however, with the exaggeration common to enthusiastic converts from any evil habit-that from a child he had but few equals "for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God. Yea, so settled and rooted was I in these things, that they became as a second nature to me." His parents do not appear to have been in any way to blame for this singular youthful depravity. 'On the contrary, the inference is that they set him a good example, and wlere grieved on account of his evil ways. In his boyhood, Bunyan was tormented with strange dreams at night, and stranger fancies by day. Evil spirits flitted round his bed, and sought to drag him down with them to the realms of everlasting perdition. And in the morning, those creations of the night remained clear and dis. tinct in all their dreadful outlines before his mind's eye, and disturbed his boyish soul 11 with the thoughts of the fearful torments of hell-fire," and the prospect of eternal bondage in CC outer darkness," with only devils and fiends for companions. In the midst of play with his comrades y t ought of the dread realities of heaven and hell would steal unbidden upon him, spoil all his interest in the game, and distract him with Iear. But still he went on cursing and swearing as before, and entering with zest into all those sports which, in after years,. he -came to look upon with so much horror. The notion, however, that Bunyan was a sinner beyond all others in his neighbourhood should be guarded against. He was neither a sensualist nor a drunkard; and though he himself sanctions the notion that he was occasionally guilty.of petty larceny, his most deadly sins, in Ws own estimation, consisted of a love for dancing on the village green, playing at tip-cat, and ring. ing the bells of the church on Sunday after'the congregation had dispersed. All these things, notwithstanding his grim


visions, and grimmer thoughts, he continued to indulge in until the age of seventeen, when he entered the Parliamentarian army, which by that time had taken the field against Charles I. . Here he continued for about two years, not apparently gaining much credit as a soldier, being considered by his officer awkward in the use of arms. At the siege of Leicester in 1645, according to one account, he was so clumsy and backward that another man thrust himself forward in his place and was killed. Bunyan's own statement is, that the man volunteered to go in his room; and he afterwards came to regard the fact as a direct providential interposition on his behalf. Shortly after his return from the army, and consequently when he was only about nineteen, Bunyan, with the hearty concurrence of his friends, who hoped that he would thereby be cured of his horrid habit of swearing, married a sensible and virtuous young woman, whose only legacy, left by a pious parent, was a couple - of books entitled, 11 The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven," and "The Practice of Piety." These she persuaded Bunyan to read, and though, as he himself expresses it, " they did not reach my heart, to awaken it about my sad and sinful state, yet they did beget within me some desires to reform my vicious life) and to fall in very eagerly with the religion of the times." At his wife's desire too, he went to church twice each Sunday, but without much profit. He still continued his bell-ringing, tip-cat, and swearing. - One day, however, while at his favourite game, a voice, seemed to address him from heaven, and to the astonishment of his companions, in the very act of striking the cat he suddenly paused, and with terror-stricken visage, gazed with awe and wonder into the serene space from which the dread question, " Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven,'or have thy sins and go to hell?" came. But though this strange delusion startled and perplexed him,, it did not cure him of his swearing. This, strange to say, was effectually done some short time after, by a reproof from a woman of questionable virtue.


And now, one by one, his amusements were given up. alTip. cat drew his soul away no longer. He did not ring the church-bells, but he continued to visit the tower regularly with his companions, and look on while they rang, until the notion possessed him that the bells might fall on his head; t1 en he would go no further than the steeple door, and eventually the idea that the steeple might fall and crush him, drove him away altogether from the vicinity of the bells. The dancing, was more difficult to. give up, but given up it was at last. And now that Bunyan had abandoned all his evil courses, he was still as far as ever from having peace of mind. The strangest fancies took possession of him., filling him with the direst unrest. Now he imagined that all within whose veins flowed Jewish blood would be saved, and hoped for salvation on the strength of having some of that blood himself, an illu., sion which, to his dismay, was dispelled by his father. Then he doubted whether the Christian religion was better than Mohammedanism or Paganism, and whether St Paul was a more trustworthy guide than the priests of Brahma or Isis. Again he thought that the day of grace had fled for himthat all that would be saved 14 in these parts " God had alreaUY converted, and therefore there was no hope for him. Once he thought of testing his chance of salvation by his capability of working a miracle: in this wise, by saying 14 to the puddles that were in the horse-pads., 'Be dry, and to the dry places, 4,Be you puddles; and was only withheld from doing so by the thought, that if this transformation did not take place at ,his wish, he should inevitably be a castaway, in which case it would be better to wait a little longer before deciding his fate. Then succeeded dark and terrible days, in which he waged war with hosts of fiends who struggled for his soul. .He thought he had committed the unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost, that God had set the mark of Cain upon him, and he trembled in his great agony till he felt as if his b eastbone would split asunder. He was tempted to Sei 1 his part


in Christ by devils, who were ever hissing in his cars, " Sell Him, sell Him;" and when, tortured beyond endurance, on one occasion the thought passed through his heart, " Let Him go, if He will," he remembered him of Esau who had sold his birthright,, and his anguish was greater than ever. He longed to be anything but what he was. The very tiles on the houses, and the stones on the streets were things to be envied in comparison with his miserable self. But peace came at length to his tempest-tossed heart. He found a haven of repose in the Baptist Church at Bedford in 1653. In 1656, after a severe affliction had deepened his religious convictions, Bunyan, not without some ' misgivings on his own part, was called to the ministry, and commenced at once to preach to the people, which he continued to do until 1660, when he was arrested while preaching, tried, condemned, and thrown into prison for nonconformity.- Previous to this, Bunyan's first wife had died, and he had married again; and in 1661 his wife nobly and eloquently pled his cause before Sir Matthew Hale, but without effect. Bunyan was confined in prison for about twelve years. At first he was treated with the kindest consideration by the jailor, who allowed him to go out of prison to visit his friends, but this indulgence wgs interdicted by higher authorities, and for seven years Bunyan was confined in his narrow cell, or only allowed to take the fresh air, as he is represented in Mr Harvey's picture, chained to the outside -wall, with his blind daughter by his side. While in prison, he contrived to earn a very scanty support for his family of young children by making thread laces, and he also relieved the tedium of confinement by writing some of his smaller works, and by imparting to his fellow-captives those gospel'truthB which had brought peace to his own soul. Among othe s, he wrote a pamphlet condemnatory of the doctrines then held by the Quakers, and also a tract against the Liturgy of the Church of Engl5nd, on the ground that thWe Who were most zealous about the form of prayer gene.,


rally possessed least of its spirit. Bunyan was released from prison in 1672, under the Act of Charles II. which annulled the penal statutes against Protestant Dissenters. Before he obtaiiied his liberty, he had commenced the work which has made his name immortal, " The Pilgrim's Progress." The exact date of the publication of the first edition is unknow n, there not being, it is supposed, a single copy in existence. A second edition was published in 1678, and in the course of the next four years no less than. six editions were printed. Some of his religious friends considered the work as altogether scandalous, while others thought that no praise could be too extravagant. In 1682, his "HolyWar " was published, and in 1684 the second part of "The Pilgrim's Progress." Between 1656, the year when he was called to the ministry, and 1688, when he died from the effects of a cold caught in a journey which with characteristic warm-heartedness he had undertaken for the purpose of reconciling a prodigal son to an angry father., he wrote no less than sixty different works. "1The Pilgrim's Progress" has had a circulation second only to that of the Bible. It has been printed in every European language, and has recently, we understand, been introduce d into China and India. After his release from prison, Bunyan became a man of note among the Baptists, not only in his native Bedfordshire, but also in London, which he frequently visited, and there preached to very large congregations. He died, as we have mentioned, in 1688, at Snowhill., London., and was buried in Bunhill Fields.
We may not inaptly bring this brief memoir to a close by relating the only practical joke which Bunyan is reported to have indulged in, and which was played off upon one of his friends, who was a cooper. Bunyan, on passing his friend's shop one day, noticed some tubs piled one above another, and threw them down. "'How now, Master Bunyan," said the cooper," what harm do the tubs to you?" "Friend," said Bunyan," have you psot heard that every tub should -statnd on its own bottom I"



WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand Thus for to write, I did not understaxcl That I at all should make a little book In such a mode; nay, I had undertook To make another; which, when almost done, Before I was aware, I this begun.
And thus it was: I writing of the way And race of saints, in this our gospel day, Fell suddenly into an allegory About their journey, and the way to glory, In more than twenty things which I set down; This done, I twenty more had in my crown; And they again began to multiply, Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out The book that I already am about. Well, so I did; but yet I did not think To shew to all the world my pen and ink In such a mode; I only thought to make I knew not what: nor did I undertake Thereby to please my neighbour: no, not 1: I did it my own self to gratify.
A 2


Neither did I but vacant seasons spend In this my scribble : nor did I intend But to divert myself in doing this From worker thoughts which make me do amiss, Thus I set pen to paper with delight, And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. For having now my method by the end, Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penned it down: until it came at last to be) For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I bad thus put mine ends together, I she'd them others, that I might see whether They would condemn them, or them justify: And some said, Let them live; some, Let them die: Some said, John, print it; others said, Not so; Some said, It might do good; others said, No.
Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me: At last I thought, Since you are thus divided, I print it will: and so the case decided. For, thought I, some I see would have it done, Though others in'that channel do not run: To prove, then, who advised for the best, Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny Those that would have it, thus to gratify; I did not know, but hinder them I might Of that which would to them be great delight. For those which were not for its coming forth., I said to them, Offend you I am loath: Yet since your brethren pleased with it be, Forbear to judge, till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read,, let it aloue;


Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone. Yea, that I might them better palliate, I did too with them thus expostulate:

May I not write in such a style as this? In such a method too, and yet not miss My end-thy good? Why may it not be done? Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, But treasures up the fruit they yield together; Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit None can distinguish this from that: they suit Her well when hungry; but if she be full, She spews out both, and makes their blessings null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take To catch the fish; what engines doth he make!I Behold how he engageth ql1 his wits; Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets; Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line, Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine: They must be groped for, and be tickled too, 'Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do.

How does the fowler seek to catch his game By divers means! all which one cannot name: His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell;.He creeps, he goes, he stands: yea. who can tell Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these Will make him master of what fowls he please. Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this; Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss. If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, And may be found too in an oyrFter-shell;


If things that promise nothing do contain What better is than gold; who will disdain, That have 'an inkling of it, there to look, That they may find it? Now my little book (Though void of all these paintings that may make It with this or the other man to take) Is not without those things that do excel What do in brave., but empty notions dwell.

"Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried."

Why, what's the matter? "It is dark." What though? "But it is feigned." What of that? I trow Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine, Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine. "But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. "They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind."'

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men: But must I needs want solidness, because By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws, His gospel laws, in olden time held forth By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loath Will any sober man be to find fault With them, lest he be found for to assault The highest wisdom? No, he rather stoops, And seeks to find out by what pin? and loops, By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, God speaketh to him; and happy is he That finds the light and grace that in them be.

Be not too forward therefore to conclude That I want solidness-that I am rude; All things solid in show not solid be



All things in parable despise not we; Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, And things that good are of our souls bereave. My -dark and cloudy words, they do but hold The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors To set forth ti-ath: yea, whoso considers Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see, The truths to this day in such mantles be.

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, Is everywhere so full of all these things, Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs From that same book, that lustre, and those rays Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my carper to.his life now look, And find there darker lines than in my book 14e findeth any; yea, and let him know, That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men, To his poor one I durst adventure ten, That they will take my meaning in these lines Far better than his lies in silver shrines. Come, truth, although in swaddling clothes I find, Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind; Pleases the understanding, makes the will Submit, the memory too it doth fill With w14at doth our imagination please; Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words., I know, Timothy is to use, And old wives' fables he is to refuse; But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid


The use of parables; in which lay hid That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that werse Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.

Let me -add one word more. 0 man of God, Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had Put forth my matter in another dress? Or, that I had in things been more express? Three things let me propound; then I submit To those that are my betters, as is fit.

1. I find not that I am denied the use Of this my method, so I no abuse Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude In handling figure or similitude, In application; but all that I may Seek the advance of truth this or that~ way. Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave (Example too, and that from them that have God better pleased, by their words or ways, Than any man that breatheth now-a-days) Thus to express my mind, thus to declare Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men as high as trees will write DiLalogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight For writing so: indeed, if they abuse Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use To that intent; but yet let truth be free To make her sallies upon thee and me, Which way it pleases God; for who knows how. Better than he that taught us first to plough, To guide our minds and pens for his design? And he makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that holy writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method where the cases



Do call for one thing, to set for-tl another; Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother Truth's golden bearns: nay, by this method may Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

And now, before I do put up my pen, I'll shew the profit of my book; and then Commit both thee and it unto that hand That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes The man that seeks the everlasting prize;It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes; What he leaves undone; also what he does: It also skews you how he runs and runs Till he unto the gate of glory comes. It shews, too, who set out for life amain, Ao if the lasting crown they would obtain: Here also you may see thie reason why They lose their labour, and like fools do die.

This book will make a traveller of thee, I ,f by its counsels thou wilt ruled be; it will direct thee to the Holy Land, If thou wilt its directions understand: Yea, it will make the slothful active be; The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and pro-fitable?1 Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable? Art thou forgetful? "V ouldest thou remember From New-year's day to the last of December? Then read my fancies: they will stick like burs, And may be, to the helpless, comforters.

This book was writ in such a dialect, may the minds of listless men affect:


It seems a novelty, and yet contains Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy? Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly? Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation ? Or else be drowned in thy contemplation? Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee? Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep? Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, And find thyself again without a charm? Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest not whab And yet know whether thou art blest or not, By reading these same lines? Oh then come hither, And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.




As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den,* and laid me down in that place to deep: and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burdenl Upon his back, Isa. lxiv. 6; Luke xiv. 33; Psa. xxxviii. 4. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept, and trembled; and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "1What shall I do?" Acts ii. 37, xvi. 30; ilab. i. 2, 3.
In this plight, therefore, he went home and restrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be
-silent long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them. 0 myda Wife, said he, and you the children of my bowels, 1, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am certainly informied that this our city will be burnt with fire from heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with
* Iedford Jail, in which the author was a prisoner when he wrote hi Woric.


thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet T see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered. At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing towards ni Yht, and they -hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But, the night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So when the morning was come, they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse: he also set to talking to them again; but they began to be hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriage to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire him. self to his chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to, condole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes prayin : and thus for some days he spent his time.
Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was (as he was wont) reading -in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, "What shall -I do to be saved 7" Acts xvi. 30, 31. - I
I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as if he would run; yet he stood still, because (as I perceived) he'could not tell which way to go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him,
asked, Wherefore dost thou cry?
He answered, Sir, I perceive,. by the book in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment, Heb. ix. 2 7 ; and I find that I am not willing to do the first, Job xvi. 21, 22, nor able to do the second, Ezek. xxii. 14.
Then said Evanorelist, Why not willing to die, since this. life is attended with so many evils The mau


answered, Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet, Isa. xxx. 33. And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution; and the thoughts of these things make me cry.
Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou still?3 He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Thean he gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, "Flee from the wrath to come," Matt. iii. 7.
The man, therefore, read it, and, looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I fly? Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very wide field), Do you see yonder wicket-gate ? Matt. vii. 13, 14. The man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder shining light,? Psa. cxix. 105 ; 2 Pet. i. 19. He said, I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thon see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now he had not run far from his own door, when his wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry after him to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life ! life! eternal life! Luke xiv. 26. So he looked not behind him, Gen. xix. 17, but fled towards the middle of the plain.
The neighbours also came out to see him run, Jer. xx. 10 ; and as he ran some mocked, others threatened,and some cried after him to return; and among those that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The name, of the one was Obstinate, and the name of the 'other Pliable. Now by this time the man was got a good distance from them; but, howover, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, Neighbours, wherefore are ye come? They said, To persuade you to go back with us. But he, said,


That can by no means be; you dwell, said he, in the city of Destruction, the place also where I was born: I see it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone: be content, good neighbours, and go along with me.
OBST. What! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and comforts behind us? I
CH1R. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because that all which you forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy, 2 Cor. iv. 18 ; and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself ; for there, where I go, is enough and to spare, Luke xv. 17. Come away, and prove my words.
OBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them ?
CHR. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, 1 Pet. i. 4, and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, Heb. xi. 16, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. IRead it so, if you will, in my book.
OBST. Tush! said Obstinate, away yjth your book; will you go back with us or no?
Cnn. No, not I, said the other, because I have put my hand to the plough, Luke ix. 62. IOnST. Come, then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him; there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason.
PLI. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what good Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours : my heart inclines to go with my neighbour.
OBST. What! more fools still! Be ruled by me and go back, who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be wise.
CanR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour


Pliable; there are such things to be had which I spoke of; and many more glories besides. If you believe not me, read here in this book; and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it, Heb. ix. 17-21.
PLI. Well, neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to come to a point; I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in may lot with him: but, my good companion, do you know the way to this desired place?
CHR. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall receive instruction about the way.
PLL. Come then, good neighbour, let us be going. Then they went both together.
OBST. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate; I will be no companion of such misled, fantastical fellows.
Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain; and thus they began their discourse.
CHR. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do? I am glfad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the powers and terrors- of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us the back.
PLL. Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none but us two here, tell me now further what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going.
CHR. I can better conceive of them with my mind than speak of them with my tongue: but yet since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book.
PLL. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true?
CHR. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie, Tit. i.,2.
Pu. Well said; what things are they?
CHR. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be giveh us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever, Isa. lxv. 17; John x. 27-29.



PLI. Well said; and what else?
CHR. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven, 2 Tim. iv. 8; Rev. xxii. 5; Matt. xiii. 43.
PLi. This is very pleasant; and what else? CHR. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow: for He that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes, Isa. xxv. 8; Rev. vii. 16, 17 xxi. 4.
PLI. And what company shall we have there?
CHR. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, Isa. vi. 2; 1 Thess. iv. 16, 17; Rev. v. 11, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that place; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in His presence with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns, Rev. iv. 4; there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps, Rev. xiv. 1-5; there we shall see men, that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bare to the Lord of the place, John xii. 25, all well, and clothed with immortality as with a garment, 2 Cor. v. 2-4. .
PLi. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. But are these things to be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof ?
CaR. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book, Isa. lv. 1, 2; John vi. 37, vii. 37; Rev. xxi. 6 xxii. 17; the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us freely.
PLi. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things: come on, let us mend our pace.
CHR. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back.
Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough, that


was in the midst of the plain; and they being heedless, did. both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire.
PLL. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbour Christian, where are you now?
Cnn. Truly, said Christian, 1 do not know.
PLi. At this Pliable began to be offended, and, angrily said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of ? If we have such ill-speed at our first setting out, what may wb expect between this and our journey's endl May I get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me. And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian saw him no more.
Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slougyh of Despond alone: but still he endeavoured to struggle to that side of the slough which was furthest from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back: but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him whose name was Help, and asked him, What he did there!l
CHn. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder
Kg te, that I might escape the wrath to come. And as ,~as going there, I fell in here. HELP. But why did not you look for the steps?
CHR. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next Jay, and fell in.
," HELP. Then said he, Give me thine hand: so he gave iim his hand, and he drew him out, Psa. xl. 2, and set Lim upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. j Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and id, Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from




the city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security? And he said unto me, This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended; it is the descent whither the scum and filth that attend conviction for.,JJ sin doth continually run, and therefore it is called the"," Slough of Despond; for still as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears and doubts and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them set together, and settle in this place. And this is the reason of the badness of this ground.
It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should, remain so bad, Isa. xxxv. 3, 4. His labourers also havq,, by the direction of his Majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground., if perhaps it might have been mended: yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here have been swal. lowed up at least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome instructions, that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions, (and they that can tell, say, they are the best materials to make good ground of the place,) if so be it might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despood still, and so will be when they have done what they can.
True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough ; but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside, and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there, but the ground is good when they are once got in at the gate, I Sam. xii. 23.
. Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home to his house. So his neighbours came to visit him; and some of them called him wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding himself with Christian: others again did mock at his



cowardliness; saying, Surely, since you began to venture, I -would not have been so base to have given out for a few difficulties; so Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning Pliable.
Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he espied one afar off, come crossing over the field to meet him ; and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name that met him was Mr Worldly Wiseman; he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard-by from whence Christian came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having some inkling of hiua (for Christian's setting forth from the city of Destruction was, much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town talk in some other places)-Mr Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian.
WORLD. How now, good fellow, whither away after this burdened manner?
CHR. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had! And whereas you ask me, Whither away? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket-gate before me ; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden. WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children?
-C11R. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden, that cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly; methinks I am as if I had none, I Cor. vii. 29.
WORLD. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee colinsel ?
CHR. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of goocl Counsel;
WORLD. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then; nor canst thou


enjoy the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee, till then.
CHR. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden: but get it off myself I cannot; nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my shoulders; therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden.
WORLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?7
CHR. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honourable, person: his name, as I remember, is Evangrelist.
WORLD. I beshrew him for his counsel! there is not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the world than is that into which he bath directed thee;. and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I perceive, already; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that -way. Hear me; I am older than thou: thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things, are certainly true, having been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed to a strangers
CuR. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than all these things which you have mentioned : nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden.
WORLD. How camest thou by thy burden at first?7
CHR. By reading this book in my hand.
WORLD. I thought so ; and it has happened unto thee as to other weak men, who, meddling with thingstoo high for them, do suddenly fall, into thy distractions ; which distractions do not only unman men, as, thine I perceive have done thee, but they run them


upon desperate ventures, to obtain they know not what.
CHR. I know what I would obtain; it is ease from my heavy burden.
WORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers attend it? especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could direct thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.
CHR. Sir, I pray, open this secret to me.
WORLD. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality) there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders; yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way ; ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from this place; and if he shouldld not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself; there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden : and if thou art not minded to go back to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee), thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee in this village, where there are houses now standing empty, one of which thou nayest have at a reasonable rate: provision is there also cheap and good, and that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good fashion. Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, If this be true which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice ;, ad with that he thus further spake.



CH1R. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's houso?
WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill?
CFIR. Yes, very well.
WORLD. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his.
So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr Legality's house for help; but behold, when he was got now bard-by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the way-side did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still, and wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was in his way. There came also flashes of fire, Exod. xix. 16, 18, out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that ho should be burnt ; here therefore he did sweat, and quake for fear, Heb. xii. 21. And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr Worldly Wiseman's counsel; and with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and coming up to him he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason with Christian.
EVAN. What dost thou here, Christianl said he;* at which words Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, Art thou not the man that I found crying without the walls of the city of Destruction?
CuR. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.
EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate?7
CHR. Yes, dlear sir, said Christian.
EVAN. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned aside 7 For thou art now out of the way.
CHR. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the -Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before me, find a man that could take off my burden.


EVAN. What was he?
CH1R. He looked like a gentleman. and talked much to me, and got me at last to yield: so I came hither; but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my head.
EVAN. What said that gentleman to you?
CHR. Why, he asked me whither I was going; and I told him.
EVAN. And what said he then?
CHR. He asked me if I had a family, and I told him. But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly.
EVAN. And what said he then?
CHR. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was ease that I sought: And, said II am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show me a better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you sent me in; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these burdens: so I believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if haply I might soon be eased of my burden. But when I came to this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger: but I now know not what to do.
EVAN. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that Imay skew thee the words of God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, "1See that ye refuse not him that speaketh: for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from, him that speaketh from heaven," [feb. xii. 25. He said, moreover, "Now the just shall live by faith; hut if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him," ileb. x. 38. He also did thus aply them: Thou art the man that are running into Misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Mc~t Ijigh, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of thy perdition.


Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, Woe is me, for I am undone! At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, "All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men," Matt. xii. 31. "1Be not faithless, but believing," John xx. 27. Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist.
Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest heed to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now shew thee who it was that delude 'd thee, and who it was also to whom he sent thee. That man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman; and rightly is he so called'; partly because he savoureth only of the doctrine of this world, 1 John iv. ~5 (therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church), and partly because he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the cross, Gal. vi. 12; and because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though right. Now there are three things in this man's counsel that you must utterly abhor.
1. His turning thee out of the way.
2. His labouring to render the cross odious to thee.
3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the administration of death.
First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; yea, and thine own consenting thereto; because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, "cStrive to enter in at the strait gate," Luke xiii. 24, the gate to which I send thee ; "1for strait is the gate which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it," Matt. vii. 13, 14. From this little wicket-gcate, and from the way thereto, bath this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction; hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him.
Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the cross odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt, lieb. xi. 25 26. ]Besid&,


the King of glory hath told thee, that he that will save his life shall lose it. And he that comes after Him, and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be His disciple, Mark viii. 35; John xii. 25 ; Matt. x. 39 ; Luke xiv. 26. 1 say, therefore, for man to labour to persuade thee that they shall he thy death, without which, the truth hath said, thou canst not have eternal life, this doctrine thou must abhor.
Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth to the ministration of death. And
-for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden.
He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son of the bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with her children, Gal. iv. 21-27, and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she with her children are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to he made free? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him: no, nor ever is likely to be: ye cannot be justified by the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law, no man living can be rid of his burden. Therefore, Mr Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr Legality is a cheat: and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for confirmation of 'what he had said; and with that there Camne words and fire out of the mountain, under which Poor Christian stood, which made the hair of his flesh 8tand. up. The words were thus pronounced, "1As many as are of the works of the law are under the curse;, for it is written, Cursed is every one that con-



tinueth not in all things which are written in the hook of the law to do them," Gal. iii. 10.
Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out lamentably; even cursing the time in which he met with Mr Worldly Wiseman; still calling himself a thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the prevalency with him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he applied himself again to Evangelist, in words and sense as follows.
Ca1R. Sir, what think you?2 Is there any hope?3 May I now go back, and go up to the wicket-gate ? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed? Ilam sorrylIhave hearkened to this man's counsel; but may my sin be forgiven?
EVAN. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast committed two evils ; thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has good-will for men; only, said he, take heed that thou turn not aside again, lest thou perishh from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little," Psa. ii. 12. Then did Christian address himself to go back: and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed; so he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way: nor if any asked him would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got in the way which he had left to follow Mr Worldly Wiseman's counsel; so in process of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now over the gate there was written, "cKnock, and it shall be opened unto you," Matt. vii. 7.
He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying,
may I now enter here? Will he -within Open to sorry me, though I have heen
An undeserving reel? Then shall I
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high.



At last there came a grave person to the gate named Goodwill, who asked who was there, and whence he came, and what he would have.
CHR. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the city of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered from the wrath to come : I would therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in.
GOOD. I am willing with all my heart, said he, and with that he opened the gate.
So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then said Christian, What means thau? The other told him, A little distance from this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain; from whence both be and they that are with him, shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in. Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in, the man of the gate asked him who directed him thither. I I
CHR. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock as I did: and he said that you, sir, would tell me what I must do.
GOOD. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.
CHR. Now I begin to reap the benefit of my hazards.
GOOD. But how is it that you came alone?
C11R. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.
GOOD. Did any of them know of your coming?
CHR. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn again : also some of my laeighbours stood crying and calling after me to return ; but I putmy fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.
GOOD. But did none of them follow you, to persuade You to go back?
GHR. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but wheD B 2


they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way.
GOOD. But why did he not come through?
CHR. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbour Pliable discouraged, and would not venture further. Wherefore, getting out again on the side next his own house, he told me I should possess the brave ' country alone for him: so he went his way, and I came mine; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.
GOOD. Then said. Goodwill, Alas, poor man! is the celestial glory of so little esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties to obtain it?
CHR. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable; and if I should also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and myself. 'Tis true, he went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go into the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr Worldly Wiseman.
GOOD. Oh; did he light upon you? What! he would have had you seek for ease at the hands of Mr Legality! They are both of them a very cheat. But did you take his counsel?
CHR. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head: wherefore there I was forced to stop.
GOOD. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many more: it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.
CHR. Why truly I do not know what had become of me there 9 bad not Evangelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain: than


thus tb stand talking with my Lord. But, oh, what a favour is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here !
GOOD. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they have done before they come hither: they in no wise are cast out, John iv. 37. And, therefore, good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must gd. Look before thee; dost thou see this narrow way? That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can make it: this is the way thou must go.
CER. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor windings by which a stranger may lose his way?7
GOOD. Yes, there are many ways abut down upon this, and they are crooked and wide; but thus thou mayest, distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being strait and narrow, Matt. vii. 14.
Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further, if he could not help him off with his burden, that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without
e ld im "Asa to thy burden, be content to hear it', until thou comest to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself.
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. So the other told him, that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, lie would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he would shew him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God-speed.
Then he went on till he came at the house of the In. terpreter, where he knocked over and over. At last one camne to the door, and asked who was there.
CHn. Sir, here is a traveller who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of this house to call here


for his profit; I would therefore speak with the master of the house.
So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian, and asked him what he would have.
I CHR. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the city of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion ; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate at the head of this way, that if I called here, you would shew me excellent things, such as would be helpful to me on my journey.
INTER. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will shew thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him; so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up against the wall: and this was the fashion of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was behind its back; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head.
CHR. Then said Christian, what meaneth this?
INTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand. He can say in the words of the apostle, "Though ye have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet have ye not many fathers: for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the gospel. My little children, of whom 1 travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you," I Cor. iv. 15 ; Gal. iv. 19. An(! whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted up to 'heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to shew thee, that his work is to know, and unfold dark things to sinners: even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou seest the world is cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over his head; that is to sbew thee, that slighting and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the



-world -that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have shewed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorised to be thy guide, in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way: wherefore- take good heed to what I have shewed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest iii thy journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death.
Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlour, that was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed it a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, "Bring hither water and sprinkle the room ;" and which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.
OHR. Then said Christian, What means thisI
INTER. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel. The dust is his original sin, and inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. lie that began to sweep at first, is the law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest, that as soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about, that the room could not by him be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this is to shew thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, Rom. vii. 9, put strength into, 1 Or. xv. 56, and increase it in the soul, Rorn. v. 20, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to Subdue. Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with Pleasure; this is to shew thee, that when the gospel VO0mes in the sweet and gracious influences thereof to



the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean through the faith of it, and, consequently, fit for the King of glory to inhabit, John xv. 3; Eph. v. 26; Acts xv. 9 ; Rtom. xvi. 25, 26 ; John xv. 13.
I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the band, and had him into a little room, where sat two little children, each one in his own chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much discontented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, "What is the reason of the discontent of Passion ?" The Interpreter answered, "1The gov ernor of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year; but he will have all now; but Patience is willing to wait."
Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bagr of treasure, and poured it down at his feet; the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him, but rags.
CHR. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more fully to me.
INTER. So he said, These two lads are figures; Passion, of the men of this world, and Patience, of the men of that which is to come: for as here thou seest, Passion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this world; they must have all their good things now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, "1A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with them, than all the Divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags, so will ,it be with all such men at the end of this world.
Caa. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience


has th~a best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because he will have the glory of his, when the other has nothing but rags.
INTER. Nay, you ruay add another, to wit, the glory of the next world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he had his good things at first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; for first must give place to last, because last must have his time to come; but last gives place to nothing; for there is not another to succeed: he therefore that bath his portion first, must needs have a time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly: therefore it is said of Dives, "1In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted., and thou art tormented," Luke xvi. 25.
Ci. Then I perceive it is not best to covet -things that are now, but to wait for things to come.
INTER. You say truth : -for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal, 2 Cor. iv. 18. But though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are such near neighbours one to another; and again, because things to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to another; therefore it is, that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the second, Rom. vii. ] 5-25.
Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand, and led him into a place Nvhere was a fire burning against a wall, and one standIng by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.
Then said Christian, What means this?7
The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is wrought in the heart; he that casts water UIpon it to extinguish and put it out is the devil: but 1,1 that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher


and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. go then he had him about to the other side of the wall, 'where he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast, but secretly, into the fire.
Then said Christian, What means this?
The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of His grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart; by the means of which, notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of His people prove gracious still, 2 Cor. xii. 9. And in that thou sawest, that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire; this is to teach thee, that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in the soul.
I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all in gold.
Then said Christian, May we go in thither?
Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his ink-horn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; he saw also that in the doorway stood many men in arniour to keep it, being resolved to do to the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, Set down my name, sir; the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force ; but the


man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, Matt. xi. 12 ; Acts xiv. 22, he cut his, way through them all, and pressed forward into the palace ; at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying,
Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt wi.
So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this.
Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the Interpreter, until I have shewed thee a little more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by the hand again, and led him into avery dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage.
Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hand,, folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his heart. Then said Christian, What means this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.
Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? The man answered, I am what I was not once.
CHa. What wast thou once?
MAN. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, Luke viii. 13, hoth in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others. I was once, as I thought, fair for the celestial city, and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither.
Cmi. But how camnest thou into this condition?
MAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot!'
CHR. Well, but what art thou nowI
MAN. I 1ft off to watch and be sober; I laid the reins upon the rieck of my lusts; 1 sinned against the light of



the Word, and the goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and. He is gone; I tempted the devil, and -he is come to me ; I have provoked God to anger, and He has left me; I have so hardened my heart, that I cannot repent.
Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But are there no hopes for such a man as this?7 Ask him, said the Interpreter.
CHR. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, hut you must he kept in the iron cage of despair?
MAN. No, none at all.
CHaR. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.
MAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh, Heh. vi. 6. I have despised his person, Luke xix. 14. I have despised his righteousness; I have counted his blood an unholy thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of grace, Heh. x. 28, 29. Therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises, and there now remains to me nothing hut threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of Certain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary.
CHR. For what did you bring yourself into this condition ?
MAN. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight: but now every one of those things also white me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm.
Ca1R. But canst thou not now repent and turn?
MAN. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives m e no encouragement to believe; yea, Himself hath shut me up in this iron cage; nor can all the men in the world let me out. 0 eternity, eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity!
INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery be remembered by thee, and he an everlasting caution to thee.
CHR. Well, said Christian, this is fearful! God help , ne to watch and be sober, and to pray that I may



shuir the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?
INTER. Tarry till I shall shew thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way.
So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed; and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began, and said, This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold, the heavens grew exceeding black: also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack, at an unusual rate; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven; they were all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a great voice, saying, "1Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment." And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth; some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some thought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then 1 saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame that issued out, and came before Him, a convenient distance betwixt Him and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar, 1 Cor. xv.; 1 Thess. iv. 16; Jude 15; John v. 28, 29; 2 Thess. i. 7-10; Rev. xx. 11-14; Isa. xxvi. 21; Micah Vii. 16, 17; Psa. 1. 1-3; Mal. iii. 2, 3; Dan. vii. 9, 10.- I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the mnan that sat on the cloud, "1Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake," Matt. iii. 12; xiii. 30; xxv. 30; Mal. iv. 1. And with that the bottomless pit opened., just whereabout I stood; Out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant Inanner, smoke, and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, " Gather my wheat



into the garner," Luke iii. 17. And with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds; but I was left behind, 1 Thess. iv. 16, 17. 1 also sought to hide myself, but I could not; for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept His eye upon me: my sins also came into moy mind; and my conscience did accuse me on every side, Roin. ii. 14, 15. Upon this I awakened from my sleep.
CHR. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight?
MAN. Why I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not ready for it; but this affrighted me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left me behind: also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood. My conscience too afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had always His eye upon me, shewing indignation in His countenance.
Then said the Interpreter to Christian, last thou considered these things?
Cnn. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.
INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the city. So Christian went on his way saying,
flere have I seen things rare and profitable,
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable
In what I have hegun to take in hand:
Then let me think on them, and understand
Wherefore they shew'd me were, and let me he
Thankful, 0 good Interpreter, to thee.
Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation, Isa. xxvi. 1. Up this way therefore did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back.



He fan thus till he came to a place somewhat ascending; and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. ,
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, 11 He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death." Then he stood. still a while to look and wonder, for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks, Zech. xii. 10. Now as he stood looking and weeping, behold, three SbiningODes came to him and saluted him with, 11 Peace be to thee." So the first said to him, 11 Thy sins be forgiven thee," Mark ii. 5; the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment, Zech. iii. 4; the third also set a mark on his forehead, Eph. i. 13, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bade him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the celestial gate: so they went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing,
Thus far did I come laden with my sin;
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,
Till I came hither: what a place is this!
Must here be the beginning of my bliss?
Must here the burden fall from off my back?
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack?
Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be The Man that there was put to shame for me
I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even till he came at the bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their heels. The name of one was Simple, of another Sloth, and of the third Presumption.
Christian then seeiDg them lie in this case, went to


them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, Prov. xxiii. 34 ; for the dead sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom: awake, therefore, and come away; be willing, also, and I will help you off with your irons. He also told them, If he that goeth about like a roaringr lion, 1 Pet. v. 8, comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth. With that they looked upon him and began to reply in this sort: Simple said, I see no danger; Sloth said, Yet a little more sleep ; and Presumption said, Every tub must stand upon its own bottom. And so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.
Yet was he troubled to think, that men in that danger should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, both by awakening of them, counselling of them, and proffering to help them, off with their irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over the wall on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into discourse.
CHR. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you ?
FORM. and Hvp. We were born in the land of Vainglory, and are going for praise to Mount Zion.
Cnn. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning of the way? Know ye not that it is written, that "he that cometh not in by the door, but climheth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber?" John x. 1.
FORM. and Hvp. They said, that to go to the gate for entrance was, by all their countrymen, counted too far about ; and that, therefore, their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had done.
CHR. But will it not be counted a trespass against



the Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will ?
FORM. and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, he needed not trouble bis head thereabout: for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were, testimony that could witness it, for more than a thousanJ years.
CHR. But, said. Christian, will it stand a trial at law I FORM. and Hyp. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing as above a thousand years, would doubtless now be admitted as. a thing legal by an impartial judge; and besides, said they, if we get into the way, what matter is it which way we get in 7 If we are in, we are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate ; and we are also in tb e way, that came tumbling over the wall: wherein now is thy condition n better than ours 7
CHR. I walk by the rule of my Master: you walk by the rude working of -your fancies. You are counted thieves already by the Lord of the way: therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the Nvay. You come in by yourselves without his direction, and shall go out by yourselves without his mercy.
To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went Oil every man in his way, without much conference one 'With another: save that these two men. told Christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but that they should as conscientiously do them as he. Therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou different frorn US, but by the coat that is on thy back, which was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbours to hide the shame of thy nakedness.
011R. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, Since you came not in by the door, Gal. ii. 16. And as for this coat that is on ray back, it was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to Cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of his kindness to me; for I had nothing but rags before.,



And, besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have his coat on my back; a coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which, perhaps, you have taken no notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go in the way; I was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my certain going in after it ; all which things I doubt you want, and want them because you came not in at the te.
To these things t ey gave him no answer; only they looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept before, who had no more .talk but jth himself, and sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably: also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed.
I beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to the fQo ' tl-, of the hili Difficulty, at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in the same place two other ways, besides that which came straight from the gate: one turned to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side of the hilb is called Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring, Isa. xlix.'10, and drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go up the hill, saying,
The bill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend;
For I perceive the way to life lies here;
Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe,
The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go; and supposing-



also that these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went, on the other side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now the name of one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took the way which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood; and the other took directly up the way to Destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more.
I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now about the mid-way to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers. Thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him; then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was given him as he stood by the cross. Thus pleasing himself a while, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, 11 Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise," Prov. vi. 6. And with that Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill.
Now, when he was got up to the top of the'hill, there came two men running amain; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust; -to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's'the matter? you run the wrong Way. Timorous answered, that they were going to the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult cil place: but, said he, the farther we go, the more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back again.
Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of


lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking -we know not; and. we could not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces.
CEIR. Then said Christian, You make me afraid; but whither shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to my own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there; if I can get to the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there; I must venture. To go back is nothing but death: to go forward is- fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it: I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian wen. t on his way. But thinking again of what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein, and be comforted; but he felt, and found it'not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At lasthe bethought himself that he had slept in the arbour that is on the side of the hill; and, falling down upon his knees, he asked God forgiveness for that his foolish act, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart? Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftefitimes he chid himse f for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment from his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and. on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find his roll that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. Ile went thus till he came again within sight of the arbour where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing aaaln, even afresh his evil of sleeping unto his mind, Rev. ii. 4) 5; 1 Thess. v. 6-8. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, 0 wretched man that I am, that I should sleep in the day.-time! that I should sleep in the. midst of difficulty! that I should


so indulge the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh, which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims! How many steps have I taken in vain! Thus it happened to Israel; for their sin they were sent hack again hy the way of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have heen on my way hy this time! I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which I needed not to have trod hut Once: yea, also, now I am like to he benighted, for the day is almost spent. 0 that I had'not slept!
Now hy this time he was come to the armour again, where for a while he sat down and wept ; hut at last (as Providence would have it) looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the which he, with trembling and haste, catched up, and put it into his hosom. But who -can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his roll again? for this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his hosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears retook himself again to his journey. But oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he hegan again to condole with himself. 0 thou sinful sleep! how for thy sake am I like to he benighted in my journey! I must walk. without the sun, darkness Must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the no0ise of the 'doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep! Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him, of how they were frighted. 'With the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the night for their prey, and if they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them ? how should I escape heing hy them torn in piecesI Thus he went on his way. But



while he was thus bewailin his unhappy miscarriage., he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway-side, Rev. iii. 2 ; I Thess. v. 7, 8.
So I saw in my dream, that be made baste, and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the Porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before. him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them; for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt, as if be would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength so small? Mark iv. 40. Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for the discovery of those that have none: keep in the
-midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee.
Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of the lions; but taking good heed to the directions of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this I and may I lodge here to-night ? The Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. The Porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going.
CHR. I am come from the city of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion; but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night.
PoRT. What is your name?
CHR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the-


first was Graceless: I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem, Gen. ix. 27.
PORT. But how doth it happen that you come so late?7 The sun is set.
CHR. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill side! Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much sooner, but that in rmy sleep I lost my evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill! and then feelings fur it, and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am come.
PORT. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. So Watchful, the Porter, rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the d oor of the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called.
The Porter answered, This man is on a journey from the city of Destruction to Mount Zion: but being weary and benighted, he asked me if be might lodge here to-night: so I told him I would call for thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the house.
Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he 'Was. going; and he told her. She asked him also how hie got into the way; and he told her. Then she asked himi what he had seen and met with on the way; and he told her. And at last she asked his name. So he Baid, It is Christian; and I have so much the more 4 desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill fur the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes ; and after a little pause she said, I will call forth two or three more of my family. So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, &tid Charity, who, after a little more discourse with


him, had him into the family; and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, Come in, tlhou blessed of the Lord; this house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to entertain such pilgrimC in. Then he bowed his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented together that, until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him; and thus they began.
PITY. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to you to receive you into our house this night, let uS, if perhaps we may better ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage.
C~g. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are 0o well disposed.
PIETY. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life?
CuR. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine ears; to wit, that una-oidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that place where I was.
PfETY. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way?
CUR. It was as God would have it; for when I was under the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to go; but by chance there came a man, even to me, as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the Wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me into the way that hath led me directly to this house.
PIETY. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter ?
(nR. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will stick by me as long as I live, especially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite


of Satan, maintains his work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's mercy ; and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of judgment was come.
PIETY. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ?
CHR. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought; it made my.heart ache as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I beard it.
PIETY. Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpret ? I
CHR. 0; he took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how there came a venturous man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him out; and how he was bid to come in and win eternal glory.- Metho'ugbt those things did ravish my heart. I would have stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I bad further to go.
PIETY. And what saw you else in the way 7
CHR. Saw? Why I went but a little further, and I saw one, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon a tree; and the ver ' y sight of him made my burden fall off my back; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, and then it fell down from off me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before: yea, and while I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me of my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll (and with that he plucked it out of his bosom).
PIETY. But you saw more than this, did you not?
CHR. The things that I have told you were the best; yet some other matters I saw, as namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little out of the way as I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could awake them I I also saw


Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion; but they wore quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' mouths ; and truly, if it had not 'been for the good man the porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have gone back again ; but now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving of me.
Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to them.
PR. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came?
CHR. Yes, but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if 1 had been mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have had opportunity to have returned: but now I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one, Heb. xi. 15, 16.
PR. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were conversant withal?
CHR. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now, all those thing s are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things m-ore; but when I would be doing that which is best, that which is worst is with me, Rom. Vii, 15-21.
PR. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity ?
CHin. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such things happen to me.
P.R. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances, at .times, as if they were vanquishedI
CHR. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it: and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when 1 look into the roll that


I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.
PR. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion ?
CHR. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang, dead on the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me; there they say there is no death, Isa. xxv. 8 ; Rev. xxi. 4, and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love him, because I was by him eased of my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy.
Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family? Are you a married man?
CHR. I have a wife and four small children.
CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you?2
CUR. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have done it!1 but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.
CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and have endeavoured to have shewn them the danger of staying behind.
CHR. SO I did, and told them also what God had shewn to me of the destruction of our city ; hut I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not, Gen. xix. 14.
CHAR. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them?
CHR. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that my wife and poor children were very dear unto me.
CHAR. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you.
CUR. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also


see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehewision of the judgment that did hang over our heads: but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.
CHrAR. But what could they say for themselves why they came not?7
CHR. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given to the foolish delights of youth; so what by one thing, and what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone.
CHAR. But did you not with your vain life damp all that you, by words, used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?
CHR. Indeed I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know also that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow what by argument or persuasion he doth labour to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on pilgrimagre. Yea, for this very thing, they would tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if what they saw in me did hinder them, *it was my great tenderness in sinning against
Goor of doing any wrongr to my neighbour.
CHAR. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, 1 John iii. 12,' because his own works were evil, and his brother's righteous; and if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby shew themaselves to be implacable to good; thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood, Ezek. iii. 19.
Now I, saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table was furnished with fat things, and wine that was well refined; and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had


builder that house; and by what they said, I perceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the power of death, Heb. ii. 14, 15, but not without great danger to himself, which made me love him the more.
For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he did it -with the loss of much blood. But that which puts the glory of grace into all he did, was, that he did it out of pure love to this country. And, besides, there were some of them of the household that said they had seen and spoke with him since he did die on the cross; and they have attested, that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west. They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed; and that was, he had stripped himself of his glory, that he might do this for the poor; and that they had heard him say and affirm, that he would not dwell in the mountains of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their original had been the dunghill, I Sam. ii,, 8 ; Psa. cxiii. 7.
Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after they had committed themselves to their, Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun-rising. The name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then, he awoke and sang,
Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are,
Thus to provide that I should be fbrgiveD,
And dwell already the nex b door to heaven!
So in the morning they all got up; and after some more discourse, they told him that he should not depart till they had shewn him the rarities of that place. And first they had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; in whicb, as I remember in my dream, they showed him first the


pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient of days, and came by an eternal generation. Here also were more fully recorded the acts that he had done, and the name~s of many hundreds that he had taken into his service; and how he had placed them in such habitations, that could neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved.
Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had done ; as how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped. the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens, Heb. xi. 33, 34.
They then read again in another part of the records of the house, where it was shewn how willing their Lord was to receive into his favour any, even any, though they in time past had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a view; as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.
The next day they took him, and had him into the armoury, where they skewed him all manner of furni-, ture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord, as there be stars in the heaven for multitude.
They also shewed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. They skewed him Moses's rod; the hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they shewed him the ox's goad, wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They skewed hin


also the jaw-bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They shewed him moreover the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with which their Lord will kill the men of sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They shewed him besides many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done, they went to their rest again.
Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forwards, but they desired him to, stay till the next day also; and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, shew you the Delectable Mountains ; which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort,, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was; so he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant, mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers, also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold, Isa. xxxiii. 16, 17. Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Immanuel's land; and it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear.
Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. But first, said they, let us go again into, the armoury. So they did, and when he came there, they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus accoutred, walked out with his friends to the gate; and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by. Then the Porter answered, Yes.
Can. Pray did you know him? said he.
PORT. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful
CHR. Oh, said Christian, I know him; he is -my



townsm Ian, my near, neighbour ; he comes from the, place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before?
PORT. He has got by this time below the hill.
CHR. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou hast shewed to me.
Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together reiterating their former discourses, till they came to gro down the hill Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the Valley of Humiliation. as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very warily: yet he caught'a slip or two.
Then I saw in my dream, that these good companions, when Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he went his way.
But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it; for he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend -coming over the field to mneet him: his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his, mind whether to go back, or to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no armour for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the hack to him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts ; therefore he resolved to venture, and stand lhis ground ; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it -would be the best way to stand.
ISo he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous to behold; he was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride; he had wings,


like a dragon, and feet like 'a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke ; and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, hie beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him.
APOLLYON. Whence came you, and whither are you bound?
CHn. I am come from the city of Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and I am going to the city of Zion.
APOL. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects ; for all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not that I hope that thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the ground.
CHR. I was indeed born in your dominions, but your service was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on; for the wages of sin is death, iRom. vi. 23; therefore when I was come to years, I did, as other considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might mend myself.
APoL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will Ilas yet lose thee; but since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back, and what our country will afford, I do here promise to give thee.
CHn. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and how can I with fairness go back with thee?
APOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, changedd a bad for worse ;" but it is ordinary for 'those that have professed themselves his servants, after a while to give him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.
CnnR. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to him ; how then can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor? adytIa
APOL. Thou didst the same to me, adytIa



willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt $yet turn again and go back.
CHR. What I promised thee was in my nonage: and besides, I count that the Prince, under whose banner I nlow stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee. And besides, 0 thou destroying Apollyon, to speak truth, I like his service, his wages, his servants, his government, his company, and country, better than thine; therefore leave off to persuade me further; I am his servant, and I will follow him.
APOL. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most part his servants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How many of them have been put to shameful deaths?7 And besides, thou countest, his service better than mine ; whereas he never came yet from the place where he- is, to deliver any that served him out of their hands ; but as for me, how many times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his, though taken by them! And so I will deliver thee.
CHR. His forbearing at present to deliver them, is on purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end; and as for the 'ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance, they do not much expect it ; for they stay for their glory; and then they shall have it, when their Prince comes in his, and the glory of the angels.
APOL. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him: and how dost thou think to receive wages of him?
CHR. Wherein, 0 Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to himI
AroL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, -when thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of Despond. Thou didst


attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things. Thou wast also almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, thou, art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest.
CR. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the Prince whom I serve and honour is merciful and ready to forgive. But, besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy country; for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned under them, beeu sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince.
APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous ragfe, saying, I am an enemy to this Prince: I hate his person, his laws, and people; I am come out on purpose to withstand thee.
CR. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway, the way of holiness; therefore take heed to yourself.
APOr. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no further: here will I spill thy soul. And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast; hut Christian had a shield in his hand, withwhich he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that.
Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and Apnllyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a little hack; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent. For you must know, that Christian, by reason -of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.



Then Apollyon, espying his. opportunity, began. to gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now. And with that he had almost pressed him to death; so that Christian began to despair of life. But as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, 0 mine enemy; when I fall, I shall arise, Mic. vii. 8; and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying, Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us, Rom. viii. 37. And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him no more, James iv. 7
In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the flight; he spake like a dragon; and, on the other side, what sighs and groan s burst from Christian's heart. 'I never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward; but it was the dreadfullest fight that I ever saw.
So when the battle was over, Christian *said, I will here give thanks to him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion; to him that did help me against Apollyon. And so he did, saying,
Great Beeizehub, the captain of this fiend,
Pesign'd my ruin; therefore to this end
lie Sert him harness'd out, and he with rage.
That heiiish was, did fiercely me eniuage:
But hiessed Michaei helped me, and I,
By dint of sword, did qnickiy make him fly: Therefore to him iet me give lasting praise, And thank and hiess his hoiy name always.
Then there came to him a hand with some of the



leaves of the tree of life, the which Christian took, and apIplied to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed immediately. le also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given to him a little before; so being refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand; for, hie said, I know not but some other enemy may be at hand. But he met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this valley.
Now at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the Shadow of Death; and Christian must needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it. Now, this valley is a very solitary place; the prophet Jeremiah thus describes it: "A. wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of" drought, and of the shadow of death, a land that no man," but a Christian, " passeth through, and where no nian dwelt," Jer. ii. 6.
Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see.
I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of the good land, Numb. xiii. 32, making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as follows.
CHR. Whither are you going?
MEN. They said, Back, back; and we would have you do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you.
CHR. Why, what's the matter? said Christian.
MEN. Matter? said they: we were going that way as you are going, and went as far as we durst; and indeed we were almost past coming back; forbhad we gone a, little further, we had not been here to bring the news to thee.
CHR. But what have you met with? said Christian.
MEN. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it, Pea. xliv. 19; c vii. 10.



CHR. But what have you seen? said Christian.
MEN. Seen? why the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch: we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also in that valley a continual howling a ' nd yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons ; and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds of confusion: death also does always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly without order, Job iii. 5 ; x. 22.
CHR. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that this is my way to the desired haven, Psa. x1iv. 1. 81 19 ; Jer. ii. 6.
MEN. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours.
So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted.
I saw then in my dream, as far as this valley reached, there was on the right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it, into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand, there was a very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his foot to stand on; into that quag king David - once did fall, and had no doubt there been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out) Psa. Ixix. 14.
The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good Christian was the more put to it; for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other; also when he sought to escape the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly ; for besides the danger mentioned above, the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lifted up his foot to go forward, he knew not where or UpOn what he should set it next.
About the midst of this valley I perceived the mout),



of hell to be, and it stood also bard by the wayside, Now, thought Christian, what shall I do? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that be was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called all-prayer, Epb. vi. 18: so he crie . in my hearing, 0 Lord, I beseech tbee, deliver my soul, Psa. cxvi. 4. Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards him; also be heard doleful voices, and rushing to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by him, for several miles together; and coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends Coming forward to meet him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back ; then again he thought he might be half way through the valley. He remembered, also, how he had already vanquished many a danger; and that the danger of going back might be much more than to go forward. So he resolved to go on ; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But when they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the strength of the Lord God. So they gave back, and came no further.
One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now

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


either to stop his ears, or to know from whence those "k blasphemies came.
When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, Psa. xxiii. 4.
Then was he glad, and that for these reasons:
First, Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God, were in this valley as well as himself. .
Secondly, For that he perceived God. was with them, though in that dark and dismal state. And. why not. thought he, with me I though by reason of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it, Job ix. 11.
Thirdly, For that he hoped. (could he overtake them) to have company byand by. So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew not what to answer, for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by and by the day broke: then said Christian, "He turned the shadow of death into the morning," Amos V. 8.
Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw the. hobgoblins, and satyrs,. and dragons of the pit, but all afar, off; for after break of day they came not nigh, yet they were discovered to him, according to that which is written, " He discovered deep things out of darkness, and. bringeth out to light the shadow of death," Job xii. 22.
Now was Christian much affected with this deliverance from. all the dangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw them more clearly' now, because the, light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And about.this


time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian ; for you must note, that though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of IDeath was dangerous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far more dangerous; for, from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down there, that had it now been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he bad a thousand souls, they bad in reason been cast away; but, as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he,11~ His candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go through darkness," Job xxix. 3.
In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of the valley lay blood,, ashes, and mangled bodies of meni, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly; and while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old time; by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, &c., lay there, were cruelly put to death. But by this place Christian went without danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; hut I have learned since, that Pagan has been dead many a day; and as for the other, though he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, -and also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more than sit in his, cave's mouth, grinning .at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come at them.
So I saw that Christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the old man that sat at the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think, especially because he spoke to him, though he could not go after him, saying, You will never mend till more of you be burned. But he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by, anad catched no hurt. Then sang Christian:



o world of wonders (I can say no less).
That I should be preserved in that distress That I have met with here! 0 blessed he That hand that from it hath dehiver'd me!I Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, Did compass me, while I this vale was in;
Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie
My path ahout, that worthless, silly I
Might have heen catch'd, entangled, and cast down:
But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown.
Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there, therefore, Christian went, and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud, Ho,. ho: so-ho: stay, and I will be your companion. At that Faithful looked behind him; to whom. Christian cried, Stay, stay, till I come up to you. But Faithful answered, No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me.
At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him ; so the last was first. Then did Christian vaingloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother; but not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him.
Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly onl together, and had sweet discourse of all things thatt had happened to them in their pilgrimage, and thus Christian began.
CHR. My honoured and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits, that we can walk as comupanions in this so pleasant a path.
FAITH. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from our town ; but you did get the start of me; wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way alone.
CHR. How long did you stay in the City of DestruOa, tion, before you set out after me on your pilgrimage?


FAITH. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was great talk presently after you were gone out, that our city -would in a short time, with fire from heaven, be burnt down to the ground.
CHR. What! did your neighbours talk so?
FAITH. Yes; it was for a while jn everybody's mouth.
CHR. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger 7
FAITH. Though there was, as - I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. For in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey; for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did believe, and, do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from above; and therefore I have made my escape.
CHR. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable?
FAITH. Yes, Christian; I heard that he followed yon till he came to the Slough of Despond, -where, as s ' ome said, he fell in; but he would not be known to have so done; but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt.
CHR. And what said the neighbours to him 7
FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of people some do mock and despise him, and scarce will any set him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city.
CHR. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despise the way that he forsook?
FAITH. Oh they say, Hang him; he is a turncoat, he was not true to his profession! I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way, Jer. xxix. 189 19.
CHR. Had you no talk with him before you came out?
FAITH. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to him.


CH1R. Well, at my first setting, out I had hopes of that man, but now I fear he will perish in the over. throw of the city. For it has happened to him according to the true proverb, "The dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire," 2 Pet. ii. 22.
FAITH. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which will be?7
R. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him, and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met with in the way as you came;- for I know you have met with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder.
FAITH. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into, and got up to the gate without that danger; only I met with one whose name was Wanton, who had like to have done me a mischief.
CHR. It was well you escaped her net; Joseph was hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have cost him his life, Gen. xxxix. 11-13. But what did she do to you?
FAITH. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me all maanner of content.
OR. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience.
FAITH. You know that I mean all carnal and fleshly content.
CHR. Thank God you have escaped her; the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into her ditch, Prov. xxii. 14.
FAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.
CHR. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her desires?
FAITH. No, not to defile myself ; for I remembered an old writing that I had seen, which said, "1Her steps take hold of hell," Prov. v. 5. So I shut mine eye,]


because I would not be bewitched with her looks, Job xxxi. 1. Then she railed on me, and I went my way.
CHR. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?7
FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither'bound. I told him that I was a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell with mne, for the wages that I shall give thee? Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the first, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit, Eph. iv. 22. 1 asked him then what was his work, and what the wages that he would give. He told me, that his work was wmany delights : and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I further asked him what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me that his house was maintained with all the dainties of the world and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then I asked him how many children he had. He said that he had but three daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life, 1 John ii. 16, and that I should marry them, if I would. Then I asked, how long time he would have me live with him. And he told me, as long as he lived himself.
CHR. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?7
FAITH. Why, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his deeds."
CHR. And how then?7
FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I *Would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me


that he would send such a one after me that would make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him ; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself : this made me cry, "10 wretched man! " Rom. vii. 24. So I went on my way up the hill.
Now when I had got ab'Out half way up, I looked behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift a's the wind; so he overtook me just about the place where the settle stands.
CHR. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me; but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom.
FAITH. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, because of my secret inclining to Adam the first. And with that he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward; so I laid at his foot as dead as before. So when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy: but he said, I know not how to shew mercy; and with that he knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by, and bid him forbear.
CHR. Who was that that bid him forbear?
FAITH.L I did not know him at first; but as be went by, I perceived the holes in his hands and his side:then I con6Thded that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill.
CHR. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none; neither knoweth he how to shew mercy to those that transgress his law.
FAITH. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he has met with me. 'Twas he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me lie would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.


CHR. But did not you see the house that stood there, on the top of that hill on. the side of which Moses met you?
FAITH. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But for the lions, I think they were asleep, for it was about noon ; and because I had so much of the day before me, I passed by the Porter and came down the hill,
CHR. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wish that you had called at the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me ' did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility ?
FAITH. Yes, I met -with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me to go back again with him: his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without honour. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disoblige all my friends, as. Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would be very much offended, if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through this valley.
CHR. Well, and how did you answer him?
FAITH. I told him, that although all these that he named might claim a kindred of me, and that rightly, (for indeed they were my relations according to the flesh), yet since I became a pilgrim, they have disowned me, and I also have rejected them; and therefore they were to me now no more than, if they had never been of my lineage. I told him moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing; for before honour is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall. Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this valley to the honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he esteemed most worthy of our affections.
CHR. Met you with nothing else in that valley 7
FAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men


that I met with in my pilgrimage, be, I think, bears the wrong name. The other would be said nay, after a little argumentation, and somewhat else; but this boldfaced Shame would never have done.
CHR. Why, what did he say to you 7
FAITH. Wtat? why he objected against religion itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion. He said, that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss of all, for nobody else knows what, I Cor. i. 26, iii. 18; Phil. iii. 7-9 ; John vii. 48. He, moreover, objected the base and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived ; also their ignorance and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also about a great many more things than here I relate; as, that. it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning home ; that it was a shame to ask my neighbour forgiveness for my petty faults, or to make restitution where I have taken from any. He said also, that religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices (which he called by finer names), and made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious fraternity: and is not this, said he, a shame?
CHR. And what did you say to him?
FAITH. Say 7 1 could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me quite off. But at last I began to consicler, that that which is highly esteemed au', is had in



abomination with God, Luke xvi. 15. And I thought again, This Shame tells me what men are; but he tells Ine nothing what God, or the Word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life, according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best-is best, though all the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers his religion; seeing God prefers a tender conscience; seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world that hates him; Shame, depart, thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign Lord? how then shall I look him in the face at his Qoming 7 Mark viii. 38. Should I now be ashamed of his ways and servants, how can I expect the blessing?
But indeed this Shame was a bold villain ; I could scarcely shake him out of my coDxPany; yea, he would be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the ear, with some one or other of the infirmities that attend religion. But at last I told him, 'twas but in vain to attempt further in this business ;, for those things that he disdained in those did I see most glory: and so at last I got past this importunate one. And
when I had shaken him off, then I began to sing:
The trials that those men do meet withal,
That are obedient to the heavenly call,
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
And come, and come, and come again afresh, q That now, or some time else, we by them may
Be taken, overcome, and cast away.
Oh let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then, Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men.
CHR. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withrAand. this villain so bravely; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to'attempt to put us to shame' before all men; that is, to make us ashamed of



that which is good. But if he was not himself audacious, he would never attempt to do as, he does. But let us still resist him; for notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none -else. "'The wise sh&U inherit glory," said Solomon; "but shame shall be the promotion of fools," Prov. iii. 35.
FAITH. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame, that would have us to be valiant for truth upon earth.
CHR. You say true; but did you meet nobody else in that valley?
FAITH. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of ,the way through that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
CHR. 'Twas well for you; I "am - sure it fared far otherwise with me. I had for a long season, ' as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollyon: yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especially when he got me down, and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces ; for as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand: nay, he told me he was sure of me: but I cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and over; but at last day brake, and the sun, arose, and I went through that which was behind with fartaore ease and quiet.
Moreover, I saw in my dream, that 'as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name was Talkative, walking at a distance besides them; for in this place there wag room enough for them all to walk. He was. a tall man, and something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner.
FAITH. Friend, whither away 7 Are you going. to the heavenly country ?
TALK. I am going to that same place.'



FAITH. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company.
TALK.With a very good will, will I be your companion.
FAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable.
TALK. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with you, or with any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work; for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they are in their travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and this hath been a trouble to me.
FAITH. This is, indeed, a thing to be lamented : for what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of heaven?
TALK. I like you wonderful well, for your saying is full of conviction; and I will add, What thing so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God? What things so pleasant? that is, if a man hath any delight in things that are wonderful. For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history, or the mystery of things ; or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things recorded so delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scriptures?
FAITH. That's true; but to be profited by such things in our talk, should be that which we design.
TALK. That's it that I said; for to talk of such things is most profitable ; for by so doing, a man may get knowledge of many things ; as of the vanity of earthly things, and the benefit of things above. Thus in general; but more particularly, by this a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, etc. Besides, by this, a man may learn, what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like ; by this, also, a man D 2



may learn 1 what are the great promises and consolations of the gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a inan may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the ignorant.
FAITH. All -this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.
TALK. Alas! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life ; but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven.
FAITH. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God; no man attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk of them.
TALK. All that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven; all is of grace, not of works. 1 could give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this.
FAITH.Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall at this time found. our discourse upon?
TALK.What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, or things earthly; things moral, or things evangelical; things sacred, or things profane; things past, or things to come; things foreign, or things at home ; things more essential, or things circumstantial; provided that all be done to our profit.
FAITH. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and stepping to Christian (for he walked all this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, What a brave companion have we got! Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim.
CHR. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man with whom you are so taken, will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not.
FAITH. Do you know him then?
CHR. Know him Yes, better than he knows himself.
FAITH. Pray what is he?


Can. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should be a stranger to him; only I consider that our town is large.
FAITH. Whose son is he? And whereabout doth he dwell?7
CHR. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in Prating Row, and he is known to all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating Row; and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow.
FAITH. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.
CHR. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is best abroad; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man, brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures shew best at a distance, but very near more unpleasing.
FAITH. But I aii ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.
CHR. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is for any company, and for any talk ; as he talketh now with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench ; and the more drink he bath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his mouth. Religion bath no place in his heart, or house, or conversation; all he bath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise therewith.
FAITH. Say you so? Thcn am I in this man greatly deceived.
Can. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, "They say, and do not;" but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power, Matt. xxiii. 3i; 1 Cor.' iv. 20. He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at home and abroad ; and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion, as the white of an egg is of savour. There



is there neither prayer, nor sign of repentance for sin;y ea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and, shame of re., ligion to all that know him, Rom. ii. 24, 256; it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the common people that know him: "A saint abroad, and a devil at home. " His poor family finds it so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that have any dealings with him say, It is better to deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealings they shall have at their hands. This Talkative (if it be possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to follow his steps; and. if he finds in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of, a tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, and %by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendation before others. For my part, I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and fall; and will be, if God prevents not, the ruin of many more.
FAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to, believe you, not only because you say you know him, but also because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. For I cannot think that you speak these things of illwill, but because it is even so as you say.
CHR. Had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps, have thought of him as at the first you did; yea, had I received this report at their hands only, that are enemies to religion, I should have th ought it had been a slander-a lot that oft falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's names and professions. But all these things, yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge, I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him; they can neither call him brother nor friend ; the very naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know, him.


FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I shall better observe this distinction.
CHPn They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the body ; for as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcase also. The soul of religion is the practical part. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and the widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world," James i. 27; see also verses 22-26. This Talkative is not aware of; he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed; talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure ourselves, that at the day of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits, Matt. xiii. 23. It will not be said then, Did you believe? but, Were you doers, or talkers only? and accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared to our harvest, Matt. xiii. 30; and you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted that is not of faith; but I speak this to shew you how insignificant the profession of Talkative will be at that day.
FAITH. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he describeth the beast that is clean, Lev. xi. ; Deut. xiv. He is such a one that parteth the hoof, and cheweth the cud; not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative ; he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the word; but he divideth not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners, but, as the hare, retaineth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean.
CHR. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel sense of these texts. And I will add another thing; Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great



talkers too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, I Cor xiii. 1-3 ; that is, as he expounds them in another place, things without life, giving sound, 1 Cor. xiv. 7. Things without life; that is, without the true faith and grace. of the gospel; and, consequently, things that shall never be placed i n the kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of life ; though their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel.
FAITH. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am sick of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him?
CHR. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he will soon be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart and turn it.
FAITH-. What would you have me to do?
OHR. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse, about the power of religion, and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will), whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation. .FAITH. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, Come, what cheer? How is it now?
TALK. Thank you, well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this time.
FAITH. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and since you left it with me to state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace of God discover itself when it is in the heart of man?
TALK. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my an.swer in brief, thus. First, where the -grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin. SecondlyFAITH. Nay, hold, let us consider of one at once. I think you should rather say, It shews itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin.
TALK. 'Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and abhorring of sin?
FAITH. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out against



sin, of policy; but he cannot abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very chaste; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness with him, Gen. xxxix. 12-15. Some cry out against sin, even as the mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it.
TALK. You lie at the catch, I perceive.
FAITH. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart?
TALK. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries.
FAITH. This sign should have been first; but first or last, it is also false; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child of God, 1 Cor. xiii. 2. When Christ said, "Do ye know all these things ?" and the disciples had answered, Yes, he added, "Blessed are ye if ye do them." He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: "He that knoweth his master's will, and doth it not." A man may know like .an angel, and yet be no Christian; therefore, your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know, is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters: but to do, is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can be good without knowledge, for without that the heart is naught. There is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge; knowledge that resteth in the bare speculation of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace and faith of love, which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart: the first of these will serve the talker; but without the other the true Christian is not content.



"Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart," Psa. cxix. 34.
TALK. You lie at the catch again; this is not for edification.
FAITH. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace discovereth itself where it is.
TALK. Not I; for I see we shall not agree.
FAITH. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it?
TALK. You may use your liberty,
FAITH. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to him that hath it, or to standers by.
To him that hath it thus: It gives him conviction of sin, especially the defilement of his nature, and the sin of unbelief, for the sake of which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ. This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin, Psa. xxxviii. 18; Jer. xxxi. 19; John xvi. 8; Rom. vii. 24; Mark xvi. 16; Gal. ii, 16; Rev. i. 5, 6. He findeth, moreover, revealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute neces. sity of closing with him for life; at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after him; to which hungerings, etc., the promise is made. Now, according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour, so is his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know him more, and also to serve him in this world. But though I say, it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude that this is a ,Pork of grace; because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make his mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore in him that hath this work there is required a very sound judgment before he can with steadiness conclude that this is a work of grace, John xvi. 9; Gal. ii. 15, 16; Acts iv. 12; Matt v. 6; Rev. xxi. 6.
To others it is thus discovered:1. By an experimental confession of faith in Christ. 2. By a life answerable to that confession ; to wit, a life



of holiness, heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath ai family), and by conversation-holiness in the world ; which in the general teacheth him inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret; to suppress it in his family, and to promote holiness in the world; not by talk only, as 'a hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to the power of the word, Job xlii. 5, 6; _Psa. 1. 23 ; Ezek. xx. 43; Matt. v. 8; John xiv. 15; IRom. x. 10; Ezek. x xxvi. 25; Phil. i. 27, iii. 17. And now, sir, as to this brief description of the work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object; if not, then give me leave to propound to you a second question.
TALK. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear; let me, therefore,~ have your second question.
FAITH. It is this: Do you experience this first part of this description of it? And doth your life and conversation testify the same?7 or standeth your religion in word or tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say no more than you know the God above will say Amen to, and also nothing but what your conscience can justify you in; for not he that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say, I am thus and thus, when my conversation, and all my neighbours, tell me I lie, is great -wickedness.
Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself, thus he replied: You come now to experience, to conscience, and God; and to appeal to him for justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect; nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechiser; and though you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions?
FAITH. Because I saw you forward to tak, and because I knew not that you had aught else but notion.


Besides, to tell you aif the truth, I have heard of youl that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that y our conversation gives this your mouth-profession the lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly conversation; that some already have stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby; your religion, and an alehouse, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said of a whore, to wit, "That she is a shame to all women."' So you are a shame to all professors.
TALK. Since you are ready to take up reports, igid to judge so rashly as you do, I canno t but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with; and so adieu.
Then came up Christian and said to his brother, I told you how it would happen ; your words and his lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your company than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said-. let him go; the loss is no man's but his own,; he has saved us the trouble of going from him; for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the apostle says, "From such withdraw thyself."
FAITH. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him ; it may happen that he- will think of it again: however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his blood, if he porishetti.
Can. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. There is but little. of this faithful, dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes religion to stink in the nostrils of so many as it doth ; for they are these talkative fools, whose religion is only in word, and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that (being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly) do p uzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve tho sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such as




you have clone; then should they either be made more conformable to religion, or the company of saints would be too hot for them.
How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes!
How bravely doth he, speak! How he presumes
To drive down all before him! But so soon
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon
That's past the full, into the wane he goes;
And so will all but he that heart-work knows.
Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made that way easy, which would otherwise no doubt have been tedious to them, for now they went through a wilderness.'
I Now when they had got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh! said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder? Then Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist. Ay, and my good friend too, said Faithful, for it was he that set me on the way to the gate. Now was Evangelist come up with them, and thus saluted them.
EVAN. Peace be to you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers.
CHR. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the sight- of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied labours for my eternal good.
FAITH. And a thousand. times welcome, said good. Faithful, thy company, 0 sweet Evangelist; how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims!
EVAN. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, my friends, since the -time of our last parting? What have you met with ? and how have you behaved yourselves ?-Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to them in the way; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. I Right glad am 1, said Evangelist, not that you have niet with trials, but that you have been victors, and for



that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, con-4 tinted in the way to this very day.
I say, right glad am' I, of this thing, and that for mine own sake and yours; I have sowed, and, you have reaped: and the day is coming when 11 both he that soweth and they that reap shall rejoice together," John iv. 36, that is, if you hold out; 11 for in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint not," Gal. vi. 9. The crown is before you, and it is an incorruptible one; so run that ye may obtain it, I Cor. ix. 24-27. Some there be that set out for this crown, and after they have gone far for it, another comes in and takes it from them: 11 Hold fast, therefore, that you have ; let no man take your crown," Rev. iii. 11. You are not yet out of the gunshot of the devil; "you have not yet resisted unto blood strivin(y against sin." Let the kingdom be always before you, and believe steadfastly concerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the other world get within you. And. above all, look well to your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof ; for they are 11 deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Set your faces like a flint; you have all power in heaven and earth on your side.
. CHR. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but told him withal, that they would have him speak further to them for their help the rest of the way; and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a prophet, an& could tell them of things that might happen unto them, and also how they might resist and overcome them. To which request Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth. '
EVAN. My sons, you have heard in the word of the truth of the gospel, that you must "through many tribulations enter into the kingdom of heaven; " and again, that "in every city bonds and afflictions abide you ;" and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage without them in some sort or other. You. have found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and' more will


immediately follow; for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by and by see before you; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies; who will strain hard but they will kill you; and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you hold with blood; but "be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown of life." H~e that shall die there, although his de ath will be unnatural, and his pains, perhaps, great, he will yet have the better of his fellow ; not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will 1 escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his Journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves like wen, and committ the keeping of your souls to God, in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator."
Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is Vanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, Psa. lxii. 9, and also, because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity; as is the saying of the wise, "All that cometh- is vanity," Eccl. xi. 8; see also i. 2-14, ii. 11-17; Isa. Al 17.
This fair is no new-erected business, but a tbing of ancient standing. I will shew you the original of it.
Almost five thousand years ago, there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons are;_ and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims maade, that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. Therefore at this fair are all such merchandise sold, as houses, lands, trades, places,



honours, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures; and delights of all sorts, as harlots, wives, husands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not.
And moreover, at this fair, there are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apec knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind.
Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false swearers, and that of a bloodred colour.
And as, in other fairs'of less moment, there are the several rows and streets under their proper names, where such and such wares are vended; so here, likewise, you have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found. Here is the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be sold. But as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her merchandise is greatly promoted in this fair; only our English nation, with some others, have taken a dislike thereat.
Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through the town where this lusty fair is kept; and he that would go to the city, and yet not go through this town, mustt needs go out of the world," 1 Cor. v. 10. The Prince of princes himself, when here, went
*through this town to his own country, and that upon a fair-day too; yea, and, as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities, yea, he would have made him lord of the fair, would he but have done him reverence as he went through the town. Yea, because he was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had him from street to street, and shewed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One to cheapen and buy some of his vanities; but he had no mind to the merchandise, and, therefore,


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302 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. would help. So just as you came up the gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for this my great deliverance; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my journey. HON. Without doubt, her designs were bad. But stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have seen. her, or have read some story of her. STAND. Perhaps you have done both. HON. Madam Bubble! Is she not a tall, comely dame, somewhat of a swarthy complexion ? STAND. Right, you hit it; she is just such a one. HON. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end of a sentence ? STAND. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very actions. HON. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight ? STAND. 'Tis just so. Had she stood by all this while, you could not more amply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her features. HoN. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and he that wrote of her said true. GREAT. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap, had as good lay it down on that block over which the axe doth hang: and whoever lay their eyes upon her beauty are accounted the enemies of God. This is she that maintaineth in their splendour all those that are the enemies of pilgrims, James iv. 4. Yea, this is she that hath bought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gossiper; she is always, both she and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another; now commending, and then preferring the excellences of this life. She is a bold and impudent slut: she will talk with any man. She always laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the rich. If there be one cunning to get