Front Cover
 Title Page
 List of Illustrations
 The author's apology for his...
 In the similitude of a dream
 The second part
 Back Cover

Group Title: Pilgrim's progress : from this world to that which is to come
Title: The pilgrim's progress
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00066405/00001
 Material Information
Title: The pilgrim's progress from this world to that which is to come
Physical Description: 4, 194 p., 12 leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Bunyan, John, 1628-1688
Lydon, A. F ( Alexander Francis ) ( Illustrator )
Fawcett, B ( Printer )
Groombridge and Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: Groombridge and Sons
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: B. Fawcett
Publication Date: [1871]
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Faith -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Glory of God -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Salvation -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Allegories -- 1871   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1871
Genre: Allegories   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
England -- Driffield
Citation/Reference: BM,
Citation/Reference: NUC pre-1956,
Statement of Responsibility: by John Bunyan ; illustrated by A.F. Lydon.
General Note: Date from BM and NUC cited below.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00066405
Volume ID: VID00001
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: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002464306
notis - AMG9694
oclc - 13379336

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
    List of Illustrations
        Page iv
    The author's apology for his book
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    In the similitude of a dream
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
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        Page 104
    The second part
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
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    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text





Christian anrd I-on














Portrait of John Bunyan V ignette Title

Christian at the Gate .Page 17

Christian losing his burden 25

Christians fight with Apollyon 39

The Pilgrims found by Giant Despair 72

Christian and Hopeful caught in the net 84

Christian and Hopeful in the Land of Beulah (Frontispiece) 98

Christiana and her Children arrive at the Slough of Despond 113

Christiana entertained by the Interpreter 124

The Shepherd Boy in the Valley of Humiliation 146

The Pilgrims arriving at the Inn 159

Christiana crossing the River 191



THEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode; nay, I had undertook
To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware, I this begun.
And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our gospel day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than .twenty things which I set down.
This done, I twenty more had in my crown;
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.
Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode: I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbour: no, not I.
I did it my own self to gratify.
Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble; nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing this
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss.
Thus, I set pen to paper with delight,
And !i1!:1 had my thoughts in black and white;
For, having now my method by the end,
Still as I pulled, it came: and so I penned
It down: until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.


Well, when I had thus put my ends together,
I showed 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 alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.
Yea, that I might them better moderate,
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 her 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!
Behold how he engageth all his wits;
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets;
Yet fish there be, that neither hook, nor line,
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine:
They must be groped for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catch'd, whatever 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
01' 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 oyster-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 times held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loath
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault
The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out what by pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.
Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude,
That I want solidness-that I am rude;
All things solid in show not solid be;
All things in parables despise not we;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.
The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth; yea, whoso considers


(hrist, his apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be.
Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things-
Dark figures, !. .. Yet there springs
From that same Book that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.
Come, let my carper to his life now look,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any: yea, and let him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.
May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I dare adventure ten,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit; the memory too it doth fill
With what doth our imaginations please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;
13ut yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid
The use of parables; in which lay hid
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.
Let me add one word more. 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
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight


For writing so: indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,
Which way it pleases God; for who knows how,
Better than He that taught us first to plough,
To guide our mind and pens for his design?
And He makes base things usher in divine.
3. I find that holy writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another;
Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.
And now before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book, and then
Commit both thee and it unto the Hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.
This book it chalketh out before mine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize;
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes;
What he leaves undone, also what he does;
It also shows you how he runs and runs,
Till he unto the gate of glory comes,
It shows, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain;
Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like fools do die.
This book will make a traveller of thee,
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand:
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.
Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable?
Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New Year's day to the last of December?
Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters.
This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect:
It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.
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 sleepP
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep?
Wouldest thou lose thyself, and catch no harm,
And find 'i -- i again without a charm?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,
By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.




AS I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a
certain place where was a Den, and I laid me down in that place
to sleep: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I
saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face
from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his
back. 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, "-- ib shall I do?" (~cts
ii. 37; xvi. 30, 31.)
In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained 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 my dear wife, said he, and you
the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by
reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am 'for certain
informed that this our city will be burned with fire from heaven; in
which fearful overthrow, both m,-.,-f. with thee, my wife, and you my
sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see nori
some way of escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered A
this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they- believed tha
what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some
frenzy distemper had got into his head: therefore, it drawing towards
night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste
they got him to bed. Bnt the night was as troublesome to him as the day
wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So, whet
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 carriages to him; sometimes they would deride, som-
times they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him.
Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and


pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also walk
solitarily in the fields, sometimes :. -.i;;. and sometimes praying: and
thus for some days he spent his time.
Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he
was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his
mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying,
"What shall I do to be saved?" (Acts xvi. 30.)
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,
who asked, Wherefore dost thou cry?
IHe answered, Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand that I am
condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment, and I find that
I am not willing to do the first, nor able to do the second.

"Christian no sooner leaves the World but meets
i ..... ; r i yho !n s-ii.n him greets
ii. iI, .. of *. II11 and doth show
h.... I r mount from that which is below."

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this life is at-
tended with so many evils? The man answered, Because I fear that
this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave,
and I shall fall into Tophet. And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison,
I mn not fit, I am sure, to go to judgment, and from thence to execution;
and the thoughts of these things make me cry.
Then said ', --,-g. I I., If this be thy condition, why standest thou still?
He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he gave him a
parchment roll, and there was written within, "Flee from the wrath to
come," (Matt. iii. 7.)
The man therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully,
said, Whither must I fly? Then said .... ; I. pointing with his finger
over a very wide field, Do you see yonder 1-..I- ,i. ? The man said,
No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder shining light? He said,
I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and
go up directly thereto: so shalt thou see the Gate; at which, when thou
knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do So I saw in my
dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far from his
own door, but his wife and 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! So he looked not behind him, but fled towards
the middle of the plain.
The neighbours also came out to see him run, 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, however, 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 our comforts
behind us?
COi. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name,) because that all
which you shall forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of
that which I am seeking to enjoy, 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. Come away, and prove my words.
OBss. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world
to find them?
CHn. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth
not away, and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, to be bestowed,
at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if
you will, in my book.
OBsr. Tush! said Obstinate, away with your book; will you go back
with us or no?
CHn. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand to the
OBsr. 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 the good Christian says
is true, the things he looks after are better than ours: my heart inclines
to go with my neighbour.
OssT. 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.
OHR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, Pliable; there are
such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories beside.
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.
PL. Well, neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin to come to a
point; I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot
with him: but, my good companion, do you know the way to this
desired place
COR. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed
me to a little gate that is before us, where we shall receive instructions
about the way.
PLI. Come, then, good 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.
CuO Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do I am glad you are
persuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but felt
what I have felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he
would not thus lightly have given us the back.
PLI. Come, 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.
COI. I can better conceive of them with my mind, than speak of
them with my tongue: but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will
read of them in my book.
PLI. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly
true P
CHR. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.
PLI. Well said; what things are they?
Can. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting
life to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom for ever.
PLI. Well said: and what else?
CHO. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that
will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.
PLI. This is very pleasant; and what else?
CHn. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow: for He that is
owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes.
PLI. And what c..--m ,1- shall we have there?
COn. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, creatures
that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall meet
with thousands and tens. of thousands that have gone before us to that
place; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy; every one walk-
ing 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; there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps;
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 that they bare
to the Lord of the place, all well, and clothed with immortality as with
a garment.
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?
COn. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that in
this book; the substance of which is, If we be truly willing to have
it, he will bestow it upon us freely.
SPLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things!
come on, let us mend our pace.
CIO 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 near to a very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain;
and they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name


of the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time,
being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the
burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire.
PLI. Then said Pliable, Ah! neighbour Christian, where are you now?
CHn. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.
PLI. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his
fellow. Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If
we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect
betwixt this and our journey's end? May I get out again with my
life, 'yu shall possess the brave country alone for me. And, with that,
he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that
side of the slough which was next to his own house; so away he went,
and Christian saw him no more.
Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond
alone: but still he endeavoured to struggle to that side of the slough
that was still further from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate;
the which he did, but could not get out, because of the burden that
was upon his back: but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to
him, whose name was Help, and asked him, what he did there?
CHR. Sir, said Christian, I was bid go this way by a man called
Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape
the wrath to come; and as I was going thither I fell in here.
HELP. But why did not you look for the steps?
COH. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in.
HELP. Then said he, Give me thy hand: so he gave him his hand,
and he drew him out, and set him upon sound ground, and bid him
go on his way.
Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, Sir, Wherefore,
since over this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder
gate, is it that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go
thither with more security? And he said unto me, This miry slough
is such a place as cannot be mended; it is the descent whither the scum
and filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and
therefore it is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner
is awakened about his lost condition, there ariseth in his soul many
fears, and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them
get .together, and settle in this place. And this is the reason of the
badness of this ground.
It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so
bad. His labourers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's surveyors,
been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch
of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended: -yea, and to my
knowledge, said he, here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand
cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have at all seasons
been brought from all places of the King's dominions, and they that
can tell, say they are the best materials to make good ground of the
place; if so be, it might have been mended, but it is the Slough of
Despond still, and so will be when they have done what they can.


True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and
substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough;
but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth
against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or, if they be,
men, through the dizziness of their heads, step aside, 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.
Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home
to his house again, so that his neighbours came to visit him; and some
of them called him wise man for coming back, and some called him
fool for hazarding himself with 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 inlding
of him,-for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was
much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it
began to be the town talk in some other places,-Mr. Worldly Wiseman,
therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going,
by observing his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter
into some talk with Christian.
WORLD. How now, good fellow, whither away after this burdened
manner ?
Cun. A burdened manner, indeed, as ever, I think, poor creature
had! And whereas you ask me, Whither away? I tell you, Sir, I am
going to yonder wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I
shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden.
WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children?
CHR. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot take
that pleasure in them as formerly; methinks I am as if I had none.
WORLD. Wilt thou hearken unto me if I give thee counsel?
Cnn. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of good counsel.
WORLD. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get
thyself rid of thy burden; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind
till then; nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessing which God
hath bestowed upon thee till then.
CHR. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy
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.
WoiLD. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?


OCit. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honourable
person; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist.
WORLD. I beshrew him for his counsel! there is not a more dangerous
and troublesome way in the world than is that unto which he hath
directed thee; and that thou shalt find, if thou will be ruled by his
counsel. Thou hast met with 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, on
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, giving heed to a stranger?
-CO ,, Sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me
than are all these things which you have 'mentioned; nay, methinks I
care not what I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with.
deliverance from my burden.
WoRLD. How camest thou by the burden at first?
CHn. By reading this book in my hand.
WORLD. I thought so; and it is happened unto thee as to other weak
men, who, meddling with things too high 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
adventures to obtain they know not what.
CHR. I know what I would obtain: it is ease from my heavy burden.
Wo~LD. 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. Pray, Sir, open this secret to me.
WORLD. Why, in yonder village-the village is named Mlorality-there
dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man (and
a man of very good name), that has skill to help men off with such
burdens as thine are from their shoulders: yea, to my knowledge, he
hath done a great deal of good this way; ay, and besides, he hath skill
to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens.
To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house
is not quite a mile from this place, and if he should not be at home
himself, he hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility,
that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself;
there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not
minded to go back to thy former habitation, as, indeed, I would not
wish thee, thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee to this
village, where there are houses now stand empty, one of which thou
mayest have at reasonable rates; provision is there also cheap and good;-


and that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure, there
thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good fashion.
Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded,
if this be true, which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to
take his advice; and with that he thus further spoke.
Cra. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house?
WORLD. Do you see yonder high hill?
CHn. Yes, very well.
WomLn. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at
is his.
So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for
help; but, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so
high, and also that side of it that was next the wayside, 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 wot ed not
what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while
he was in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that
made Christian afraid that he should be burned. Here, therefore, he
sweat and did quake for fear.
When Christians unto carnal men give ear,
Out of their way they go, and pay fort dear;
For Master Wordly Wiseman can but show
A saint the way to bondage and to woe.

And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wise-
man'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
EvAN. What dost thou here, Christian? said he: at which words
Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood
speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, Art not thou the
man that I found crying without the walls of the City of Destruction?
CHR. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man.
EVAN. Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate?
CHn. Yes, dear Sir, says Christian.
EvAN. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside? for
thou art now out of the way.
CHR. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the Slough
of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before me,
find a man that could take off my burden.
EVAN. What was he?
CHR. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got
me at last to yield; so I came hither: but when I 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?


GmC Why he asked me whither I was going? And I told him.
EvAN. And what said he then?
CHn. 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?
CHB. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him
it was ease that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder
gate, to receive further direction how I may get to the place of deliver-
ance. So he said that he would show me a better way, and short, not
so attended with difficulties as the, way, Sir, that you set me in; which
way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to
take off these burdens, so I believed him, and turned out of that way
into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. But when I
came to this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped for fear (as
I said) of danger: but I now know not what to do.
EvAN. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little, that I may show
thee the words of God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist,
"See that.ye refuse not him that speaketh. For if they escaped not
who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if
we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven" (Heb. xii. 25.) He
said, moreover, "Now the just shall live by faith: but if any vman draw
back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him" (Heb. x. 38.) He also
did thus apply them: Thou art the man that art running into this
misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and
to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to the
hazarding of thy perdition.
Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, "Woe is me, for
I am undone!" At the sight of which, Evangelist caught him by the
right hand, saying, "All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be for-
given unto men" (Matt. xii. 31; Mark iii. 28; Luke xii. 10; Heb. vi. 4.)
"Be 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 show thee who it was that
deluded thee, and who it was also to whom he sent thee.-The man
that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he so called;
partly, because he savoureth only of the doctrine of this world, (there-
fore 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.
And. because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to prevent
my ways, though right. Now there are three things in this man's
counsel, that thou must utterly abhor.
1. His turning thee out of the way. 2. His labouring to render the
cross odious to thee. And, 3. 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; and thine
own consenting thereto: because this is to reject the counsel of God
for the sake of the counsel of a Wordly Wiseman. The Lord says,


"Strive to enter in at the strait gate" (Luke xii. 24,) the gate to which
I send thee; for "strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, and few there
be that find it" (Matt. vii. 13, 14.) From this little wicket-gate, and
from the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing
of thee almost to destruction; hate, therefore, his turning thee out of
the way, and n ih"!' 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 in Egypt"
(Heb. xi. 25, 26.) Besides, the King of glory hath told thee, that he that
"Will save his life shall lose it" I-.! .r-! viii. 35; John xii. 25; Matt. x.
39.) And, "He that cometh after me, and hateth not his father, and
mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his
own life also, he cannot be my disciple" (Luke xiv. 26.) I say, therefore,
for man to labour to persuade thee, that that shall be thy death, without
which, TIE 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, ai:d also how unable that person was to deliver thee from
thy burden.
He to whom thou was sent for ease, being by name Legality,'is the
son of the bond-woman which, now is, and is in bondage with her
children; and is, in a mystery, this mount Sinai, which thou hast feared
will fall on thy head. Now, if she, with her children, are in bondage,
how canst thou expect by them to be made free? This Legality,,therefore,
is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever
rid of his burden by him: no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be
justified by the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man
living can be rid of his burden: therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an
alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat; and for his son Civility, notwithstanding
his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe
me, there is nothing in all this noise, that thou hast heard of these
sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning
thee from the way in which I had set thee. After this, Evangelist
called aloud to the heavens for confirmation of what he had said: and
with that there came words and fire out of the mountain under which
poor Christian stood, that made the hair of his flesh stand up. The
words were thus pronounced: "As many as are of the works of the law
are under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth
not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them"
(Gal. iii. 10.)
Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out
lamentably; even cursing the time in 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 as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he applied
himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as follow:-
CuR. Sir, what think you? Is there hope? MayI now goback and

- ~ ~ '-~ Nit-~

*-~ P


Christian at the Gate.


go up to the wicket-gate Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent
back from thence ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's
counsel. But may my sin be forgiven?
EvaN. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by it
thou hast committed two evils: thou hast f.'. ,ik.; i th way that is good,
to tread in forbidden paths; yet will the man at the gate receive thee,
for he has good-will for men; only, said he, take heed that thou turn
not aside again, "lest thou perish from the way, when his wrath is
kindled but a little" (Psalm 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 into the way which he left, to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's
counsel. So, in process of time Christian got up to the gate. Now,
over the gate there was written, "Knock, and it shall be opened unto
you" (Matt. vii. 7.)
He that will enter in must first without
Stand knocking at the Gate, nor need he doubt
That is A KNOCKER but to enter in;
For God can love him and forgive his sin."

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying-
"May I now enter here? Will he within
Open to sorry me, though I have been
An undeserving rebel? Then shall I
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high."

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good-will, who
asked who was there? and whence he came? and what he would have?
Cin. 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-WILL. I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that
he opened the gate.
So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then
said Christian, What means that? The other told him. A little distance
from this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is
the captain; from thence, both he and them that are with him shoot
arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before
they can enter in.
Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in,
the man of the gate asked him who directed him thither?
COU. Evangelist bid me come hither, and knock (as I did;) and he
said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do.
Goon-wILL. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.
CIIn. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.


GOOD-WILL. But how is it that you came alone?
COn. iH.-.,.. none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw
GOOD-WILL. Did any of them know of your coming?
Can. Yes; my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after
me to turn again: also, some of my neighbours stood crying and calling
after me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on
my way.
GOOD-WILL. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go
back ?
CHn. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but when they saw that they
could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back, but Pliable came with me
a little way.
GOOD-WILL. But why did he not come through?
COa. We, indeed, came both together, until we came at the Slough
of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my
neighbour, Pliable, I ......,::.:.-i, and would not adventure further.
Wherefore, getting out again on that side next to his own house, he
told me I should possess the brave country alone for him; so he went
his way, and I came mine-he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.
Goon-wILL. Then said Good-will, Alas, poor man! is the celestial
glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running
the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it
COi. Truly, said r'i.,I ..l, I have said the truth of Pliable, and if
I should also say all the truth of m ,-.li, it will appear there is no
betterment betwixt him and myself. It is true, he went back to his
own house, but I also -turned aside to go in the way of death, being
persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman.
GOOD-WILL. Oh! did he light upon you? What! he would have had
you sought for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality? They are, both of
them, very cheats. But did you take his counselP
CHn. 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-WILL. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be
the death of many more; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in
COrr. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had
not E i.,1; i. happily met me again, as I was musing in the midst of
my dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else
I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am,
more fit, indeed, for death, by that mountain, than thus to stand talking
with my Lord; but, oh, what a favour is this to me, that yet I am
admitted entrance here!
GOOD-WILL. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all
that they have done before they came hither. They are "in no wise cast
out," (John vi. 37,) and therefore, good Christian, come a little way with
me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before


thee; dost thou see this narrow way? THAT is the way thou must go;
it was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles;
and it is as straight as a rule can make it. This is the way thou must
CHR. But, said Christian, are there no turnings or windings, by
which a stranger may lose his way?
GOOD-WILL. Yes, there -are many ways butt down upon this, and they
are crooked and wide. But thus thou mayest distinguish the right
from the wrong, the right only being straight and narrow.
Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he
could not help him off with his burden that was upon his back; for as
yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off
without help.
He told him, As to thy burden, be content to bear it, until thou
comes to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back
of itself.
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to
his journey. So the other told him, That by that he was gone some
distance from the gate, he would come at the house of the Interpreter,
at whose door he should knock, and he would show him excellent things.
Then ('!lI:.,n took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him
Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where
he knocked over and over; at last one came to the door, and asked
who was there?
COn. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of the
good-man of this house to call here for my profit; I would therefore
speak with the master of the house. So he called for the master of
the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian, and asked him
what he would have.
COn. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the City
of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion; and I was told by
the man that stands at the gate, at the head of this way, that if I
called here, you would show me excellent things, such as would be a
help to me in my journey.
INTER. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will show 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,
('in ,;,- 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 his hand, the law of truth was written upon his
lips, the world was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with
men, and a crown of gold did hang over his head.
CHn. Then said Christian, What meaneth this?
INTER. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand; he can
beget children, travail in birth with children, and nurse them himself
when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up


to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth writ on
his lips, it is to show thee that his work is to know and unfold dark
things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded
with men; and whereas thou seest the world as cast behind him, and
that a crown hangs over his head, that is to show thee that slighting
and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath to
his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next, to have
glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed thee
this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only
man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going, hath autho-
rized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in
the way; wherefore, take good heed to what I have showed thee, and
bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou
meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes
down to death.
Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlour
that was full of dust, because never swept; the which, after he had re-
viewed 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 Inter-
preter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither the water, and sprinkle
the room; the which, when she had done, it was swept and cleansed
with pleasure.
Can. Then said Christian, What means this ?
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.
He that began to sweep at first, is the Law; but she that brought
water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest,
that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that
the room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost
choked therewith; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing
the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put strength into, and
increase it in the soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it
doth not give power to subdue it.
Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon
which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to show thee that when
the gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the
heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by
sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and
the soul made clean through the faith of it, and consequently fit for
the King of glory to inhabit.
I saw, moreover, ih my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the
hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two little Ohildren,
each one in his 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, The Governor


of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of
the next year; but he will have all now; but Patience is willing to wait.
Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of
treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the which he took up and
rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld
but a while, and he had lavished all away and had nothing left him
but rags.
CHR. Then said C'hriti.-: 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 next year, that is, until the next
world, for their portion of good. That proverb, "A bird in the hand
is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with them than are all
the Divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou
sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left
him nothing but rags; so will it be with all such men at the end of
this world.
Can. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best
wisdom, and that upon many accounts. First, because he stays for the
best things. Second, and also because he will have the glory of his,
when the other has nothing but rags.
INTER. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the next
world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore
Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he had
his good things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because
he had his best things last; for first must give place to last, because
last must have his time to come; but last gives place to nothing; for
there is not another to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion
first, must needs have time to spend it; but he that hath his portion
last, must have it lastingly, therefore it is said of Dives, "Thou in thy
lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things;
but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented," (Luke xvi. 25.)
CHa. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are now,
but to wait for things to come.
INTER. You say the truth: "For the things which are seen are tem-
poral; but the things which are not seen are eternal," (2 Cor. iv. 18.)
But though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshy appetite
are such near neighbours one to another; and again, because things to
come, and carnal sense, are such strangers one to another; therefore it
is that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance
is so continued between the second.
Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Christian by the
hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall,
and one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench
it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.


Then said Christian, What means this?
The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is wrought
in the heart; he that casts water upon it, to extinguish and put it out,
is the Devil; but in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher
and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him about
to the back-side of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel of oil
in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast (but secretly,) into
the fire.
Then said (C'0I r,.- What is the meaning of 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 hi-,
people prove gracious still. And in that thou sawest that the man stood
behind the wall to maintain the fire, that is to teach thee that it is
hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in
the soul.
I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led
him into a pleasant place, where was builded a stately palace, beautiful
to behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted. He
saw also, upon the top thereof, certain persons walking, who were clothed
all in gold.
Then said Christian, May we go in thither.
Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards the door of the
palace: and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous
to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little distance from
lie door, at a table-side, with a book and his inkhorn before him, to take
he name of him that should enter therein; he saw also, that in the
doorway stood many men in armour to keep it, being resolved to do the
men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was
Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back
for fear of the armed men, ( 1 1 i t 1. saw a man of a very stout coun-
tenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, "Set down
my name, Sir:" the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his
sword, and put an helmet upon his head, and rush 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, 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-

SCome in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt win."

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. Then
Christian smiled and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this.
Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the Interpreter,
till I have showed thee a little more, and after that thou shalt go on


thy way. So he took him by the hand again, and led him into a very
dark ropm, where there sat a man in an iron cage.
Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes
looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed
as if he would break his heart. Then said Christian, What means this ?
At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.
Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? The man answered,
I am what I was not once.
COn. What wast thou once P
MAN. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, both
in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others; I once was, as I
thought, fair for the Celestial City, and had then even joy at the thoughts
that I should get thither.
CHR. Well, but what art thou now?
MAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this
iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh, now I cannot!
CHR. But how camest thou in this condition?
MAN. I left off to watch and be sober; I laid the reins upon the
neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the Word and the
goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone; I tempted
the devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger, and
he has left me: I have so hardened.my heart, that I cannot repent.
'Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for such
a man as this? Ask him, said the Interpreter.
CHn. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be kept
in the iron cage of despair?
MAN. No, none at all.
OHn. Why? The Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.
MAN. I have crucified him to myself afresh; I have despised his
person; I have despised his righteousness; I have "counted his blood
an unholy thing;" I have "done despite to the Spirit of Grace," (Heb
x. 28, 29.) Therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises, and
there now remains to me nothing but threatening, dreadful threatening,
fearful threatening of certain judgment and fiery indignation, which
shall devour me as an adversary.
CaO. For what did you bring yourself into this condition?
MAN. For the. lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the en-
joyment of which I did then promise myself much delight; but now
every one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a burning
CnO But canst thou not now repent and turn?
MAN. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no en-
couragement 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 be an everlasting caution to thee.
COR. Well, said Christian, this is fearful! God help me to watch and


be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this man's misery!
Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?
INTER. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and then thou
shalt go on thy way.
So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber,
where there was one rising out of bed; and as he put onhis 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 racked at an unusual rate,
upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man
sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven! they were all
in flaming fire: also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then
a voice saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment;" and with that
the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came
forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some
sought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the man
that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near.
Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued, out and came
from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt
the judge and the prisoners at the bar. I heard it also proclaimed to
them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud, "Gather together
the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake,"
(Matt. iii. 12; xiii. 30; 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 manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises.
It was also said to the same persons, Gather my wheat into the garner,"
(Luke iii. 17.) And with that I saw many watched up and carried away
into the clouds, but I was left behind. I also sought to hide myself, but
I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon
me: my sins also came into my mind; and my conscience did accuse
me on every side. Upon this I awaked from my sleep.
CHn. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight?
MAN. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that
I was not ready for it: but this frightened me lost, that the angels
gathered up several, and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened
her mouth just where I stood. My conscience, too, afflicted me; and, as
I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, showing indignation
in his countenance.
Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all these
things ?
C n. 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,

liii I r ii I
'I1iI.I aIl (I I \rI I.,-

1(' _

o r b e


good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the City. So
Christian went on his way, saying-

"Here I have seen ii;.:: rare and profitable;
Things pleasant, 1u. ; 1...i, things to make me stable
In what I have begun to take in hand;
Then let me think on them, and understand
Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be
Thankful, 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. Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not
without great difficulty, because of the load on his back.
He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending, and upon
that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre.
So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross,
his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back,
and began to tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth
of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a inerry heart,
"He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death." Then
he stood still awhile 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. Now, as he stood looking
and weeping, behold three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him
with "Peace be to thee." So the first said to him, "Thy sins be for-
given 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 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.

"Who's this? the Pilgrim. How! 'tis very true,
Old things are past away, all's become new.
Strange! he's another man, upon my word,
They be fine feathers that make a fine bird."

Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing:-

"Thus far I did come laden with my sin;
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in
Till I came hither: What a place is this!
Must here be the beginning of my bliss?
Must here the burden fall from off my back!
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack?
Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be
The man that there was put to shame for me!"

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even until he came
at a bottom, where be saw, a little out of the way, three men fast


asleep, with fetters upon their heels. The name of the one was Simple,
another Sloth, and the third Presumption.
Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, if perad-
venture he might awake them, and cried, Ye are like them that sleep
on the top of a mast, 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. Ho also told them, If he that
"goeth about like a roaring lion" 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 es-
pied 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 was Hypocrisy. So, as I
said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with then into discourse.
OCi. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you P
FoRa and HYP. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are
going for praise to Mount Zion.
COH. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the
beginning of the way? Know you not that it is written, that he that
cometh not in by the door, "but climbeth up some other way, the
same is a thief and a robber? (John x. 1.)
FoRM. and HYr. 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.
CHB. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the
city whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will?
Foni. and HYr. They told him, that, as for that, he needed not
to trouble his head thereabout; for what they did they had custom
for; and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness it
for more than a thousand years.
COH. But, said Christian, will your practice stand a trial at law?
FonM. and HYP. They told him, That custom, it being of so long a
standing as above a thousand years, would doubtless, now be admitted
as a thing legal by any impartial judge; and beside, said they, if we get
into the way, what matter which way we get in ? If we are in, we are
in; thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate;
and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over the wall; wherein,
now, is thy condition better than ours
CHO I walk by the rule of my Master; you walk by the rude working
of your fancies. You are counted thieves already, by the Lord of the


way; therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of
the way. You come in by yourselves, without his direction; and shall
go out by yourselves, without his mercy.
To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to
himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, without
much conference one with another; save that these two men told Christian,
that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but they should as
conscientiously do them as he; therefore, said they, we see not wherein
thou different from 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.
CHn. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came
not in by the door. And as for this coat that is on my back, it was
given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you say,
to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of 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 on the way; I was also bid to
give it in at the Celestial Gate, in token of my certain going in after
it; all which things I doubt you want, and want them because you
came not in at the gate.
To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon
each other, and laughed. Then I saw that they went on all, save that
Christian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, and that
sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably; also he would be often
reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which
he was refreshed.
I beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to the foot of the
Hill Difficulty; at the bottom of which was a spring. There Were also
in the same place two other ways besides that which came straight from
the gate; one turned to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the
bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the
name of the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian
now went to the spring, and drank thereof, to refresh himself, and then
began to go up the hill, saying-
The hill, though high, I covet to ascend,
The difficulty will not me offend;
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear;
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe."

The other two also came to the foot of the hill; but when they saw


that the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to
go; and supposing also that these two ways might meet again, with
that up which Christian went, on the other side of the hill; therefore
they were resolved to go in those ways. Now the name of one of those
ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one
took the way which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood,
and the other took directly up the way to destruction, which led him
into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell,
and rose no more.
SShall they who wrong begin yet rightly end?
Shall they at all have safety for their friend?
No, no; in headstrong manner they set out,
And headlong will they fall at last no doubt.

I looked, then, after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I
perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering
upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place.
Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour,
made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing of weary travellers;
thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him.
Then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his
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 awhile, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast
sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night, and
in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping,
there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, "Go to the ant, thou
Inclrr.- consider her ways, and be wise," (Prov. vi. 6.) And with
IIi ,i ii,, I, started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace,
Lill he came to the top of the hill.
Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two
men running to meet him amain; the name of the one was Timorous,
and of the other, Mistrust; to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the
matterP You run the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were
going to the City of Zion, and had got up that difficult place; but,
said he, the further we go, the more danger we meet with; wherefore
we turned, and are going back again.
Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in the
---_. whether sleeping or waking we know not, and we could not think,
: .: came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces.
CHi. Then said ('!L.i ,ini, You make me afraid, but whither shall I
fly to be safe? If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for
fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there. If I can get to
the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there. I must venture.
To go back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and
life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and
Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his. way. But,
thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom


for his roll, that he might read therein, and be comforted; but he felt,
and found it not. Then was C'r, r.r, i 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, there-
fore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At
last he 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's
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 oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep
in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment for his
weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side
and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find his roll,
that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. He went
thus, till he came again within sight of the arbour where he sat and
slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing again,
even afresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind. 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 took in vain! Thus it happened to Israel,
for their sin; they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea;
and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have
trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might
I have been on my way by this time! I am made to tread those
steps thrice over, which I needed not to have trod but once; yea, now
also I am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh! that
I had not slept!
Now, by this time he was come to the arbour again, where for a
while he sat down and wept; but at last (as Christian would have it),
looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll; the
which he, with trembling and haste, catched up, and put it into his
bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten
his roll again! for this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance
at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks
to God for directing his eye to the place where it .lay, and with joy and
tears betook himself again to his journey. But oh, how nimbly now
did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went
'down upon Christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his
sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he again began to condole with
himself 0 thou sinful sleep: how, for thy sake am I like to be be-
nighted in my journey! I must walk without the sun; darkness must
cover the path of my feet; and I must hear the noise of the doleful
creatures, because of my sinful sleep. Now also he remembered the
story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they were frighted


with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These
beasts range in the night for their prey; and if they should meet with
me in the dark how should I shift them? How should I escape being
by them torn in pieces ? Thus he went on his way. But while he was
thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold
there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was
Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway side.
So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward, that if
possible he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone far, he
entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off
the porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went,
he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers
that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were
chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought
also himself to go back after them, for he thought nothing but death
was before him. But the porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful,
perceiving that Christian made a halt as if he would go back, cried
unto him, saying, Is thy strength so small? Fear not the lions, for
they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and
for discovery of those that had none. Keep in the midst of the path,
and no hurt shall come unto thee.
"Difficulty is behind, Fear is before,
Though he's got on the hill, the lions roar;
A Christian man is never long at ease,
When one fright's gone, another doth him seize."
Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, but taking
good heed to the directions of the porter; he heard them roar, but they
did him no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on, till he came
and stood before the gate where the porter was. Then said Christian to
the porter, Sir, what house is this? And may I lodge here to-night?
The porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and
he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. The porter also asked
whence he was, and whither he was going.
CHR. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to Mount
Zion; but because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here
PoR. What is your name?
CHR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Grace-
less; I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell
in the tents of Shem.
PoR. But how doth it happen that you come so late ? The sun is set.
CHR. I had been here sooner, but that, "wretched man that I am! ".
I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill-side; nay, I had, notwith-
standing that, been here much sooner, but that, in my sleep, I lost my
evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill; and then feeling
for it, and Pfii.;!-._ 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


Pon. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this place, who will,
if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according
to the rules of the house. So Watchful, the porter, rang a bell, at the
sound of which came out at the door of the house, a grave and beautiful
damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called.
The porter answered, This man is in a journey from the City of
Destruction to Mount Zion, but being weary and benighted, he asked
me if he might lodge here to-night: so I told him I would call for thee,
who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, even
according to the law of the house.
Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and
he told her. She asked him also how he got into the way; and he told
her. Then she asked him what he had seen and met with in the way;
and he told her. And last she asked his name; so he said, It is Christian,
and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because,
by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill, for the
relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in
her eyes; and after a little pause, she said, I will call forth two or three
more of the family. So she ran to the door and called out Prudence,
Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him
into the family; and many of them, meeting him at the threshold of the
house, said, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this house was built
by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in. Then
he bowed his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was
come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented
together, that until supper was ready, some of them should have some
particular discourse with C'i: i:i ., for the best improvement of time;
and they appointed Piety, and Prudence, and Charity to discourse with
him; and thus they began:
PIETY. 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.
CHO With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well
PIETY. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life P
CHR. I was driven out of my.native country, by a dreadful sound that
was in mine ears: to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me,
if I abode in that place where I was.
PIETY. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this
OHC. 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 he 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?


OHR. 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 judg-
ment was come.
PIETY. Why, did you hear him tell his dreamP
CHR. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought it made my heart
ache as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard it.
PIETY. Was that all that you saw at the house of the InterpreterP
GuH. No; he took me and had me where he showed me a stately
palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were in it; and how
there came a venturous man and cut his way through the armed men
that stood in the door to keep him out, and how he was bid to come in,
and win eternal glory. Methought those things did ravish my heart!
I would have stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that
I knew I had further to go.
PIETY. And what saw you else in the way?
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 very sight of him made
my burden fall off my back (for I groaned under a very heavy burden,)
but then it fell down from off me. It was a strange thing to me, for I
never saw such a thing before; yea, and while I stood looking up, for
then I could not forbear looking, three Shining Ones came to me. One
of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me
of my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the
third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me this
sealed roll. (And with that he plucked it out of his bosom.)
PIETY. But you saw more than this, did you not?
Crn. 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 themP I also saw
Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they
pretended, to Zion, but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell
them; but they would not believe. But above all, I found it hard work
to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' mouths: and truly
if it had not been for the good man, the porter that stands at the gate,
I do not know but that after all I might have gone back again: but
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.
PRUD. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you
CiO Yes, but with much shame and detestation; "truly, if I had
been mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have
had opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better country,
that is, an heavenly" (Heb. xi. 15, 16.)


Panu. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that
then you were conversant withal
CaR. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and
carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself,
were delighted; but now all those things are my grief; and might I
but choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those
things more; but when I would be doing of that which is best, that
which is worst is with me.
PanD. Do you not find sometimes, as if those things were vanquished,
which at other times are your perplexity
CHa, Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours
in which such things happen to me.
PRUD. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances,
at times, as if they were vanquishedP
CHn. 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 I look
into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my
thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.
PRun. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount
Zion ?
CGO. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang dead on the
cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day
are in me an annoyance to me; there, they say, there is no death; and
there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For, to tell you
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 L
married man?
COn. I have a wife and four small children.
CHAR. And why did you not bring them along with you
CHR. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have
done it! but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pil-
CHAR. But you should have talked to them, and have endeavoured
to have shown them the danger of being behind.
CHn. So I did; and told them also what God had shown to me of
the destruction of our city; "but I seemed to them as one that mocked,"
and they believed me not.
CIAn. 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 des-
truction ? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you.
CHR. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears
in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the


apprehension of the judgment that did hang over our heads; but all
was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.
CHAn. But what could they say for themselves, why they came not
CHu. 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.
COH. 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 pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell me I
was too precise, and that I denied 1,. if' of things, for their sakes, in
which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if what they saw
in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against
God, or of doing any wrong to i". ,-;.1.i..i
CIAR. Indeed Cain hated his *i..'.., I. .:,~.. his own works were
evil, and his brother's righteous," (1 John iii. 12;) and if thy wife and
children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show
themselves to be implacable to good, and "thou hast delivered thy soul
from their blood," (Ezek. iii. 19.)
Now I saw.in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until
supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat.
Now the table was furnished "with fat things, and with wine that was.
well refined," (Isa. xxv. 6;) and all their talk at the table was about the
Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he
did what he did, and why he -had builded that house. And by what they
said, I perceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with
and slain "him that had the power of death," (Heb. 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 put glory of grace into all he did,
was, that he did it out of pure love to his country. And besides, there
were some of them of the household that said they had been and spoke
with him since he did die on the cross: and they have attested that they
had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that
the like is not to be found from the east to the west.
They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that was,
he had stripped himself of his glory, that he might do this for the poor
and that they heard him say and affirm, that he would not dwell in the
mountain of Zion alone." They said, moreover, that he had made many
pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their
original had been the dunghill.
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 toward the sun-rising: the name of the chamber'was Peace, where
he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang-
Where am I now? Is this the love and care
Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims are?
Thus to provide! that I should be forgiven
And dwell already the next door to heavenly"
So in the morning they all got up; and, after some more discourse,
they told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the
rarities of that place. And first they had him into the study, where
they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; in which, as I
remember my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord of
the hill, that he was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by that
eternal generation. Here also was more fully recorded the acts that he
had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had taken into his
service: and how he had placed them in such habitations, that could
neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved.
Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his ser-
vants 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 showed 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 predic-
tions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread
and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.
The next day they took him and had him into the armoury, where
they showed him all manner of furniture, which their Lord had provided
for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, ,.'7.,. ,.. and shoes
that would not wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness
out as many men for the service of the Lord as there be stars in the
heaven for multitude.
They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his
servants had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod; the
hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets,
and lamps, too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian.
Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six
hundred men. They showed him also the jaw-bone with which Samson
did such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling and stone
with which David slew Goliath of Gath; and the sword, also, with which
their Lord will kill the Man of Sin, in the day that he shall rise up
to the prey. They showed him, besides, many excellent things, with
which Christian was much delighted: This done, they went to their
rest again.


Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go for-
ward; but they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then,
said they, we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Moun-
tains, 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 up 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. Then he
asked the name of the country. They said it was Emmanuel'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, said they, thou mayest see
to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live there will
make appear.
Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing
he should. But first, said they, let us go again into the armoury. So
they did; and when they came there, they harnessed him from head to
foot with what was 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 pilgrims
pass by. Then the porter answered, Yes.
CHB. Pray, did you know him? said he.
Pon. I asked him his name, and he told me it was Faithful.
CHx. Oh, said Christian, I know him; he is my townsman, my near
neighbour; he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you
think he may be before
PoB. 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 that thou hast
showed 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 go
down the hill Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so,
ir 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 to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of
wine, and a cluster of raisins.; and then he went on his way.
But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put
to it; for he had gone but a little way, before he espied a foul fiend
coming over the field to meet him; his name is Apollyon. Then did
Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back
or to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no armour


for his back; and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might
give him the greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his darts.
Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground; for, thought he,
had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the
best way to stand.
So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous
to behold; he was clothed with scales, like a fish (and they are his pride,)
he had wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly came
fire and smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion. When he
was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance,
and thus began to question with him.
APOL. Whence come you? and whither are you bound?
CHR. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of
all evil, and am going to the City of Zion.
APOL. By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects, for all that
country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, then,
that thou hast run away from thy king P Were it not that I hope thou
mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now, at one blow, to.the
COn. I was born, indeed, in your dominions, but your service was
hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on, "for the wages
of sin is death," (Rom. vi. 23,) therefore, when I was come to years, I
did as other considerate persons do, look out, if, perhaps, I might mend
APoL. There is no prince that will thus lightly loose his subjects,
neither will I as yet loose thee; but since thou complainest of thy service
and wages, be content to go back: what our country will afford, I do
here promise to give thee.
Cin. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes;
and how can I, with fairness, go back with thee ?
APOL. Thou hast done in this, according to the proverb, "Changed a
bad for a worse;" but it is ordinary for those that have professed
themselves his servants, after a while to give him the slip, and return
again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.
COn. I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to him;
how, then, can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?
APOL. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by
all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back.
CHR. What I promised thee was in my nonage; and, besides, I count
the Prince under whose banner now I stand is able to absolve me; yea,
and to pardon also what I did in my compliance with thee; and, besides,
O thou destroying Apollyon! to speak truth, I like his service, his wages,
his servants, his government, his company and country, better than thine;
and, therefore, leave off to persuade me further; I am His servant, and
I will follow Him.
AroL. Consider, again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like
to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that, for the


most part, His servants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors
against me and my ways. How many of them have been put to shameful
deaths; and, besides, thou contest 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.
CHO. 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?
COn. Wherein, O Apollyon! have I been unfaithful to Him?
Aror. 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 shouldest have stayed till thy Prince
had taken it off; thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice thing; 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 heard and seen,
thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that thou sayest or doest.
CnT. 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, been sorry for them,
and have obtained pardon of my Prince.
APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am an
enemy to this Prince; I hate his person, his laws, and people; I am come
out on purpose to withstand thee.
COR. Apollyon, beware what you do;- for I am in the king's highway,
the way of holiness; therefore take heed to yourself.
APoL. Then ....11.:., straddled quite over the whole breadth of the
way, and said, I ,,1 .-...I 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; but Christian
had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the
danger of that.
Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him: and
Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the
which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon
wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give
a little back; Apollyon therefore followed his work amain, and Christian
again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore

,~ -~a..


Christian's fight with Apollyon.





.. I



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 of his last blow, thereby to make' a full end
of this good man, Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword,
and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I
fall I shall arise," (Micah vii. 8, 2 Cor. xii. 9,) 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," (Reom. viii. 37.) And with that Apollyon spread forth his
dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian for a season saw him
no more.
In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as
I did, what yelling and -hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of
the fight-he spake like a dragon; and. on the other side, what sighs and
groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give
so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon
with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward
but it was the dreadfulest sight that ever I saw.
"A more unequal match can hardly be,-
CHnrSTIAN- must fight an Angel; but you see,
The valiant man by handling Sword and Shield,
Doth make him, tho' a Dragon, quit the field."

So when the battle was over, Christian said, "I will here give thank
to him that delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to him that dl.
help me against Apollyon." And so he did, saying-
"Great Beelzeaub, the captain of this fiend.
Designed my ruin; therefore to this end
He sent him harness'd out: and he with rage,
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage.
But blessed Michael helped me, and I,
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly.
Therefore to him let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless his holy name always."

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


Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, and Christian must needs go through it, because the
way to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it. Now, this valley
is a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it: "A
wilderness, a land of deserts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the
shadow of death, a land that no man" (but a Christian) "passed through,
and where no man dwelt."
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, 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.
COa. Why, what's the matter said Christian.
MEN. Matter! said they; we were going that way as you are going,
and went as far as we durst; and indeed we were almost past coming
back; for had we gone a little further, we had not been here to bring
the news to thee.
CHR. But what have you met with? said Christian.
MEN. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
but that, by good hap, we looked before us, and saw the danger before
we came to it.
OCn. But what have you seen? said C'hi 1 ti',i,.
MEN. Seen! Why; the Valley itself, which is as dark as pitch: we
also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard
also in that Valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a people under
unutterable misery, who sat there bound in affliction and irons; and over
that Valley hangs the discouraging clouds of confusion. Death also doth
always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful,
being utterly without order.
COR. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have said,
but that this is my way to the desired haven.
MEN. Be it thy way; we iill 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 assualted.
I saw then in my dream so far as this valley reached, there was on the
right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which the blind have
led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again,
behold, on the left hand, there was a very dangerous quag, into which,
if even a good man falls, he can find no bottom for his foot to stand on.
Into that quag king David once did fall, and had no doubt therein been
smothered, had not HIE that is able plucked him out.
The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore good
Christian was the more put to it; for when he sought, in the. dark, to
shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire


on the other; also when he sought to escape the mire, without great
carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on,
and I heard him here sigh bitterly; for, besides the dangers mentioned
above, the pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lift up his
foot to set forward, he knew not where or upon what he should set it
"Poor man! where art thou now? thy day is night.
Good man, be not cast down, thou yet art right,
Thy way to Heaven lies by the gates of hell;
Cheer up, hold out, with thee it shall go well."
About the midst of this valley, I perceived the mouth of hell to be,
and it stood also hard by the way-side. Now, thought Christian, what
shall I do? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out
in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things .that cared
not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before,) that he was forced to
put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer.
So he cried in my hearing, "0 Lord. I beseech thee, deliver my soul!"
(Psa. cxvi. 4.) Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would
be reaching towards him. Also he heard doleful voices, and rushing to
and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn to pieces, or
trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen,
and these dreadful noises were heard, by him for several miles together;
and, coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends
coming forward to meet him. he stopped, and began to muse what he
had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back; then again
he thought he might be half way through the valley; he remembered also
how he had already vanquished many a danger, and that the danger of
going back might be much more than for to go forward; so he resolved
to go on. Yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer; but when
they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement
voice, "I will walk in the strength of the Lord God! so they gave back,
and came no further.
One thing I would not let slip: I took notice that now poor Christian
was so confounded, that he did not know his own voice: and thus I
perceived it. Just when he was come over against the mouth of the
burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stept 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 these
blasphemies came.
When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some con-
siderable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before
him, saying, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil, for thou art with me," (Psa. xxiii. 4.)
Then he was glad, and that for these reasons:


Wirst, Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God
were in this valley as well as himself.
Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them, though in that
dark and dismal state: and why not thought he, with me? though by
reason of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it.
Thirdly, For that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have company
by-and-by. So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he
knew not what to answer; for that he also thought himself to be alone.
And by-and-by the day broke; then said Christian, He hath turned "the
shadow of death into the morning," (Amos 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 i":i .. r-- 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 d-....-. i. deep things out of darkness, and
.bringeth out to light the shadow of death," (Job xii. 22.)
Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the
dangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them more
before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day
made them conspicuous to him. And about this time the sun was
rising, and this was another mercy to Christian; for you must note, that
though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was danger-
ous, yet this second part which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far
more dangerous: for from the place where he now stood, even to the
end of the valley, the way was all along set so, full of snares, traps, gins
and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down
there, that, had it now been dark, as it was when he came the first part
of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast
away; but, as I said just now, the sun was rising. Then, said he, "His
candle shineth upon my head, and by his light I walk ." .. .. darkness,"
(Job xxix. 3.)
In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw
in my dream, that at the end of this valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and
...i i!...l bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly;
and while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a little
before me a cave, where two giants, POPE and PAGAN, dwelt in old
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 much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but I have
learnt since, that PAGAN has been dead many a day; and as for the
other, though he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the
many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so
crazy and.stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more than sit in
his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his
nails because he cannot come at them.


So I saw that Christian went on his way; yet at the sight or the Old
Man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think,
especially because he spake to him, though'he could not go after him,
saying, "You will- never mend till more of you be burned." But he
held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by and catched
no hurt. Then sang Christian-
"0 world of wonders! (I can say no less)
That I should be preserved in that distress
That I have met with here! O blessed be
That.hand that from it hath delivered me!
Dangers in darknec' devils, hell, and sin,
Did compass me, -- litu. i r..., vale was in:
Yea, snares and pits, and traps, and nets, did lie
My path about, that wortbi..-, ;..i 1
Might have been catch'd, :-. .,r -.:j, and cast down:
But since I live, let Jasus wear the crown."

Now, as Christiau 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! Soho!
stay, -and I will be your companion!" At that, Faithful looked behind
him-; to whom Christian cried again, "Stay, stay till I come up to you."
But Faithful answered, "No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of
blood is behind me," (Josh. xx. 2--6.)
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
iwas first. Then did Christian vaingloriously smile, because he had
gotten the start of his brother; but not taking good heed to his feet,
he suddenly stumbled and. fell, and could not rise again until Faithful
came up to help him.
Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on together, and
had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in their
pilgrimage; and thus Christian began:
CHR. My honoured and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that
I have overtaken you; and that God hath so tempered our spirits, that
we can walk as companions 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.
CHa. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction, before you
set out after me on your pilgrimage?
FAITH. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great talk presently
after you were gone out, that our city would, in short time, with fire
from heaven, be burned down to the ground.
CHR.i What! did your neighbours talk so?
FAITH. Yes, it was for awhile in everybody's mouth.
CHa. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape
the danger?
FAITH. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I


do'not think they did firmly believe it. For in the heat of the discourse,
I heard some of them deridingly speak of you and of your desperate
journey (for so they called this your pilgrimage,) but I did believe, and
do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from
above: and therefore I have made my escape.
CHR. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable
FAITH. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came at
the Slough of Despond, where, as s6me 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.
COH. And what said the neighbours to him
FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision,
and that among all sorts of people; some do mock and despise him:
and scarce will any set him on work. He is now seven times worse
than if he had never gone out of the city.
CO But why should they be so set against him, since they also des-
pise the way that he forsook
FAITH. Oh, they say, hang him, he is a turn-coat! 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.
CaH. Had you no talk with him before you came out P
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.
COa. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man; but
now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city. For it is hap-
pened to him according to the true proverb, "The dog is turned to his
own vomit again; and the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in
the mire," (2 Pet. ii. 22.)
FAITH. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that which
will be?
COH. 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 perceived you fell into, and got
up to the gate, without that danger, only I met with one whose name
was Wanton, who had liked to have done me a mischief.
CHa. 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. But what did she do to youP
FAITH. You cannot think, but that you know something, what a
flattering tongue she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with her,
promising me all manner of content.
CHR. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience.
FAITH. You know what I mean; all carnal and fleshly content.
COa. Thank God you have escaped her: "The abhorred of the Lord
shall fall into her ditch," (Psalm xxii. 14.)
FAITH. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.


CHO. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her desires?
FAITH. No, not to defile myself; for. I remembered an old writing
that I had seen, which said, "Her steps take hold on hell," (Psalm v.
5.) So I shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her
looks. Then she railed on me, and I went my way.
CHR. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?
FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met
with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither bound.
I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said
the old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow; wilt thou be content
to dwell with me for the wages that I shall give thee? Then I asked
him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the
First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then
what was his work, and what the wages that he would give. He told
me that his work was many delights; and his wages, that I should be
his heir at last. I further asked him what house he kept, and what
other servants he had. So he told me that his house was maintained
with all the dainties in the world; and that his servants were those of his
own.begetting. Then I asked if he had any children. He said that he
had but three daughters: the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and
the Pride of Life, and that I should marry them all 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.
CHa. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?
FAITH. Why, at first, I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with
the man, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as
I talked with him,.I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his
deeds," (Eph. iv. 22.)
CHB. And how then?
FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said,
and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house he would
sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come
near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me that he
would send such a one after me, that should make my way bitter to
my soul. So I turned to go away from him; but just as I turned my-
self 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, "Oh, wretched man!" (Rom. vii. 24.) So
I went on my way up the hill.
Now when I had got about half way up, I looked behind, and saw one
coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the
place where the settle stands.
CHR. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me: but being
overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom.
FAITH. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man over-
took me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked me, and
laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself again, I


asked him wherefore he served me so. He said because of my secret
inclining to Adam the First: and with that he struck me another deadly
blow on the breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot
as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy;
but he said, I know not how to show mercy; and with that knocked
me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one
came by, and bid him forbear.
CuOm. Who was that that bid him forbear?
FAITrr. I did not know him at first, but as he went by, I perceived
the holes in his hands and in his side; then I concluded that he was
our Lord. So I went up the hill.
COm. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none,
neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.
Fumin. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he has
met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home,
and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed
Ci-. But did you not see the house that stood there on the top of
the hill, on the side of which Moses met you?
FAITH. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it: but for the lions,
I think they were asleep, for it was about noon; and because I had so
much of the day before me, I passed by the porter, and came down the
COn. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by, but I wish you
had called at the house, for +b-ey 7ould have shown you so many rarities,
that you would scarce have I... .i. them to the day of your death. But
pr-y t+11 me. Did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility ?
i .. ii, Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have
persuaded me to go back again with him; his reason was, for that the
SIl..- was altogether w-ithout honour. He told me, moreover, that there
to go was the way to disobey 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.
COn. Well, and how did you answer him?
AuITir. I told him that although all these that he named might claim
kindred of me, and that rightly, for indeed they were my relations ac-
cording to the flesh; yet since I became a pilgrim, they have disowned
me, as I also have rejected them; and therefore they were to me now
no more than if they had never been of my lineage.
I told him, moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepre-
sented the thing; "for before honour is humility, and a haughty spirit
before -a fall." I .. !. i. .-, said I, I had rather go through this valley to
the honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which
he esteemed most worthy our affections.
Cii. Met you with nothing else in that valley?
FAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men that I met with


in my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The others would
be said nay, after a little argumentation, and somewhat else; but this
bold-faced Shame would never have done.
CHu. Why, what did he say to you?
FAITH. What! why, he objected against religion itself; he said it
was a pitiful, low, sneaking business, for a man to mind religion; he
said that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a
man to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from
that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustomed
themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected
also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion;
nor any of them neither, before they were persuaded to be fools, and
to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture the loss of all for nobody
knows what. He, moreover, objected to the base and low estate and
condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims, of the times in which
they lived: also their ignorance and want of understanding in all natural
science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate 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 petty faults, or to make restitution where I had taken from any.
He said, also, that religion made a man grow strange to the great, be-
cause 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?
CHn. And what did you say to himP
FAITH. Say! I could not tell what to say at the first. Yea, he put
me so to it, that my blood came up in my face; even this Shame
fetched it up, and had almost beat me quite off. But at last I began
to consider, that, "that which is highly esteemed among men, is had
in abomination with God," (Luke xvi. 15.) And I thought again, this
L'i-,. tells me what men are; but it tells me nothing what God or
the Word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the day of
doom, we shall not be doomed to death or life according to the hec-
toring spirits of the world, but ccorrlin to the wisdom aud law of the
highest. Therefore, thought I,, h i'...1 says is best, indeed 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 coming? 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 scarce shake him
out of my company; yea, he would be haunting of me, and continually
whispering me in the ear, with some one or other of the infirmities that
attend religion; but at last I told him it was but in vain to attempt


further in this business; for those things that he disdained, in those did
I see most glory; and so at last I got past this importunate one. And
when I had shaken him off, then I began to sing-
"The trials that those men do meet withal,
That are obedient to the heavenly call,
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
And come, and come, and come again afresh;
That now, or sometime else, we by them may
Be taken, overcome, and east away.
Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims, then
Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men."

OCi. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain
so bravely; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name;
for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put
us to shame before all men; that is, to make us ashamed of that which
is good; but if he was not himself audacious, he would never attempt
to do as he does. But let us still resist him: for notwithstanding all
his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool and none else. "The wise shall
inherit glory," said Solomon, "but shame shall be the promotion of
FAITH. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame, who
would have us to be valiant for the truth upon the earth.
COn. 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.
COH. It was well for you. I am sure it fared far otherwise with me;
I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley,
a dreadful combat with that foul fiend 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 broke,
and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind with far
more ease and quiet.
Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on, Faithful, as he
chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative,
walking at a distance beside them; for in this place there was room
enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man, and something more
comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed
himself in this manner.
FATIr. Friend, whither away P Are you going to the heavenly
country ?
TALK. I am going to the same place.
FAITH. That is well; then I hope we may have 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
that care thus to spare their time (as they are in their travels,) but
choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and this hath
been a trouble to me,
FAITH. That is indeed a thing to be lamented; for what things so
worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the
things of the God of heaven
TALK. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings are full of convic-
tion; and I will add, what thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable,
as to talk of the things of God! What things so pleasant (that is, if a
man hath any delight in things that are wonderful?) For instance, if
a man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things; or
if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall
he find things recorded so delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in the
Holy ScriptureP
FAITH. That is true; but to be profited by such things in our talk
should be that which we design.
TALK. That is it that I said; for to talk of such things is most pro-
fitable; 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
cf the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's
righteousness, &c. Besides, by this a man may learn, by talk, what it
is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this also a
man may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the gos-
pel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refute
false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the ignorant.
FAITH. All this is true; and glad am I to hear these things from you.
TALK. Alas! the want of this is the cause why so few understand the
need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order
to eternal life; but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a
man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven.
FAITH. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of
God; no man attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk
of them.
TALK. All this I know very well; for a man can receive nothing, ex-
cept it be given him from heaven; all is of grace, not of works. I could
give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this.
FAITH. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall
at this time found our discourse upon ?
TALK. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, or things earth-
ly; 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 -.i!- .
CHR. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man, with
whom you are so taken, will beguile, with that tongue of his, twenty of
them that know him not.
FAITH, Do you know him, then?
OHR. Know him! Yes, better than he knows himself.
FAITH. Pray, what is he?
COH. 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 does he dwell?
CHR. He is the son of one Say-well; he dwelt in Prating Row; and
is known of all that are acquainted with him, by the name of Talkative
in Prating Row; and notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry
FAITH. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.
COH. That is, to them who have not 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 show best at a distance, but,
very near, more unpleasing.
FAITH. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.
CHB. God forbid that I should jest (although I smiled) in this mat-
ter, or that I should accuse any falsely! I will give you a further
discovery of him. This man is for any company, and for any talk; as
he talketh now with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench;
and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he
hath in his mouth; religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or
conversation; all he hath, lieth in his tongue, and his religion is, to
make a noise therewith.
FAITH. Say you so! then am I in this man greatly deceived!
COn. Deceived! you may be sure of it; remember the proverb, "They
say and do not," (Matt. xxiii. 3.) But the "kingdom of God is not in
word, but in power," (1 Cor. iv. 20.) He talketh of I ', i, 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; yea, the brute in his
kind serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and
shame of religion, to all that know him; 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 dcvil'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 dealing
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 findeth 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 commendations before others. For my part,
I am of opinion, that he has, .by his wicked life, caused many to stumble
and fall; and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more.
FAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you; not only because
you say you know him, but also because, like a Christian, you make your
reports of men. For I cannot think that you speak these things of ill-
will, but because it is even so as you say.
COn. Had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps have
thought of him, as, at the first, you did; yea, had he received this re-
port at their hands only that are enemies to religion, I should have
thought it had been a slander-a lot that often falls from bad men's
mouths upon good men's names and professions; but all these things,
yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge, I can prove
him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him; they can neither
call him brother, nor friend; the very naming of him among them makes
them blush, if they know him.
FAITH. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter
I shall better observe this distinction.
Can. They are two things, indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and
the body; for as the body without the soul is but a dead carcass, so
saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion
is the practical part: "Pure religion and undefiled, before God and the
Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and
to keep himself unspotted from the world," (James i. 27; see ver. 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. 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; 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 show you how insignificant the profession of Talkative will be at that
FAITH. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he describeth
the beast that is clean. 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, he
retaineth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean.
COm. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel-sense of those
texts. And I will add another thing: Paul calleth some men, yea, and
those great talkers, too, "sounding brass and tinkling cymbals," that is, as
he expounds them in another place, "things without life, giving sound,"
(1 Cor. xiii. 1-3; xiv. 7.) Things without life, that is, without the true
faith and grace of the gospel; and consequently, things that shall never be
placed in the kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of life;
though their sound, bytheir talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of
an angel.
FAITH. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as
sick of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him?
COH. 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 ?
CHn. 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?
TALx. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of
things. Well, it is a very good question, and I shall be willing to
answer you. And take my answer in brief, thus: First, Where the
grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against
sin. Secondly-
FAITH. Nay, hold, let us consider of one at once. I think you should
rather say, It shows itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin.
TALK. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and
abhorring of sin?
FAITH. Oh, a great deal. A man may cry out against sin of policy,
but he cannot abhor it, but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it.
I have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide
it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress
cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very holy; but she
would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness with
him. Some cry out against sin, even as the mother cries out against
her child in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and
then falls to hugging and kissing it.


TALK. You lie at the catch, I perceive.
FAITH. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the
second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of grace
in the heart ?
TALK. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries.
FAITH. This sign should have been first; but first or last, it is also
false; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries
of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man
have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so consequently be no
child of God. When Christ said, "Do you know all these things?" and
the disciples had answered, Yes: he addeth, "Blessed are ye if ye do
them." He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but in
the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with
doing: "He that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not." A man
may know like an angel, and yet be no Christian, therefore your sign
of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and
boasters; but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart
can be good without knowledge; for without that the heart is naught.
There is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge. Knowledge that resteth
in the bare speculation of things; and knowledge that is accompanied
with -the grace of faith and love; which puts a man upon doing even
the will of God from the heart: the first of these will serve the talker;
but without the other the true Christian is not content. "Give me
understanding, and I shall keep thy law; yea, I shall observe it with
my whole heart," (Psa. 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 of
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; he findeth, moreover, revealed in him the
Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing with him for
life, at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after him; to
which hungerings, &c., the promise is made. Now, according to the
strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour, so is his joy and peace,
so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know him more, and also
to serve him in this world. But though I say it discovereth itself thus
unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude that this is a
work of grace; because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make
his mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore, in him that hath this


work, there is required a very sound judgment before he can, with
steadiness, conclude that this is a work of grace.
To others it is thus discovered:
1. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ.
2. By a life answerable to that confession; to wit, a life of holiness,
heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath a family,) and by conversation-
holiness in the world; which, in the general teacheth him, inwardly, to
abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret; to suppress it in his
family, and to promote holiness in the world; not by talk only, as a
hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection, in
faith and love, to the power of the Word. 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 descrip-
tion of it? and doth your life and conversation testify the same? or
standeth your religion in word or in 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.
TALK. Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering him-
self, 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 answer
to such questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, unless
you take upon you to be a catechizer, and, though you should so do, yet I
may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you tell me why you
ask me such questions?
FAITH. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that
you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have
heard of you, that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that
your conversation gives this your mouth-profession the lie. They say
you are a spot among CIl;--t-i and that religion fareth the worse
for your ungodly conversation; that some have already stumbled at
your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed
thereby; your religion, and an alehouse, and covetousness, and unclean-
ness, and swearing, and lying, and vain-company 1: .:-:. ir. &c., will stand
together. The proverb is true of you which is said of a harlot, to wit,
that she is a shame to all women; so are you a shame to all professors.
TALK. Since you are ready to take up reports and to judge so rashly
as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy
man, not fit to be discoursed with; and so adieu.
CuR. Then came up i-'L!!-, 11-n, 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 perisheth.
CHB. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did; there is but
little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes religion
to stink so in the nostrils of many, as it doth; for they are these talkative
fools, whose religion is only in word, and are debauched and vain in their
conversation, that (being so much admitted into the fellowship of the
godly) do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere.
I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done: then should
they either be made more conformable to religion, or the company of
saints would be too hot for them. Then did Faithful say,
How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes
How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes
To drive down all before him! But so soon
.ir'.i,, talks of heart-work, like the moon
fl-r'- r. the full, into the wane he goes.
And so will all, but he that HEA~rT-WO K 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.
Now, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful
chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after them, and he
knew him. Oh! said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder? Then
Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist. Aye, and
my good friend too, says Faithful, for it was he that set me the way to
the gate. Now was Evangelist come up to them, and thus saluted them:
EVAN. Peace be with you dearly beloved; and peace be to your helpers.
COH. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist; the sight of thy coun-
tenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied
lobouring for my eternal good.
FAITH. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful. Thy
company, O sweet Evangelist, how desirable it is 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.
EVAN. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met with
trials, but that you have been victors; and for that you have, notwith-
standing many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day.


I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and
yours. I have sowed, and you have reaped; and the day is coming,
when both he that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together;
that is, if you hold out: "for in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint
not," (John iv. 36; Gal. vi. 9.) The crown is before you, and it is an
incorruptible one; "so run, that you may obtain it," (1 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: hold fast, therefore,
that you have; let no man take your crown. You are not yet of out the
gun-shot of the devil; you have not resisted unto blood, striving against
sin; let the kingdom be always before you, and believe steadfastly con-
cerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the
other world get within you; and, above all, look well to your own hearts,
and to the lusts thereof, "for they are deceitful above all things, and
desperately wicked;" set your faces like a flint; you have all power in
heaven and earth on your side.
CHR. Then Christian thanked him for his 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, and could tell them of things that might happen unto them,
and also how they might resist and overcome them. To which request
Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth:-
EvAN. My sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the gospel,
that you must, through many tribulations, enter into the kingdom of
heaven. And, again, that in every city bonds and afflictions abide you;
and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pil-
grimage without them, in some sort or other. You have found something
of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will im-
mediately follow; for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness,
and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by-and-by
see before you; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies,
who will strain hard but they will kill you; and be you sure that one
or both of you must seal the testimony which you hold, with blood; but
be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown of life.
He that shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his
pain perhaps great, he will yet have the better of his fellow; not only
because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he
will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of
his journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled
what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves
like men, and "commit the keeping of your souls to your God in well-
doing, as unto a faithful Creator," (1 Peter iv. 19.)
Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilder-
ness, 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: 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," (Eccles. i.; ii. 11, 17; xi. 8; Isa.
xl. 17.)
This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient standing;
I will show you the original of it.
Almost five thousand years agone, 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 pil-
grims made, that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity,
they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be sold all
sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long: therefore at
this fair are all such metchandize sold, as houses, lands, trades, places,
honours, perferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures and
delights of all sorts, as harlots, bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters,
servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones,
and what not.
And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be seen juggling,
cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every
Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries,
false swearers, and that of a blood-red 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 (viz. 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 threat.
Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through this
town where this lusty fair is kept; and he that will go to the City, and
yet not go through this town, must needs "go out of the world." The
Prince of princes himself, when here, went through this town to his
own country, and that upon a fair day too; yea, and as I think, it
was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy
of his vanities; yea, would have made him lord of the fair, would he
but have done him reverence as he went through the town. Yea, because
he was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had him from street to street,
and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he
might, if possible, allure the Blessed One to cheapen and buy
some of his vanities; but he had no mind to the merchandize, and therefore
left the town, without laying out so much as one farthing upon these
vanities. This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing,
and a very great fair. Now, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go
through this fair. Well, so they did: but, behold, even as they
entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the
town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them; and that for several
reasons: for-


First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was
diverse from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people,
therefore, of the fair, made a great gazing upon them: some said they
were fools, some they were bedlams, and some they are outlandish men.
Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel, so they did like-
wise at their speech; for few could understand what they said; they
naturally spoke the language of Canaan, but they that kept the fair
were the men of this world; so that, from one end of the fair to the
other, they seemed barbarians each to the other.
Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers
was, that these pilgrims set very light by "all their wares; they cared
not so much as to look upon them; and if they called upon them to
buy, they would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, "Turn away
mine eyes from beholding vanity," and look upwards, signifying that
their trade and traffic was in heaven.
One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say
unto them, What will ye buy? But they, looking gravely upon him,
answered, "We buy the truth." At that there was an occasion taken
to despise the men the more; some mocking, some taunting,, some
speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite them.
At last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch
that all order was confounded. Now was word i-.: ,ill- brought to
the great one of the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some
of-his most trusty friends to take these men into examination, about
whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men were brought to
examination; and they that sat upon them, asked them whence they
came, whither they went, and what they did there, in such an unusual
garb? The men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in
the world, and that they were going to their own country, which was
the heavenly Jerusalem, and that they had given no occasion to the
men of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them,
and to let them in their journey, except it was for that, when one asked
them what they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. But
they that were appointed to examine them did not believe them to
be any other than bedlams and mad, or else such as came to put all
things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat
them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage,
that they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair.
Behold Vanity Fair! the Pilgrims there
Are chained and stoned beside;
Even so it was our Lord pass'd here,
And on Mount Calvary died."

There, therefore, they lay for some time, and were made the -.1.;..,[: of
any man's sport, or malice, or revenge, the great one of the fair laughing
still at all that befell them. But the men being patient, and not rendering
railing for railing, but contrariwise, blessing, and giving good words for
bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were more


observing, and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame
the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men; they,
therefore, in angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as bad
as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates,
and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. The other replied,
that for aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended
nobody any harm; and that there were many that traded in their fair
that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than
were the men they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on
both sides, the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and
soberly before them, they fell to some blows among themselves, and did
harm one to another. Then were these two poor men brought before
their examiners again, and there charged as being guilty of the late
hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and
hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair,
for an example and a terror to others, lest any should speak in their
behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved
themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that
was cast upon them, with so much meekness and patience, that it won
to their side, though but few in comparison of the rest, several of the
men in the fair. This put the other party yet into greater rage, insomuch
that they concluded the death of these two men. Wherefdre they
threatened that the cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they
should die, for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the men of
the fair.
Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order should
be taken with them. So they put them in, and made their feet fast in
the stocks.
Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from
their faithful friend Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in their
way and sufferings, by what he told them would happen to them. They
also now comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he
should have the best of it; therefore each man secretly wished that he
might have that preferment: but committing himself to the all-wise
disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content, they abode
in the condition in which they were, until they should be otherwise dis-
posed of.
Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to
their trial, in order to their condemnation. When the time was come,
they were brought before their enemies and arraigned. The Judge's name
was Lord Hate-good. Their indictment was one and the same in sub-
stance, though somewhat varying in form, the contents whereof were
"That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade: that they
had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party
to their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their


"Now, FAITHrma, play the man, speak for thy God
Fear not the wicked's malice, nor their rod:
Speak boldly, man, the truth is on thy side:
Die for it, and to Life in triumph ride."
Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against
that which hath set itself against Him that is higher than the highest.
And, said he, as for disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of
peace; the parties that were won to us, were won by beholding our truth
and innocence, and they are only turned from the worse to the better.
And as to the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our
Lord, I defy him and all his angels.
Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say for their
lord the king against the prisoner at the bar, should forthwith appear
and give in their evidence. So there came in three witnesses, to wit,
Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. They were then asked if they knew
the prisoner at the bar; and what they had,to say for their lord the king
against him.
Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect: My Lord, I have known
this man a long time, and will attest upon my oath before this honourable
bench that he is-
JUDGE. Hold! Give him his oath. (So they sware him.) Then he
ENvY. My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one
of the vilest men in our country. He neither regardeth prince nor people,
law nor custom; but doth all that he can to possess all men with certain
of his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls principles of faith
and holiness. And, in particular, I heard him once myself affirm that
Christianity and the customs of our town of Vanity were diametrically
opposite, and could not be reconciled. By which saying, my Lord, he
doth at once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the
doing of them.
JUDGE. Then did the Judge say to him, Hast thou any more to say?
ENVY. My Lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tedious
to the court. Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen have given
in their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that will despatch
him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. So he was bid to stand by.
Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon the prisoner.
They also asked, what he could say for their lord the king against him.
Then they sware him: so he began.
SuP. My Lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do
I desire to have further knowledge of him; however, this I know, that
he is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse that, the other day,
I had with him in this town; for then, talking with him, I heard him
say, that our religion was nought, and such by which a man could by
no means please God. Which sayings of his, my Lord, your Lordship
very well knows, what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we
do still worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned ?
and 'this is that which I have to say.


Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf of
their lord the king, against the prisoner at the bar.
PICK. My Lord, and you gentlemen all, This fellow I have known of
a long time, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be
spoke; for he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken
contemptibly of his honourable friends, whose names are the Lord Old
Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire
of Vain Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the
rest of our nobility; and he hath said, moreover, That if all men were
of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these noblemen should have
any longer a being in this town. Besides, he hath not been afraid to
rail on you, my Lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling
you an ungodly villain, with many other such like vilifying terms, with
which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.
When this Pickthank had told his tale, the Judge directed his speech
to the prisoner at the bar, saying, Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor,
hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against
thee P
FAITH. May I speak a few words in my own defence?
JUDGE. Sirrah! Sirrah! thou deserves to live no longer, but to be
slain immediately upon the place; yet, that all men may see our gentleness
towards thee, let us hear what thou, vile runagate, hast to say.
FAITH. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken,
I never said aught but this, That what rule, or laws, or customs, or
people, were flat against the Word of God, are diametrically opposite
to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error,
and I am ready here before you to make my recantation.
2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his charge against
me, I said only this, That in the worship of God there is required a
Divine faith; but there can be no Divine faith without a Divine revelation
of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of
God that is not agreeable to Divine revelation, cannot be done but by
a human faith, which faith will not be profitable to eternal life.
3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as
that I am said to rail, and the like,) that the prince of this town, with
all the rabblement, his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more
fit for a being in hell, than in this town and country: and so, the Lord
have mercy upon me!
Then the Judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by, to
hear and observe:) Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about
whom so great an uproar hath been made in this town.
You have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed
against him. Also you have heard his reply and confession. It lieth
now in your breasts to hang him or save his life; but yet I think meet
to instruct you into our law.
There was an Act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, servant
to our prince, that lest those of a contrary religion should multiply
and grow too strong for him, their males should be thrown into the


river. There was also an Act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar
the Great, another of his servants, that whosoever would not fall down
and worship his golden image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace.
There was also an Act made -in the days of Darius, that whoso, for
some time, called upon any god but him, should be cast into the lion's
den. Now the substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only
in thought (which is not to be borne,) but also in word and deed; which
must therefore needs be intolerable.
For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition, to prevent
mischief, no crime being yet apparent; but here is a crime apparent.
*For the second and third, you see he disputeth against our religion;
and for the treason he hath confessed, he deserveth to die the death.
Then went the jury out, whose names were, Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-
good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind,
Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable:
who every one gave in his private verdict against him among themselves,
and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in .i;_i1- .. f...,'e the
Judge. And first, among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, -,.-: !....r:-i i, said,
I see clearly that this man is a heretic. Then said Mr. l ... ...:. Away
with such a fellow from the earth, Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the
very looks of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him.
Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose, for he would always be condemning my way.
Hang him, 1 .... him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High-mind.
My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a rogue, said Mr.
Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch
him out of the way, said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable,
Might I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled to him;
therefore, let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death. And so they did;
therefore he was presently condemned to be had from the place where
he was, to the place from whence he came, and there to be put to the
most cruel death that could be invented.
They, therefore, brought him out, to do with him according to their
law; and, first, they scourged him, then they ., !li :l1 him, then they.
lanced his flesh with knives; after that, they stoned him with stones,
then pricked him with their swords; and, last of all, they burned him
to ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful to his end.
Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple
of horses, waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his adversaries had
despatched him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up
through the clouds, with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the
celestial gate.
"Brave FArTHFnrL! bravely done in word and deed;
Judge, witnesses, and jury have, instead
Of ........; thee, but shown their rage:
Wh d. j.- ..... dead, thou'lt live from age to age."
But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded back to
prison. So he there remained for a space; but He that overrules all
things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it


about, that Christian for that time escaped them, and went his way;
and as he went, he sang, saying-
"Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest
Unto thy Lord; with whom thou shalt be blest
When faithless ones, with all their vain delights,
Are crying out under their hellish plights:
Faithful, in. -id let thy name survive;
i.., though the; I ..i:,i thee, thou art yet alive."
Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not forth alone, for there
was one whose name was Hopeful (being made so by the beholding of
C'!.iii ". and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in their sufferings
at the Fair,) who joined himself unto him, and, entering into abrotherly
covenant, told him that he would be his companion. Thus, one died to
bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes, to be a
companion with ('C i...- n in his pilgrimage. This Hopeful also told
Christian, that there were many more of the men in the Fair that would
take their time and follow after.
So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the Fair, they over-
took one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends: so, they
said to him, What countryman, sir ? and how far go you this way ? He
told them that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and he was going
to -the Celestial City, but told them not his name.
From Fair speech! said Christian. Is there any good that lives there ?
BY-ENDS. Yes, said By-ends, I hope.
CHR. Pray, sir, what may I call you, said Christian.
BY-ENDs. I am a -t .-nr to you, and you to me; if you be going
this way, I shall be !:,.i .-.I your company; if not I must be content.
COn. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have heard of; and,
as I remember, they say it is a wealthy place.
BY-ENDS. Yes, I will assure you that it is; and I have very many rich
kindred there.
CHa. Pray, who are your kindred there? if a man may be so bold.
BY-ENns. Almost the whole town; and in particular, my Lord Turn-
about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair-speech (from whose ancestors
that town first took its name,) also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways,
Mr. Any-thing; and the parson of our parish, Mr. Two-tongues, was my
mother's own brother by father's side; and to tell you the truth, I am
become a gentleman of good quality, yet my great-grandfather was but
a waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of
my estate by the same occupation.
CnH. Are you a married man?
BY-ENDS. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter
of a virtuous woman; she was my Lady Feigning's daughter, therefore
she came of a very honourable family, and is arrived at such a pitch of
breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince, and pea-
sant. It is true we somewhat differ in religion from those of the stricter
sort, yet but in two small points': first, we never strive against wind and
tide; secondly, we are always most zealous when religion goes in his


silver slippers; we love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun
shines, and the people applaud him.
Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow, Hopeful, saying, It
runs in my mind that this is one By-ends of Fair-speech; and if it be
he, we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these
parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him; methinks he should not be ashamed
of his name. So Christian came up with him again, and said, Sir, you
talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth; and if I
take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you: Is not
your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech?
BY-ENDS. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nickname that is
given me by some that cannot abide me: and I must be content to bear
it as a reproach, as other good men have borne theirs before me.
CHR. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this
name ?
BY-ENDS. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to give them an
occasion to give me this name was, that I had always the luck to jump
in my judgment with the present way of the times, whatever it was, and
my chance was to get thereby; but if things are thus cast upon me, let
me count them a blessing; but let not the malicious load me therefore
with reproach.
CHR. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of; and
to tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly
than you are willing we should think it doth.
BY-ENDS. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it; you shall
find me a fair company-keeper, if you will still admit me your associate.
CHn. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide; the
which, I perceive, is against your opinion; you must also own religion
in rags, as well as when in his silver slippers; and stand by him, too,
when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the streets with
BY-ENDS. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith; leave me
to my liberty, and let me go with you.
CRn. Not a step further, unless you will do in what I propound as
Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, since they
are harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I
did before you overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake me
that will be glad of my company.
Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and
kept their distance before him; but one of them looking back, saw three
men following Mr. By-ends, and behold, as they came up with him, he
made them a very low conger; and they also gave him a compliment.
The men's names were Mr. Hold-the-World, Mr. Money-love, and Mr.
Save-all; men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been acquainted with; for
in their minority they were school-fellows, and were taught by one Mr.
Gripe-man, a schoolmaster in Lovegain, which is a market town in the
county of Coveting, in the north. This schoolmaster taught them the


art of getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting
on a guise of religion; and these four gentlemen had attained much of
the art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept such
a school themselves.
Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love
said to Mr. By-ends, who are they upon the road before us P (for Christian
and Hopeful were yet within view.)
BY-ENDS. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode,
are going on a pilgrimage.
MONEY-LOVE. Alas! Why did they not stay, that we might have had
their good company ? for they, and we, and you, Sir, I hope, are all going
on pilgrimage.
BY-ENDS. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so rigid, and
love so much their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions
of others, that let a man be never so godly, yet, if he jumps not with
them in all things, they thrust him quite out of their company.
SAVE-ALL. That is bad, but we read of some that are righteous over-
much; and such men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn
all but themselves. But, I pray, what, and how many, were the things
wherein you differed
BY-ENDS. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it
is duty to rush on their journey all weathers; and I am for waiting for
wind and tide. They are for hazarding all for God at a clap; and I am
for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate. They are for
holding their notions, though all other men are against them; but I am
for religion in what, and so far as the times, and my safety, will bear it.
They are for Religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for him
when he walks in his golden slippers, in the sunshine and with applause.
MR. HOLD-THE-WORLD. Aye, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends;
for, for my part, I can count him but a fool, that, having the liberty to
keep what he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as
serpents; it is best to make hay when the sun shines; you see how the
bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit
with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine; if
they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to take
fair weather along with us. For my part, I like that religion best that
will stand with the security of God's good blessings unto us; for who can
imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed upon us
the good things of this life, but that he would have us keep them for
his sake ? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion. And Job says,
that a good man shall lay up gold as dust. But he must not be such
as the men before us, if they be as you have described them.
MR. SAVE-ALL. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and
therefore there needs no more words about it.
MR. MONEY-LOVE. No, there needs no more words about this matter,
indeed; for he that believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see
we have both on our side,) neither knows his own liberty, nor seeks his
own safety.


p, By-EzND. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage;
.and for our better diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to
pr..p.:'uid unto you this question:-
Sl- uppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, &o., should have an
id.:aut...e* lie before him, to get the good blessings of this life, yet so
as that he can by no means come by them except, in appearance at least,
he becomes extraordinarily zealous in some points of religion that he
meddled not with before; may he not use these means to attain his end,
and yet be a right honest manP
MR. MONEY-LOVE. I see the bottom of your question; and, with these
gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape you an answer. And
first, to speak to your question as it concerns a minister himself: Sup-
pose a minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small benefice,
and has in his eye a greater, more fat, and plump by far; he has also
now an opportunity of getting of it, yet so as by being more studious, by
preaching more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper of the
people requires it, by altering of some of his principles; for my part, I
see no reason but a man may do this (provided he has a call,) aye, and
more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man. For why-
1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot be contradicted,)
since it is set before him by Providence; so then, he may get it, if he
can, making no question for conscience sake.
2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a
more zealous preacher, &c., and so makes him a better man; yea, makes
him better improve his parts, which is according to the mind of God.
3. Now, as for complying with the temper of his people by dissembling,
to serve them, some of his principles, this argueth-(1) That he is of a
self-denying temper; (2) Of a sweet and winning deportment; and so
(3) more fit for the ministerial function.
4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for a great,
should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather, since he has
improved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted as one that
pursues his call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good.
And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the
tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such an one to have but a poor
employ in the world, but by becoming religious, he may mend his market,
perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far better customers to his shop;
for my part, I see no reason but that this may be lawfully done. For
1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man
becomes so.
2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my shop.
3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that
which is good, of them that are good, by.becoming good himself! so then
here is a good wife, and good customers, and good gain, and all these
by becoming religious, which is good; therefore, to become religious, to
get all these, is a good and profitable design.
This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends' question,

was highly applauded by them all; wherefore they concluded, upon the
whole, that it was most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as
they thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because Christian
and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly agreed to assault them
with the question as soon as they overtook them; and the rather because
they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, and
they stopped, and stood still till they came up to them; but they con-
cluded, as they went, that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world,
should propound the question to them, because, as they supposed, their
answer to him would be without the remainder of that heat that was
kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them, at their parting a little before.
So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation, Mr. Hold-
the-world propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, and bid
them to answer it if they could.
On. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer ten
thousand such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves
(as it is in the sixth of John), how much more abominable is it to make
of him and religion a stalking-horse, to get and enjoy the world! Nor
do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches, that
are of this opinion.
1. Heathens; for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter
and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there was no ways for them to come
at them, but by becoming circumcised: they say to their companions, if
every male of us be circumcised as they are circumcised, shall not their
cattle, and their substance, and every beast of theirs, be ours P Their
daughter and their cattle were that which they sought to obtain, and
their religion the stalking-horse they made use of to come at them. Read
the whole story, (Gen. xxxiv. 20--23.)
2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion; long prayers
were their pretence, but to get widows' houses was their intent; and
greater damnation was from God their judgment.
3. Judas the devil was also of this religion; he was religious for the
bag, that he might be possessed of what was therein; but he was lost,
cast away, and the very son of perdition.
4. Simon the Witch was of this religion too; for he would have had
the Holy Ghost, that he might have got money therewith; and his sen-
tence from Peter's mouth was according.
5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that takes up
religion for the world, will throw away religion for the world; for so
surely as Judas resigned the world in becoming religious, so surely did
he also sell religion and his Master for the same. To answer the ques-
tion, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have done, and to accept
of, as authentic, such answer, is both heathenish, hypocritical, and devil-
ish; and your reward will be according to your works. Then they stood
staring one upon another, but had not wherewith to answer Christian.
Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Christian's answer; so there
was a great silence among them. Mr. By-ends and his company also
staggered and kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo


them. Then said Christian to his fellow, If these men cannot stand be-
fore the sentence of men, what will they do with the sentence of God F
And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they
do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire?
Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they
came at a delicate plain called Ease, where they went with much content;
but that plain was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now
at the further side of that plain was a little Hill called Lucre, and in
that hill a silver mine, which some of them that had formerly gone that
way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going too
near the brink of the pit, the ground being deceitful under them, broke,
and they were slain; some also had been maimed there, and could not,
to their dying day, be their own men again.
Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over against
the silver mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers to
come and see; who said to Christian and his fellow, Ho! turn aside
hither, and I will show you a thing.
CHa. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it?
DEMAS. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it.for treasure.
If you will come, with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves.
HOPE. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see.
CHi. Not I, said Christian, I have heard of this place before now;
and how many have there been slain; and besides that, treasure is a
snare to those that seek it; for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage.
Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the place dangerous?
Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage?
DEMAs. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless (but
withal, he blushed as he spake.)
CHR. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a step, but still
kee on our way.
HOPE. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the
same invitation as we, he will turn in thither to see.
CO No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way, and a
hundred to one but he dies there.
DEMAs. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you not come over
and see?
CHn. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, thou art an
enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already
condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges,
and why seekest thou to bring us into the like condemnation ? Besides,
if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof,
and will there put us to, shame, where we would stand with boldness
before him.
Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fraternity; and that
if they would tarry a little, he also himself would walk with them.
CHn. Then said Christian, What is thy name P Is it not the same by
the which I have called thee?
DEMAs. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham.


CO I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your
father; and you have trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that
thou usest; thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deserves no
better reward. Assure thyself, that when we come to the King, we will
do him word of this thy behaviour. Thus they went their way.
By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within
sight, and they, at the first beck, went over to Demas. Now, whether
they fell into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they
went down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the
damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not certain; but this
I observed, that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang
"By-ends and silver Demas both agree;
One calls, the other runs, that he may be
A sharer in his lucre; so these do
Take up in this world, and no further go."

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the Pilgrims
came to a place where stood an old monument, hard by the highway side,
at the sight of which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness
of the form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman
transformed into the shape of a pillar; here therefore they stood, looking
and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they should make
thereof. At last Hopeful espied written above the head thereof, a writing
in an unusual hand; but he being no scholar, called to Christian (for he
was learned) to see if he could pick out the meaning; so he came, and
after a little laying of letters together, he found the same to be this,
"Remember Lot's wife." So he read it to his fellow; after which they
both concluded that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife
was turned, for her looking back, with a covetous heart, when she was
going from Sodom for safety. Which sudden and amazing sight gave
them occasion of this discourse.
CO1. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight; it came opportunely
to us after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view
Hill Lucre; and had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast
inclining to do, my brother, we had for aught I know, been made our-
selves like this woman, a spectacle for those that shall come after to
HOPE. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that
I am not now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her
sin and mine? She only looked back; and I had a desire to go see.
Let grace be adored, and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing should
be in mine heart.
COH. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for time
to come. This woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the
destruction of Sodom; yet she was destroyed by another, as we see she
is turned into a pillar of salt.
HOPE. True; and she may be to us both caution and example; caution,
that we should shun her sin; or a sign of what judgment will overtake


such as shall not be prevented by this caution; so Korak, Dathan, and
Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men that perished in their. sin,
did also become a sign or example to others to beware. But above all,
I muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas and his fellows can stand so
confidently yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman, but for
looking behind her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot out
of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt; especially since the judgment
which overtook her did make her an example, within sight of where they
are; for they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up their eyes.
CHR. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their hearts
are grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them
to so fitly, as to them that pick pockets in the presence of the
judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the men
of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because they were sinners
before the Lord, that is, in his eyesight, and notwithstanding the kind-
nesses that he had showed them, for the land of Sodom was now like
the garden of Eden heretofore. This, therefore, provoked him the more
to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of
heaven could make it. And it is most rationally to be concluded, that
such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that
too in despite of such examples that are set continually before them, to
caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest judgments.
HOPE. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it,
that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example!
This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him, and
always to remember Lot's wife.
I saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river; which
David the king called "the river of God," but John, "the river of the
water of life," (Psa. lxv. 9; Rev. xxii. 1; Ezek. xlvii. 1.) Now their way
lay just upon the bank of the river; here, therefore, Christian and his
companion walked with great delight; they drank also of the water of
the river, which was pleasant, and enlivening to their weary spirits:
besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees,
that bore all manner of fruit; and the leaves of the trees were good
for medicine; with the fruit of these trees they were also much delighted;
and the leaves they eat to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are
incident to those that heat their blood by travels. On either side of the
river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies, and it was
green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down, and slept; for
here they might lie down safely. When they awoke, they gathered
again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the
river, and then lay down again to sleep. .Thus they did several days
and nights. Then they sang-
"Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide,
To comfort pilgrims by the highway side;
The meadows green, beside their fragrant smell,
Yield dainties for them: and he that can tell
What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield,
Will soon sell all, that be may buy this field."


So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at
their journey's end,) they ate and drank, and departed.
Now, I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far, but the
river and the way for a time parted; at which they were not a little
sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from. the
river was rough, and their feet tender, by reason of their travels; "so
the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way,"
(Num. xxi. 4.) Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for better
way. Now, a little before them, there was on the left hand of the road
a meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called'
By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, If this meadow
lieth along by our wayside, let us go over into it. Then he went to
the stile to see, and behold, a path lay along by the way, on the other
-side of the fence. It is according to my wish, said Christian. Here is
the easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over.
HOPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the way?
CHR. That is not like, said the other. Look, doth it not go along by
the wayside? So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him
over the stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path,
they. found it very easy for their feet; and withal, they, looking before..
them, espied a man walking as they did (and his name was Vain-confi-
dence); so they called after him, and asked him whither that way led.
He said, To the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, did not I tell you
so? By this you may see we are right. So they followed, and he went
before them. But, behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark;
so that they that were behind lost the sight of him that went before.
He, therefore, that went before (Vain-confidence by name,) not seeing
the way before him, fell, into a deep pit, which was on purpose there
made, by the Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal,
and was dashed in pieces with his fall.
Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know
the matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning.
Then said Hopeful, Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent, as
mistrusting that he had led him out of the way; and now it began to
-rain, and thunder, and lighten in a very dreadful manner; and the water
rose amain.
Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh, that I had kept on my
CHR. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out
of the way?
HOPE. I was afraid on it at the very first, and therefore gave you
that gentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you are older
than I.
Can. Good brother, be not offended; I am sorry I have brought thee
out of the way, and that I have put thee into such imminent danger;
pray, my brother, forgive me; I did not do it of an evil intent.
HOPE. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee; and believe, too,
that this shall be. for our good.


CHR. I am glad -I have with me a merciful brother; but we must not
stand thus: let us try to go back again.
HoPE. But, good brother, let me go before.
CHB. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any danger
I may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone out of
the way.
HOPE. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first; for your mind being
troubled may lead you out of the way again. Then, for their encourage-
ment, they heard the voice of one saying, "Set thine heart toward the
highway, even the way which thou wentest; turn again," (Jer. xxxi. 21.)
But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which the
way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier
going out of the way, when we are in, than going in when we are out.)
Yet they adventured to go back, but it was so dark, and the flood was so
high, that in their going back they had like to have been drowned nine
or ten times.
Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile
that night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat
down there until the day-break; but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now
there was not far from the place where they lay, a castle called Doubting
Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair; and it was in his grounds
they now were sleeping: wherefore he, getting up in the morning early,
and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful
asleep in his grounds. Then, with a grim and surly voice, he bid them
awake; and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his
grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their
way. Then said the Giant, You have this night trespassed on me, by
trampling in, and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along
with me. So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they.
They also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The
Giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle,
into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two
men. Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night,
without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how
they did; they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends
and acquaintance. Now in this place Christian had double sorrow, be-
cause it was, through his unadvised counsel that they were brought into
this distress.
The Pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh,
Will seek its ease; but oh I how they afresh
Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into,
Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo."

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So when
he was gone to bed he told his wife what he had done; to wit, that he
had taken a couple of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon, for
trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best
to do further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they
came, and whither they were bound; and he told her. Then she coun-


The Pilgrims found by Ciant Despair.


selled him that when he arose in the morning he should beat them without
any mercy. So, when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel,
and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating
of them as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of
distaste. Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort,
that they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the
floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there to condole their
misery, and to mourn under their distress. So all that day they spent
the time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night,
she, talking with her husband about them further, and understanding
they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away with
themselves. So when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly
manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes
that he had given them the day before, he told them, that since they were
never like to come oat of that place, their only way would be forthwith
to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison; for
why, said he, should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much
bitterness ? But they desired him to let them go. With that he looked
ugly upon them, and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them
himself, but that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sun-
shiny weather, fell into fits,), and lost for a time the use of his hand;
wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before, to consider what to do.
Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best
to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse:-
CHR. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? The life that we now
live is miserable. For my part I know not whether is best, to live thus,
or to die out of hand. "My soul chooseth strangling rather than life,"
and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon. Shall we be ruled
by the Giant ?
HOPE. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death would be
far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet, let us
consider, the Lord of the country to which we are going hath said, Thou
shalt do no murder: no, not to another man's person; much more, then,
are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that
kills another, can but commit murder upon his body; but for one to kill
himself is to kill body and soul at once. And, -moreover, my brother,
thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten the hell,
whither for certain the murderers go? For "no murderer hath eternal
life," &c. And let us consider, again, that all the law is not in the hand
of Giant Despair., Others, so far as I can understand, have been taken
by him, as well as we; and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows,
but that God that made the world may cause that Giant Despair may
die P or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in ? or that
he may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and may lose
the use of his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again, for
my part, I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my
utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to
do it before; but, however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a


while. The time may come that may give us a happy release; but let
us not be our own murderers. With these words, Hopeful at present
did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together (in
the dark) that day, in their sad and doleful condition.
Well, towards evening, the Giant goes down into the dungeon again,
to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there
he found them alive; and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of
bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when he
beat them, they could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them
alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that, seeing
they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if
they had never been born.
At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a
swoon; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse
about the Giant's counsel; and whether yet they had best to take it or
no. Now Christian again seemed to be for doing it, but Hopeful made
his second reply as followeth:-
HOPE. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou
hast been heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that
thou didst hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
What hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through!
And art thou now nothing but fear! Thou seest that I am in the dun-
geon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also, this
Giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread
and water from my mouth; and with thee I mourn without the light.
But let us exercise a little more patience; remember how thou playedst
the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage,
nor yet of bloody death. Wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame,
that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as
well as we can.
Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his wife being in bed,
she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his coun-
sel. To which he replied, They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather to
bear all hardship, than to make away with themselves. Then said she,
Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and
skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, and make them believe,
ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou
hast done their fellows before them.
So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and
takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them, as his wife had bidden
him. These, said he, were pilgrims as you are, once, and they trespassed
in my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them
in pieces, and so, within ten days, I will do you. Go, get you down to
your den again; and with that he beat them all the way thither. They
lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now,
*when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the
Giant, were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their
prisoners; and withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither by


his blows nor his counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife
replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hope that some will come to
relieve them, or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of
which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear P said the Giant;
I will, therefore, search them in the morning.
Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued
in prayer till almost break of day.
Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half-amazed,
brake out in this passionate speech: What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus
to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I
have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open
any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That is good news,
good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.
Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the
dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back, and the door
flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then
he went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and, with
his key, opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that
must be opened too; but that lock went damnable hard, yet the key did
open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed,
but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant
Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail,
for his fis took him again, so that he could by no means go after them.
Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe,
because they were out of his jurisdiction.
Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with
themselves what they should do at that stile, to prevent those that should
come after, from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they con-
sented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this
sentence-"Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept
by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and
seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many, therefore, that followed after,
read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they sang
as follows:-
"Out of the way we went, and then we found
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground;
And let them that come after have a care,
Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare.
Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are,
Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair."
They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which
mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken be-
fore; so they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and or-
chards; the vineyards and fountains of water; where also they drank and
washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there were
on the tops of these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and they
stood by the highway side. The Pilgrims therefore went to them, and
leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims, when they
stand to talk with any by the way), they asked, Whose Delectable


Mountains are these? And whose be the sheep that feed upon them

"Mountains delectable they now ascend,
Where Shepherds be, which to them do commend
Alluring things, and things that cautious are,
Pilgrims are steady kept by Faith and Fear."
SHEP. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they are within
sight of his city; and the sheep also are his, and he laid down his life
for them.
COn. Is this the way to the Celestial CityP
SHEP. You are just in your way.
OCn. How far is it thither?
SHEP. Too far for any but those that shall get thither indeed.
Cnn. Is the way safe or dangerous?
SHEP. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; "but the transgres-
sors shall fall therein," (Hos. xiv. 9.)
CHR. Is there, in this place, any relief for pilgrims that are weary
and faint in the way?
SHEP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to
be "forgetful to entertain strangers," (Heb. xiii. 2,) therefore the good
of the place is before you.
I saw also in my dream, that when the Shepherds perceived that they
were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them, to which they
made answer as in other places; as, Whence came you? and, How got
you into the way ? and, By what means have you so persevered therein?
For but few of them that begin to come hither, do show their face on
these mountains. But when the Shepherds heard their answers, being
pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome
to the Delectable Mountains.
The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience,
Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the hand, and had them to their
tents, and made them partake of that which was ready at present. They
said, moreover, We would that ye should stay here awhile, to be ac-
quainted with us; and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of
these Delectable Mountains. They then told them, that they were content
to stay; so they went to their rest that night, because it was very late.
Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the Shepherds called
up Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains; so
they went forth with them, and walked awhile, having a pleasant pros-
pect on every side. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Shall we
show these -.;. ... ome wonders? So when they had concluded to do
it, they had : I... i, -i to the top of a hill called Error, which was very
steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So
Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men
dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from the top. Then said
Christian, What meaneth this? The Shepherds answered, Have you not
heard of them that were made to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and
Philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of the body? They


answered, Yes. Then said the Shil.b.-l1, Those that you see lie dashed
in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they; and they have con-
tinued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to
take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the
brink of this mountain.
Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and
the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar off; which, when
they did, they perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and
down among the tombs that were there; and they perceived that the
men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and
because they could not get out from among them. Then said Christian,
What means this?
The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below these
mountains a stile, that led into a meadow, on the left hand of this way ?
They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that stile there
goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant
Despair, and these, pointing to them among the tombs, came once on
pilgrimage, as you do now, even till they came to that same stile; and
because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it
into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into
Doubting Castle; where, after they had been a while kept in the dungeon,
he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where
he has left them to wander to this very day, that the saying of the wise
man might be fulfilled, "He that wandereth out of the way of under-
standing, shall remain in the congregation of the dead," (Prov. xxi. 16.)
Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears gushing
out, but yet said nothing to the Shepherds.
Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to another place,
in a bottom, where was a door in the side of a hill, and they opened the
door, and bid them look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that
within it was very dark and smoky; they also thought that they heard
there a rumbling noise as of a fire, and a cry of some tormented, and that
they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, What means this ?
The Shepherds told them, This is a by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites
go in at; namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau; such as sell
their master, with Judas; such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander;
and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife. Then
said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these had on them, even
every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they not?
SHEP. Yes, and held it a long time, too.
HOPE. How far might they go on in -. ;1 I! -. in their day, since they
notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away?
SnEP. Some further, and some not so far, as these mountains.
Then said the Pilgrims one to another, We have need to cry to the
Strong for strength.
SHEP. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when you have it, too.
By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the Shepherds
a desire they should; so they walked together towards the end of the


mountains. Then said the Shepherds oneto another, Let us here show to
the Pilgrims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have skill to look
through our perspective glass. The Pilgrims then lovingly accepted the
motion; so they had them to the top of a high hill, called Clear, and gave
them their glass to look.
Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that
the Shepherds had shown them, made their hands shake; by means of
which impediment they could not look steadily through the glass; yet
they thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory
of the place. Then they went away, and sang this song-
Thus, by the Shepherds, secrets are revealed,
Which from all other men are kept concealed.
Come to the Shepherds, then, if you would see
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be."

When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them a note
of the way. Another of them bid them beware of the Flatterer. The
third bid them take heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted Ground.
And the fourth bid them God-speed. So I awoke from my dream.
And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims going
down the mountains along the highway towards the city. Now, a little
below these mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit;
from which country there comes into the way in which the Pilgrims
walked, a little crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met with a very
brisk lad, that came out of that country; and his name was Ignorance.
So Christian asked him from what parts he came, and whither he was
IGnon. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there a little on
the left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City.
CHR. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may find
some difficulty there.
IGNon. As other good people do, said he.
Cnn. But what have you to show at that gate, that may cause that
the gate should be opened to you?
IGNOR. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good liver; I pay
every man his own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have
left my country for whither I am going.
CHn. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate that is at the head
of this way; thou camest in hither through that same crooked lane,
and therefore, I fear, however thou mayest think of thyself, when the
reckoning day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge that thou
art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into the city.
IGNOn. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me, I know you not;
be content to follow the religion of your country, and I will follow the
religion of mine. I hope all will be well. And as for the gate that
you talk of, all the world knows that that is a 'great way off of our
country. I cannot think that any man in all our parts doth so much
as know the way to it, nor need they matter whether they do or no,


since we have, as you see, a fine, pleasant green lane, that comes
down from our country, the next way into the way.
When Christian saw that the man was "wise in his own conceit,"
he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, "There is more hope of a fool than
of him," (Prov. xxvi. 12.) And said, moreover, "When he that is a
fool walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every
one that he is a fool," (Ecoles. x. 3.) What, shall we talk further with
him, or out-go him at present, and so leave him to think of what he
hath heard already, and then stop again for him afterwards, and see
if by degrees we can do any good to him ? Then said Hopeful-
"Let Ignorance a little while now muse
On what is said, and let him not refuse
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain
Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain!
God saith, those that no understanding have,
Although he made them, them he will not save."
HOPE. He further added, It is not good, I think, to say all to him
at once; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, even
as he is able to bear it.
So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now when they
had-passed him a little way, they entered into a very dark lane, where
they met a man whom seven devils had bound with seven strong
cords, and were carrying of him back to the door that they saw on
the side of the hill. Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did
Hopeful his companion; yet as the devils led away the man, C'I. ,-r -Jn
looked to see if he knew him; and he thought it might be one Turn-
away, that' dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he did not perfectly
see his face, for he did hang his head like a thief that is found. But
being once past, Hopeful looked after him, and espied on his back a
paper with this inscription, "Wanton professor and damnable apostate."
Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to remembrance, that
which was told me of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout.
The name of the man was Little-faith, but a good man, and he dwelt
in the town of Sincere. The thing was this: At the entering in at
this passage, there comes down from Broad-way Gate, a, lane called
Dead Man's Lane; so called because of the murders that are commonly
done there; and this Little-faith going on pilgrimage, as we do now,
chanced to sit down there, and slept. Now there happened, at that
time, to come down the lane, from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy rogues,
and their names were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt (three brothers,)
and they espying Little-faith, where he was, came galloping up with
speed. Now the good man was just awake from his sleep, and was
getting up to go on his journey. So they came up all to him, and with
threatening language bid him stand. 'At this Little-faith looked as white
as a clout, and had neither power to fight or fly. Then said Faint-heart,
Deliver thy purse. But he making no haste to do it (for he was loth
to lose his money,) Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand
into his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried out,


Thieves! Thieves! With that Guilt, with a great club that was in his
hand, struck Little-faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat
to the ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed to death.
All this while the thieves stood by. But, at last, they hearing that some
were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great-grace, that
dwells in the city of Good-confidence, they betook themselves to their
heels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now, after a while,
Little-faith came to himself, and getting up made shift to scramble on
his way. This was the story.
HOPE. But did they take from him all that ever he had? .
Cin. No; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked, so
those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted
for his loss, for the thieves got most of his spending money. That
which they got not (as I said) were jewels, also he had a little odd
money left, but scarce enough to bring him to his journey's end; nay,
if I was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he went, to keep
himself alive; for his jewels he might not sell. But beg, and do what
he could, he went (as we say) with many a hungry belly the most part
of the rest of the way.
HOPE. But is it -not a wonder they got not from him his certificate,
by which he was to receive his admittance at the Celestial Gate P
CHn. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they missed it
not through any good cunning of his; for he, being dismayed with
their coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide anything;
so it was more by good Providence than by his endeavour, that they
missed of that good thing.
HOPE. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got not his
jewels from him.
CHe. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it as he
should; but they that told me the story said, that he made but little use
of it all the rest of the way, and that because of the dismay that he had
in the taking away his money; indeed, he forgot it a great part of the
rest of his journey; and besides, when at any time it came into his
mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then would fresh
thoughts of his loss come again upon him; and those thoughts would
swallow up all.
HOPE. Alas, poor man! This could not but be a great grief to him.
CHR. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any
of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed, and wounded too, and that
in a strange place, as he was? It is a wonder he did not die with
grief, poor heart! I was told that he scattered almost all the rest of
the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints; telling also to
all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where
he was robbed and how; who they were that did it, and what he lost;
how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with his life.
HOPE. But it is wonder that his necessity did not put him upon
selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith
to relieve himself in his journey.


COR. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this
very day; for what should he pawn them, or to whom should he sell
them? In all that country where he was robbed, his jewels were not
accounted of; nor did he want that relief which could from thence be
administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been missing at the gate
of the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been ex-
cluded from an inheritance there; and that would have been worse to
him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand thieves.
HOPE. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau sold his birthright,
and that for a mess of pottage, and that birthright was his greatest
jewel; and if he, why might not Little-faith do so too?
CHR. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many besides,
and by so doing exclude themselves from the chief blessing, as also
that caitiff did; but you must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-
faith, and also betwixt their estates. Esau's birthright was typical, but
Little-faith's jewels were not so; Esau's belly was his god, but Little-
faith's belly was not so; Esau's want lay in his fleshy appetite,'Little-
faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to the
fulfilling of his lusts; "Behold I am at the point to die (said he,) and
what profit shall this birthright do me? (Gen. xxv. 32.) But Little-faith,
though it was his lot to have but a little faith, was by his little faith
kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize his jewels
more than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not
anywhere that Esau had faith, no, npt so much as a little; therefore no
marvel if, where the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man where
no faith is to resist,) if he sells his birthright, and his soul and all, and
that to the devil of hell; for it is with such, as it is with the ass,
who in her occasions cannot be turned away. When their minds are
set upon their lusts, they will have them whatever they cost. But
Little-faith was of another temper, his mind was on things divine; his
livelihood was upon things that were '.!, i hia:1, and from above; there-
fore, to what end should he that is of such a temper sell his jewels
(had there been any that would have bought them) to fill his mind with
empty things? Will a man give a penny to fill his belly with hay; or
can you persuade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion like the crow?
Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, or sell
what they have, and themselves outright to boot; yet they that have
faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, cannot do so. Here, there-
fore, my brother, is thy mistake.
HoPE. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe reflection had almost
made me angry.
OHC Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are of
the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in untrodden paths, with the
shell upon their heads; but pass by that, and consider the matter under
debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and me.
HOPE. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my
heart, are but a company of cowards; would they have run else, think


you, as they did, at the noise of one that was coming on the road?
Why did not Little-faith pluck up a greater heart ? He might, methinks,
have stood one brush with them, and have yielded when there had been
no remedy.
CHa. That they are cowards, many have said, but few have found it
so in the time of trial. As for a great heart, Little-faith had none; and
I perceive by thee, my brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou
art but for a brush, and then to yield. And, verily, since this is the
height of thy stomach, now they are at a distance from us, should they
appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to second
But, consider again, they are but journeymen thieves, they serve under
the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come in to their
aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a lion. I myself have
been engaged as this Little-faith was, and I found it a terrible thing.
These three villians set upon me, and I beginning, like a Christian, to
resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I would, as the
saying is, have given my life for a penny; but that, as God would have
it, I was clothed with armour of proof. Aye, and yet, though I was so
harnessed, I found it hard work to quit myself like a man. No man
can tell what in that combat attends us, but he that hath been in the
battle himself.
HoPE. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose that
one Great-grace was in the way.
CHG Trqe, they have often fled, both they and their master, when
Great-grace hath but appeared; and no marvel; for he is the King's
Champion. But, I trow, you will put some difference betwixt Little-faith
and the King's C'h i,_I.... All the King's subjects are not his champions,
nor can they, when tried, do such feats of war as he. Is it meet to
think that a little child should handle Goliah as David did? Or that
there should be the strength of an ox in a wren? Some are strong,
some are weak; some have great faith, some have little. This man was
one of the weak, and therefore he went to the wall.
HoPE. I would it had been Great-grace for their sakes.
CHR. If it had been, he might have had his hands full; for I must tell
you, that though Great-grace is excellent good at his weapons, and has,
and can, so long as he keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with
them; yet, if they get within him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other,
it shall go hard but they will throw up his heels. And when a man is
down, you know, what can he do?
Whoso.looks well upon Great-grace's face, shall see those scars and cuts
there, that shall easily give demonstration of what I say. Yea, once I
heard that he should say (and that when he was in the combat,) "We
despaired even of life." How did these sturdy rogues and their fellows
make David groan, mourn, and roar? Yea, Heman, and Hezekiah, too,
though champions in their day, were forced to bestir them, when by these
assaulted; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed


by them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do; but though
some do say of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him
so, that they made him at last afraid of a sorry girl.
Besides their king is at their whistle. He is never out of hearing; and
if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to help
them; and of him it is said, "The sword of him that layeth at him cannot
hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw,
and brass as rotted wood. The arrow cannot make him flee; sling stones
are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble: he
laugheth at the shaking of a spear," (Job xli. 26-29.) What can a man do
in this case? It is true, if a man could, at every turn, have Job's horse,
and had skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable things; "for
his neck is clothed with thunder, he will not be afraid of the grasshopper;
the glory of his nostrils is terrible: he paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth
in his strength, he goeth on to meet he armed men. He mocketh at fear,
and is not affrighted, neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver
rattleth against him, the glittering spear, and the shield. He swalloweth
the ground with fierceness and rage, neither believeth he that it is the
sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha! and he
smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting,"
(Job xxxix. 19-25.)
But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with
an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of others that
they have been foiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood;
for such commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, of
whom I made mention before. He would swagger, ay, he would; he
would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better, and stand more
for his Master than all men; but who so foiled, and run down by these
villains, as he ?
When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the King's
highway, two things become us to do: 1. To go out harnessed and to be
sure to take a shield with us: for it was for want of that, that he that laid
so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield: for, indeed, if that be
wanting, he fears not at all. Therefore, he that had skill hath said,
"Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench
all the fierv darts of the wicked," (Eph. vi. 16.)
2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy, yea, that he
will go with us himself. This made David rejoice when in the Valley of
the Shadow of Death; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood,
than to go one step without his God. Oh, my brother, if he will but go
along with us, what need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall set
themselves against us But, without him, the proud helpers "fall under
the slain," (Isa. x. 4.)
I, for my part, have been in the fray before now; and though through
the goodness of him that is best, I am, as you see, alive; yet I cannot
boast of my manhood. Glad shall I be, if I meet with no more such
brunts; though I fear we are not got beyond all danger. However, since
the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I hope God will also


deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine. Then sang Christian-
"Poor Little-faith! Hast been among the thieves
Wast robb'd? Remember this, whoso believes,
And gets more faith, shall then a victor be
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three."

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came
at a place where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed
withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go: and here
they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight
before them; therefore, here they stood still to consider, And as they
were thinking about the way, behold a man, black of flesh, but covered
with a very light robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood
there. They answered they were going to the Celestial City, but knew
not which of these ways to take. Follow me, said the man, it is
thither that I am going. So they followed him in the way that but
now came into the road, which by degrees turned and turned them so
from the city that they desired to go to, that, in little time, their faces
were turned away from it; yet they followed him.. But by-and-by,
before they were aware, he led them both within the compass of a net,
in which they were both so entangled, that they knew not what to do;
and with that the white robe fell off the black man's back. Then they
saw where they were. Wherefore, there they lay crying some time, for
they could not get themselves out.
CHR. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I do see myself in
error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers? As is
the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day. "A man
that flattereth his neighbour, spreadeth a net for his feet," (Prov.
xxix. 5.)
HOPE. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our
more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read,
and have not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer. Here
David was wiser than we; for, saith he, "Concerning the works of men,
by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer,"
(Psa. xvii. 4.) Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last
they espied a Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small
cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where they were,
he asked them whence they came, and what they did there. They told
him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of
their way by a black man, clothed in white, who bid us, said they,
follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said he with the whip,
It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an
angel of light. So he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said
he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in your way again. So
he led them back to the way which they had left to follow the
Flatterer. Then he asked them, ,-v. Where did you lie the last
night They said, with the Shepherds, upon the Delectable Mountains.
He. asked them then, if they had not of those Shepherds a note of

F'2- ~


1A c~i0V-*~

Christian aond Hopeful caught li the


,r ;~P--'=;l:


direction for the way. They answered, Yes. But did you, said he,
when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note They
answered, No. He asked them, Why? They said, they forgot. He
asked, moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the
Flatterer. They answered, Yes, but we did not imagine, said they,
that this fine-spoken man had been he.
Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to lie down;
which when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good
way wherein they should walk, and as he chastised them he said,
"As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous, therefore, and
repent," (Rev. iii. 19.) This done, he bid them go on their way, and
take good heed to the other directions of the Shepherds. So they
thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along the right
way, singing-
"Come hither, you that walk along the way;
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray!
They watched are in an entangled net,
Cause they good counsel lightly did forget:
'Tis true they rescued were, but yet you see,
They're scourged to boot. Let this your caution be."

Now, after a while, they perceived, afar off, one coming softly and
alone, all along the highway to meet them. Then said Christian to his
fellow, Yonder is a man with his back towards Zion, and he is coming
to meet us.
HOPE. I see him; let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should
prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came
up unto them. His name was Atheist, and he asked them whither
they were going.
COa. We are goingto Mount Zion.
Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter.
CaH. What is the meaning of your laughter
ATHEIST. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon
you so tedious a journey, and you are like to have nothing but your travel
for your pains.
OHB. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received?
ATHEIST. Received! There is no such place as you dream'of in all this
OCa. But there is in the world to come.
ATHEIST. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as you
now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have been seeking
this city these twenty years, but find no more of it than I did the first
day I set out.
CHR. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place
to be found.
ATHEIST. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus
far to seek; but finding none (and yet I should, had there been such
a place to be found, for I have gone to seek it further than you), I
am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things


that I then cast away, for hopes of that which I now see is not.
Ce. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow, Is it true which
this man hath saidP
HOPE. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers: remember what it hath
cost us once' already for our hearkening to such kind of fellows. What!
no Mount Zion? Did we not see, from the Delectable Mountains, the
gate of the city? Also, are we not now to walk by faith? Let us go
on, said Hopeful, lest the man with the whip overtake us again.
You should have taught me that lesson, which I will round you in
the ears withal: "Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err
from the words of knowledge," (Prov. xix. 27.) I say, my brother, cease
to hear him, and let us "believe to the saving of the soul," (Heb. x. 39.)
OHC My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I
doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch
from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know
that he is blinded by the god of this world. Let thee and me go on,
knowing, that we have belief of the truth, "and no lie is of the truth,"
(1 John ii. 21.)
HorP. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. So they turned
away from the man; and he, laughing at them, went his way.
I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came into a cer-
tain country, whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he
came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull and
heavy of sleep; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to
grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes; let us lie down
here and take one nap.
Cnn. By no means, said the other; lest sleeping, we never awake
HoPE. Why, my brother? Sleep is, sweet to the labouring man; we
may be refreshed if we take a nap.
COni. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us be-
ware of the Enchanted Ground? He meant by that, that we should
beware of sleeping; "Therefore let us not sleep, as do others, but let
us watch and be sober," (1 Thess. v. 6.)
HOPE. I acknowledge myself in a fault; and had I been here alone,
I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see it is true that the
wise man saith, "Two are better than one," (Eccles. iv. 9.) Hitherto
hath they company been my mercy, and thou shalt have a good reward
for thy labour.
COn. Now then, said C'n i:li:, to prevent drowsiness in this place,
let us fall into good disco-urse.
HoPE. With all my heart, said the other.
Can. Where shall we begin?
HOPE. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please.
CaH. I will sing you first this song:-

"When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither,
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together:

Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise,
Thus to keep ope their drowsy slumb'ring eyes.
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well,
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell."
CHR. Then Christian began and said, I will ask you a question.
How came you to think at first of so doing as you do now?
HOPE. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after the good of
my soul?
OCu. Yes, that is my meaning.
HOPE. I continued a great while in'the delight of those things which
were seen and sold at our fair; things which I believe now, would have,
had I continued in them still, drowned me in perdition and destruction.
CHR. What things are they
HOPE. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted
much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness,
.,I,. i.'Ll-..i. -i:,_. and what not, that tended to destroy the soul. But
I found at last, by hearing and considering of things that are Divine,
which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, that was put
to death for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that "the end of
these things is death," (Rom. vi. 21--23.) And that for these things'
sake "cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience,"
(Ephes. v. 6.)
OHn. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction?
HoPE. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor
the damnation that follows upon the commission of it; but endeavoured,.
when my mind at first began to be shaken, with the Word, to shut
mine eyes against the light thereof.
CHi. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the
first workings of '...I : blessed Spirit upon you?
HoPE., The causes were, 1. I was ignorant that this was the work of
God upon me. I never thought that, by awakenings for sin, God at
first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet to
my flesh, and I was loth to leave it. 3. I could not tell how to part
with mine old companions, their presence and actions were so desirable
unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions were upon me, were such
troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not bear, no
not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart.
HRn. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble.
HOPE. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind again, and then
I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I was before.
CaH. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again?
HOPE. Many things; as,
1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or,
2. If I have heard any read in the Bible; or,
3. If mine head did begin to ache; or,
4. If I were 'told that some of my neighbours were sick; or,
5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or,
6. If I thought of dying myself; or,


7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others;
8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that I must quickly
come to judgment.
CHR. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the guilt of sin,
when by any of these ways it came upon you?
HoPE. No, not I, for then they got faster hold of my conscience;
and then, if I did but think of going back to sin (though my mind
was turned against it,) it would be double torment to me.
CHR. And how did you do then?
HOPE. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life; for else, thought
I, I am sure to be damned.
OiH. And did you endeavour to mend?
HoPE. Yes; and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too;
and betook me to religious duties, as prayer, reading, weeping for sin,
speaking truth to my neighbours, &c. These things did I, with many
others, too much here to relate.
CHR. And did you think yourself well then?
HorE. Yes, for a while; but at the last, my trouble came tumbling
upon me again, and that over the neck of all my reformations.
CIa. How came that about, since you were now reformed?
HoPs. There were several things brought it upon me, especially such
sayings as these: "All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags," (Isa. 1xiv.
6.) "By the works of the law shall no flesh be justified," (Gal. ii. 16.)
"When ye shall have done all those things, say, We are unprofitable,"
(Luke xvii. 10;) with many more such like. From whence I began to
reason with myself thus: If all my righteousnesses are filthy rags; if,
by the deeds of the law, no man can be justified; and if, when we
have done all, we are yet unprofitable, then it is but a folly to think of
heaven by the law. I further thought thus: If a man runs a hundred
pounds into the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay for all that
he shall fetch; yet, if this old debt stands still in the book uncrossed,
for that the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison till he
shall pay the debt.
CHR. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself?
HOPE. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have, by my sins, run a
great way into God's book, and that my now reforming will not pay off
that score; therefore I should think still, under all my present amend-
ments, But how shall I, be freed from that damnation that I have
brought myself in danger of, by my former transgressions
COR. A very good application: but pray go on.
HOPE. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since my late
amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what I do now,
I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of that I do; so
that now I am forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former fond
conceits of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in one day
to send me to hell, though my former life had been faultless.
OHn. And what did you do then?
HOPE. Do! I could not tell what to do, until I braku my mind to

Faithful, for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me, that
unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never had sinned,
neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the world could save me.
Can. And did you think he spake true?
HOPE. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with
mine own amendment, I had called him fool for his pains; but now,
since I see mine own infirmity, and the sin that cleaves to my best
performance, I have been forced to be of his opinion.
CHR. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you, that
that there was such a man to be found, of whom it might justly be
said, that he never committed sin?
-HOPE. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely, but
after a little more talk and company with him, I had full conviction
about it.
CHI. And did you ask him what man this was, and how you must
be justified by him?
HOPE. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on
the. right hand of the Most High. And thus, said he, you must be
justified by him, even by trusting to what he hath done by himself,
in the days of his flesh, and suffered when he did hang on the tree.
I asked him further, how that man's righteousness could be of that
efficacy to justify another before God? And he told me he was the
mighty God, and did what he did, and died the death also, not for
himself, but for me; to whom his doings, and the worthiness of them,
should be imputed, if I believed on Him.
CHO And what did you do then
HOPE. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought
he was not willing to save me.
C1O And what said Faithful to you then?
HOPE. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said it was presumption;
but he said, No, for I was invited to come. Then he gave me a book
of Jesus' inditing, to encourage me the more freely to come; and he
said, concerning that book, that every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer
than heaven and earth. Then I asked him, What I must do when I
came; and he told me, I must entreat upon my knees, with all my
heart and soul, the Father to reveal him to me. Then I asked him
further, how I must make my supplication to Him? And he said, Go,
and thou shalt find Him upon a mercy-seat, where He sits all the
year long, to give pardon and forgiveness to them that come. I told
him that I knew not what to say when I came. And he bid me say
to this effect: God be merciful to me a sinner, and make me to
know and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see, that if his righteousness
had not been, or I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utterly
cast away. Lord, I have heard that thou art a merciful God, and
hast ordained that thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of the
world; and moreover, that thou art willing to bestow him upon such a
poor sinner as I am (and I am a sinner indeed;) Lord, take therefore

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