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I

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

BY

JOHN BUNYAN

AN EDITION FOR CHILDREN ARRANGED BY

JEAN MARIAN MATTHEW

WITH FOUR COLOURED AND SEVERAL OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS

H. J. FORD

LONDON SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE

NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Picture Books by H. J. Ford

The Parables

With Coloured Frontispiece and 12 Black and White Illustrations. 10x7!. 78 pp. Pictorial Paper boards. 35. 6d. net.

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With Coloured Frontispiece and 12 Black and White Illustrations. 10 x 7^. 62 pp. Pictorial Paper boards. 35. 6d.

Sketches of English Church History

By Elizabeth Grierson. With 21 Illustra- tions by H. J. Ford. 8J x 6|. 90 pp. Cloth. 35. 6d. net.

SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE

PUBLIC LIBRARY

AST -NO

TILDf.r

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6

TO

PATRICK

EDITOR'S NOTE

MANY children have been hindered from reading the Pilgrim's Progress by the long conversations, setting forth various points of doctrine, with which the story is often interrupted. In this edition these have been left out as far as may be, and John Bunyan's beautiful allegory, true for all time, remains undisturbed in his own words.

J. M. M.

CONTENTS

PART I CHAPTER I

PAQB

CHRISTIAN SETS OUT ON PILGRIMAGE ..... 3

CHAPTER II

THE WICKET-GATE . . . . . . . .15

CHAPTER III

THE HILL DIFFICULTY ........ 24

CHAPTER IV

THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL ....... 30

CHAPTER V

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH .... 38

CHAPTER VI

CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL ....... 48

CHAPTER VII VANITY FAIR . 55

CHAPTER VIII

DOUBTING CASTLE ........ 64

CHAPTER IX

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS . . . . .77

CHAPTER X

THE PASSING OF THE RIVER ........ 84

ix

x CONTENTS

PART II CHAPTER I

PAGE

CHRISTIANA, HER SONS, AND MERCY BECOME PILGRIMS . . 93

CHAPTER II THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE ....... 103

CHAPTER III

MR. GREAT-HEART . . . . . . . . .115

CHAPTER IV

PIETY, PRUDENCE, AND CHARITY . . . . . .124

CHAPTER V

THE Two VALLEYS 131

CHAPTER VI

GAIUS MINE HOST . . . . • • • .142

CHAPTER VII THE HOUSE OF MNASON . . • • • .150

CHAPTER VIII THE DEATH OF GIANT DESPAIR ......

CHAPTER IX

THE ENCHANTED GROUND . . . . • • .170

CHAPTER X THE KING'S MESSENGER .... 174

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PART I

IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH . . . Frontispiece

PAOE

THE MAN PUT HIS FINGERS IN HIS EARS AND RAN ON . . . .5

IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND ........ 8

MR. WORLDLY-WISEMAN AND CHRISTIAN 11

EVANGELIST SAVES CHRISTIAN 13

CHRISTIAN AT THE WICKET-GATE 17

THE PARLOUR UNSWEPT ...... . .19

THE WORK OF GRACE INEXTINGUISHABLE 21

TlIE BURDEN UNLOOSED AT THE CROSS ...... 25

CHRISTIAN PASSES BETWEEN THE LIONS 31

CHRISTIAN ARMED BY CHARITY, PRUDENCE, PIETY, AND DISCRETION . 35

CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON 41

CAME A HAND WITH SOME OF THE LEAVES OF THE TREE OF LIFE . 43

BETWEEN DITCH AND QUAG 45

CHRISTIAN SEES GIANT POPE 47

ONE CAME BY AND BID HIM FORBEAR ....... 51

THE PILGRIMS HAVE TO GO THROUGH VANITY FAIR .... 57

THE PILGRIMS IMPRISONED IN THE CAGE ...... 59

THE END OF FAITHFUL 63

DEMAS AND HIS SILVER MINE ........ 67

THE PILGRIMS ON THE BANKS OF THE RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE . 69

THE PILGRIMS CAUGHT BY GIANT DESPAIR 73

THE KEY CALLED PROMISE . 76

xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAOK

THE PERSPECTIVE GLASS OF THE SHEPHERDS ..... 80

" AS MANY AS I LOVE I REBUKE AND CHASTEN " . . . . .82

IN THE RIVER OF DEATH 87

*' BLESSED ARE THEY THAT ARE CALLED TO THE MARRIAGE SUPPER OF

THE LAMB " . . . . . . . . . • .89

CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ARRIVE IN HEAVEN . . . To face 90

PART II

NOW I SAW IN MY DREAM THAT THEY WENT ON AND GREAT-HEART

BEFORE THEM . . . . . . . To fttCC 93

SHE THOUGHT SHE SAW TWO VERY ILL-FAVOURED ONES STANDING BY HER

BEDSIDE . . . . . . . . . ... 95

THE MAN WITH THE MUCK-RAKE . . . . . . . 109

GREAT-HEART DEFEATS GIANT GRIM . . . . . . .119

MERCY'S DREAM ........... 122

DR. SKILL'S PRESCRIPTION ......... 129

AT THE MONUMENT OF CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH ApOLLYON . . . 133 CHRISTIANA FEARS THE FIEND ........ 135

How MERCY SAW A LION FOLLOWING . . . . . . .137

GIANT MAUL FIGHTS HARD WITH GREAT-HEART ..... 139

HOW THEY RESCUE FEEBLE-MIND FROM SLAY-GOOD .... 151

THE FIVE ATTACK THE SEVEN-HEADED MONSTER ..... 157

THE PILLAR OF SALT .161

THE SLAYING OF GIANT DESPAIR ........ 163

MR. READY-TO-HALT DANCES WITH MUCH-AFRAID ..... 165

MERCY'S DESIRE FOR THE MIRROR ....... 167

THE POST FROM THE CELESTIAL ClTY . . . . • • • 177

CHRISTIANA BIDS FAREWELL AT THE RIVER OF DEATH . . To face 178

PART FIRST

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK

WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand, Thus for to write, I did not understand That I at all should make a little book In such a mode : nay, I had undertook To make another ; which, when almost done, Before I was aware, I this begun. . . .

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

This book 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 direction understand.

•

Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; The blind also delightful things to see.

JOHN BUNYAN.

CHAPTER I

CHRISTIAN SETS OUT ON PILGRIMAGE

AS I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den, and laid me down in that place to 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, " What shall I do ? "

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children, and thus he began to talk to them : " O ! my dear wife," said he, " and you my children, 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 burnt with fire from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow both myself, with thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered." At this his relations were sore amazed ; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his head ; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, Avith all haste they got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome to him as the day ; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morning was come, they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse. He also

4 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

set to talking to them again ; but they began to be hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriage to him : sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. Where- fore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery ; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying ; and thus for some days he spent his time.

Now, upon a time, when he Avas walking in the fields, 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?"

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

He answered, Sir, I perceive, by the book in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment ; and I find that I am not willing to do the first, nor able to do the second.

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this life is attended with so many evils ? The man answered, Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave.

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou still ? He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, " Flee from the wrath to come ! " The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I flee ? Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field, Do you see yonder Wicket-gate ? 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, when his wife and children per- ceiving 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

*TC«. mor\_ Jaut Vi6 -fin go's in. Kii ears and. ratv orv

6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

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 you come ? " They said, To persuade you to go back with us. But he said, That can by no means be. You dwell, said he, in the City of Destruction (the place also where I was born) : I see it to be so ; and, dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave: be content, good neighbours, and go along with me.

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

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because that all which you shall forsake is not to be compared with a little of that that I am seeking to enjoy ; and if you will go along with me, you shall fare as I myself ; for there, where I go, is enough and to spare. Come away, and prove my words.

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

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book.

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

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my hand to the plough.

Obst. 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.

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

Chr\ Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, Pliable ; there are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories besides.

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

CHRISTIAN SETS OUT ON PILGRIMAGE 7

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

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 going back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain, and thus, they drew nigh to a very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain ; and they being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with 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 ?

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

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

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

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

Help. 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.

Now, I saw in my dream that by this time Pliable was got home to his house. So his neighbours came to visit him : and some of them called him wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding himself with Christian ; others, a.gain,

CHRISTIAN SETS OUT ON PILGRIMAGE 9

did mock at his cowardliness, saying, Surely, since you began to venture, I would not have been so base as to have given out for a few difficulties : so Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tails, 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, began thus to enter into some talk with him.

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

Chr. A burdened manner indeed, as ever, I think, poor creature had ! And whereas you asked 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 to me if I give thee counsel ?

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

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

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

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

Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honourable person ; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist.

World. 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 wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I

10 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

perceive, already ; for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee : but that Slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me ; I am older than thou : thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things are certainly true, having been confirmed by many testimonies. And should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed to a stranger ?

Chr. Why, sir, this burden 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. 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. Besides, I will add, that, instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.

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

World. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality) there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders ; yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way ; ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from this place ; and if he 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, thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee to this village, where there are houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate : provision is there also cheap and good ; and that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest 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 spake.

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

World. Do you see yonder high hill ?

M" WORLtLY-WlSEMAN £, CHFMiTIAN

12 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. Yes, very well.

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

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

Evan. What dost thou here, 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 thou not the man that I found crying without the walls of the City of Destruction ?

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

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little Wicket- gate ?

Chr. Yes, dear sir, said Christian.

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

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast committed two evils : thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has good will for men ; only, said he, take heed that thou turn not aside again, " lest thou perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little." Then did Christian address himself to go back ; and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him Godspeed. So he

\

14 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way ; nor, if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe till again he was got into the way which he had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up to the gate.

CHAPTER II

THE WICKET-GATE

NOW, over the gate there was written, " Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice.

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 ?

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

Good-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 at the gate asked him who directed him thither.

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

Good-w. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it. But how is it that you came alone ?

Chr. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.

Good-w. Did any of them know of your coming ?

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

Good-w. But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back ?

15

16 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

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

Good-w. But why did he not come through ? Chr. We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbour Pliable discouraged, and would not venture further. Wherefore, getting out again, on the side next to his own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him : so he went his way, and I came mine : he after Obstinate, and I to this gate.

Good-w. Then said Good-will, Alas, poor man ! is the celestial glory of so little esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties to obtain it ?

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

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

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

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

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

Good-w. We make no objections against any ; notwithstanding all that they have done before they come hither, " they in no wise are cast out." And therefore, good Christian, come a little way Avith 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 go.

18 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings, no windings, by which a stranger may lose his way ?

Good-w. Yes, there are many ways abut down upon this, and they are crooked and wide ; but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being 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 comest to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address him- self 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 Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him Godspeed.

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

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

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

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

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in ; I will show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him : so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door ; the which, when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up against the wall ; and this was the fashion of it : it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was behind its back ; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head. Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide, in all difficult places thou mayest meet

THE WICKET-GATE

19

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 reviewed it a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith

20 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room ; the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ?

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a man, and 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.

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

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

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

Inter. So he said, These two lads are figures : Passion, of the men of this world ; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come. For as here thou seest, Passion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in this world ; so are the men of this world : they must have all their good things now ; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, " A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with them than 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.

Then 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 not-

THE WICKET- GATE

21

withstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him about to the backside of the wall, where

he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast (but secretly) into the fire.

Then said Christian, What means this ?

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the

22 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

heart. And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire; this is to teach thee, that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in the soul.

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

Then said Christian, May we go in thither ?

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

Come in, come in ;

Eternal glory thou shalt win.

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

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

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad : he sat with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his heart. Then said Christian,

THE WICKET-GATE 23

What means this ? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.

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

Chr. What wast thou once ?

Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing pro- fessor, both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others. I was once, as I thought, fair for the Celestial City, and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither.

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 !

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

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help me to watch and 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 ?

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

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

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

CHAPTER III

THE HILL DIFFICULTY

NOW I saw in my dream that the highway, up which Chris- tian 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 to a place somewhat ascending ; and upon that place stood a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a Sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the Cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of the Sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death. Then he stood still a while to look and wonder ; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the Cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now, as he stood looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with, " Peace be to thee." So the first said to him, " Thy sins be forgiven thee ; " the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment ; 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. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing.

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

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the Dead Sea is under you—

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26 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

a gulf that' hath no bottom : awake, therefore, and come away ; be willing also, and I will help you off with your irons. He also told them, If he that goeth about like a roaring lion 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 fat must stand upon its own bottom. And so they laid 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 proffer- ing to help them off with their irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over the wall on the left hand of the narrow way ; and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into discourse.

Chr, Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you ?

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

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

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

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

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, he needed not 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. And besides, said they, if we get into the way, what matter is it which way we get in ? If we are in, we are in : thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate ; and we are also in the way, that came tumb- ling over the wall : wherein now is thy condition better than ours ?

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master ; you walk by the rude working of your fancies ; therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way.

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

THE HILL DIFFICULTY 27

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 he began to go up the hill.

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

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

Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men running amain ; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust : to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter ? you run the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were going to the City of Zion, and had got up that difficult place :

28 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

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 way, whether sleeping or waking we know not ; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces.

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid ; but whither shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to my own country, I shall certainly perish there ; if I can get to the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there : I must venture. To go back is nothing but death ; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it : I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein, and be comforted ; but he felt, and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do ; for he wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he bethought himself that he had slept in the 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 from his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find his roll that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. He went thus till he came again 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 there- fore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that I am, that I should sleep in the daytime, that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty ! that I should so indulge the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh, which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps have I taken in vain ! 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 have trod but once: yea also, now I am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. O that I had not slept !

THE HILL DIFFICULTY 29

Now by this time he was come to the arbour again, where for a while he sat down and wept ; but at last, looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll : the which he, with trembling and haste, catched up, and put 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 accept- ance 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 began again to condole with himself : O thou sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my journey ! I must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures ! 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.

CHAPTER IV

THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL

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 danger 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 the discovery of those that have none : keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee.

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

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

Port. What is your name ?

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless.

Port. 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

30

.-ll-.vUCHTaSTtTlKi^PaSSES t SETTWE.EM

32 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL 33

Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pil- grim's life ?

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

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

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

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the Inter- preter ?

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which will stick by me as long as I live. I would have stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had further to go.

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

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

Chr. 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, a heavenly one.

Pru. And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion ?

Chr. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross ; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are 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 the truth, I love him, because I was by him eased of my burden ; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy.

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

Chr. I have a wife and four small children.

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

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

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together

3

34 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

until supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table was furnished with fat things, and wine that was well refined ; and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill ; as, namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had 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 ; but not without great danger to himself. And he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is not to be found from the east to the west.

Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and, after they had committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sunrising : the name of the chamber was Peace.

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 of the Lord of the hill. Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had done : as, how they had " subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens." Here also were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a view ; as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things that have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.

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

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses's rod ; 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 Sham gar 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 the. Lord

36 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

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 forwards, but they desired him to stay till the next day also ; and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ; which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was : so he consented and stayed.

When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did ; and, behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Immanuel's Land ; and it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear.

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

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

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

Chr. 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 ?

Port. He has got by this time below the hill.

Chr. Well, said Christian, good porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou hast 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. Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is ; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to

THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL 37

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 the hill, but very warily ; yet he caught a slip or two.

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

CHAPTER V

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

UT 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 : there- fore he resolved to venture and stand his ground ; for, thought he, had I no more in my 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 came 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 that thou art one of my subjects ; for all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away from thy king ? Were it not that I hope that thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the ground.

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

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee : but since thou complainest of thy

38

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH 39

service and wages, be content to go back ; and what our country will afford, I do here promise to give thee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chr. 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 : and I have groaned under these infirmities, being 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, laws, and people : I am come out on purpose to withstand thee.

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

Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare

40 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

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 combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent ; for you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and, wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall ; and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now. And with that he had almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, " Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy : when I fall, I shall arise," 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." And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon wings, and sped him away, so that Christian saw him no more.

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, 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 as much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two edged sword ; then, indeed, he did smile and look upward ! But it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here give thanks to Him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to Him that did help me against Apollyon. And so he did. Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the Tree of Life which Christian took and applied to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed im-

:HRJSTWTS TIGHT WITHAPOLLYON

42 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

mediately. He also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that Avas given to him a little before : so, being refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey with his sword drawn in his hand ; for he said, I know not but some other enemy may be at hand. But he met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this valley.

Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and Christian must needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it. Now, this valley is a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it : "A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits ; a land of drought, and of the shadow of death ; a land that no man passeth 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, making haste to go back ; to whom Christian spake as follows :— Chr. Whither are you going ?

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

Chr. Why, what's the matter ? said Christian. Men. Matter ! said they : we were going that way as you are going, and went as far as we durst ; and indeed we were almost past coming back ; for had we gone a little further, we had not been here to bring the news to thee.

Chr. But what have you met with ? said Christian. Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it.

Chr. But what have you seen ? said Christian. Men. Seen ! why, the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit : we heard also in that valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons : and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds of confusion : death also does always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly with- out order.

Chr. 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 will not choose it for ours. So they parted ; and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted.

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH 43

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

The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore

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

44 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also hard by the wayside. Now, thought Christian, what shall I do ? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake him- self to another weapon, called all-prayer : so he cried in my hearing, " O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul."

Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards him : also he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by him, for several miles together ; and coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopped, and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back ; then again he thought he might be half-way through the valley. He remembered also how he had already vanquished many a danger ; and that the danger of going back might be much more than 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.

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, " Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear none ill : for thou art with me."

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons :—

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

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

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."

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

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

45

had f gone through in the dark: so he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other ; also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both : also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off; for after break of day they came not

nigh ; yet they were discovered to him, according to that which is written, " He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth to light the shadow of death."

Now was Christian much affected with this deliverance from all the dangers of his solitary way ; which dangers, though he

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feared them much before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him.

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

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

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

CHAPTER VI

CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL

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

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and, putting to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and did also over- run him ; so the last was first. Then did Christian vain-gloriously 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 to- gether, 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 has 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.

Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction, be- fore you set out after me on your pilgrimage ?

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

Chr. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, 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

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CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 49

and got up to the gate without that danger. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I was a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow ; wilt thou be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall give thee ? Then I asked 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. Then I asked how long time he would have me live with him. And he told me, as long as he lived himself.

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

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

Chr. And how then ?

Faith. Then it came burning hot in 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 myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after him- self. This made me cry, " O wretched man ! " So I went on my way up the hill. And when I had got half-way up I looked behind and saw him coming after me, swift as the wind. And so soon as he overtook me, he was but for a word and a blow : for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. 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.

Chr. Who was that, that bid him forbear ?

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

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

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

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

Faith. Yes ; I met with one Discontent, Avho would willingly have persuaded me to go back again with him : his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without honour.

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley ?

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men that I met with on my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The others would be said nay, after a little argumentation and somewhat else ; but this bold-faced Shame would never have done. But at last I told him that 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 im- portunate one.

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst Avithstand 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 did you meet with nobody else in that valley ?

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

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

Moreover, I saw in my dream, that, as they went on, Faith-

OWE c

D BID HIM

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

Faith. Friend, whither away ? Are you going to the heav- enly country ?

Talk. I am going to that same place.

Faith. That is well : then I hope we may have your good company.

Talk. With a very good will, will I be your companion. Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable.

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very accept- able, with you, or with any other ; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work.

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, of things earthly ; things moral, or things evangelical ; things sacred, or things profane ; things past, or things to come ; things foreign, or things at home ; things more essential, or things circumstantial, provided that all be done to our profit.

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

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

Chr. Know him ! yes, better than he knows himself. Faith. Pray, what is he ?

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

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

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. Chr. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is best abroad ; near home he is ugly enough.

CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 53

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

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 ?

2'rt/A1. Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but recovering himself, he thus replied : You come now to experience, to con- science, and God. This kind of discourse I did not expect ; nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechiser ; and though you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions ?

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you 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.

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

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

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.

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

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Evan. Peace be to you, dearly beloved ; and peace be to your helpers.

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist ; the sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied labours for my eternal good.

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

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

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

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, notwithstanding many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. 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 long go on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort or other. You have found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will immediately follow : for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by-and-by see before you ; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they will kill you : and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony Avhich 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 un- natural, and his pains perhaps great, will yet have the better of his fellow ; not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves like men ; and " commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator."

CHAPTER VII

VANITY FAIR

THEN I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is Vanity;- and at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and also because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity.

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

Almost five thousand years ago, there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons are ; and Beelze- bub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiving, by the path that the pilgrims made, that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair— a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity ; and that it should last all the year long. Therefore at this fair are all such merchandise sold, as houses, lands, trades, places, honours, prefer- ments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures ; and delights of all sorts.

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

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.

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

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this town to his own country, and that upon a fair-day too: yea, and, as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities ; yea, he would have made him lord of the fair, would he but have done him reverence as he went through the town ; yea, because he was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had him from street to street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One to cheapen and buy some of his vanities. But he had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the town, without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities. This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, and a very great fair.

Now these pilgrims 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 were outlandish men.

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

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the merchan- disers 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 you buy ? But they, looking gravely upon him, said, 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 presently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take those men into examination, about whom the fair was almost over- turned. So the men were brought to examination ; and they that

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sat upon them asked 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, else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. • There, therefore, they lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge ; the great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. But the men being patient, and " not rendering railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing," and giving good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were more observing and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men. They therefore, in 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 mis- fortunes. The others replied, that for aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended nobody any harm ; and that there were many that traded in their fair that Avere more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides (the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them), they fell to some blows, and did harm one to another. Then were these two poor men brought before their examiners again, and were charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them with so much meekness and patience, that it won to their side (though but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the fair. This put the other party yet into a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of these two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they

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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 more confirmed in their way and sufferings by what he told them would happen to

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them. They also now comforted each other, that whose lot it was to surfer, even he should have the best of it ; therefore each man secretly wished that he might have the preferment : but committing themselves to the all- wise disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the condition in which they were until they should be otherwise disposed of.

Then a convenient time being appointed, they were brought forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. The judge's name was Lord Hate-good. Their indictment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form ; the contents whereof were these :—

" 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 con- tempt of the law of their prince."

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set himself against that which had set itself against Him that is higher than the highest. And, said he, as for disturbance, I made 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 oath before this honourable bench, that he is—

Judge. Hold, give him his oath.

So they sware him. Then said he, My lord, this man, not- withstanding 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. 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

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have given in their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that will dispatch him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. So he was bid to stand by.

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

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge of him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse the other clay that I had with him in this town ; for then, talking with him, I heard him say that our religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means please God : 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 spoken ; 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 noble men should have any longer a being in this town. Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, with many other such-like vilifying terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.

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

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

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

Faith. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken, I never said aught but this, that what rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were flat against the word of God, are 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.

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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 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.

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

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

Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his adversaries had dispatched him) was taken up into it, and straight- way was carried up through the clouds, with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the Celestial Gate. But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded back to prison ; so he remained

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there for a space. But He who overrules all things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for that time escaped them, and went his way.

CHAPTER VIII

DOUBTING CASTLE

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

So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the fair, they overtook one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends : so they said to him, What countryman, sir ? and how far go you this way ? He told them that he came from the town of Fair- speech, and that 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. Yes, said By-ends, I hope.

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

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

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

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

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

By. Almost the whole town ; and, in particular, my Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair-speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its name : also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything ; and the parson of our parish

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Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own brother by father's side : and, to tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of good quality ; yet my great-grandfather was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the same occupation.

Chr. Are you a married man ?

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a virtuous woman : she was my Lady Feigning's daughter, therefore she came of a very honourable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding that she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and peasant. 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. 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. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of ; and, to tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs to you more properly than you are willing we should think it doth.

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

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

By. You must not impose or lord it over my faith ; leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you.

Chr. Not a step further, unless you will do in what I pro- pound as we.

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

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

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

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

Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see.

Chr. Not I, said Christian. I have heard of this place before now, and how many 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 keep on our way.

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

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

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

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast already been condemned for thine own turning aside, by one

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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 Avould tarry a little, he also himself would walk with them.

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

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

Chr. I know you : Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your father, and you have trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that thou usest : thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better reward. Assure thyself that, when we come to the King, we will tell him of this thy behaviour. Thus they went their way.

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again

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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.

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monument hard by the highway-side, at the sight of which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof ; for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, they stood looking and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied, written above upon the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the meaning : so he came, and after a little laying of the letters to-

§ ether, he found the same to be this, " Remember Lot's wife." o 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. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them oc- casion for much discourse.

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." Now, their way lay just upon the bank of this river : here, therefore, Christian and his companion walked with great delight ; they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees with all manner of fruit ; and the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits and other diseases that are incident to those that heat their blood by travel. On either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies ; and it was green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might lie down safely. 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. 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.

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Now the way from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travel ; so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way. Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for a better way. Now, a little before them, there was on the left-hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it, and that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along by our wayside, let 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. 'Tis according to my wish, said Christian. Here is the easiest going ; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over.

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

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

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

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

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

Chr. Good brother, be not offended. I am sorry I have brought thee out of the way, and that I have put thee into such

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imminent danger. Pray, my brother, forgive me ; I did not do it of an evil intent.

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

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

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

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

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first ; for your mind being troubled, may lead you out of the way again.

Now, by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which the way of going back was very dangerous. Yet they adventured to go back ; but it was so dark, and the flood 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 daybreak ; 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, in 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, because it was through his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this distress.

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence : so, when he was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done ;

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to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best do further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound ; and he told her. Then she counselled him that when he arose in the morning he should beat them without mercy. So when he arose he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of distaste ; then he fell upon them, and beat 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 their time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night she, talking with her husband further about them, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away with themselves. So, when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them that, since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison : For why, said he, should you choose 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 sunshiny weather, fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hands. Wherefore he withdrew, and left them, as before, to consider what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves whether it was best to take his counsel or no ; and thus they began to discourse :—

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? The life that we now live is miserable. For my part, I know not whether it is best to live thus or to die out of hand. " My soul chooseth strangling rather than life," and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon ! 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. And let us consider, again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair ; others, so far as I can under-

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stand, have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hands. Who knows but that God, who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair may die, or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in ; or that he may in a short time have another of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs ? And if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man. and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it before ; but, however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure awhile. The time may come that may give us a happy release ; but let us not be our own mur- derers. 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 re- newed their discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take it or no. Now Christian again seemed for doing it ; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth :—

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been heretofore ? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through, and art thou now nothing but fears ? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art ; also this giant 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 bear up with patience as well as we can.

Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel. To which he replied, They are sturdy

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rogues ; they choose rather to bear all hardships than to make away with themselves. Then said she, Take them into the castle- yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched, and make them believe, ere a week conies 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 on my grounds, as you have done ; and when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces ; and so within ten days I will do you. Get you down to your den again : and with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband the giant 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 counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied — I fear, said she, that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear ? said the giant ; I will therefore search them in the morning.

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

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out into this passionate speech : What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That's 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 that, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too. But that lock went desperately 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 fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to

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the King's highway again, 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 consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence : " Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many, therefore, that fol- lowed after, read what was written, and escaped the danger.

CHAPTER IX

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS

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

Shep. These mountains are 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.

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City ?

Shep. You are just in your way.

Chr. How far is it thither ?

Shep. Too far for any but those who shall get thither in- deed.

Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous ?

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; •' but trans- gressors shall fall therein."

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 ; ': therefore the good of the place is before you.

I saw also in my dream that, when the Shepherds per- ceived 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

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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, Ex- perience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the hand, and had them to their tents, and made them partake of that which was ready at present. They said, moreover, We would that you should stay here a while, to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these Delectable Moun- tains. They then told them that they were content to stay. So they went to 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 prospect on every side. Then said the Shep- herds one to another, Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders ? So, when they had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of a hill called Error, which was very steep on the farthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had 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 Hymenaeus and Philetus ? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, Those that you see dashed in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they ; and they have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others, to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain.

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another moun- tain, 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 stum- bled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, What means this ?

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see, a little below these mountains, a stile that led into a meadow, on the left hand of this way ? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, and these men (pointing to them among the tombs) came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even until they came to that same stile. And because

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS 79

the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle ; where, after they had a while been kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he has left them to wander to this very day. Then Christian and Hopeful looked one upon another with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the Shepherds.

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to another place, in a bottom, where was a door on the side of a hill ; and they opened the door, and bid them look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky ; they also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and 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 Master, with Judas ; such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander ; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife.

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

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

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their days, since they, notwithstanding, were thus miserably cast away ?

Shep. Some further, and some not so far as these mountains.

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

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

When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them a note of the way. Another of them bid them beware of

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the Flatterer. The third bid them take heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them Godspeed. So they went on 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 : there- fore 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 far from the city that they desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned away from it : yet they followed

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS 81

him. But by-and-by, before they were aware, he led them both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled that they knew not what to do ; and with that the white robe fell off the black man's back. Then they saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out.

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

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure finding thereof ; but therein we have also for- gotten to read, and have not kept ourselves from the " paths of the destroyer."

Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small cords in his hand. When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said he with the whip, It is Flatterer, " a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light." 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 they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night ? They said, With the Shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains. He asked them then if they had not of the Shepherds a note of directions for the way. They answered, Yes. But did you not, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note ? They answered, No. He asked them, WThy ? They said they forgot. He asked, more- over, 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." This done, he bids 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 until they came into a certain country whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And 6

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS 83

here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy to sleep : wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold open mine eyes ; let us lie down here, and take one nap.

By no means, said the other ; lest sleeping we never awake more.

Hope. Why, my brother ? sleep is sweet to the labouring man ; we may be refreshed, if we take a nap.

Chr. Do not you remember that one of the Shepherds bid us beware 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."

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

CHAPTER X

THE PASSING OF THE RIVER

NOW I saw in my dream, that by this time the pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground ; and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the sun shineth night and day : wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair ; neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were going to ; also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof: for in this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of heaven. Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimages.

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound ; and drawing near to the city, they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the streets thereof were paved with gold ; so that by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick. Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease. Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out because of their pangs, "If ye see my Beloved, tell him that I am sick of love."

But being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these places, behold the gardener stood in the way ; to whom the pilgrims said, Whose goodly vineyards and gardens are these ? He answered, They are the King's, and are planted here for his own delights, and also for

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THE PASSING OF THE RIVER 85

solace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties ; he also showed them there the King's walks, and the arbours where he delighted to be : and here they tarried and slept.

Now I beheld in my dream that they talked more in their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their journey ; for it is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards "to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak."

When they awoke they addressed themselves to go up to the city. But, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city (for the city was pure gold) was so extremely glorious, that they could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through an instru- ment made for that purpose. So I saw that, as they went on, there met them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their faces shone as the light.

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came ; and they told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures, they had met in the way ; and they told them. Then said the men that met them, You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city.

Christian then and his companion asked the men to go along with them ; so they told them that they would. But, said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the gate.

Now I further saw, that between them and the gate was a river ; but there was no bridge to go over. The river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river the pilgrims were much stunned ; but the men that went with them said, You must go through, or you cannot come at the gate.

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate. To which they answered, Yes ; but there hath not any, save two — to wit, Enoch and Elijah — been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall until the last trumpet shall sound. The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond, and looked this way and that, but could find no way by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of the same depth. They said, No : yet they could not help them in that case ; for, said they, you shall find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place.

Then they addressed themselves to the water, and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful,

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he said, I sink in deep waters ; the billows go over my head ; all the waves go over me.

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother ; I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, Ah ! my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed me about ; I shall not see the land that floweth with milk and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spoke still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they who stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had com- mitted, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits ; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words.

Hopeful therefore here had much ado to keep his brother's head above water ; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again, half dead. Hope- ful also would endeavour to comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us. But Christian would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis you they wait for ; you have been hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother ! said he, surely if I were right, he would now arise to help me ; but for my sins he hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, these troubles and distresses that yCfu go through are no sign that God hath forsaken you ; but are sent to v try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you hav^, received of his goodness, and live upon him in your distresses.

Then I saw in my dream that Christian was in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added these words, Be of good cheer ; Jesus Christ maketh thee whole. And with that Christian brake out with a loud voice, Oh, I see him again ! and he tells me, " When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the ground was but shallow. Thus they got over.

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they

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saw the two Shining Men again, who there waited for them. Wherefore being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, " We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those that shall be heirs of salvation." Thus they went towards the gate.

Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill ; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms : they had like- wise left their mortal garments behind them in the river ; for though they went in with them, they came out without them. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than the clouds ; they therefore went up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted because they safely got over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.

The talk that they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of the place ; who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is " Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect." You are going now, said they, to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof ; and when you come there you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity. There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the earth — to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death : " for the former things are passed away."

The men then asked, What must we do in the holy place ? To whom it was answered, You must there receive the comforts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow ; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King by the way. There you shall enjoy your friends again that are gone thither before you ; and there you shall with joy receive even every one that follows into the holy place after you.

Now while they were thus drawing towards the gate, be- hold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them ; to whom it was said by the other two Shining Ones, These are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have forsaken all for his holy name ; and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a great

THE PASSING OF THE RIVER

89

shout, saying, " Blessed are they that are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb." There came out also at this time to meet them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious voices, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side : some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on

^'MMA^m^^m-K^^

the left (as it were to guard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high ; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to meet them. Here also they had the city itself in view ; and they thought they heard all the bells therein ring, to welcome them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that for ever and ever — oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be ex- pressed ! Thus they came up to the gate.

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Now when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in letters of gold :—

" BLESSED ARE THEY THAT DO HIS COMMANDMENTS, THAT THEY MAY HAVE RIGHT TO THE TREE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN THROUGH THE GATES INTO THE CITY."

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate ; and, lo ! as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them ; the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, " ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF YOUR LORD." I also heard the men themselves sing with a loud voice, saying, " BLESSING, AND HONOUR, AND GLORY, AND POWER, BE UNTO HlM THAT SITTETH UPON THE THRONE, AND UNTO THE LAMB, FOR EVER AND EVER."

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold, the city shone like the sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and in them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord ! " And after that they shut up the gates, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

END OF PART I

PART SECOND

GO now, my little Book, to every place Where my First Pilgrim has but shown his face; Call at their door. If any say, Who's there ? Then answer thou, CHRISTIANA is here. If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how, Tell who they are, also from whence they came ; Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name.

Tell them that they have left their house and home, Are turned Pilgrims, seek a World to come : That they have met with hardships in the way ; That they do meet with troubles night and day ; That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils, Have also overcome a many evils.

Go tell them also of those dainty things That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. Let them acquainted be, too, how they are Beloved of their King, under his care ; What goodly mansions for them he provides, Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides ; How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, Who to their Lord and by his ways hold fast.

JOHX BUNYAN.

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CHAPTER I

CHRISTIANA, HER SONS, AND MERCY BECOME PILGRIMS

SOME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me and profitable to you. I told you then, also, what I saw concerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage — insomuch that he was forced to go on his progress without them ; for he durst not run the danger of that which he feared would come by staying with them in the City of Destruction : wherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed.

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she with her children betook themselves to a pilgrim's life), after her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, began to have thoughts working in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt them, and this cost her many a tear. But this was not all ; for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriage to her dear friend ; which also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her hus- band, and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties and loving persuasions, of her and her sons, to go with him ; yea, there was not anything that Christian either said to her, or did before her, all the while that his burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent

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the caul of her heart in sunder ; especially that bitter outcry of his, " What shall I do to be saved ? ': did ring in her ears most dolefully.

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned away your father, and he is gone : he would have had us with him, but I would not go myself ; I also have hin- dered you of life. With that the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after their father. Oh, said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him ! then had it fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do now. For though I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humours ; yet now it will not out of my mind but that they sprang from another cause — to wit, for that the light of life was given him, by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the snares of death. Then they all wept again, and cried out, Oh, woe worth the day !

The next night Christiana had a dream ; and, behold, she saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which was recorded the sum of her ways ; and the times, as she thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, " Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner ! " and the little children heard her.

After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favoured ones standing by her bedside, and saying, What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out for mercy, waking and sleeping. If she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her, as we have lost her husband. Wherefore we must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help but she will become a pilgrim.

Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was upon her ; but after a while she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw Christian her husband in a place of bliss among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat upon a throne, with a rainbow about his head.

Next morning when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked with her children awhile, one knocked hard at the door ; to whom she spake, saying, If thou comest in God's name, come in. So he said, Amen ; and opened the door, and saluted her with, Peace be to this house. The which when he had done, he said, Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come ? Then she blushed and trembled ; also her heart began to wax warm with desires to know from whence he came, and what was his errand to her. So he said

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unto her, My name is Secret ; I dwell with those that are on high. It is talked of where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go thither ; also there is a report that thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart

against his way, and in keeping of these babes in their ignorance Christiana, the Merciful One hath sent me to tell thee that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he taketh delight to multiply the pardon of offences. He also would have thee to know that he inviteth thee to come into his presence, where is Christian, thy

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husband, with legions more, his companions, ever beholding that face that doth minister life to beholders ; and they shall all be glad when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold.

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowed her head to the ground. This visitor proceeded, and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I have brought to thee from thy husband's King. So she took it, and opened it, and it smelt after the manner of the best perfume; also it was written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter were these : Thtt.V the King would have her to do as Christian her husband ; for that was the way to come to his city, and to dwell in his presence with joy for ever. At this the good woman was quite overcome ; so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, will you carry me and my children with you, that we also may go and worship the King ?

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did he that went before thee, enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband. Go to the Wicket-gate yonder, over the plain ; for that stands at the head of the way up which thou must go, and I wish thee all good speed. Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom ; that thou read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until those have got it by heart ; for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage; also this thou must deliver in at the farther gate.

So Christiana called her sons together, and did thus address herself unto them : Come, my children, let us pack up, and be gone to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his companions in peace, according to the laws of that land.

Then did her children burst out into tears, for joy that the heart of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor bid them farewell ; and they began to prepare to set out for their journey.

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women that were Christiana's neighbours came up to the house, and knocked at her door. To whom she said as before, If you come in God's name, come in. At this the women were stunned, for this kind of language they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet they came in ; but, behold, they found the good woman preparing to be gone from her house.

So they began, and said, Neighbour, pray what is your meaning by this ?

Christiana answered, and said to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a journey. (This

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Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the hill of Difficulty, and would have had him go back for fear of the lions.)

Tim. For what journey, I pray you ?

Chr. Even to go after my good husband.

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour ; pray, for your poor children's sake, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.

Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not one of them is willing to stay behind.

Tim. I wonder in my very heart what or who has brought you into this mind ?

Chr. O neighbour ! knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would go with me.

Tim. Pr'ythee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ?

Chr. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my husband's departure from me, but especially since he went over the river. But that which troubleth me most is my churlish carriage to him when he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was then ; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrim- age. I was a-dreaming last night that I saw him. O that my soul was with him ! The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promises of entertainment, if I shall come to him : his messenger was here even now, and has brought me a letter, which invites me to come. And with that she plucked out the letter, and read it, and said to them, What now will you say to this ?

Tim. O the madness that hath possessed thee and thy husband to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with, even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbour Obstinate can yet testify, for he went along with him ; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and above, how he met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor is the danger he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though a man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor woman, do ?

But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neighbour. And for that you tell me of all these troubles which I am like to meet with in the way, they are so far from being to me a dis- couragement, that they show I am in the right. "The bitter must come before the sweet," and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me further.

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Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, Come, neighbour Mercy, let us leave her in her own hands, since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neighbour. She said within herself, If my neighbour will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her, and help her; for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I will yet have more talk with this Christiana ; and if I find truth and life in what she shall say, I myself, with my heart, shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbour Timorous : —

Mer. Neighbour, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning ; and since she is, as you see, a-taking her last fare- well of the country, I think to walk, this sunshiny morning, a little way with her, to help her on her way. But she told her not of her second reason, but kept it to herself.

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too ; but take heed in time, and be wise. While we are out of danger, we are out ; but when we are in, we are in.

So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to her journey. But when Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her neighbours, to wit, Mrs. Bat's- eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. So when they were come to her house, she falls to telling of the story of Christiana, and of her intended journey. And thus she began her tale :—

Tim. Neighbours, having had little to do this morning, I went to give Christiana a visit ; and when I came at the door, I knocked, as you know it is our custom. And she answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So in I went, thinking all was well ; but when I came in, I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and also her children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that ; and she told me, in short, that she was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me also a dream that she had, and how the King of the country where her husband was had sent her an inviting letter to come thither.

Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, And what ! do you think she will go ?

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on't ; and methinks I know it by this : for that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the troubles she was like to meet with on the way) is one great argument with her to put her forward on her journey.

Mrs. Bats-eyes. O this blind and foolish woman ! will she

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not take warning by her husband's afflictions ? For my part, I see, if he were here again, he would rest himself content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with such fantastical fools from the town ! a good riddance, for my part, I say, of her. Should she stay where she dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by her ? for she will either be dumpish or unneighbourly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide. Wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure. Let her go, and let better come in her room. It was never a good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it.

By this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with her. So as they went, her children being there also, Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favour, that thou shouldest set forth out of doors with me to accompany me a little in my way.

Mer. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), If I thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I would never go near the town any more.

Chr. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with me. I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage. My husband is where he would not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon my invitation. The King, who hath sent for me and my children, is one that delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me as my servant. Yet we Avill have all things in common betwixt thee and me : only go along with me.

Mer. But how shall I be assured that I also shall be entertained ? Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go, being helped by Him that can help, though the way be never so tedious.

Chr. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do : Go with me to the Wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee ; and if there thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be content that thou return to thy place. I will also pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my children in the accompanying of us in our way as thou dost.

Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow ; and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall even as the King of heaven shall have his heart upon me.

Christiana was then glad at her heart, not only that she had a companion, but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation. So they went on

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together, and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Where- fore weepeth my sister so ?

Mer. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall but rightly consider what a state and condition my poor relations are in, that yet remain in our sinful town ? And that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to come.

Chr. Thou dost for thy friends as my good Christian did for me when he left me : he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him. I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost ; for the Truth hath said, that " They that sow in tears shall reap in joy ; ': and, " He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him."

Now when Christiana came to the Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand ; for, said she, this is the place in which my dear husband had like to have been smothered with mud. She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the command of the King to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse than formerly. Here Christiana, therefore, with her boys, did make a stand. But said Mercy, Come, let us venture ; only let us be wary. Then they looked well to their steps, and made a shift to get staggeringly over.

Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once or twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words that said unto them, " Blessed is she that believeth, for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord."

Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Christiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at the Wicket- gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond would discourage me.

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know mine ; and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come to our journey's end.

Now methought I saw Christiana, and Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to the gate ; to which when they were come, they betook themselves to a short debate about how they must manage their calling at the gate, and what should be said unto him that did open to them. So it was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that she should speak to him that did open, for the rest. So Chris- tiana began to knock ; and, as her poor husband did, she knocked and knocked again. But, instead of any that answered, they all thought that they heard as if a dog came barking upon them

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—a dog, and a great one too ; and this made the women and children afraid. Nor durst they for a while to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their minds, and knew not what to do : knock they durst not, for fear of the dog ; go back they durst not, for fear the Keeper of the gate should espy them as they so went, and should be offended with them. At last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more ve- hemently than they did at first. Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is there ? So the dog left off to bark, and he opened unto them.

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not our Lord be offended with his handmaidens, for that we have knocked at his princely gate. Then said the Keeper, Whence come ye ? and what is it that you would have ?

Christiana answered, We are come from whence Christian did come, and upon the same errand as he ; to wit, to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted, by this gate, into the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next place, that I am Christiana, once the wife of Chris- tian, that now is gotten above.

With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, What ! is she now become a pilgrim, that but a while ago abhorred that life ? Then she bowed her head, and said, Yes ; and so are these my sweet babes also.

Then he took her by the hand and led her in, and said also, " Suffer the little children to come unto me ; " and with that he shut up the gate. This done, he called to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with shouting and sound of trumpet for joy. So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious notes.

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

And she said, My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet without, that is come hither upon the same account as myself — one that is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, without sending for ; whereas I was sent for by my husband's King to come.

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each minute was as long to her as an hour ; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud that she made Christiana start.

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Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is there ? And Chris- tiana said, It is my friend.

So he opened the gate, and looked out ; but Mercy was fallen down without in a swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no gate should be opened to her.

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

arise.

O sir, said she, I am faint ; there is scarce life left in me. But he answered, Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me wherefore thou art come.

Mer. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I presume.

Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place ?

Mer. Yes ; and as my Lord sees, I am come ; and if there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that thy poor handmaid may be a partaker thereof.

Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on me, by what means soever they come unto me. Then said he to those that stood by, Fetch something, and give it Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her faintings. So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while after she was revived.

CHAPTER II

THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE

AND now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, re- ceived of the Lord at the head of the way, and spoke kindly unto by him. Then said they yet further unto him, We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord his pardon, and further information what we must do.

Now I saw in my dream that he spake many good words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladdened. He also had them up to the top of the gate, and showed them by what deed they were saved ; and told them withal, that that sight they would have again, as they went along the way, to their comfort.

So he left them a while in the summer parlour below, where they entered into a talk by themselves ; and thus Christiana began : O Lord, how glad am I that we are got in hither !

Mer. So you well may ; but I of all have cause to leap for joy.

Chr. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate (because I had knocked, and none did answer), that all our labour had been lost, especially when that ugly cur made such a heavy barking against us.

Mer. But my worst fear was after I saw that you was taken into his favour, and that I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, " Two women shall be grinding at the mill ; the one shall be taken, and the other left." I had much ado to forbear crying out, Undone ! And afraid I was to knock any more ; but when I looked up to what was written over the gate, I took courage. I also thought that I must either knock again or die : so I knocked, but I cannot tell how ; for my spirit now struggled between life and death.

Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am sure your knocks were so earnest that the very sound of them made me start. I thought I never heard such knocking in all my life ; I thought you would come in by a violent hand, or take the kingdom by storm.

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Mer. Alas ! to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so ? You saw that the door was shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, would not have knocked with all their might ? But, pray, what said my Lord to my rudeness ? Was he not angry with me ?

Chr. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave a won- derful, innocent smile : I believe what you did pleased him well, for he showed no sign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog : had I known that before, I should not have had heart enough to have ventured myself in this manner. But now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all my heart.

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes down, why he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard ; I hope he will not take it amiss.

Do so, said the children, and persuade him to hang him ; for we are afraid he will bite us when we go hence.

So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy said, " Righteous art thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee ; yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments : " wherefore dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, at the sight of which such women and children as we are ready to fly from the gate for fear ?

He answered and said, That dog has another owner ; he also is kept close in another man's ground, only my pilgrims hear his barking : he belongs to the castle which you see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls of this place. He has frighted many an honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep him out of any good-will to me or mine, but with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may be afraid to come and knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken out, and has worried some that I loved ; but I take all at present patiently. I also give my pilgrims timely help, so that they are not delivered to his power, to do with them what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But what, my purchased one ! I trow, hadst thou known never so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have been afraid of a dog. The beggars that go from door to door will, rather than lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of the bawling, barking, and biting too, of a dog ; and shall a dog, a dog in another man's yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any one from coming to me ?

Mer. Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance : I spake

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what I understood not : I acknowledge that thou dost all things well.

Chr. Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and to inquire after the way. So he fed them, and washed their feet, and set them in the way of his steps, according as he had dealt with her husband before.

So I saw in my dream that they walked on their way, and had the weather very comfortable to them.

Now there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way up which Christiana and her companions were to go, a garden, and that garden belonged to him whose was that bark- ing dog of whom mention was made before. And some of the fruit-trees that grew in that garden shot their branches over the wall ; and being mellow, they that found them did gather them up, and eat of them to their hurt. So Christiana's boys (as boys are apt to do), being pleased with the trees, and with the fruit that hung thereon, did pluck them, and began to eat. Their mother did also chide them for so doing, but still the boys went on.

Well, said she, my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is none of ours. But she did not know that it belonged to the enemy; I'll warrant you, if she had, she would have been ready to die for fear. But that passed, and they went on their way. Now by that they were gone about two bowshots from the place that led them into the way, they espied two very ill-favoured ones coming down apace to meet them. With that, Christiana, and Mercy her friend, covered themselves with their veils, and so kept on their journey ; the children also went on before : so at last they met together. Then they that came down to meet them came just up to the women, as if they would embrace them ; but Christiana said, Stand back, or go peaceably as you should. Yet these two, as men that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's words, but began to lay hands upon them. At that Christiana, waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her feet. Mercy also, as well as she could, did what she could to shift them. Christiana again said to them, Stand back and be gone, for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as you see, and such, too, as live upon the charity of our friends.

Then said one of the two men, We make no assault upon you for money, but are come out to tell you, that if you will but grant one small request which we shall ask, we will make women of you for ever.

Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made answer again, We will neither hear, nor regard, nor yield to what

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you shall ask. We are in haste, and cannot stay ; our business is a business of life and death. So again she and her companion made a fresh essay to go past them ; but they letted them in their way.

And they said, We intend no hurt to your lives : 'tis another thing we would have.

Ay, quoth Christiana, you would have us body and soul, for I know 'tis for that you are come ; but we will die rather upon the spot, than to suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares as shall hazard our wellbeing hereafter. And with that they both shrieked out, and cried, Murder ! murder ! But the men still made their approach upon them, with design to prevail against them. They therefore cried out again.

Now they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at which they came, their voice was heard from whence they were, thither ; wherefore some of the house came out, and knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they made haste to her relief. But by that they were got within sight of them, the women were in a very great scuffle ; the children also stood crying by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the ruffians, saying, What is that thing you do ? Would you make my Lord's people to transgress ? He also attempted to take them ; but they did make their escape over the wall into the garden of the man to whom the great dog belonged, so the dog became their pro- tector. This Reliever then came up to the women, and asked them how they did. So they answered, We thank thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat affrighted ; we thank thee also for that thou earnest in to our help, otherwise we had been overcome.

Reliever. So after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth : I marvelled much when you were entertained at the gate above, seeing ye knew that ye were but weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord for a conductor ; then might you have avoided these troubles and dangers ; for he would have granted you one.

Chr. Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with our present blessing, that dangers to come were forgotten by us : besides, who could have thought that so near the King's palace there could have lurked such naughty ones ? Indeed, it had been well for us had we asked our Lord for a protector ; but since our Lord knew it would be for our profit, I wonder he sent not one along with us. ReL It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest by so doing they become of little esteem. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would not so have bewailed that

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oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and tend to make you more wary.

Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess our folly, and ask one ?

Rel. To go back again you need not, for in all places where you shall come you shall find no want at all ; for in every one of my Lord's lodgings, which he has prepared for the reception of his pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I said, " he will be inquired of by them, to do it for them." And 'tis a poor thing that is not worth asking for.

When he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went on their way.

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

Chr. Thy innocence, my sister, said Christiana to Mercy, may excuse thee much ; but as for me, my fault is so much the greater, for that I saw the danger before I came out of the doors, and yet did not provide for it when provision might have been had. I am much to be blamed.

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

Chr. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of doors, one night, as I lay in my bed, I had a dream about this : for methought I saw two men, as like these as ever any in the world could look, stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might pre- vent my salvation. I will tell you their very words : they said ('twas when I was in my troubles), What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out, waking and sleeping, for forgiveness. If she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her, as we have lost her husband. This, you know, might have made me take heed, and have provided when provision might have been had.

Thus, now when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near to a house which stood in the way, which house was built for the relief of pilgrims. So they drew on towards the house of the Interpreter ; and when they came to the door, they heard a great talk in the house. Then they gave ear, and heard, as they thought, Christiana mentioned by name ; for you must know that there went along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's going on pilgrimage. And this was the more pleasing to them, because they had heard that she was Christian's wife, that woman who was, some time ago, so unwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they stood still, and heard the good people within

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commending her, who they little thought stood at the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done at the gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came to the door a young damsel, and opened the door, and looked, and, behold, two women were there.

Dam. Then said the damsel to them, With whom would you speak in this place ?

Chr. Christiana answered, We understand that this is a privileged place for those that are become pilgrims, and we now at this door are such ; wherefore we pray that we may be par- takers of that for which we at this time are come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and we are loath to-night to go any further.

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

Chr. My name is Christiana : I was the wife of that pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way ; and these be his four children. This maiden also is my companion, and is going on pilgrimage too.

Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name), and said to those within, Can you think who is at the door ? There is Christiana, and her children, and her companion, all waiting for entertainment here ! Then they leaped for joy, and went and told their Master. So he came to the door, and, looking upon her, he said, Art thou that Christiana whom Christian the good man left behind him, when he betook himself to a pilgrim's life ?

Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go on his journey alone ; and these are his four children : but now I also am come, for I am convinced that no way is right but this.

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door ? Come in, thou daughter of Abraham. We were talking of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before, how thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ; come, maiden, come in ! So he had them all into the house.

So when they were within, they were bidden to sit down and rest them ; the which when they had done, those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house came into the room to see them. And one smiled, and another smiled, and they all smiled, for joy that Christiana was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon the boys ; they stroked them over their faces with the hand in token of their kind reception of them. They also carried it lovingly to Mercy ; and bid them all welcome into their Master's house. After a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took

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109

them into his Significant Rooms, and showed them what Christiana's husband had seen some time before. Here, therefore, they saw

the man in the cage, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of the biggest of them all ; together with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to Christian.

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This done, and after those things had been somewhat digested by Christiana and her company, the Interpreter takes them apart again, and has them first into a room where was a man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand. There stood also one over his head with a celestial crown in his hand, and proffered him that crown for his muck-rake ; but the man did neither look up nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, and the dust of the floor.

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know somewhat the meaning of this ; for this is the figure of a man of this world : is it not, good sir ?

Inter. Thou hast said right, said he, and his muck-rake doth show his carnal mind. And whereas thou seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks, and the dust of the floor, than to do what He says that calls to him from above with the celestial crown in his hand ; it is to show that heaven is but as a fable to some, and that things here are counted the only things substantial. Now, whereas it was also showed thee that the man could look no way but downwards, it is to let thee know that earthly things, when they are with power upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from God.

Chr. Then said Christiana, O deliver me from this muck-rake !

Inter. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by till it is almost rusty : " Give me not riches," is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws, and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things now looked after.

With that Christiana and Mercy wept, and said, It is, alas ! too true.

When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had them into the very best room in the house (a very brave room it was) : so he bid them look round about, and see if they could find anything profitable there. Then they looked round and round, for there was nothing to be seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that they overlooked.

Mer. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing ; but Christiana held her peace.

Inter. But, said the Interpreter, look again. She therefore looked again, and said, Here is not anything but an ugly spider, who hangs by her hands upon the wall. Then said he, Is there but one spider in all this spacious room ? Then the water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a woman quick of apprehension ; and she said, Yea, Lord, there are more here than one ; yea, and spiders whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleasantly on her, and said,

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Thou hast said the truth. This made Mercy to blush, and the boys to cover their faces ; for they all began now to understand the riddle.

Then said the Interpreter again, " The spider taketh hold with her hands " (as you see), " and is in king's palaces." And where- fore is this recorded, but to show you that how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of faith, lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to the King's house above.

Chr. I thought, said Christiana, of something of this, but I could not imagine it all. I thought that we were like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, in what fine rooms soever we were ; but that by this spider, we were to learn how to act faith, that came not into my thoughts : and yet she has taken hold with her hands, and, as I see, dwelleth in the best room in the house. God has made nothing in vain.

Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood in their eyes ; yet they looked one upon another, and also bowed before the Interpreter.

He had them then into another room, where were a hen and chickens, and bid them observe awhile. So one of the chickens went to the trough to drink, and every time she drank she lifted up her head and her eyes towards heaven. See, said he, what this little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up.

After this he led them into his garden, where was great variety of flowers ; and he said, Do you see all these ? So Christiana said, Yes. Then said he again, Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, and colour, and smell, and virtue ; and some are better than others ; also, where the gardener hath set them, there they stand, and quarrel not with one another.

Again, he had them into his field, which he had sown with wheat and corn ; but when they beheld, the tops of all were cut off, and only the straw remained. He said again, This ground 'was dunged, and ploughed, and sowed ; but what shall we do with the crop ? Then said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck of the rest. Then said the Interpreter again, Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for, and for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men : beware that in this you condemn not yourselves.

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little robin with a great spider in his mouth : so the Interpreter said, Look here. So they looked, and Mercy wondered ; but Christiana said, What a disparagement is it to such a pretty little

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bird as the robin-redbreast is, he being also a bird above many, that loveth to maintain a kind of sociableness with men ! I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of bread, or upon other such harmless matter : I like him worse than I did.

The Interpreter then replied, This robin is an emblem, very apt to set forth some professors by ; for to sight they are, as this robin, pretty of note, colour, and carriage. But when they are by themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up spiders, they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water.

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the board ; so they sat down and did eat, when one had given thanks. And the Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged with him with music at meals ; so the minstrels played. There was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice he had.

When the song and music was ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana what it was that at first did move her to betake herself to a pilgrim's life. Christiana answered, First, the loss of my husband came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved ; but all that was but natural affection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into my mind, and also how like a churl I had carried it to him as to that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me into the pond, but that opportunely I had a dream of the well-being of my husband, and a letter sent me by the King of that country where my hus- band dwells, to come to him. The dream and the letter together so wrought upon my mind, that they forced me to this way.

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good, thy latter end shall greatly increase. So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto her, And what moved thee to come hither, sweet- heart ?

Mer. Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what was her meaning. She said she was sent for to go to her husband ; and then she up and told us how she had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place among immortals, wearing a crown, and playing upon a harp. And I said in my heart, If this be true, I will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and will, if I may, go along with Christiana.

So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and if she would let me go with her : for I saw now that there was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any longer in our town.

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But yet I came away with a heavy heart ; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so many of my relations were left behind. And I am come with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana unto her husband and his King.

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth ; thou art a Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi, and to the Lord her God, leave father and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come out and go with a people that she knew not heretofore.

Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for bed : the women were laid singly alone, and the boys by themselves. Now when Mercy was in bed, she could not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at last were removed farther from her than ever they were before. So she lay blessing and praising God, who had had such favour for her.

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared them- selves for their departure. But the Interpreter would have them tarry awhile ; For, said he, you must orderly go from hence. Then said he to the damsel that first opened to them, Take them and have them into the garden to the bath and there wash them, and make them clean from the soil which they have gath- ered by travelling. Then Innocent the damsel took them, and led them into the garden, and brought them to the bath ; so she told them that there they must wash and be clean, for so her Master would have the women to do that called at his house as they were going on pilgrimage. Then they went in and washed, yea, they and the boys and all ; and they came out of the bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much enlivened and strengthened in their joints. So when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they went out to the washing.

When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter took them, and looked upon them, and said unto them, " Fair as the moon." Then he called for the seal, where- with they used to be sealed that were washed in this bath. So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them, that they might be known in the places whither they were yet to go.

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon these women, Go into the vestry, and fetch out garments for these people. So she went and fetched out white raiment, and laid it down before him ; so he commanded them to put it on : it was " fine linen, white and clean." When the women were thus adorned, they seemed to be a terror one to the other ; for that they could not see that glory each one had in herself

8

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which they could see in each other. Now, therefore, they began to esteem each other better than themselves. For, You are fairer than I am, said one ; and, You are more comely than I, said another. The children also stood amazed, to see into what fashion they were brought.

The Interpreter then called for a manservant of his, one Great-heart, and bid him take sword, and helmet, and shield. And take these my daughters, said he ; conduct them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they will rest next. So he took his weapons and went before them ; and the Inter- preter said, God-speed. Those also that belonged to the family sent them away with many a good wish.

CHAPTER III

MR. GREAT-HEART

NOW I saw in my dream that they went on, and Great- heart before them. So they went, and came to the place where Christian's burden fell off his back, and tumbled into a sepulchre. Here then they made a pause ; and here also they blessed God.

Then they went on until they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and Presumption lay and slept in, when Chris- tian went by on pilgrimage ; and, behold, they were hanged up in irons a little way off on the other side.

Mer. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and con- ductor, What are these three men ? and for what are they hanged there ?

Great. These three men were men of very bad qualities. They had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and whomsoever they could they hindered. They were for sloth and folly themselves, and whomsoever they could persuade they made so too ; and withal taught them to presume that they should do well at last. They were asleep when Christian went by ; and now you go by they are hanged.

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

Great. Yes ; they turned several out of the way. There was Slow-pace, that they persuaded to do as they. They also pre- vailed with one Short-wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger- after-lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, her name was Dull, to turn out of the way, and become as they. Besides, they brought up an ill report of your Lord, persuading others that he was a hard taskmaster. They also brought up an evil report of the good land, saying it was not half so good as some pretended it was.

Chr. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they never shall be bewailed by me. They have but what they deserve ; and I think it is well that they stand so near the highway, that others may see and take warning.

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Thus they went on till they came at the foot of the Hill Difficulty, where again the good Mr. Great-heart took an occa- sion to tell them what happened there when Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the spring. Lo, said he, this is the spring that Christian drank of before he went up the hill.

Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. And, said he, these are dangerous paths : two were here cast away when Christian came by. And although, as you see, these ways are since stopped up with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are those that will choose to adventure here rather than take the pains to go up this hill.

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and up the hill they went ; but before they got to the top, Chris- tiana began to pant, and said, I dare say this is a breathing hill ; no marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls, choose to themselves a smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit down ; also the least of the children began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart, sit not down here, for a little above is the Prince's arbour. Then took he the little boy by the hand, and led him up thereto.

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

Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, Come, my pretty boys, how do you do ? What think you now of going on pil- grimage ? Sir, said the least, I was almost beat out of heart ; but I thank you for lending me a hand in my need. And I remember now what my mother hath told me, namely, that the way to heaven is as a ladder, and the way to hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up the ladder to life than down the hill to death.

Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, " To go down the hill is easy." But James said (for that was his name), The day is coming when, in my opinion, going down the hill will be the hardest of all. 'Tis a good boy, said his master ; thou hast given her a right answer. Then Mercy smiled, but the little boy did blush.

Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, a little to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here to rest your legs ? For I have here a piece of pomegranate, which Mr. Interpreter put into my

MR. GREAT-HEART 117

hand just when I came out of his door ; he gave me also a piece of an honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits.

Then she gave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And, said Christiana to Mr. Great-heart, Sir, will you do as we ? But he answered, You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall return. Much good may what you have do to you ! At home I eat the same every day.

Now when they had eaten and drunk, and had chatted a little longer, their guide said to them, The day wears away ; if you think good, let us prepare to be going. So they got up to go, and the little boys went before ; but Christiana forgot to take her bottle of spirits with her, so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. Then said Mercy, I think this is a losing place. Here Christian lost his roll ; and here Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this? So their guide made answer, and said, The cause is sleep or forgetfulness. Some sleep when they should keep awake, and some forget when they should remember ; and this is the very cause why often, at the resting- places, some pilgrims in some things come off losers.

So they went on, till they came to the place where Mistrust and Timorous met Christian to persuade him to go back for fear of the lions. Now Mr. Great-heart was a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion ; but yet, when they were come up to the place where the lions were, the boys that went before were now glad to cringe behind, for they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back, and went behind. At this their guide smiled, and said, How now, my boys ! do you love to go before when no danger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon as the lions appear ?

Now, as they went on, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword, with intent to make a way for the pilgrims in spite of the lions. Then there appeared one that, it seems, had taken upon him to back the lions ; and he said to the pilgrims' guide, What is the cause of your coming hither ? Now, the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of his slaying of pilgrims ; and he was of the race of the giants.

Then said the pilgrims' guide, These women and children are going on pilgrimage ; and this is the way they must go ; and go it they shall, in spite of thee and the lions.

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. I am come forth to withstand them, and to that end will back the lions.

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back them, this way

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of late had been much unoccupied, and was almost all grown over with grass.

Then said Christiana, Though the highways have been un- occupied heretofore, and though the travellers have been made in times past to walk through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen — " now I am risen a mother in Israel."

Then he swore by the lions that it should ; and therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have passage there.

But Great-heart, their guide, made first his approach unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him with his sword that he forced him to retreat.

Then said he that attempted to back the lions, Will you slay me upon my own ground ?

Great. It is the King's highway that we are in, and in this way it is that thou hast placed the lions ; but these women and these children, though weak, shall hold on their way in spite of thy lions. And with that he gave him again a downright blow, and brought him upon his knees. With this blow also he broke his helmet, and with the next he cut off an arm. Then did the giant roar so hideously that his voice frightened the women ; and yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the lions were chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. Where- fore, when old Grim, that intended to back them, was dead, Mr. Great-heart said to the pilgrims, Come now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from the lions. They therefore went on, but the women trembled as they passed by them ; the boys also looked as if they would die ; but they all got by without further hurt.

Now, when they were within sight of the porter's lodge, they soon came up unto it ; but they made the more haste after this to go thither, because it is dangerous travelling there in the night. So when they were come to the gate, the guide knocked, and the porter cried, Who is there ? But as soon as the guide had said, It is I, he knew his voice, and came down ; for the guide had oft before that come thither as a conductor of pilgrims. When he was come down, he opened the gate, and seeing the guide standing just before it (for he saw not the women, for they were behind him), he said unto him, How now, Mr. Great-heart, what is your business here so late to-night ? I have brought, answered he, some pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's commandment, they must lodge : I had been here some time ago, had I not been opposed by the giant that did use to back the lions. But I, after a long and tedious combat with him, have cut him off, and have brought the pilgrims hither in safety.

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For. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ?

Great. No ; I will return to my Lord to-night.

Chr. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage : you have been so faithful and loving to us, you have fought so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in counselling of us, that I shall never forget your favour towards us.

Then said Mercy, Oh that we might have thy company to our journey's end ! How can such poor women as we hold out in a way so full of troubles as this way is, without a friend and defender ?

Then said James, the youngest of the boys, Pray, sir, be persuaded to go with us and help us, because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is.

Great. I am at my Lord's commandment : if he shall allot me to be your guide quite through, I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed at first ; for when he bid me come thus far with you, then you should have begged me of him to go quite through with you, and he would have granted your request. However, at present I must withdraw ; and so, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children, farewell.

Then the porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country and of her kindred ; and she said, I come from the City of De- struction ; I am a widow woman, and my husband is dead ; his name was Christian the pilgrim.

How ! said the porter, was he your husband ? Yes, said she, and these are his children ; and this (pointing to Mercy) is one of my townswomen.

Then the porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came to the door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble-mind ; and to her the porter said, Go tell it within, that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are come hither on pilgrimage. She went in, therefore, and told it. But, oh ! what noise for gladness was there within, when the damsel did drop that out of her mouth !

So they came with haste to the porter, for Christiana stood still at the door. Then some of the most grave said unto her, Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife of that good man ; come in, thou blessed woman, come in, with all that are with thee. So she went in, and they followed her that were her children and companions. Now, when they were gone in, they were had into a very large room, where they were bidden to sit down ; so they sat down, and the chief of the house were called to see and wel- come the guests. Then they came in, and, understanding who they were, did salute each one with a kiss, and said, Welcome, ye vessels of the grace of God ; welcome to us your friends.

MR. GREAT-HEART 121

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made faint with the sight of the fight and of the terrible lions, therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh yourselves first with a morsel of meat ; for they had prepared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto. For the porter had heard before of their coming, and had told it to them within. So when they had supped, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired they might go to rest.

But let us, said Christiana, if we may be so bold as to choose, be in that chamber that was my husband's when he was here. So they had them up thither, and they lay all in a room. When they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy entered into dis- course about things that were convenient.

Chr. Little did I think once, when my husband went on pilgrimage, that I should ever have followed.

Mer. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber, to rest, as you do now.

Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the King with him ; and yet now I believe I shall.

Mer. Hark ! don't you hear a noise ?

Chr. Yes ; 'tis, I believe, a noise of music for joy that, we are here.

Mer. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here !

Thus they talked awhile, and then betook themselves to sleep. So in the morning, when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy, W7hat was the matter, that you did laugh in your sleep to-night ? I suppose you was in a dream.

Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you sure I laughed ?

Chr. Yes ; you laughed heartily : but pr'ythee, Mercy, tell me thy dream.

Mer. I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was bemoaning of the hardness of my heart.

W7ith that, methought I looked up, and saw one coming with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, Mercy, what aileth thee ? Now, when he had heard me make my com- plaint, he said, Peace be to thee. He also wiped mine eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. Then he took me by the hand, and said, Mercy, come after me. So he went up, and I followed, till we came at a golden gate. Then he knocked ; and when they within had opened, the man went in,

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and I followed him up to a throne, upon which one sat, and he said to me, Welcome, daughter. The place looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or rather like the sun, and I thought that

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V *

I saw your husband there. So I awoke from my dream. But did I laugh ?

Chr. Laugh ! ay, and well you might, to see yourself so well.

MR. GREAT-HEART 123

For you must give me leave to tell you, that I believe it was a good dream ; and that, as you have begun to find the first part true, so you shall find the second at last. We need not, when a-bed, to lie awake to talk with God ; he can visit us while we sleep, and cause us then to hear his voice. Our heart oftentimes wakes while we sleep ; and God can speak to that as well as if one was awake.

Mer. Well, I am glad of my dream, for I hope ere long to see it fulfilled, to the making me laugh again.

Chr. I think it is now time to rise, and to know what we must do.

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay awhile, let us willingly accept of the offer. I am the more willing to stay awhile here, to grow better acquainted with these maids : methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely and sober countenances.

Chr. We shall see what they will do.

So when they were up and ready, they came down, and they asked one another of their rest, and if it was comfortable or not.

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

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded to stay here awhile, you shall have what the house will afford.

Ay, and that with a very good will, said Charity.

So they consented, and stayed there about a month or above, and became very profitable one to another.

CHAPTER IV

PIETY, PRUDENCE, AND CHARITY

NOW because Prudence would see how Christiana had brought up her children, she asked leave of her to catechise them. So she gave her free consent. Then she began with the youngest, whose name was James.

Prud. And she said, Come, James, canst thou tell me who made thee ?

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell who saves thee ?

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

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

James. By his grace.

Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be commended for thus bringing up your children. I suppose I need not ask the rest these questions, since the youngest of them can answer them so well. I will therefore now apply myself to the next youngest.

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

Jos. With all my heart.

Prud. What is man ?

Jos. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my brother said.

Prud. What is God's design in saving poor men ?

Jos. The everlasting happiness of his creature.

Prud. Who are they that must be saved ?

Jos. They that accept of his salvation.

Prud. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother hath taught thee well, and thou hast hearkened unto what she has said unto thee.

Prud. Then said Prudence to Samuel (who was the eldest son but one), Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should catechise you ?

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please.

124

PIETY, PRUDENCE, AND CHARITY 125

Prud. What is heaven ?

Sam. A place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there.

Prud. What is hell ?

Sam. A place and state most woful, because it is the dwelling- place of sin, the devil, and death.

Prud. Why wouldst thou go to heaven ?

Sam. That I may see God, and serve him without weariness ; that I may see Christ, and love him everlastingly ; that I may have that fullness of the Holy Spirit in me which I can by no means here enjoy.

Prud. A very good boy also, and one that has learned well.

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name was Matthew ; and she said to him, Come, Matthew, shall I also catechise you ?

Matt. With a very good will.

Prud. What do you think of the Bible ?

Matt. It is the holy word of God.

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you under- stand ?

Matt. Yes, a great deal.

Prud. What do you do when you meet with such places therein that you do not understand ?

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that he will please to let me know all therein that he knows will be for my good.

Then said Prudence to the boys, You must still hearken to your mother, for she can teach you more. You must also dili- gently give ear to what good talk you shall hear from others ; for for your sakes do they speak good things. Observe also, and that with carefulness, what the heavens and the earth do teach you ; but especially be much in the meditation of that book which was the cause of your father's becoming a pilgrim.

Now, by that these pilgrims had been at this place a week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some good will unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk ; a man of some breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a man that stuck very close to the world. So he came once, or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered love unto her.

Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and therefore the ^ore alluring. Her mind also was to be always busying of her- self in doing ; for when she had nothing to do for herself, she would be making hose and garments for others, and would bestow them upon those that had need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing

126 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

where or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that he found her never idle. I warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to himself.

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that were of the house, and inquired of them concerning him, for they did know him better than she. So they told her that he was a very busy young man, and one that pretended to religion ; but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power of that which is good.

Nay then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him ; for I purpose never to have a clog to my soul.

Prudence then replied, that there needed no great matter of discouragement to be given to him ; for continuing so as she had begun to do for the poor, would quickly cool his courage.

So the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, making things for the poor. Then said he, What ! always at it ? Yes, said she, either for myself or for others. And what canst thou earn a day ? said he. " I do these things," replied she, ;' that I may be rich in good works, laying a foundation against the time to come, that I may lay hold on eternal life." Why, pr'ythee, what dost thou do with them ? said he. Clothe the naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. So he forbore to come at her again. And when he was asked the reason why, he said that Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill con- ditions.

When he had left her, Prudence said, Did I not tell thee that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee ? yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee ; for, notwithstanding his pretence to religion, and his seeming love to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different, that I believe they will never come together.

Mer, I might have had husbands before now, though I spoke not of it to any ; but they were such as did not like my conditions, though never did any of them find fault with my person. So they and I could not agree. If nobody will have me, I will die a maid, for I cannot change my nature ; and to have one that lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I live. I had a sister, named Bountiful, that was married to one of these churls ; but he and she could never agree : but because my sister was resolved to do as she had begun —that is, to show kindness to the poor — therefore her husband first cried her down at the cross, and then turned her out of his doors.

Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you !

Mer. Yes, such a one as he Avas, and of such as he the world is now full ; but I am for none of them all.

PIETY, PRUDENCE, AND CHARTIY 127

Now, Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick ; and his sickness was sore upon him, for he was much pained inwardly ; so that he was with it, at times, pulled as it were both ends together. There dwelt also not far from thence one Mr. Skill, an ancient and well-approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and they sent for him, and he came. When he was entered the room, and had a little observed the boy, he concluded that he was sick of the gripes. Then he said to his mother, What diet has Matthew of late fed upon ? Diet ? said Christiana, nothing but what is wholesome. The physician answered, This boy has been tampering with something that lies in his maw undigested, and that will not away without means. And I tell you, he must be purged, or else he will die.

Then said Samuel, Mother, what was that which my brother did gather up and eat, so soon as we were come from the gate that is at the head of this way ? You know that there was an orchard on the left hand, on the other side of the wall, and some of the trees hung over the wall, and my brother did pluck and eat.

True, my child, said Christiana, he did take thereof, and did eat : naughty boy as he was, I chid him, and yet he would eat thereof.

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not whole- some food ; and that food — to wit, that fruit — is even the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of it ; many have died thereof.

Then Christiana began to cry ; and she said, O naughty boy ! and O careless mother ! what shall I do for my son ?

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected ; the boy may do well again, but he must purge and vomit.

Chr. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, what- ever it costs.

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made him a purge, but it was too weak ; 'twas said it was made of hyssop, etc. When Mr. Skill had seen that the purge was too weak, he made him one to the purpose : it was made ex came et sanguine Christi (you know physicians give strange medicines to their patients) : and it was made into pills, with a promise or two, and a proportionable quantity of salt. Now he was to take them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the tears of repentance.

When this potion was prepared and brought to the boy, he was loath to take it, though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come, come, said the physician, you

128 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

must take it. It goes against my stomach, said the boy. I must have you take it, said his mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. Pray, sir, said Christiana to Mr. Skill, how does it taste ? It has no ill taste, said the doctor ; and with that she touched one of the pills with the tip of her tongue. O Matthew, said she, this potion is sweeter than honey. If thou lovest thy mother, if thou lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy life, take it. So with much ado, after a short prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it wrought kindly with him. It worked effectually : it caused him to sleep and rest quietly ; it put him into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and it quite rid him of his gripes.

So in a little time he got up, and walked about with a staff, and would go from room to room, and talk with Pru- dence, Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, and how he was healed.

So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, Sir, what will content you for your pains and care to me and my child ? And he said, You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians, according to rules made in that case and provided.

But, sir, said she, what is this pill good for else ?

Skill. It is a universal pill : it is good against all diseases that pilgrims are incident to ; and when it is well prepared, it will keep good, time out of mind.

Chr. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them ; for if I can get these, I will never take other physic.

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic as he should, it will make him live for ever. But, good Christiana, thou must give these pills no other way than as I have prescribed ; for if you do, they will do no good. So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself, and her boys, and for Mercy ; and bid Matthew take heed how he ate any more green plums ; and kissed them, and went his way.

Now, about this time their month was out ; wherefore they signified to those of the house that it was convenient for them to be up and going. Then said Joseph to his mother, It is proper that you forget not to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him to grant that Mr. Great-heart should be sent unto us, that he may be our conductor the rest of the way. Good boy, said she, I had almost forgot. So she drew up a petition, and prayed Mr. Watchful the porter to send it by some fit man

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129

to her good friend Mr. Interpreter ; who, when it was come, and he had seen the contents of the petition, said to the messenger, Go tell them that I will send him.

When the family where Christiana was saw that they had a purpose to go forward, they called the whole house together, to give thanks to their King for sending of them such profitable guests as these. Which done, they said unto Christiana, And

shall we not show thee something, as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the way ? So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy, into the closet, and showed them one of the apples that Eve ate of, and that which she also did give to her husband, and that for the eating of which they were both turned out of Paradise ; and asked her what she thought that was. Then 9

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Christiana said> It is food or poison, I know not which. So they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands and wondered.

Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's ladder Nc*w a^ that time there were some angels ascending upon it So Christiana looked and looked to see the angels go up ; so' did the rest °f the company. Then they were going into another place' to show them something else ; but James said to his mother' PraY bid them stay here a little longer, for this is a curious sight. So they turned again, and stood feeding their eyes with this s'° plcasmg a prospect. After this they had them into a place where ^id hang up a golden anchor. So they bid Christiana take it down ; ^or' sa^ they, you shall have it with you, in case you should meet with turbulent weather. So they were glad thereof.

Now ^bout this time one knocked at the door ; so the porter opened ai1(^' behold, Mr. Great-heart was there. But when he was come m> wnat joy was there ! for it came now afresh again into their mmds how but a while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-mar1' the giant, and had delivered them from the lions.

Then sa^ Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn toeefher with a couple of pomegranates ; he has also sent the 'boys <>ome ngs and raisins, to refresh you in your way.

Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and Pru- dence and Piety went along with them. When they came to the gate Christiana asked the porter if any of late went by ? He said' ^° > onty one' some time since, who also told me that of 'l-^-te there had been a great robbery committed on the King's hignway> as y°u S° '• but, said he, the thieves are taken, and will sllort^y be tried for their lives. Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid » but Matthew said, Mother, fear nothing, as long as Mr Great -'heart is to go with us, and to be our conductor.

Then said Christiana to the porter, Sir, I am much obliged to you fdr a^ the kindnesses that you have showed me since I came hi^ier > an(^ a'so f°r that you have been so loving and kind to niY children. I know not how to gratify your kindness : wherefore Pray' as a token of my respect to you, accept of this small mite' ^° §he Put a gold angel in his hand ; and he made her a low obeisance, and said, Let thy garments be always white, and let t^Y head want no ointment. Let Mercy live and not die and }et n°t her works be few. And to the boys he said, Do' you fly youthful lusts, and follow after godliness with them that are grave and wise ; so shall you put gladness into your mother's peart» and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded. So they than^ed the porter, and departed.

CHAPTER V

THE TWO VALLEYS

NOW I saw in my dream that they went forward until they were come to the brow of the hill, where Piety, bethinking herself, cried out, Alas ! I have forgot what I intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions ; I will go back and fetch it. So she ran and fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard in a grove, a little way off on the right hand, a most curious, melodious note, with words much like these,—

Through all my life thy favour is

So frankly shown to me, That in thy house for evermore

My dwelling-place shall be.

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, saying,—

For why ? the Lord our God is good,

His mercy is for ever sure ; His truth at all times firmly stood,

And shall from age to age endure.

So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that made those curious notes. They are, she answered, our country birds : they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at the spring, when the flowers appear and the sun shines warm ; and then you may hear them all day long. I often, said she, go out to hear them ; we also ofttimes keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company for us when we are melancholy ; also they make the woods, and groves, and solitary places desirous to be in.

By this time Piety was come again ; so she said to Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee a scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at our house, upon which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again to re- membrance for thy edification and comfort.

Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley of

131

132 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was slippery ; but they were very careful, so they got down pretty well. When they were down in the valley, Piety said to Christiana, This is the place where your husband met with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they had that dreadful fight that they had : I know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be of good courage ; as long as you have here Mr. Great-heart to be your guide and conductor, we hope you will fare the better. So when these two had committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, he went forward, and they went after.

Then said Mr. Great-heart, We need not be so afraid of this valley ; for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we procure it to ourselves. It is true that Christian here did meet with Apollyon, with whom he had also a sore combat ; but that fray was the fruit of those slips which he got in his going down the hill : for they that get slips there must look for combats here. And hence it is that this valley has got so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear that some frightful thing has befallen such a one in such a place, are of opinion that that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit ; when, alas ! it is for the fruit of their own doing that such things do befall them there.

This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any the crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might find somewhere hereabouts something that might give us an account why Christian was so hardly beset in this place.

Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon ; let us go and see what it is. So they went, and found there written, " Let Christian's slips, before he came hither, and the battles that he met with in this place, be a warning to those that come after."

Lo, said the guide, did not I tell you that there was something hereabouts that would give intimation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place ? Then, turning himself to Christiana, he said, No disparagement to Christian, more than to many others whose hap and lot it was. For it is easier going up than down this hill ; and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave the good man, he is at rest ; he also had a brave victory over his enemy : let Him grant that dwelleth above, that we fare no worse, when we come to be tried, than he.

But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground in all these parts. It is fat ground, and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man was to come here in summer-time, as we do now, if

OF CHRJST17\N' S FIGHT "WITH

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he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted him- self in the sight of his eyes, he might see that which would be delightful to him. Behold how green this valley is ; also how beautified with lilies. I have known many labouring men that have got good estates in this Valley of Humiliation, for indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also have wished that the next way to their Father's house were here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go over : but the way is the way, and there is an end.

Now, as they were going along and talking, they espied a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a fresh and well-favoured countenance ; and as he sat by himself, he sung. Hark, said Mr. Great-heart, to what the shep- herd's boy saith ; so they hearkened, and he said,—

He that is down needs fear no fall ;

He that is low, no pride ; He that is humble ever shall

Have God to be his guide.

Then said their guide, Do you hear him ? I will dare to say this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called heart's-ease in his bosom, than he that is clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our discourse.

In this valley our Lord formerly had his country-house ; he loved much to be here. He loved also to walk these meadows, for he found the air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise, and from the hurryings of this life. All states are full of noise and confusion, only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place.

And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon, and to enter with him into a brisk encounter, yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met with angels here, have found pearls here, and have in this place found the words of life.

Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father and Apollyon had their battle ; but whereabout was the fight ? for this valley is large.

Great. Your father had that battle with Apollyon at a place yonder before us, in a narrow passage just beyond Forgetful Green. And, indeed, that place is the most dangerous place in all these parts ; for if at any time pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they forget what favours they have received, and how unworthy they are of them. This is the place, also, where others have been hard put to it. — But more of the place when we are come to it ; for I persuade myself, that to this day there remains either some sign

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135

of the battle, or some monument to testify that such a battle was fought there.

Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this valley as I have been anywhere else in all our journey : the place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places where there is no rattling with coaches nor rumbling with wheels. Methinks here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what he is, whence

he came, what he has done, and to what the King has called him. And they that go through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon.

'Tis true, said their guide. I have gone through this valley many a time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they have confessed the

same.

Now they were come to the place where the aforementioned

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battle was fought. Then said the guide to Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place : on this ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon against him. And look, did I not tell you, here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day ! Behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts. See also how they did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good their places against each other ; how also, with their by-blows, they did split the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian did here play the man, and showed himself as stout as Hercules could, had he been here, even he himself. When Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come anon.

Lo, yonder also stands a monument on which is engraven this battle and Christian's victory, to his fame throughout all ages.

When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the Shadow of Death. And this valley was longer than the other ; a place, also, most strangely haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify. But these women and children went the better through it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their conductor.

When they were entered upon this valley, they thought that they heard a groaning as of dying men — a very great groaning. They thought also that they did hear words of lamentation, spoken as of some in extreme torment. These things made the boys to quake, the women also looked pale and wan ; but their guide bid them be of good comfort.

So they went on a little further, and they thought that they felt the ground begin to shake under them, as if some hollow place was there ; they heard also a kind of hissing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, Are we not yet at the end of this doleful place ? But the guide also bid them be of good courage, and look well to their feet, lest haply, said he, you be taken in some snare.

Now James began to be sick, but I think the cause thereof was fear ; so his mother gave him some of that glass of spirits that had been given her at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had prepared, and the boy began to revive. Thus they went on, till they came to about the middle of the valley ; and then Christiana said, Methinks I see something yonder upon the road before us — a thing of such a shape as I have not seen. Then said Joseph, Mother, what is it ? An ugly thing, child, an ugly thing, said she. But, mother, what is it like ? said

THE TWO VALLEYS 137

he. 'Tis like I cannot tell what, said she. And now it is but a little way off. Then said she, It is nigh.

Well, said Mr. Great-heart, let them that are most afraid, keep close to me. So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it ; but when it was just come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered they what had been said some time ago, " Resist the devil, and he will flee from you."

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. But they had not gone far, before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a lion, and it came a great padding pace after ; and it had a hollow voice of roaring ; and at every roar that it gave, it made all the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up ; and Mr. Great-heart went behind, and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great -heart

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addressed himself to give him battle. But when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and came no further.

Then they went on again, and their conductor went before them, till they came to a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way ; and before they could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and a darkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then said the pilgrims, Alas ! what now shall we do ? But their guide made answer, Fear not ; stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also. So they stayed there, because their path was marred. They then also thought that they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies ; the fire, also, and smoke of the pit were much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what my poor husband went through. I have heard much of this place, but I never was here before now. Poor man ! he went here all alone in the night ; he had night almost quite through the way ; also these fiends were busy about him, as if they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean until they come in it themselves. " The heart knoweth its own bitterness ; and a stranger doth not inter- meddle with its joy." To be here is a fearful thing.

Great. This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down into the deep ; this is like being in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the bottoms of the mountains; now it seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about us for ever. ' But let them that walk in darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God." For my part, as I have told you already, I have gone often through this valley, and have been much harder put to it than now I am, and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not my own saviour. But I trust we shall have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke, not only these, but all the Satans in hell.

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliver- ance ; for there was now no let in their way, no, not there where but now they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got through the valley; so they went on still, and behold great stinks and loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, It is not so pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house where we lay last. Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go through here as it is to abide here always ; and, for aught I know, one reason why we must go this way to the house

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139

prepared for us, is, that our home might be made the sweeter to us.

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide ; thou hast now spoken

riCHTS V3&& Wmg GRESTHEftRgT

like a man. Why, if ever I get out here again, said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way better than ever I did in all my life. Then said the guide, We shall be out by-and-by.

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So on they went, and Joseph said, Cannot we see to the end of this valley as yet ? Then said the guide, Look to your feet, for we shall presently be among the snares. So they looked to their feet, and went on ; but they were troubled much with the snares. Now when they were come among the snares, they spied a man cast into the ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then said the guide, That is one Heedless, that was going this way ; he has lain there a great while. There was one Take-heed with him when he was taken and slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed hereabouts ; and yet men are so foolishly venturous as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come without a guide. Poor Christian ! it was a wonder that he here escaped. But he had a good heart of his own, or else he could never have done it.

Now they drew towards the end of this way ; and just where Christian had seen the cave when he went by, out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry ; and he called Great-heart by his name, and said unto him, How many times have you been forbidden to do these things ? Then said Mr. Great-heart, What things ? What things ! quoth the giant ; you know what things : but I will put an end to your trade. But pray, said Mr. Great-heart, before we fall to it, let us understand wherefore we must fight. (Now the women and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do.)

Quoth the giant, You rob the country, and rob it with the worst of thefts. — These are but generals, said Mr. Great-heart ; come to particulars, man.

Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft of a kidnapper ; thou gatherest up women and children, and earnest them into a strange country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom. But now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the God of heaven; my business is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am com- manded to do my endeavour to turn men, women, and children " from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God ; " and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt.

Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to meet him ; and, as he went, he drew his sword : but the giant had a club. So, without more ado, they fell to it, and at the first blow the giant struck Mr. Great-heart down upon one of his knees. With that the women and children cried out. So Mr. Great-heart, recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm. Thus he fought for the

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space of an hour to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling caldron.

Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr. Great-heart be- took himself to prayer ; also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle did last.

When they had rested them and taken breath, they both fell to it again ; and Mr. Great-heart, with a blow, fetched the giant down to the ground. Nay, hold, let me recover, quoth he. So Mr. Great-heart fairly let him get up. So to it they went again, and the giant missed but little of all-to-breaking Mr. Great-heart's skull with his club.

Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib. With that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his shoulders. Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart also praised God for the deliverance he had wrought.

CHAPTER VI

GAIUS MINE HOST

NOW I saw that they went on to the ascent that was a little way off cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims (that was the place from whence Christian had the first sight of Faithful his brother). Wherefore here they sat down and rested ; they also here did eat and drink and make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, No, save a little on my flesh ; yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment, that it is at present a proof of my love to my Master and you ; and shall be a means, by grace, to in- crease my reward at last.

Chr. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come with his club ?

It is my duty, said he, to mistrust my own ability, that I may have reliance on Him who is stronger than all.

Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at the first blow ?

Why, I thought, replied he, that so my Master himself was served, and yet he it was that conquered at last.

Matt. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonderfully good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us out of the hand of this enemy ; for my part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God any more, since he has now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony of his love.

Then they got up and went forward. Now a little before them stood an oak ; and under it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep. They knew that he was a pil- grim by his clothes, and his staff, and his girdle.

So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him ; and the old gentleman, as he lifted up his eyes, cried out, What's the matter ? Who are you ? and what is your business here ?

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Great. Come, man, be not so hot ; here are none but friends. Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and will know of them what they are. Then said the guide, My name is Great-heart : I am the guide of these pilgrims, which are going to the Celestial Country.

Then said Mr. Honest, I cry you mercy. I feared that you had been of the company of those that some time ago did rob Little-faith of his money ; but now I look better about me, I perceive you are honester people.

Great. Why, what would or could you have done to have helped yourself, if indeed we had been of that company ?

Hon. Done ! why, I would have fought as long as breath had been in me ; and had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on't ; for a Christian can never be overcome, unless he shall yield of himself.

Great. Well said, Father Honest ! quoth the guide ; for by this I know thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.

Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowest what true pilgrimage is ; for all others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any.

Great. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and the name of the place you came from.

Hon. My name I cannot. But I came from the town of Stupidity ; it lieth about four degrees beyond the City of Destruc- tion.

Great. Oh ! are you that countryman ? Then I deem I have half a guess of you : your name is Old Honesty, is it not ?

Hon. So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not Honesty in the abstract ; but Honest is my name, and I wish that my nature may agree to what I am called. But, sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that I am such a man, since I came from such a place ?

Great. I had heard of you before, by my Master; for he knows all things that are done on the earth : but I have often wondered that any should come from your place, for your town is worse than is the City of Destruction itself.

Hon. Yes ; we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and senseless : but were a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness should arise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw. And thus it has been with me.

Great. I believe it, Father Honest, I believe it ; for I know the thing is true.

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy

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kiss of charity, and asked them their names, and how they had fared since they set out on their pilgrimage.

Then said Christiana, My name, I suppose, you have heard of: good Christian was my husband, and these four are his children. But can you think how the old gentleman was taken when she told him who she was ! He skipped, he smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying, I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your hus- band rings all over these parts of the world ; his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, have made his name famous.

Then he turned him to the boys, and asked of them their names ; which they told him. And then said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican — not in vice, but in virtue. Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the prophet— a man of faith and prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house — chaste, and one that flies from temptation. And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord. Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her own town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and with her sons. At that the old honest man said, Mercy, is thy name ? by mercy thou shalt be sustained, and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt look the Foun- tain of Mercy in the face with comfort. All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon his com- panion.

Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentleman if he did not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his parts.

Hon. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had the root of the matter in him ; but he was one of the most trouble- some pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days.

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right character of him.

Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his : I was with him most an end ; when he first began to think upon what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him.

Great. I was his guide from my Master's house to the gates of the Celestial City.

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one.

Great. I did so ; but I could very well bear it, for men of my calling are oftentimes entrusted with the conduct of such as he was.

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Hon. Why, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed himself under your conduct.

Great. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he had a desire to go. Everything frightened him that he heard anybody speak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I have heard that he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for above a month together ; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though they, many of them, offered to lend him their hands. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you, one sunshiny morning, I don't know how, he ventured, and so got over ; but when he was over, he would scarcely believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of Despond in his mind — a slough that he carried everywhere with him — or else he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the gate that stands at the head of this way, and there also he stood a good while before he would venture to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back, and give place to others, and say that he was not worthy. So he went on till he came to our house ; but as he behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my Master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in the cold a good while before he would adventure to call ; yet he would not go back —and the nights were long and cold then.

At last, I think, I looked out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down about the door, I went out to him, and asked what he was. But, poor man, the water stood in his eyes ; so I perceived what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the thing to our Lord : so he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in ; but I dare say I had hard work to do it. At last he came in ; and I will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonderful lovingly to him. There were but a few good bits at the table, but some of it was laid upon his trencher. So when he had been there a good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to be a little more comfortable.

Then we set forward, and I went before him ; but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud.

I got him into the house Beautiful, I think, before he was willing. Also, when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels of the place ; but he was ashamed to make himself much in company. He desired much to be alone.

When we went also from the house Beautiful, down the hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my life ; for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy a at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of

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sympathy betwixt that valley and him ; for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than he was in that valley.

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew in this valley. He would now be up every morning by break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the valley.

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have lost my man ; not for that he had any inclination to go back — that he always abhorred— but he Avas ready to die for fear. Oh, the hobgoblins will have me ! the hobgoblins will have me ! cried he ; and I could not beat him out of it. He made such a noise and such an outcry here, that had they but heard him, it was enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us.

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as quiet when we went through it as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had now a special check from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr. Fearing had passed over it.

It would be too tedious to tell you of all : we will therefore only mention a passage or two more. When he was come to Vanity Fair, I thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair. I feared there we should have been both knocked on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was very wakeful. But when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he should be drowned for ever, and so never see that face with comfort that he had come so many miles to behold. And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable— the water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life ; so he went over at last, not much above wet-shod. So I saw that they still went on in their talk. For after Mr. Great-heart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but his name was Mr. Self-will. He pretended himself to be a pilgrim, said Mr. Honest ; but I persuade myself he never came in at the gate that stands at the head of the way.

Now, as they were thus on their way, there came one running to meet them, and said, Gentlemen, and you of the weaker sort, if you love life, shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you. Then said Mr. Great-heart, They be the three that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said he, we are ready for them : so they went on their way. Now they looked at every turning when they should have met with the villains ; but whether they heard

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of Mr. Great-heart, or whether they had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims.

Christiana then wished for an inn to refresh herself and her children, because they were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, There is one a little before us, where a very honourable disciple, one Gaius, dwells. So they all concluded to turn in thither ; and the rather, because the old gentleman gave him so good a report. When they came to the door, they went in, not knocking, for folks used not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie there that night.

Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men, for my house is for none but pilgrims. Then were Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the more glad, for that the innkeeper was a lover of pilgrims. So they called for rooms, and he showed them one for Christiana and her children and Mercy, and another for Mr. Great-heart and the old gentleman.

Great. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Good Gaius, what hast thou for supper ? for these pilgrims have come far to-day, and are weary.

Gains. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently go out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be welcome to, if that will content.

Great. We will be content with what thou hast in the house ; forasmuch as I have proved thee, thou art never destitute of that which is convenient.

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready supper for so many pilgrims. This done, he came up again, saying, Come, my good friends, you are welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house to entertain you in ; and while supper is making ready, if you please, let us entertain one another with some good discourse. So they all said, Content.

Gains. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged matron ? and whose daughter is this young damsel ?

Great. This woman is the wife of one Christian, a pilgrim of former times ; and these are his four children. The maid is one of her acquaintance, one that she hath persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, and covet to tread in his steps ; yea, if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the same.

Gains. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and are these Christian's children ? I knew your husband's father, yea, also his

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father's father. Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband has left behind him four such boys as these. I hope they will bear up their father's name, and tread in their father's steps, and come to their father's end.

Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads ; they seem to choose heartily their father's ways.

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and sent one to lay the cloth, and the trenchers, and to set the salt and bread in order.

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this fore- runner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite to my food than I had before.

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and a wave- breast were set on the table before them ; to show that they must begin their meal with prayer and praise to God. These two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all ate heartily thereof.

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red as blood. So Gaius said to them, Drink freely ; this is the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of God and man. So they drank and were merry.

The next was a dish of milk well crumbed. Gaius said, Let the boys have that, that they may grow thereby.

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your judgments and understandings. This was our Lord's dish when he was a child : " Butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know how to refuse the evil, and choose the good."

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very good-tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, May we eat apples, since it was they by and with which the serpent beguiled our first mother ? I made the scruple, because I a while since was sick with the eating of fruit.

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not what our Lord has tolerated.

While they were thus talking, they were presented with another dish, and it was a dish of nuts. Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender teeth, especially the teeth of children : which when Gaius heard, he said :—

Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters : Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat ; They here are brought for you to crack and eat.

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time,

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talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman, My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle :—

A man there was, though some did count him mad, The more he cast awav, the more he had.

Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would say ; so he sat still a while, and then thus replied :—

He who bestows his goods upon the poor Shall have as much again, and ten times more.

Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have found it out.

Oh ! said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a great while ; nothing teaches like experience. I have learned of my Lord to be kind, and I have found by experience that I have gained thereby. " There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing : there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches."

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, Mother, this is a very good man's house ; let us stay here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be married here to Mercy, before we go any further. The which Gaius, the host, overhearing, said, With a very good will, my child.

So they stayed here more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew to wife. While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, made coats and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought a very good report upon pilgrims.

But to return again to our story. After supper the lads desired a bed, for they were weary with travelling. Then Gaius called to show them to their chamber ; but, said Mercy, I will have them to bed. So she had them to bed, and they slept well : but the rest sat up all night ; for Gaius and they were such suitable company, that they could not tell how to part. Thus they sat talking till break of day.

CHAPTER VII

THE HOUSE OF MNASON

NOW, when the family were up, Christiana bid her son James read a chapter ; so he read the 53rd of Isaiah. When he had done, Well, said Gains, now you are here, and since, as I know, Mr. Great-heart is good at his weapons, if you please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a mile from hence there is one Slay-good, a giant, that does much annoy the King's highway in these parts ; and I know whereabout his haunt is. He is master of a number of thieves : 'twould be well if we could clear these parts of him. So they consented and went — Mr. Great-heart with his sword, helmet, and shield ; and the rest with spears and staves.

When they were come to the place where he was, they found him with one Feeble-mind in his hand, whom his servants had brought unto him, having taken him in the way. Now the giant was rifling him, with a purpose after that to pick his bones ; for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters.

Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded what they wanted.

Great. We want thee ; for we are come to revenge the quarrels of the many pilgrims that thou hast slain, when thou hast dragged them out of the King's highway : wherefore come out of thy cave. So he armed himself and came out, and to battle they went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood still to take wind.

Then said the giant, Why are you here on my ground ?

Great. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told thee before. So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. Great- heart give back ; but he came up again, and in the greatness of his mind he let fly with such stoutness at the giant's head and sides, that he made him let his weapon fall out of his hand. So he smote him, and slew him, and cut off his head, and brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeble-mind the pilgrim, and

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151

brought him with him to his lodgings. When they were come home, they showed his head to the family, and set it up, as they had done others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter.

Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into his hands.

Feeble. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you see ; and because Death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at home ; so I betook

myself to a pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, where I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor yet of mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I came at the gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely ; neither objected he against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind ; but gave me such things as were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter,

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I received much kindness there ; and because the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was carried up it by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much relief from pil- grims, though none were willing to go so softly as I am forced to do ; yet still, as they came on, they bid me be of good cheer, and said it was the will of their Lord that comfort should be given to the feeble-minded, and so went on their own pace. When I was come to Assault Lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter. But, alas ! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial ; so he came up and took me. I conceited he would not kill me. Also when he got me into his den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive again ; for I have heard that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heart- whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of providence, to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am ; but I am, as you see, escaped with life, for the which I thank my King as the author, and you as the means. Other brunts I also look for ; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank Him that loves me, I am fixed. My way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind.

Hon. Then said old Mr. Honest, Have not you, some time ago, been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim ?

Feeble. Acquainted with him ! yes ; he came from the town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees northward of the City of Destruction, and as many off of where I was born. Yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he was my uncle, my father's brother. He and I have been much of a temper : he was a little shorter than I, but yet we were much of a complexion.

Hon. I perceive you know him ; and I am apt to believe also that you were related one to another, for you have his whitely look, a cast like his with your eye, and your speech is much alike.

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us both ; and, besides, what I have read in him I have for the most part found in myself.

Gains. Come, sir, said good Gaius, be of good cheer ; you are welcome to me, and to my house. What thou hast a mind to, call for freely ; and what thou wouldst have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready mind.

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, This is an unexpected favour, and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. Did Giant

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Slay-good intend me this favour when he stopped me, and re- solved to let me . go no further ? Did he intend, that after he had rifled my pockets, I should go to Gaius, mine host ? Yet so it is.

Now, about this time Matthew and Mercy were married ; also Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife ; after which time they yet stayed about ten days at Gaius's house, spending their time and the seasons like as pilgrims used to do.

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did eat and drink, and were merry. Now the hour was come that they must be gone ; wherefore Mr. Great-heart called for a reckoning. But Gaius told him, that at his house it was not the custom of pilgrims to pay for their entertainment.

Great. " Beloved, thou doest faithfully whatsoever thou doest to the brethren, and to strangers." Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and his children, and particularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to drink by the way. Now Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were going out of the door, made as if he intended to linger. The which when Mr. Great-heart espied, he said, Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with us ; I will be your conductor, and you shall fare as the rest.

Feeble. Alas ! I want a suitable companion. You are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am weak ; I choose, therefore, rather to come behind, lest, by reason of my many infirmities, I should be both a burden to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that which others can bear. I shall like no laughing ; I shall like no gay attire ; I shall like no unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be offended with that which others have a liberty to do. I do not yet know all the truth : I am a very ignorant Christian man.

Great. But, brother, said Mr. Great-heart, I have it in com- mission to comfort the feeble-minded, and to support the weak. You must needs go along with us ; we will wait for you ; we will lend you our help ; we will deny ourselves of some things for your sake ; we will not enter into doubtful disputations before you ; we will be made all things to you, rather than you shall be left behind.

Now all this while they were at Gaius's door ; and, behold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready- to-halt came by, with his crutches in his hand, and he also was going on pilgrimage.

Feeble. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, How earnest thou

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hither ? I was but now complaining that I had not a suitable companion, but thou art according to my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt ; I hope thou and I may be some help. Ready. I shall be glad of thy company, said the other ; and, good Mr. Feeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one of my crutches.

Feeble. Nay, answered he, though I thank thee for thy good will, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think, when occasion is, it may help me against a dog.

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a plea- sure, we are both at thy command, good Mr. Feeble-mind.

Thus therefore they went on. Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Honest went before, Christiana and her children went next, and Mr. Feeble-mind came behind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt with his crutches.

Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evan- gelist met with Christian and Faithful. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair.

Hon. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter then that he did read unto them.

Great. It was so ; but he gave them encouragement withal. But what do we talk of them ? they were a couple of lion-like men ; they had set their faces like flint. Do not you remember how undaunted they were when they stood before the judge ? Hon. Well : Faithful bravely suffered.

Great. So he did, and as brave things came on't ; for Hope- ful, and some others, as the story relates it, were converted by his death.

Now by this time they were come within sight of the town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So, when they saw that they were so near the town, they consulted with one another how they should pass through the town ; and some said one thing, and some another. At last Mr. Great-heart said, I have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of pilgrims through this town. Now, I am acquainted with one Mr. Mnason, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If you think good, we will turn in there.

Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ; Con- tent, said Mr. Feeble-mind ; and so they said all. Now you must think that it was eventide by that they got to the outside of the town ; but Mr. Great-heart knew the way to the old man's house. So thither they came ? and he called at the door, and

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the old man within knew his tongue as soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened, and they all came in. Then said Mnason their host, How far have you come to-day ? So they said, From the house of Gaius, your friend. I promise you, said he, you have come a good stretch. You may well be weary ; sit down. So they sat down.

Great. Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, good sirs ? I dare say you are welcome to my friend.

Mnas. I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you welcome ; and whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what we can to get it for you.

Hon. Our great want a while since was harbour and good company, and now I hope we have both.

Mnas. For harbour, you see what it is ; but for good com- pany, that will appear in the trial.

Great. Well, said Mr. Great-heart, will you have the pilgrims into their lodging ?

Mnas. I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their respective places, and also showed them a very fair dining-room, where they might be, and sup together, until time should come to go to rest.

Now when they were seated in their places, and were a little refreshed after their journey, Mr. Honest asked his landlord if there were any store of good people in the town.

Mnas. We have a few ; for indeed they are but a few, when compared with them on the other side.

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for the sight of good men to them that are going on pilgrimage is like the appearing of the moon and stars to them that are sailing upon the seas.

Mnas. Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his daugh- ter Grace came up. So he said unto her, Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Love-saints, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house who have a mind this evening to see them. So Grace went to call them, and they came ; and after salutation made, they sat down together at the table.

Then said Mr. Mnason their landlord, My neighbours, I have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my house : they are pilgrims ; they come from afar, and are going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you think this is ? pointing his finger at Christiana. It is Christiana, the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim who, with Faithful his brother, was so shamefully handled in our town. At that they stood amazed, saying, We little

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thought to see Christiana when Grace came to call us ; where- fore this is a very comfortable surprise. They then asked her of her welfare, and if these young men were her husband's sons. And when she had told them they were, they said, The King whom you love and serve make you as your father, and bring you where he is in peace.

Hon. Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat down) asked Mr. Contrite and the rest in what posture their town was at present.

Contr. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered condition. He that lives in such a place as this, and has to do with such as we have, has need of an item to caution him to take heed every moment of the day.

Hon. But how are your neighbours now for quietness ?

Contr. They are much more moderate now than formerly. You know how Christian and Faithful were used at our town ; but of late, I say, they have been far more moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth as a load upon them till now ; for since they burned him, they have been ashamed to burn any more. In those days we were afraid to walk the streets ; but now we can show our heads. Then said Mr. Contrite to them, Pray, how fared it with you in your pilgrimage ? how stands the country affected towards you ?

Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men ; —sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul ; sometimes up-hill, sometimes down-hill ; we are seldom at a certainty. The wind is not always on our backs, nor is every one a friend that we meet with in the Avay. We have met with some notable rubs already, and what are to come we know not ; but for the most part we find it true that has been talked of old, A good man must suffer trouble. Thus they sat talking and spending the time until supper was set upon the table, unto which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies ; so retired to rest.

Now they stayed in the fair a great while at the house of Mr. Mnason, who in process of time gave his daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his daughter Martha to Joseph.

The time, as I said, that they stayed here was long, for it was not now as in former times. Wherefore the pilgrims grew ac- quainted with many of the good people of the town, and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, laboured much for the poor ; wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was there an ornament to her profession. And, to say the truth

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for Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all of a very good nature, and did much good in their places. They were also all of them

very fruitful ; so that Christian's name, as was said before, was like to live in the world.

While they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, and slew many of the people of the town. It would also carry

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away their children, and teach them to suck its whelps. Now, no man in the town durst so much as face this monster ; but all fled Avhen they heard the noise of his coming.

The monster was like unto no one beast on the earth. Its body was like a dragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns.

Now Mr. Great-heart, together with those who came to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they might deliver the people of this town from the paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent.

Then did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their weapons, go forth to meet him. Now the monster at first was very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with great disdain ; but they so belaboured him, being sturdy men at arms, that they made him make a retreat : so they came home to Mr. Mnason's house again.

The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in, and to make his attempts upon the children of the people of the town. At these seasons did these valiant worthies watch him in, and did still continually assault him ; insomuch that in process of time he became not only wounded, but lame. Also he has not made that havoc of the townsmen's children as formerly he had done ; and it is verily believed by some that this beast will die of his wounds.

This, therefore, made Mr. Great-heart and his fellows of great fame in this town ; so that many of the people that wanted their taste of things, yet had a reverent esteem and respect for them. Upon this account, therefore, it was that these pilgrims got not much hurt here. True, there were some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole, nor understand any more than a beast ; these had no reverence for these men, nor took they notice of their valour and adventures.

CHAPTER VIII

THE DEATH OF GIANT DESPAIR

WELL, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on their way ; wherefore they prepared for their journey. They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ; they had some time set apart therein to commit each other to the pro- tection of their Prince. There were, again, that brought of such things as they had, that were fit for the weak and the strong, for the women and the men, and so laded them with such things as were necessary. Then they set forward on their way ; and their friends accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again committed each other to the protection of their King, and parted.

They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company went on, and Mr. Great-heart went before them. Now the women and children being weakly, they were forced to go as they could bear ; by which means Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had more to sympathize with their condition.

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful was put to death. Therefore they made a stand, and thanked Him that had enabled him to bear his cross so well ; and the rather because they now found that they had a benefit by such manly sufferings as his were.

They went on, therefore, after this, a good way further, talking of Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful joined himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead.

Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the silver mine was which took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and perished ; wherefore they considered that. But when they were come to the old monument that stood over against the Hill Lucre — to wit, to the pillar of salt, that stood also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake — they marvelled, as did Christian before, that men of that knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were should be so blind as to turn aside here. Only they considered again, that nature is not affected with

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the harms that others have met with, especially if that thing upon which they look has an attracting virtue upon the foolish eye.

I saw now that they went on till they came to the river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains — to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against surfeits ; where the meadows are green all the year long ; and where they might lie down safely.

By this riverside, in the meadows, there were cotes and folds for sheep, and a house built for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here one that was entrusted with them, who could have compassion, and that could gather these lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young. Here they will never want meat, drink, and clothing ; here they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; for this Man will die before one of those committed to his trust shall be lost. Be- sides, here they shall be sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to walk in right paths ; and that, you know, is a favour of no small account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit ; — fruit, not like that which Matthew ate of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's garden ; but fruit that procureth health where there is none, and that continueth and increaseth it where it is.

Now they went on. And when they were come to By-path Meadow, to the stile over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant Despair, and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down, and consulted what was best to be done : to wit, now that they were so strong, and had got such a man as Mr. Great-heart for their conductor, whether they had not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at liberty before they went any further. So one said one thing, and another said the contrary. One questioned if it were lawful to go upon uncon- secrated ground ; another said they might, provided their end was good ; but Mr. Great-heart said, Though that assertion offered last cannot be universally true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome evil, to fight the good fight of faith ; and, I pray, with whom should I fight this good fight, if not with Giant Despair. I will, therefore, attempt the taking away of his life, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. Then said he, Who will go with me ? Then said old Honest, I will. And so will we too, said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, Joseph, and James ; for they were young men and strong. So they left the women in the road,

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and with them Mr. Feeble-mind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt with his crutches, to be their guard, until they came back ; for in that place Giant Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a little child might lead them.

So Mr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young men went

to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant Despair. When they came at the castle gate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the old giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife follows. Then said he, Who and what is he that is so hardy, as after this manner to molest the Giant Despair? 11

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Mr. Great-heart replied, It is I, Great-heart, one of the King of the Celestial Country's conductors of pilgrims to their place ; and I demand of thee that thou open thy gates for my entrance. Prepare thyself also to fight, for I am come to take away thy head, and to demolish Doubting Castle.

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no man could overcome him ; and again thought he, Since heretofore I have made a conquest of angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid ? So he harnessed himself, and went out. He had a cap of steel upon his head, a breastplate of fire girded to him, and he came out in iron shoes, with a great club in his hand. Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind and before ; also when Diffidence the giantess came up to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at one blow. Then they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was brought down to the ground, but was very loath to die. He struggled hard, and had, as they say, as many lives as a cat ; but Great-heart was his death, for he left him not till he had severed his head from his shoulders. Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and that, you know, might with ease be done, since Giant Despair was dead. They were seven days in destroying of that ; and in it of pilgrims they found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter : these two they saved alive. But it would have made you wonder to have seen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the castle-yard, and how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was.

When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had performed this exploit, they took Mr. Despondency, and his daughter Much-afraid, into their protection ; for they were honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting Castle to that tyrant Giant De- spair. They, therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant (for his body they had buried under a heap of stones), and down to the road and to their companions they came, and showed them what they had done. Now, when Feeble-mind and Ready- to-halt saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, they were very jocund and merry. Now Christiana, if need was, could play upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the lute ; so since they were so merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despondency's daughter, Much-afraid, by the hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could not dance without one crutch in his hand, but, I promise you, he footed it 'well : also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the music handsomely.

As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not so much, to him ; he was for feeding rather than dancing, for that he was almost

of OtfftNT

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starved. So Christiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits for present relief, and then prepared him something to eat ; and in a little time the old gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived.

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward, and went on till they came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties of the place. They also acquainted themselves with the Shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains.

Now the Shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great- heart (for with him they were well acquainted), they said unto him, Good sir, you have got a goodly company here. You are welcome to us ; for we have for the feeble, as for the strong. Our Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of these ; therefore in- firmity must not be a block to our entertainment. So they had them to the palace door, and then said unto them, Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind ; Come in, Mr. Ready-to-halt ; Come in, Mr. Des- pondency, and Mrs. Much-afraid his daughter. These, Mr. Great- heart, said the Shepherds to the guide, we call in by name, for that they are most subject to draw back ; but as for you, and the rest that are strong, we leave you to your wonted liberty.

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart and the rest did follow. When they were also set down, the Shepherds said to those of the weaker sort, What is it that you would have ? for, said they, all things must be managed here for the supporting of the weak, as well as to the warning of the unruly. So they made them a feast of things easy of digestion, and that were pleasant to the palate and nourishing ; the which, when they had received, they went to their rest, each one respectively unto his proper place.

When morning was come, because the mountains were high and the day clear, and because it was the custom of the Shepherds to show the pilgrims before the departure some rarities, therefore after they were ready, and had refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out into the fields, and showed them first what they had shown to Christian before.

Then they had them to some new places. The first was Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a man at a distance, that tumbled the hills about with words. Then they asked the Shepherds what that should mean. So they told them, that that man was the son of one Mr. Great-grace ; and he is set there to teach pilgrims how to believe down, or to tumble out of their

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ways, what difficulties they should meet with, by faith. Then said Mr. Great-heart, I know him : he is a man above many.

Then they had them to another place, call Mount Innocence. And there they saw a man clothed all in white ; and two men, Prejudice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt upon him. Now, behold, the dirt, whatsoever they cast at him, would in a little time fall off again, and his garment would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast thereat. Then said the pilgrims, What means this ? The Shepherds answered, This man is named Godly-man, and this garment is to show the innocency of his life. Now, those that throw dirt at him are such as hate his well-doing ; but, as you see the dirt will not stick upon his clothes, so it shall be with him that liveth innocently in the world. Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, they labour all in vain ; for God, by that a little time is spent, will cause that their innocence shall break forth as the light, and their righteousness as the noonday.

Now when the Shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had them back to the palace, and entertained them with what the house would afford. But Mercy, being young, longed for something that she saw there, but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for she looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, off which I cannot take my mind. Then said her mother, I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed that these men should know that I longed. Nay, my daughter, said she, it is no shame, but a virtue to long for such a thing as that. So Mercy said, Then, mother, if you please, ask the Shepherds if they are willing to sell it.

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man, one way, with his own features exactly ; and, turn it but another way, and it would show one the very face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims himself. Yes, I have talked with them that can tell, and they have said that they have seen the very crown of thorns upon his head, by looking in that glass ; they have therein also seen the holes in his hands, his feet, and his side. Yea, such an excellency is there in this glass, that it will show him to one where they have a mind to see him, whether living or dead ; whether in earth or in heaven.

Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart (now the names of the Shepherds were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere), and said unto them, There is one of my daughters that I think doth long for something that she hath seen in this house.

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Experience. Call her, call her ; she shall assuredly have what we can help her to. So they called her, and said to her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldst have ? Then she blushed, and said, The great glass that hangs up in the dining-room. So Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was given her. Then

she bowed her head, and gave thanks, and said, By this I know that I have obtained favour in your eyes.

They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and to their husbands great commendations, for that they had joined with Mr. Great-heart in the slaying of Giant Despair, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle.

About Christiana's neck the Shepherds put a bracelet, and so

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did they about the necks of her four daughters ; also they put earrings in their ears, and jewels on their foreheads.

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions which before were given to Christian and his companion. The reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be their guide, who was one that was well acquainted with things, and so could give them their cautions more seasonably, to wit, even when the danger was nigh the approaching.

Then they went on ; and just at the place where Little-faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his sword drawn, and his face all over with blood. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Who art thou ? The man made answer, saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, as I was in my way, there were three men did beset me, and propounded unto me these three things : 1. Whether I would become one of them ; 2. Or go back from whence I came ; 3. Or die upon the place. To the first I answered, I had been a true man for a long season, and therefore it could not be expected that I should now cast in my lot with thieves. Then they demanded what I should say to the second. So I told them, the place from whence I came, had I not found incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at all ; but finding it altogether unsuitable to me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I told them, my life cost far more dear than that I should lightly give it away. Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to my choice ; wherefore at your peril be it if you meddle. Then these three— to wit, Wild-head, Inconsiderate, and Pragmatic - drew upon me, and I also drew upon them. So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their valour, and have also carried away with them some of mine. They are but just now gone : I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they betook themselves to flight.

Great. But here was great odds, three against one.

Valiant. 'Tis true ; but little or more are nothing to him that has the truth on his side. "Though an host should encamp against me," said one, " my heart shall not fear."

Great. Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Thou hast worthily behaved thyself; let me see thy sword. So he showed it him.

When he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while, he said, Ha ! it is a right Jerusalem blade.

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, with a hand to wield it and skill to use it, and he might venture upon

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an angel with it. He need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edge will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and soul and spirit, and all.

Great. But you fought a great while ; I wonder you was not weary.

Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand ; and when they were joined together as if a sword grew out of my arm, and when the blood ran through my fingers, then I fought with most courage.

Great. Thou hast done well. Thou hast resisted unto blood, striving against sin. Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us ; for we are thy companions.

Then they took him and washed his wounds, and gave him of what they had to refresh him ; and so they went on together, singing—

Who would true valour see,

Let him come hither ; One here will constant be,

Come wind, come weather ; There's no discouragement Shall make him once relent His first avowed intent To be a pilgrim.

Whoso beset him round

With dismal stories, Do but themselves confound ;

His strength the more is. No lion can him fright, He'll with a giant fight, But he will have a right To be a pilgrim.

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend

Can daunt his spirit ; He knows he at the end

Shall life inherit. Then fancies fly away ; He'll not fear what men say ; He'll labour night and day To be a pilgrim.

CHAPTER IX

THE ENCHANTED GROUND

BY this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy. And that place was all grown over with briers and thorns, excepting here and there, where was an enchanted arbour, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, it is a question, some say, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this forest, therefore, they went, both one and another, and Mr. Great-heart went before, for that he was the guide ; and Mr. Valiant-for-truth came behind, being rear-guard, for fear lest peradventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon their rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand ; for they knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as well as they could. Feeble-mind, Mr. Great-heart commanded should come up after him ; and Mr. Despondency was under the eye of Mr. Valiant.

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and darkness fell upon them all ; so that they could scarce, for a great while, see the one the other. Wherefore they were forced, for some time, to feel for one another by words ; for they walked not by sight. But any one must think that here was but sorry going for the best of them all ; but how much worse for the women and children, who both of feet and heart were but tender ! Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that led in the front, and of him that brought them up behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along.

The way was also here very wearisome, through dirt and slabbiness. Nor was there, on all this ground, so much as one inn or victualling-house wherein to refresh the feebler sort. Here, therefore, was nothing but grunting, and puffing, and sighing. While one tumbleth over a bush, another sticks fast in the dirt ; and the children, some of them, lost their shoes in the mire ; -while one cries out, I am down ; and another, Ho, where are

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you ? and a third, The bushes have got such a fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them.

Then they came at an arbour, warm, and promising much refreshing to the pilgrims ; for it was finely wrought above- head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, whereon the weary might lean. This, you must think, all things considered, was tempting ; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled with the badness of the way. But there was not one of them that made so much as a motion to stop there.

This arbour was called The Slothful's Friend, and was made on purpose to allure, if it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary.

I saw then in my dream, that they went on in this their solitary ground, till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, though when it was light their guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand. But he had in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the Celestial City ; wherefore he struck a light (for he never goes, also, without his tinder-box), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him to be careful in that place to turn to the right hand. And had he not been careful here to look in his map, they had, in all probability, been smothered in the mud ; for just a little before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows how deep, full of nothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in.

Then they went on in this Enchanted Ground, till they came to where there was another arbour, and it was built by the highway side. And in that arbour there lay two men, whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went thus far on pilgrimage ; but here, being wearied with their journey, they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook their heads, for they knew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them and try to awake them. So they concluded to go to them and awake them — that is, if they could : but with this caution, namely, to take heed that they themselves did not sit down, nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbour.

So they went in and spake to the men, and called each one by his name (for the guide, it seems, did know them) ; but there was no voice nor answer. Then the guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb them. Then said one of them,

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I will pay you when I take my money. At which the guide shook his head. I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my hand, said the other. At that one of the children laughed.

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this ? The guide said, They talk in their sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, they will answer you after this fashion.

Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward ; only they prayed their guide to strike a light, that they might go the rest of their way by the help of the light of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they went by the help of that through the rest of this way, though the darkness was very great. But the children began to be sorely weary, and they cried out unto Him that loveth pilgrims to make their way more comfortable. So by that they had gone a little further, a wind arose that drove away the fog ; so the air became more clear. Yet they were not off (by much) of the Enchanted Ground ; only now they could see one another better, and the way wherein they should walk.

Now when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that a little before them was a solemn noise, as of one that was much concerned. So they went on, and looked before them ; and, behold, they saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, with his hands and eyes lifted up, and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said ; so they went softly till he had done.

When he had done, he got up, and began to run towards the Celestial City. Then Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, Soho, friend ! let us have your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up to him. But as soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, I know this man. Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Pr'ythee, who is it ? It is one, said he, that comes from whereabout I dwelt. His name is Standfast ; he is certainly a right good pilgrim.

So they came up one to another. And presently Stand- fast said to old Honest, Ho, father Honest, are you there ? Ay, said he, that am I, as sure as you are there. Right glad I am, said Mr. Standfast, that I have found you on this road. And as glad am I, said the other, that I espied you on your knees. Then Mr. Standfast blushed, and said, But why, did you see me ? Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight.

Valiant. Well, but, brother, I pray thee tell us what was

THE ENCHANTED GROUND 173

it that was the cause of thy being upon thy knees even now ; was it for that some special mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how ?

Stand. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground ; and as I was coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous nature the road in this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage had here been stopped and been destroyed. As I was thus musing, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself to me, and offered me her purse and her bed. Now, the truth is, I was both weary and sleepy ; I am also as poor as an owlet, and that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once and again ; but she put by my re- pulses, and smiled. Then I began to be angry ; but she mattered that nothing at all. Then I asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set me further from her ; but still she followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to my knees, and with hands lifted up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had said he would help. So, just as you came up, the gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for this my great deliverance ; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my journey.

Hon. Madam Bubble ! is she not a tall, comely dame, some- what of a swarthy complexion ?

Stand. Right, you hit it ; she is just such a one.

Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end of a sentence ?

Stand. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very actions.

Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight ?

Stand. 'Tis just so ; had she stood by all this while, you could not more amply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her features.

Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap had as good lay it down on that block over which the axe doth hang.

Stand. Oh ! said Standfast, what a mercy is it that I did resist her ; for whither might she have drawn me !

CHAPTER X

THE KING'S MESSENGER

AFTER this, I beheld until they were come into the land of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. Here, because they were weary, they betook themselves awhile to rest. And because this country was common for pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards that were here belonged to the King of the Celestial Country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of his things. But a little while soon refreshed them here ; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually sound so melodiously, that they could not sleep, and yet they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep ever so soundly. Here also the noise of them that walked the streets was, More pilgrims have come to town ! And another would answer, saying, And so many went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day ! They would cry again, There is now a legion of Shining Ones just come to town, by which we know that there are more pilgrims upon the road ; for here they come to wait for them, and to comfort them after their sorrow. Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But how were their ears now filled with heavenly voices, and their eyes delighted with celestial visions ! In this land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing, that was offensive to their stomach or mind ; only when they tasted of the water of the river over which they were to go, they thought that it tasted a little bitterish to the palate ; but it proved sweet when it was down.

In this place there was a record kept of the names of them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all the famous acts that they had done. It was here also much discoursed, how the river to some had had its flowings, and what ebbings it has had while others have gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for others.

In this place the children of the town would go into the King's gardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring

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THE KING'S MESSENGER 175

them to them with much affection. Here also grew camphire, with spikenard and saffron, calamus, and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all chief spices. With these the pilgrims' chambers were perfumed while they stayed here ; and with these were their bodies anointed, to pre- pare them to go over the river when the time appointed was come.

Now, while they lay here and waited for the good hour, there was a noise in the town that there was a post come from the Celestial City, with matter of great importance to one Chris- tiana, the wife of Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her, and the house was found out where she was. So the post presented her with a letter. The contents were, Hail, good woman ! I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest stand in his presence, in clothes of immortality, within these ten days.

When he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was an arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her, that at the time ap- pointed she must be gone.

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of this company that was to go over, she called for Mr. Great-heart, her guide, and told him how matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have been glad had the post come for him. Then she bid him that he should give advice how all things should be prepared for her journey. So he told her, saying, Thus and thus it must be, and we that survive will accompany you to the river side.

Then she called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told them that she had read with comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons and daughters to be ready against the messenger should come for them.

WThen she had spoken these words to her guide and to her children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him, Sir, you have in all places showed yourself true-hearted ; be faith- ful unto death, and my King will give you a crown of life. I would also entreat you to have an eye to my children ; and if at any time you see them faint, speak comfortably to them. But she gave Mr. Standfast a ring.

Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, "Behold

1T6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." Then said he, I wish you a fair day when you set out for Mount Zion, and shall be glad to see that you go over the river dryshod. But she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone ; for however the weather is in my journey, I shall have time enough when I come there to sit down and rest me and dry me.

Then came in that good man Mr. Ready-to-halt, to see her. So she said to him, Thy travel hitherto has been with difficulty ; but that will make thy rest the sweeter. Watch, and be ready ; for at an hour when ye think not, the messenger may come.

After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much- afraid ; to whom she said, You ought with thankfulness for ever to remember your deliverance from the hands of Giant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is that you are brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful, and cast away fear ; be sober, and hope to the end.

Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the light of the living, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise thee to repent of thine aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness, before he sends for thee ; lest thou shouldest, when he comes, be forced to stand before him for that fault with blushing.

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was full of people to see her take her journey. But, behold, all the banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down from above to accompany her to the city gate. So she came forth and entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her. The last words that she was heard to say were, I come, Lord, to be with thee, and bless thee. So her children and friends returned to their places, for those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. At her departure the children wept. But Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. So all de- parted to their respective places.

In process of time there came a post to the town again, and his business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and said, I am come from Him whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches ; and my message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his table to sup with him in his kingdom, wherefore prepare thyself for this journey. Then he also gave him a token that he was a true messenger, saying, " I have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy silver cord."

After this, Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit

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178 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

you also. So he desired Mr. Valiant to make his will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to them that should survive him but his crutches and his good wishes, therefore thus he said, These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall tread in my steps, with an hundred warm wishes that he may prove better than I have been. Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his conduct and kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came to the brink of the river, he said, Now I shall have no more need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on. The last words he was heard to say were, Welcome life ! So he went his way.

After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him that the post sounded his horn at his chamber door. Then he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee, and that in a very little time thou must behold his face in brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of my message : " Those that look out at the windows shall be darkened." Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told them what errand had been brought unto him, and what token he had re- ceived of the truth of the message. This done, and the day being come on which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His last words were, Hold out, faith and patience ! So he went over to the other side.

When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was sent for ; for a post was come, and brought this message to him : Trembling man ! these are to summon thee to be ready with the King by the next Lord's day, to shout for joy for thy deliverance from all thy doubtings. And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take this for a proof : so he gave him a grasshopper to be a burden unto him.

Now Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when she heard what was done, that she would go with her father.

When the time was come for them to depart, they went up to the brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency were, Farewell night ; welcome day ! His daughter went through the river singing, but no one could understand what she said.

Then it came to pass, a while after, that there was a post in the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he came to the house where he was, and delivered to his hand these lines : Thou art commanded to be ready against this day seven-night, to present thyself before thy Lord, at his Father's house. And for a token that my message is true, " All thy daughters of music shall be brought low." Then Mr. Honest called for his friends, and said

CttgjgT|ANR BlfrS'-F/lRgWELL. A1. THE

THE KING'S MESSENGER 179

unto them, I die, but shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go with me ; let him that comes after be told of this. When the day that he was to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now the river at that time overflowed its banks in some places ; but Mr. Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns ! So he left the world.

After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was sent for by a summons by the same post as the other, and had this for a token that the summons was true, " That his pitcher was broken at the fountain." When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I am going to my Father's ; and though with great difficulty I have got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the troubles I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles who now will be my rewarder. When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the river-side, into which as he went he said, " Death, where is thy sting ? ': And as he went down deeper, he said, " Grave, where is thy victory ? ': So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.

Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Standfast. This Mr. Standfast was he whom the pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground. And the post brought it him open in his hands ; the contents whereof were that he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. Standfast was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger, you need not doubt the truth of my message, for here is a token of the truth thereof : " Thy wheel is broken at the cistern." Then he called to him Mr. Great-heart, who was their guide, and said unto him, Sir, although it was not my hap to be much in your good company in the days of my pilgrim- age, yet, since the time I knew you, you have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left behind me a wife and five small children ; let me entreat you at your return (for I know that you go and return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims), that you send to my family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them, moreover, of my present blessed condition, and of my happy arrival at the Celestial City. When Mr. Standfast had thus set things in order, and the

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time being come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the river. Now there was a great calm at that time in the river ; wherefore Mr. Standfast, when he was about half-way in, stood awhile, and talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither. And he said, This river has been a terror to many ; yea, the thoughts of it also have often frightened me. Now methinks I stand easy, my foot is fixed. The waters, indeed, are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold ; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the convoy that waits for me on the other side, lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey : my toilsome days are ended.

Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed ; his strong man bowed under him : and after he had said, Take me, for I come unto thee, he ceased to be seen of them.

But glorious it was to see how the upper region was filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the city.

As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Christiana brought, with their wives and children, I did not stay where I was till they were gone over.

THE END

Prinud in Oreat Britain by Lla^ell, H'Mon <fc \ liify, Ld., Londin and Aylesbury,

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