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M, WOllIDS OF
"ONE Sir LMBUE

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is load fell -jff his back and beaanfo fall.

Presented to the

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UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO

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EV^\XOELIST POINTS CHinSTL\N TO Till: WICKET GATi:

BUNYAN'S

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS,

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE

WITH NUMEROUS II,I,USTRATIONS DESIGNED

By FREDERICK BARNARD AND OTHERS,

AND WATER-COr,OR REPRODUCTIONS.

INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY,

PHILADELPHIA, PA., AND CHICAGO, ILL.

Bntered according to Act of Congress, m the year 1895, by

JOHN C. WINSTON,
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

COLORED PICTURES.

Evangelist points Christian to The Wicket Gate.
Christian, Discretion, Piety, Charity and Prudence.
Christian and Faithful pass through Vanity Fair.
Christian and Hopeful reach The Celestial City.

OTHER PICTURES.
PART I.

ARTIST. PACS.

**As I slept, I dreamed a dream," F. Barnard, . . 4

Christian tells his wife and children of his distress, Townley Green, 7

Obstinate, F. Barnard, . . vo

Pliable, Ditto, .... 12

Mr. Worldly Wiseman, Ditto, .... 15

*' Beelzebub and the rest shoot darts," Ditto, .... 20

Christian before the Cross, Townley Green, 23

Christian and the Angels, E. F. Brewtnall, 27

Formalist, F. Barnard, . . 29

Hypocrisy, Ditto, .... 30

" He fell, and rose no more," Ditto, .... 31

*' He fell off in a deep sleep," Ditto, .... 32

Watchful, the Porter, Ditto, .... 34

Watchful meets Christian and calls Discretion to the door, J. M'L. Ralston, 35

Discretion, Piety, Charity and Prudence read to Christian at the

Palace Beautiful, Ditto, .... 41

Giving thanks for his deliverance from Apollyon, F. Barnard, . . 44

A place full of bad men, Ditto, .... 45

Christian and Faithful join company, Townley Green, 47

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Superstition, F. Barnard,

Envy, Ditto,

Pick-thank, Ditto,

Pride; Arrogancy; Self-conceit; Worldly-glory, Ditto,

" The stake brought Faithful to his end," Ditto,

Vain-confidence, Ditto,

Hopeful joins Christian, Townley Green

Giant Despair, F. Barnard,

Ignorance Ditto, . .

The fate of Ignorance, E. F. Brewtnall

*' Thus they got to the right bank," F. Barnard,

" Then I woke," Ditto, . .

49
50
51

53
55
56

59
65.

73
76

PART II.

Heading — Bunyan in Bedford Jail F. Barnard, . . 81

Christiana opens her mind to her Children, E. F. Brewtnall, 83

"Well, I see you have a mind to play the fool, too," F.Barnard, . . 86

Mercy fallen in a swoon at The Wicket Gate, J. M'L. Ralston, 89

"So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the
trees, and the fruit that did hang thereon, did plash them, and be-
gan to eat, E. F, Brewtnall, 95

The ill-favored ones, F. Barnard, . . 97

Innocent, Ditto, .... 99

"A man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in

his hand," Ditto, . . . . loi

Mr. Great-heart, J. D. Linton, . 105

Prudence questions Christiana's Children, E. F. Brewtnall, 109

" I lay in some lone wood to weep and wail," F. Barnard, . . 113

Mr. Brisk, Ditto, . . . . 115

Doctor Skill, Ditto, .... 121

Giant Maul, Ditto, .... 125

The Shepherd Boy, E. F. Brewtnall, 127

Gaius, F. Barnard, . . 129

"The meal was then spread," Ditto, .... 130

Mercy and Matthew, Ditto, . . . . 131

Old Honest, J. D. Linton, . 133

Despondency, • . . . F. Barnard, • . 136

Much-afraid, Ditto, .... 137

Heedless Ditto, .... 138

Too-bold, Ditto, .... 139

Christiana passes over the River to The Celestial City, E. F. Brewtnall, 141

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

PART I.

"Aa I slept, I dreamed a dream."

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

A S I went through the wild
waste of this world, I
came to a place where there
was a den, and I lay down in
it to sleep. While I slept, I
had a dream, and lo ! I saw
a man whose clothes were in
rags, and he stood with his
face from his own house, with
a book in his hand, and a
great load on his back. I
saw him read from the leaves
of a book, and as he read, he
wept and shook with fear ;
and at length he broke out
with a loud cry, and said.
What shall I do to save my
soul ?

So in this plight he went
home, and- as long as he
could he held his peace, that
his wife and babes should not

see his grief But at length
he told them his mind, and
thus he spoke, — O my dear
wife, and you my babes, I,
your dear friend, am full of
woe, for a load lies hard on
me; and more than this, I
have been told that our town
will be burnt with fire, in
which I, you my wife, and
you my sweet babes, shall be
lost, if means be not found to
save us.

This sad tale struck all
who heard him with awe, not
that they thought what he
said to them was true, but
that they had fears that some
weight must be on his mind;
so, as night now drew near,
they were in hopes that sleep
might soothe his brain, and

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

with all haste they got him to
bed.

When the morn broke,
they sought to know how he
did? He told them, Worse
and worse; and he set to talk
once more in the same strain
as he had done ; but they
took no heed of it. By and
by, to drive off his fit, they
spoke harsh words to him ;
at times they would laugh, at
times they would chide, and
then set him at nought. So
he went to his room to pray
for them, as well as to nurse
his own grief He would go,
too, in the woods to read and
muse, and thus for some
weeks he spent his time.

Now I saw, in my dream,
that one day as he took his
walk in the fields with his
book in his hand, he gave a
groan, — for he felt as if a
cloud were on his soul, — and
he burst out as he was wont
to do, and said. Who will save
me ? I saw, too, that he gave

wild looks this way and that,
as if he would rush off; yet
he stood still, for he could not
tell which way to go. At
last, a man, whose name was
Evangelist, came up to him
and said. Why dost thou
weep 'i

He said. Sir, I see by this
book in my hand that I am
to die, and that then God will
judge me. Now I dread to die.

Evangelist. — Why do you
fear to die, since this life is
fraught with woe ?

The man said, I fear lest a
hard doom should wait me,
and that this load on my back
will make me sink down, till
at last, I shall find I am in
Tophet.

If this be your case, said
Evangelist, why do you stand
still ?

But the man said, I know
not where to go.

Then he gave him a scroll
with these words on it, " Fly
from the wrath to come."

Chkistian tklls his Wife and Childbeit of his Distkess.
"At length he brake his mind to his wife and children."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

When the man read it he
said, Which way must I fly ?

Evangelist held out his
hand to point to a gate in a
wide field, and said. Do you
see the Wicket Gate ?

The man said, No.

Do you see that light ?

He then said, I think I do.

Keep that light in your
eye, quoth Evangelist, and go
straight up to it ; so shall you
see the gate, at which, when
you knock, it shall be told
you what you are to do.

Then I saw in my dream
that Christian — for that was
his name — set off^ to run.

Now he had not gone far
from his own door, when his
wife and young ones, who
saw him, gave a loud wail to
beg of him to come back ;
but the man put his hands to
his ears, and ran on with a
cry of ^'Life! Life!" The
friends of his wife, too, came
out to see him run, and as he
went, some were heard to

mock him, some to use threats,
and there were two who set
off to fetch him back by force,
the names of whom were
Obstinate and Pliable. Now,
by this time, the man had
gone a good way off, but at
last they came up to him.

Then said Christian,
Friends, why are you come ?

To bid you go back with
us, said they.

But, quoth he, that can by
no means be ; you dwell in
The City of Destruction, the
place where I, too, was born.
I know it to be so, and there
you will die and sink down
to a place which burns with
fire ; be wise, good friends^
and come with me.

What! and leave our goods,
and all our kith and kin ?

Yes, said Christian, for that
all which you might leave is
but a grain to that which I
seek, and if you will go with
me and hold it firm, you shall
fare as well as I ; for there,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

where I go, you will find all
you want and to spare. Come
with me, and prove my words.
Obstinate. — What are the
things you seek, since you
leave all the world to find
them ?

Obstinate.

Christian. — I seek those
joys that fade not, which are
laid up in a place of bliss —
safe there for those who go in
search of them. Read it so,
if you will, in my book.

Obstinate.— Tush ! Off
with your book. Will you
go back with us or no ?

Christian. — No, not I, for
I have laid my hand to the
plough.

Obstinate. — Come, friend
Pliable, let us turn back and
leave him ; there is a troop of
such fools who, when they
take up with a whim by the
end, are more wise in their
own eyes than ten men who
know how to think.

Pliable. — Nay, do not scorn
him ; if what the good Chris-
tian says is true, the things he
looks to are of more worth
than ours ; my heart leans to
what he says.

Obstinate. — What ! more
fools still ! Go back, go back,
and be wise.

Christian. — Nay, but do
you come with your friend
Pliable ; there are such things
to be had as those I just
spoke of, and more too. If
you give no heed to me, read

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

here in this book which comes
to us from God, who could
not lie.

Pliable.— Well, friend Ob-
stinate, I think now I have
come to a point ; and I mean
to go with this good man, and
to cast my lot in with his.
Then said he to Christian, Do
you know the way to the
place you speak of?

Christian. — I am told by a
man whose name is Evangel-
ist, to do my best to reach a
gate that is in front of us,
where I shall be told how to
find the way.

So they went on side by
side.

Obstinate. — ^And I will go
back to my place ; I will not
be one of such vain folk.

Now I saw in my dream,
that when Obstinate was gone
back, Christian and Pliable
set off to cross the plain, and
they spoke thus as they
went : —

Christian. — Well, Pliable,

how do you do now ? 1 am
glad you have a mind to go
with me.

Pliable. — Come, friend
Christian, since there are none
but we two here, tell me more
of the things of which we go
in search.

Christian. — I can find them
in my heart, though I know
not how to speak of them
with my tongue ; but yet,
since you wish to know, this
book tells us of a world that
has no bounds, and a life that
has no end.

Pliable. — ^Well said, and
what else ?

Christian. — That there are
crowns of light in store for
us, and robes that will make
us shine like the sun.

Pliable. — This, too, is good;
and what else ?

Christian. — That there
shall be no more care nor
grief; for he that owns the
place will wipe all tears from
our eyes.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Pliable. — And what friends
shall we find there ?

Christian. — There we shall
be with all the saints, in robes
so bright that our eyes will
grow dim to look on them.
There shall we meet those

Pliable.

who in this world have stood
out for the faith, and have
been burnt at the stake, and
thrown to wild beasts, for the
love they bore to the Lord.
They will not harm us, but
will greet us with love, for

they all walk in the sight of
God.

Pliable. — But how shall we
get to share all this ?

Christian. — The Lord of
that land saith, if we wish to
gain that world we shall be
free to have it.

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

Christian. — I can not go so
fast as I would, for this load
on my back.

Then I saw in my dream
that just as they had come to
an end of this talk, they drew
near to a slough that was in
the midst of the plain, and as
they took no heed, they both
fell in. The name of the
slough was Despond. Here
they lay for a time in the
mud ; and the load that
Christian had on his back
made him sink all the more
in the mire.

Pliable. — ^Ah! friend Chris-

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

tian, where are you now ?

Christian. — In truth, I do
not know.

Then PHable said to his
friend. Is this the bliss of
which you have told me all
this while ? If we have such
ill speed when we first set
out, what may we look for
twixt this and the end of our
way ? And with that he got
out of the mire on that side
of the slough which was next
to his own house; then off
he went, and Christian saw
him no more.

So Christian was left to
strive in The Slough of De-
spond as well as he could ;
yet his aim was to reach that
side of the slough that was
next The Wicket Gate,
which at last he did, but he
could not get out for the
load that was on his back;
till I saw in my dream that
a man came to him whose
name was Help.

What do you do here?

said Help.

Christian. — I was bid to
go this way by Evangelist,
who told me to pass up to
yon gate, that I might flee
from the wrath to come, and
on my way to it I fell in here.

Help. — But why did you
not look for the steps ?

Christian. — Fear came so
hard on me that I fled the
next way and fell in.

Help. — Give me your
hand.

So he gave him his hand,
and he drew him out, and set
him on firm ground, and bade
him go on his way.

Then in my dream I went
up to Help and said to him.
Sir, since this place is on the
way from The City of De-
struction to The Wicket
Gate, how is it that no one
mends this patch of ground,
so that those who come by
may not fall in the slough "i

Help. — ^This slough is such
a place as no one can mend.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

It is the spot to which doth
run the scum and filth that
wait on sin, and that is why
men call it The Slough of
Despond. When the man of
sin wakes up to a sense of
his own lost state, doubts and
fears rise up in his soul, and
all of them drain down and
sink in this place; and it is
this that makes the ground
so bad. True there are good
and sound steps in the midst
of the slough, but at times it
is hard to see them; or if
they be seen, men's heads are
so dull that they step on one
side, and fall in the mire.
But the ground is good when
they have once got in at the
gate.

Now I saw in my dream
that by this time Pliable had
gone back to his house once
more, and that his friends
came to see him: some said
how wise it was to come
home, and some that he was
a fool to have gone. Some,

too, were found to mock him,
who said — Well, had I set
out, I would not have been
so base as to come back for
a slough in the road. So
Pliable was left to sneak off;
but at last he got more heart,
and then all were heard to
turn their taunts, and laugh
at poor Christian. Thus
much for Pliable.

Now as Christian went on
his way he saw a man come
through the field to meet
him, whose name was Mr.
Worldly Wiseman, and he
dwelt in the town of Carnal
Policy, which was near that
whence Christian came. He
had heard some news of
Christian; for his flight from
The City of Destruction had
made much noise, and was
now the talk far and near.
So he said. How now, good
Sir, where do you go with
such a load on your back ?

Christian. — In truth, it is a
load ; and if you ask me

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

where I go, I must tell you,
Sir, I must go to The Wicket
Gate in front of me, for there
I shall be put in a way to get
quit of my load.

Worldly Wiseman. — Have
you not a wife and babes ?

Christian. — Yes, but
with this load I do
not seem to care for
them as I did ; and,
in truth, I feel as if
I had none.

Worldly Wiseman.
— Will you hear me
if I speak my mind to
you ?

Christian. — If what
you say be good, I
will, for I stand much
in need of help.

Worldly Wiseman.
— I would urge you then,
with all speed, to get rid of
your load; for your mind
will not be at rest till then.

Christian. — That is just
what I seek to do. But
there is no man in our

land who can take it off me.

Worldly Wiseman. — Who
bade you go this way to be
rid of it ?

Christian. — One that I
took to be a great and true
man ; his name is Evangelist.

Mr. Worldly Wiseman. •

Worldly Wiseman. — Hark
at what I say: There is no
worse way in the world than
that which he has sent you,
and that you will find if you
take him for your guide. In
this short time you have met

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

With bad luck, for I see the
mud of The Slough of De-
spond is on your coat. Hear
me, for I have seen more of
the world than you ; in the
way you go, you will meet
with pain, woe, thirst, the
sword, too, — in a word, death !
Take no heed of what Evan-
gelist tells you.

Christian. — Why, Sir, this
load on my back is worse to
me than all those things which
you speak of; nay, I care not
what I meet with in the way,
if I can but get rid of my load.

Worldly Wiseman. — How
did you come by it at first ?

Christian. — Why, I read
this book.

Worldly Wiseman. — Like
more weak men I know, who
aim at things too high for
them, you have lost heart, and
run in the dark at great risk,
to gain you know not what.

Christian. — I know what
I would gain, it is ease for my
load.

Wordly Wiseman. — But
why will you seek for easfe
thus, when I could put you
in the way to gain it where
there would be no risk ; and
the cure is at hand.

Christian. — Pray, Sir, tell
me what that way is.

Worldly Wiseman. — Well,
in yon town, which you can
see from hence — the name of
which is M o r a 1 i t y — there
dwells a man whose name is
Legality, a wise man, and a
man of some rank, who has
skill to help men off with such
loads as yours from their
backs ; I know he has done
a great deal of good in that
way ; ay, and he has the skill
to cure those who, from the
loads they bear, are not quite
sound in their wits. To him,
as I said, you may go and
get help. His house is but a
mile from this place, and
should he not be at home, he
has a son whose name is
Civility, who can do it just as.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

well as his sire. There, I say,
you may go to get rid of your
load. I would not have you
go back to your old home,
but you can send for your
wife and babes, and you will
find that food there is cheap
and good.

Now was Christian brought
to a stand ; but by and by he
said. Sir, which is my way to
this good man's house ?

Worldly Wiseman. — D o
you see that hill ?

Christian. — ^Yes, I do.

Worldly Wiseman. — B y
that hill you must go, and the
first house you come to is his.

So Christian went out of
his way to find Mr. Legality's
house to seek for help.

But, lo, when he had got
close up to the hill, it was so
steep and high that he had
fears lest it should fall on his
head ; so he stood still, as he
knew not what to do. His
load, too, was of more weight
to him than when he was on

the right road. Then came
flames of fire out of the hill,
that made him quake for fear
lest he should be burnt. And
now it was a great grief to
him that he had lent his ear
to Worldly Wiseman ; and it
was well that he just then saw
Evangelist come to meet him;,
though at the sight of him he
felt a deep blush creep on his
face for shame. So Evangel-
ist drew near, and when he
came up to him, he said, with
a sad look. What dost thou
here. Christian ?

To these words Christian
knew not what to say, so he
stood quite mute. Then
Evangelist went on thus : Art
not thou the man that I heard
cry in The City of Destruction?

Christian. — ^Yes, dear Sir,
I am the man.

Evangelist. — Did not I
point out to thee the way to
The Wicket Gate ?

Christian. — Yes, you did,
Sir.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Evangelist. — How is it,
then, that thou hast so soon
gone out of the way?

Christian. — When I had
got out of The Slough of
Despond I met a man who
told me that in a town near,
I might find one who could
take off my load.

Evangelist.— What was he?

Christian. — He had fair
looks, and said much to me,
and got me at last to yield ;
so I came here. But when
I saw this hill, and how steep
it was, I made a stand, lest it
should fall on my head.

Evangelist. — What said
the man to thee ?

When Evangelist had heard
from Christian all that took
place, he said : Stand still a
while, that I may show thee
the words of God.

So Evangelist went on to
read, 'Now the just shall live
by faith, but if a man draw
back, my soul shall have no
joy in him.' Is not this the

case with thee ? said he : Hast
not thou drawn back thy feet
from the way of peace, to
thine own cost; and dost thou
not spurn the most high God?

Then Christian fell down
at his feet as dead, and said :
Woe is me ! Woe is me !

At the sight of which.
Evangelist caught him by the
right hand, and said : Faith
hopes all things.

Then did Christian find
some peace, and stood up.

Evangelist. — I pray thee
give more heed to the things
that I shall tell thee of The
Lord says, * Strive to go in
at the ^rait gate, the gate to
which I send thee, for strait
is the gate that leads to life,
and few there be that find it/
Why didst thou set at nought
the words of God, for the
sake of Mr. Worldly Wise-
man ? That is, in truth, the
right name for such as he.
The Lord hath told thee that
' he who will save his life shall

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

lose it/ He to whom thou
wast sent for ease, Legality
by name, could not set thee
free ; no man yet has got rid
of his load through him ; he
could but show thee the way
to woe, for by the deeds of
the law no man can be rid of
his load. So that Mr.
Worldly Wiseman and his
friend Mr. Legality are false
guides ; and as for his son
Civility, he could not help
thee.

Now Christian, in great
dread, could think of nought
but death, and sent forth a sad
cry in grief that he had gone
from the right way. Then he
spoke once more to Evangel-
ist in these words : — Sir, what
think you ? Is there hope ?
May I now go back, and
strive to reach The Wicket
Gate ? I grieve that I gave
ear to this man's voice ; but
may my sin find grace ?

Evangelist. — Thy sin is
great, for thou hast gone from

the way that is good, to tread
in false paths, yet will the
man at the gate let thee
through, for he has love and
good will for all men; but
take heed that thou turn not to
the right hand or to the left.

Then did Christian make a
move to go back, and Evan-
gelist gave him a kiss and one
smile, and bade him God
speed.

So he went on with haste,
nor did he speak on the road ;
and could by no means feel
safe till he was in the path
which he had left. In time,
he got up to the gate. And
as he saw by the words which
he read on it, that those who
would knock could go in, he
gave two or three knocks, and
said : May I go in here ?

At last there came a grave
man to the gate, whose name
was Good-will, and he said;
Who is there ; whence come
you, and what would you
have 1

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Christian. — I come from
The City of Destruction with
a load of sins on my back ;
but I am on my way to
Mount Zion, that I may be
free from the wrath to come;
and as I have been told that

Beelzebub and the Rest Shoot Darts.

my way is through this gate,
I would know, Sir, if you
will let me in ?

Good-will. — With all my
heart.

So he flung back the gate.

But just as Christian went in,
he gave him a pulL

Then said Christian : What
means that? Good-will told
him that a short way from
this gate there was a strong
fort, of which Beelzebub was
the chief, and that from thence
he and the rest that dwelt
there shot darts at those that
came up to the gate to try
if they could kill them ere
they got in.

Then said Christian : I
come in with joy and with
fear. So when he had gone
in, the man at the gate said:
Who sent you here ?

Christian,
bade me come and knock
(as I did) ; and he said that
you. Sir, would tell me what
I must do.

Good-will. — The door is
thrown back wide for you to
come in, and no man can
shut it.

Christian. — Now I seem to
reap the good of all the risks

Evangelist

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

I have met with on the way.

Good-will. — But how is it
that no one comes with you ?

Christian. — None of my
friends saw that there was
cause of fear, as I did.

Good-will. — Did they
know of your flight ?

Christian. — Yes, my wife
and young ones saw me go,
and I heard their cries as they
ran out to try and stop me.
Some of my friends, too,
would have had me come
home, but I put my hands to
my ears, and so came on my
way.

Good-will. — But did none
of them come out to beg of
you to go back ?

Christian. — Yes, both Ob-
stinate and Pliable came, but
when they found that I would
not yield, Obstinate went
home, but Pliable came with
me as far as The Slough of
Despond.

Good-will. — Why did he
not come through it ?

When Christian told him
the rest, he said : Ah, poor
man ! Is a world of bliss such
a small thing to him, that he
did not think it worth while
to run a few risks to gain it ?

Sir, said Christian, there is
not much to choose twixt him
and me.

Then he told Good-will
how he had been led from the
straight path by Mr. Worldly
Wiseman.

Good-will. — Oh, did he
light on you? What! He
would have had you seek for
ease at the hands of Mr.
Legality. They are, in truth,
both of them cheats. And
did you take heed of what he
said ?

Christian then told him all.
But now that I am come, said
he, I am more fit for death,
than to stand and talk to my
Lord. But oh, the joy it is
to me to be here !

Good-will. — We keep none
out that knock at this gate, let

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

them have done what they
may ere they came here ; for
they are *in no wise cast out.'
So, good Christian, come with
me, and I will teach you the
way you must go. Look in
front. That is the way which
was laid down by Christ and
the wise men of old, and it is
as straight as a rule can make
it.

Christian. — But is there no
turn or bend by which one
who knows not the road
might lose his way ?

Good-will. — My friend,
there are not a few that lead
down to it, and these paths
are wide ; yet by this you
may judge the right from the
ivrong — the right are straight
and are by no means wide.

Then I saw in my dream
that Christian said : Could
you not help me off with this
load on my back? — for as yet
he had not got rid of it. He
was told : As to your load,
you must bear it till you

come to the place of Deliver-
ance, for there it will fall from
your back.

Then Christian would have
set off on the road ; but Good-
will said : Stop a while and
let me tell you that when you
have gone through the gate
you will see the house of Mr.
Interpreter, at whose door
you must knock, and he will
show you good things. Then
Christian took leave of his
friend, who bade him God
speed.

He now went on till he
came to the house at the
door of which he was to
knock; this he did two or
three times. At last one
came to the door and said:
Who is there ?

Christian. — I have come to
see the good man of the
house.

So in a short time Mr.
Interpreter came to him and
said : What would you have?

Christian. — Sir, I am come

Christian Bkfokk the Cross.
"His burden fell oflf his back, and began to tumble."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

from The City of Destruc-
tion, and am on my way to
Mount Zion. I was told by
the man that stands at the
gate, that if I came here you
would show me good things
that would help me.

Then Interpreter took
Christian to a room, and bade
his man bring a light, and
there he saw on the wall the
print of one who had a grave
face, whose eyes were cast
up to the sky, and the best of
books was in His hand, the
law of truth was on His lips,
and the world was at His
back. He stood as if He
would plead for men, and a
crown of gold hung near His
head.

Christian. — What does this
mean ?

Interpreter. — I have shown
you this print first, for this is
He who is to be your sole
guide when you can not find
your way to the land to which
you go ; so take good heed to

what I have shown you, lest
you meet with some who
would feign to lead you right;
but their way goes down to
death.

Then he took him to a
large room that was full of
dust, for it had not been
swept; and Interpreter told
his man to sweep it. Now
when he did so, such clouds
of dust flew up, that it made
Christian choke.

Then said Interpreter to
a maid that stood by : Make
the floor moist that the dust
may not rise ; and when she
had done this, it was swept
with ease.

Christian. — What means
this?

Interpreter. — This room is
the heart of that man who
knows not the grace of God.
The dust is his first sin and
the vice that is in him. He
that swept first is the Law,
but she who made the floor
moist is The Book which tells

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Good News to Man. Now
as soon as you saw the first
of these sweep, the dust did
so fly that the room could not
be made clean by him ; this
is to show you that the law
as it works does not cleanse
the heart from sin, but gives
strength to sin, so as to rouse
it up in the soul.

Then you next saw the
maid come in to lay the dust ;
so is sin made clean and laid
low by faith in The Book.

Now, said Christian, let
mc go hence.

Well, said Interpreter, keep
all things so in thy mind that
they may be a goad in thy
sides; and may faith guide
thee!

Then I saw in my dream
that the high way which
Christian was to tread, had a
wall on each side, and the
name of that wall was Salva-
tion. Up this high way did
Christian run, but with great
toil for the load on his back.

He ran thus till he drew near
to a place on which stood a
cross, and at the foot of it a
tomb. Just as Christian came
up to the cross, his load slid
from his back, close to the
mouth of the tomb, where it
fell in, and I saw it no more.
Then was Christian glad,
and said with a gay heart :
He gives me rest by his grief,
and life by his death. Yet he
stood still for a while, for he
was struck with awe to think
that the sight of the cross
should thus ease him of his
load. Three or four times
did he look on the cross and
the tomb, and the tears rose
to his eyes. As he stood
thus and wept, lo, three
Bright Ones came to him^
and one of them said : Peace
be to thee! thou hast grace
from thy sins. And one
came up to him to strip him
of his rags and put a new
robe on him, while the third
set a mark on his face, and

Chbistian and the Angels.
" Behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted him."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

gave him a roll with a seal on
it, which he bade him look
on as he ran, and give it in at
The Celestial Gate; and then
they left him.

Christian gave three leaps
for joy, and sang as he went :
Ah, what a place is this !
Here did the strings crack
that bound my load to me.
Blest cross! Blest tomb!
Nay, blest is the Lord that
was put to shame for me !

He went on thus till he
came to a vale where he saw
three men who were in a
sound sleep, with chains on
their feet. The name of one
was Simple, one Sloth, and
the third Presumption. As
Christian saw them lie in this
case, he went to wake them.,
and said: You are like those
that sleep on the top of a
mast, for the Dead Sea is at
your feet. Wake, rise, and
come with me. Trust me,
and I will help you off with
your chains. With that they

cast their eyes up to look at
him, and Simple said: I
would fain take more sleep.
Presumption said: Let each
man look to his own. And
so they lay down to sleep
once more.

Formalist.

Then I saw in my dream
that two men leapt from the
top of the wall and made
great haste to come up to
him. Their names were For-
malist and Hypocrisy.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Christian. — Sirs, whence
come you, and where do you
go?

Formalist and Hypocrisy.—
We were born in the land of
Vain-glory, and are on our
way to Mount Zion for praise.

Hypocrisy.

Christian. — Why came you
not in at the Gate? Know
you not that he that comes
not in at the door, but climbs
up to get in, the same is a
thief?

They told him that to go

through the gate was too far
round ; that the best way was
to make a short cut of it, and
climb the wall, as they had
done.

Christian. — But what will
the Lord of the town to which
we are bound think of it, if
we go not in the way of his
will ?

They told Christian that he
had no need for care on that
score, for long use had made
it law, and they could prove
that it had been so for years.

Christian. — But are you
quite sure that your mode will
stand a suit at law ?

Yes, said they, no doubt of
it. And if we get in the road
at all, pray what are the odds ?
If we are in, we are in ; you
are but in the way, who come
in at the gate, and we too are
in the way that choose to
climb the wall. Is not our
case as good as yours ?

Christian. — I walk by the
rule of my Lord, but you walk

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

by the rule of your own lusts.
The Lord of the way will
count you as thieves, and you
will not be found true men in
the end.

I saw then that they all went
on till they came to the foot
of the Hill of Difficulty, where
there was a spring. There
were in the same place two
more ways, one on the left
hand and one on the right;
but the path that Christian
was told to take went straight
up the hill, and its name is
Difficulty, and he saw that
the way of life lay there.

Now when Christian got
as far as the Spring of Life
he drank of it, and then went
up the hill. But when the
two men saw that it was
steep and high, and that
there were three ways to
choose from, one of them
took the path the name of
which is Danger, and lost
his way in a great wood,
and one of them went by

the road of Destruction,
which led him to a wide field
full of dark rocks, where he
fell, and rose no more. I
then saw Christian go up the
hill, where at first I could

^5^«5&&^

"He fell and rose no more."

see him run, then walk, and
then go on his hands and
knees, so steep was it. Now
half way up was a cave made
by the Lord of the hill, that
those who came by might rest

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

there. So here Christian sat
down, and took out the scroll
and read it, till at last he
fell off in a deep sleep which
kept him there till it was
dusk ; and while he slept his
scroll fell from his hand. At

" He fell off in a deep sleep."

length a man came up to
him and woke him, and said :
Go to the ant, thou man of
sloth, and learn of her to be
wise.

At this Christian gave a
start, and sped on his way,
and went at a quick pace.

When he had got near to
the top of the hill, two men
ran up to meet him, whose
names were Timorous and
Mistrust, to whom Christian
said, Sirs, what ails you ?
You run the wrong way.

Timorous said that Zion
was the hill they meant to
climb, but that when they
had got half way they found
that they met with more and
more risk, so that great fear
came on them, and all they
could do was to turn back.

Yes, said Mistrust, for just
in front of us there lay two
beasts of prey in our path ;
we knew not if they slept
or not, but we thought that
they would fall on us and
tear our limbs.

Christian. — You rouse my
fears. Where must I fly to
be safe? If I go back to
my own town (Destruction)

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

I am sure to lose my life, but
if I can get to The Celestial
City, there shall I be safe. To
turn back is death ; to go on
is fear of death, but when I
come there, a life of bliss that
knows no end. I will go on
yet.

So Mistrust and Timorous
ran down the hill, and Chris-
tian went on his way. Yet he
thought once more of what
he had heard from the men,
and then he felt in his cloak
for his scroll, that he might
read it and find some peace.
He felt for it but found it not.
Then was Christian in great
grief, and knew not what to
do for the want of that which
was to be his pass to The
Celestial City. At last,
thought he: I slept in the
cave by the side of the hill.
So he fell down on his knees
to pray that God would give
him grace for this act, and
then went back to look for
his scroll. But as he went,

what tongue can tell the grief
of Christian's heart ? Oh, fool
that I am ! said he, to sleep
in the day time ; so to give
way to the flesh as to use for
ease that rest which the Lord
of the hill had made but for
the help of the soul !

Thus, then, with tears and
sighs, he went back, and with
much care did he look on this
side and on that for his scroll.
At length he came near to the
cave where he had sat and
slept. How far, thought
Christian, have I gone in
vain! Such was the lot of the
Jews for their sin; they were
sent back by the way of the
Red Sea; and I am made to
tread those steps with grief
which I might have trod with
joy, had it not been for this
sleep. How far might I have
been on my way by this time!
I am made to tread those
steps thrice which I need not
to have trod but once; yea,
now too I am like to be lost

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

in the night, for the day is well
nigh spent. O that I had
not slept !

Now by this time he had
come to the cave once more,
where for a while he sat down

Watchful.

and wept ; but at last, as he
cast a sad glance at the foot of
the bench, he saw his scroll,
which he caught up with haste,
and put in his cloak. Words
are too weak to tell the joy
of Christian when he had got

back his scroll. He laid it up
in the breast of his coat, and
gave thanks to God. With
what a light step did he now
climb the hill ! But, ere he got
to the top, the sun went down
on Christian, and he soon saw
that two wild beasts stood in
his way. Ah, thought he,
these beasts range in the night
for their prey ; and if they
should meet with me in the
dark, how should I fly from
them ? I see now the cause of
all those fears that drove Mis-
trust and Timorous back.

Still Christian went on,
and while he thought thus on
his sad lot, he cast up his eyes
and saw a great house in front
of him, the name of which
was Beautiful, and it stood
just by the side of the high
road. So he made haste and
went on in the hope that he
could rest there a while. The
name of the man who kept
the lodge of that house was
Watchful, and when he saw

The Porter meets Christian and calls Discretion to the Palace Door.
" This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to Mount Zion."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

that Christian made a halt as
if he would go back, he came
out to him and said: Is thy
strenorth so small ? Fear not
the two wild beasts, for they
are bound by chains, and are
put here to try the faith of
those that have it, and to find
out those that have none.
Keep in the midst of the path
and no harm shall come to
thee.

Then I saw, in my dream,
that still he went on in great
dread of the wild beasts ; he
heard them roar, yet they
did him no harm ; but when
he had gone by them he
went on with joy, till he
came and stood in front of
the lodge where Watchful
dwelt.

Christian. — Sir, what
house is this ? May I rest
here to night .^

Watchful. — This house
was built by the Lord of the
Hill to give aid to those
who climb up it for the good

cause. Tell me, whence
come you .'^

Christian. — I am come
from The Town of Destruc-
tion, and am on my way to
Mount Zion ; but the day
is far spent, and I would,
with your leave, pass the
night here.

Watchful. — What is your
name 1

Christian. — My name is
now Christian, but at first
it was Graceless.

Watchful. — How is it you
came so late.'^ The sun is
set.

Christian then told him
why it was.

Watchful.— Well, I will
call one that lives here, who,
if she like your talk, will let
you come in, for these <ue
the rules of the house.

So he rang a bell, at the
sound of which there came
out at the door a grave and
fair maid, whose name was
Discretion. When Watchful

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

told her why Christian had
come there, she said : What
is your name ?

It is Christian, said he, and
I much wish to rest here to
night, and the more so for
I see this place was built
by the Lord of the Hill, to
screen those from harm who
come to it.

So she gave a smile, but
the tears stood in her eyes ;
and in a short time she said :
I will call forth two or three
more of our house ; and then
she ran to the door and
brought in Prudence, Piety,
and Charity, who met him
and said : Come in, thou
blest of the Lord; this house
was built by the King of the
Hill for such as you. Then
Christian bent down his head,
and went with them to the
house.

Piety.— Come, good Christ-
ian, since our love prompts
us to take you in to rest,
let us talk with you of all

that you have seen on your
way.

Christian. — With a right
good will, and I am glad
that you should ask it
of me.

Prudence. — And, first, say
what is it that makes you
wish so much to go to
Mount Zion ?

Christian. — Why there I
hope to see Him that did
die on the Cross; and there
I hope to be rid of all those
things that to this day grieve
and vex me. There, they
say, is no death ; and there
I shall dwell with such as
love the Lord.

Charity. — Have you a
wife and babes ?

Christian. — Yes, I have.

Charity. — And why did
you not bring them with
you 1

Christian then wept, and
said : Oh, how glad should
I have, been to do so ! but
they would not come with

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

me, nor have me leave them.

Charity. — And did you
pray to God to put it in
their hearts to go with you ?

Christian. — Yes, and that
with much warmth, for you
may think how dear they
were to me.

Thus did Christian talk
with these friends till it
grew dark, and then he took
his rest in a large room, the
name of which was Peace ;
there he slept till break of
day, and then he sang a
hymn.

They told him that he
should not leave till they
had shown him all the rare
things that were in that
place. There were to be
seen the rod of Moses, the
nail with which Jael slew
Sisera, the lamps with which
Gideon put to flight the host
of Midian, and the ox goad
with which Shamgar slew
his foes. And they brought
out the jaw bone of an ass

with which Samson did such
great feats, and the sling
and stone with which David
slew Goliath of Gath.

Then I saw in my dream
that Christian rose to take
his leave of Discretion, and
of Prudence, Piety, and
Charity, but they said that
he must stay till the next
day, that they might show
him The Delectable Mount-
ains ; so they took him to
the top of the house, and
bade him look to the South,
which he did, and lo, a great
way off, he saw a rich land,
full of hills, woods, vines,
shrubs, and streams.

What is the name of this
land ? said Christian.

Then they told him it was
Immanuel's Land. And,
said they, It is as much
meant for you, and the like
of you, as this hill is ; and
when you reach the place,
there you may see the gate
of The Celestial City. Then

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

they gave him a sword, and
put on him a coat of mail,
which was proof from head
to foot, lest he should meet
some foe in the way ; and
they went with him down
the hill.

Of a truth, said Christian,
it is as great a toil to come
down the hill as it was to
go up.

Prudence. — So it is, for it
is a hard thing for a man
to go down to The Vale of
Humiliation, as thou dost
now, and for this cause have
we come with you to the
foot of the hill. So, though
he went with great care, yet
he caught a slip or two.

Then in my dream I saw
that when they had got to
the foot of the hill, these
good friends of Christian's
gave him a loaf of bread, a
flask of wine, and a bunch
of dry grapes ; and then
they left him to go on his
way.

But now in this Vale oi
Humiliation poor Christian
was hard put to it, for he had
not gone far, ere he saw a foe
come in the field to meet him,
whose name was Apollyon.
Then did Christian fear, and
he cast in his mind if he
would go back or stand his
ground. But Christian
thought that as he had no
coat of mail on his back, to
turn round might give Apol-
lyon a chance to pierce it
with his darts. So he stood
his ground, for, thought he,
if but to save my life were all
I had in view, still the best
way would be to stand.

So he went on, and Apol-
lyon met him with looks of
scorn.

Apollyon. — Whence come
you, and to what place are
you bound ?

Christian. — I am come
from The City of Destruction,
which is the place of all sin,
and I am on my way to Zion.

Discretion, Piety, Charity and Prudence instruct Christian at the Palace Beautiful.
"Thea they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants had done."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

Apollyon. — By this I see
you are mine, for of all that
land I am the Prince. How
is it, then, that you have left
your king ? Were it not that
I have a hope that you may
do me more good, I would
strike you to the ground with
one blow.

Christian. — I was born in
your realm, it is true, but you
drove us too hard, and your
wage was such as no man
could live on.

Apollyon. — No prince
likes to lose his men, nor
will I as yet lose you ; so if
you will come back, what my
realm yields I will give you.

Christian. — But I am
bound by vows to the King
of Kings ; and how can I, to
be true, go back with you ?

Apollyon. — You have
made a change, it seems, from
bad to worse ; but why not
give Him the slip, and come
back with me ?

Christian. — I gave Him my

faith, and swore to be true to
Him: how can I go back
from this ?

Apollyon. — You did the
same to me, and yet I will
pass by all, if you will but
turn and go back.

Then, when Apollyon saw
that Christian was stanch to
his Prince, he broke out in a
great rage, and said, I hate
that Prince, and I hate His
laws, and I am come out to
stop you.

Christian. — Take heed
what you do. I am on the
King's high way to Zion.

Apollyon. — I am void of
fear, and to prove that I mean
what I say, here on this spot
I will put thee to death.
With that he threw a dart of
fire at his breast, but Chris-
tian had a shield on his arm,
with which he caught it. Then
did Christian draw his sword,
for he saw it was time to stir ;
and Apollyon as fast made at
him, and threw darts as thick

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

as hail ; with which, in spite
of all that Christian could do,
Apollyon gave him wounds
in his head, hand, and foot.
This made Christian pause

time, but

the fight for a

Giving thanks for his deliverance from
Apollyon.

Apollyon still came on, and
Christian once more took
heart. They fought for half a
day, till Christian, weak from
his wounds, was well nigh
spent in strength. When

Apollyon saw this, he threw
him down with great force ;
on which Christian's sword
fell out of his hand. Then
said Apollyon, I am sure of
thee now.

But while he strove to make
an end of Christian, that good
man put out his hand in haste
to feel for his sword, and
caught it. Boast not, oh
Apollyon! said he, and with
that he struck him a blow
which made his foe reel back
as one that had had his last
wound. Then he spread out
his wings and fled, so that
Christian for a time saw him
no more.

Then there came to him a
hand which held some of the
leaves of the tree of life ;
some of them Christian took,
and as soon as he had put
them to his wounds, he saw
them, heal up.

Now near this place was
the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, and Christian must

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

needs go through it to get to
The Celestial City. It was a
land of drought and full of
pits, a land that none but such
as Christian could pass
through, and where no man
dwelt. So that here he was
worse put to it than in his
fight with Apollyon, which
by and by we shall see.

As he drew near the
Shadow of Death he met
with two men, to whom
Christian thus spoke : — To
what place do you go ?

Men.— Back! Back! and
we would have you do the
same if you prize life and
peace.

Christian. — But why ?

Men.— We went on as far
as we durst.

Christian. — What then
have you seen ?

Men. — Seen! Why the
Valley of the Shadow of
Death ; but by dint of good
luck we caught sight of what
lay in front of it, ere we

came up. Death doth spread
out his wings there. In a
word it is a place full of
bad men, where no law
dwells.

Christian. — I see not yet.

A place full of bad men.

by what you have told me,
but that this is my way to
Zion.

Men. — Be it thy way
then ; we will not choose it
for ours.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

So they took their leave,
and Christian went on, but
still with his drawn sword
in his hand, for fear lest he
should meet once more with
a foe.

I saw then in my dream
that so far as this vale went,
there was on the right hand
a deep ditch ; that ditch to
which the blind have led 'the
blind as long as the world
has been made. And lo, on
the left hand there was a
quag in which, if a man fall,
he will find no firm ground
for his foot to stand on. The
path way was not broad, and
so good Christian was the
more put to it. This went
on for miles, and in the midst
of the vale was a deep pit.
One thing which I saw in
my dream I must not leave
out; it was this: — Just as
Christian had come to the
mouth of the pit, one of
those who dwelt in it stept
up to him, and in a soft tone

spoke bad things to him, and
took God's name in vain,
which Christian thought
must have come from his
own mind. This put him
out more than all the rest
had done ; to think that he
should take that name in
vain for which he felt so deep
a love, was a great grief to
him. Yet there was no help
for it. Then he thought he
heard a voice which said :
Though I walk through the
Valley of the Shadow of
Death, I will fear no harm,
for thou art with me.

Now as Christian went on,
he found there was a rise in
the road, which had been
thrown up that the path
might be clear to those who
were bound for Zion. Up
this road Christian went, and
saw his old friend Faithful
a short way off.

Then said Christian : Ha,
my friend, are you here?
Stay, and I will join you.

Chbistian and Faithful Join Company.
"He could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

This ere long he did, and
they spoke of all that had
come to pass since they had
last met.

In course of time the road
they took brought them to
a town, the name of which
is Vanity, where there is a
fair kept through the whole
year, and all that is bought
or sold there is vain and
void of worth. There, too,
are to be seen at all times
games, plays, fools, apes,
knaves, and rogues. Yet he
that will go to The Celestial
City must needs pass
through this fair.

As soon as Christian and
Faithful came to the town, a
crowd drew round them, and
some said they had lost their
wits, to dress and speak as
they did, and to set no store
by the choice goods for sale
in Vanity Fair. When Chris-
tian spoke, his words drew
from these folks fierce taunts
and jeers, and soon the noise

and stir grew to such a height
that the chief man of the fair
sent his friends to take up
these two strange men, and he
bade them tell him whence
they came, and what they did

Superstition.

there in such a garb. Chris-
tian and Faithful told them
all; but those who sat to
judge the case thought that
they must be mad, or else
that they had come to stir up

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

strife at the fair; so they beat
them with sticks, and put
them in a cage, that they
might be a sight for all the
men at the fair. Then the
worse sort of folk set to pelt

Envy.

them, out of spite, and some
threw at them for mere sport ;
but Christian and Faithful
gave good words for bad, and
bore all in such a meek way,
that not a few took their part.

This led to blows and fights,
and the blame was laid on
Christian and Faithful, who
were then made to toil up and
down the fair in chains, till,
faint with stripes, they were
at length set with their feet in
the stocks. But they bore
their griefs and woes with joy,
for they saw in them a pledge
that all should be well in the
end.

By and by a court sat to
try them : the name of the
judge was Lord Hate-good ;
and the crime laid to their
charge was that they had come
to Vanity Fair to spoil its
trade, and stir up strife in the
town ; and had won not a few
men to their side, in spite of
the prince of the place.

Faithful said to the Judge :
I am a man of peace, and did
but wage war on Sin. As for
the prince they speak of, since
he is Beelzebub, I hold him
in scorn.

Those who took Faithfuls

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

part were won by the force
of plain truth and right in his
words; but the judge said, Let
those speak who know aught
of this man.

So three men, whose names
were Envy, Superstition, and
Pick-thank, stood forth and
swore to speak the truth, and
tell what they knew of Faith-
ful. Envy said : My lord,
this man cares naught for
kings or laws, but seeks to
spread his own views, and to
teach men what he calls faith.
I heard him say but now that
the ways of our town of
Vanity are vile. And does
he not in that speak ill of us ?

Then Superstition said :
My lord, I know not much
of this man, and have no wish
to know more ; but of this I
am sure, that he is a bad man,
for he says that our creeds
are vain.

Pick-thank was then bid to
say what he knew, and his
speech ran thus: — My lord,

I have known this man for a
long time, and have heard
him say things that ought not
to be said. He rails at our
great Prince Beelzebub, and
says that if all men were of

Pick-thank.

his mind, that prince should
no more hold sway. More
than this, he hath been heard
to rail on you, my lord, who
are now his judge.

Then said the Judge to

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Faithful : Thou base man !
Hast thou heard what these
good folk have said of thee ?

Faithful. — May I speak a
few words in my own cause ?

Judge. — Thy just doom
would be to die on the spot ;
still, let us hear what thou
hast to say.

Faithful. — I say, then, to
Mr. Envy, that all laws and
modes of life in which men
heed not the Word of God
are full of sin. As to the
charge of Mr. Superstition,
I would urge that naught
can save us if we do not
the will of God. To Mr.
Pick-thank, I say that men
should flee from the Prince
of this town and his friends,
as from the wrath to come.
And so, I pray the Lord
to help me.

Then the Judge, to sum up
the case, spoke thus : — You
see this man who has made
such a stir in our town. You

men have said of hmi, which
he owns to be true. It rests
now with you to save his
life or hang him.

The twelve men who had
Faithful's life in their hands
spoke in a low tone thus : —
This man is full of schisms,
said Mr. Blind-man. Out of
the world with him, said Mr.
No-good. I hate the mere
look of him, said Mr. Malice.
From the first I could not
bear him, said Mr. Love-ease.
Nor I, for he would be sure
to blame my ways, said
Mr. Live-loose. Hang him!
Hang him! said Mr. Heady.
A low wretch ! said Mr. High-
mind. I long to crush him,
said Mr. Enmity. He is a
rogue, said Mr. Liar. Death
is too good for him, said Mr.
Cruelty. Let us kill him,
that he may be out of the way,
said Mr. Hate-light. Then
said Mr. Implacable : Not to
g^th all the world would I

have heard what these good | make peace with him, so let us

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

doom him to death. And so
they did, and in a short time
he was led back to the place
from whence he came, there
to be put to the worst death
that could be thought of; for
the scourge, the sword, and
the stake brought Faithful to
his end.

Now I saw that there
stood near the crowd a strange
car with two bright steeds,
which, as soon as his foes had
slain him, took Faithful up
through the clouds straight
to The Celestial City, with
the sound of the harp and
lute.

As for Christian, for this
time he got free ; and there
came to join him one Hope-
ful, who did so from what he
had heard and seen of Chris-
tian and Faithful. Thus, while
one lost his life for the truth,
a new man rose from his
death, to tread the same way
with Christian. And Hope-
ful said there were more men

of the fair who would take
their time, and then come too. i

By and by their way lay
just on the bank of a pure
stream, from which they
drank. On each side of it

"The stake brought Faithful to his end."

were green trees that bore
fruit, and in a field through
which it ran they lay down to
sleep. When they woke up
they sat for a while in the
shade of the boughs ; thus

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

they went on for three or four
days, and to pass the time
they sang :

"He that can tell
What sweet fresh fruit, yea leaves these

trees do yield,
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this

field."

Vain-confidence.

Now on the left hand of the
road was By-path Meadow, a
fair green field with a path
through it, and a stile. Come,
good Hopeful, said Christ-

ian, let us walk on the grass.

Hopeful. — But what if this
path should lead us wrong ?

Christian. — How can it?
Look, doth it not go by the
way side ? ^

So they set off through
the field. But they had not
gone far when they saw in
front of them a man, Vain-
confidence by name, who
told them that the path led
to The Celestial Gate. So
the man went first ; but lo,
the night came on, and it
grew so dark that they lost'^^
sight of their guide, who, as
he did not see the path in
front of him, fell in a deep
pit and was heard of no
more. o

Where are we now ? said
Hopeful.

Then was Christian mute,
as he thought he had led
his friend out of the way.
And now light was seen to
flash from the sky, and rain
came down in streams. -t

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

Hopeful (with a groan). —
Oh, that I had kept on my
way !

Christian. — Who could
have thought that this path
should lead us wrong?

Hopeful. — I had my fears
from the first, and so gave
you a hint.

Christian. — Good friend, I
grieve that I have brought
you out of the right path.

Hopeful. — Say no more,
no doubt it is for our good.

Christian. — We must not
stand thus ; let us try to go
back.

Hopeful But, good Chris-
tian, let me go first.

Then they heard a voice
say : Set thine heart to the
high way, the way thou hast
been : turn once more. But
by this time the stream was
deep from the rain that fell,
and to go back did not seem
safe ; yet they went back,
though it was so dark and the
stream ran so high that once

or twice it was like to drown
them. Nor could they, with
all their skill, get back that
night. So they found a screen
from the rain, and there they
slept till break of day. ^

Now, not far from the place
where they lay was Doubting
Castle, the lord of which was
Giant Despair; and it was
on his ground that they now
slept. There Giant Despair
found them, and with a gruff
voice he bade them wake.
Whence are you ? said he ;
and what brought you here?
They told him that they had
lost the path. Then said
Giant Despair : You have no
right to force your way in
here ; the ground on which
you lie is mine.

They had not much to say,
as they knew that they were
in fault. So Giant Despair
drove them on, and put them
in a dark and foul cell in a
strong hold. Here they were
kept for three days, and they

i;8

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

had no light nor food, nor a
drop to drink all that time,
and no one to ask them how
they did. Now Giant De-
spair had a wife, whose name
^,was Diffidence, and he told
her what he had done. Then
said he, What will be the best
way to treat them? Beat
them well, said Diffidence.
So when he rose he took a
stout stick from a crab tree,
and went down to the cell
where poor Christian and
Hopeful lay, and beat ihem
as if they had been dogs, so
that they could not turn on
the floor; and they spent all
that day in sighs and tears.

The next day he came once
more, and found them sore
from the stripes, and said that
since there was no chance for
them to be let out of the cell,
their best way would be to
put an end to their own lives:
For why should you wish to
live, said he, with all this woe.^
But they told him they did

hope he would let them go.
With that he sprang up with
a fierce look, and no doubt
would have made an end of
them, but that he fell in a fit
for a time, and lost the use
of his hand ; so he drew back,
and left them to think of what
he had said. 9

Christian. — Friend, what
shall we do ? The life that
we now lead is worse than
death. For my part I know
not which is best, to live thus,
or to die out of hand, as I
feel that the grave would be
less sad to me than this cell.
Shall we let Giant Despair
rule us ?

Hopeful. — In good truth
our case is a sad one, and to
die would be more sweet to
me than to live here ; yet let
us bear in mind that the Lord
of that land to which we go
hath said: 'Thou shalt not
kill/ And by this act we kill
our souls as well. My friend
Christian, you talk of ease in

Hopeful, axd Chkistiax.
**There was one whose name was Hopeful, who joined himself nnto him."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

the grave, but can a man go
lo bliss who takes his own
life? All the law is not in
the hands of Giant Despair.
Who knows but that God,
who made the world, may
cause him to die, or lose the
use of his limbs as he did at
first. I have made up my
mind to pluck up the heart
^^ of a man, and to try to get
out of this strait. Fool that
I was not to do so when first
he came to the cell. But let
us not put an end to our own
lives, for a good time may
come yet.

By these words did Hope-
ful change the tone of Christ-
ian's mind.

Well, at night the Giant
went down to the cell to see
if life was still in them, and
in good truth that life was in
them was all that could be
said, for from their wounds
and want of food they did no
more than just breathe.
When Giant Despair found

they were not dead, he fell in
a great rage, and said that it
should be worse with them
than if they had not been
born. At this they shook with
fear, and Christian fell down
in a swoon ; but when he
came to. Hopeful said: My ^
friend, call to mind how strong
in faith you have been till
now. Say, could Apollyon
hurt you, or all that you
heard, or saw, or felt in the
Valley of The Shadow of
Death? Look at the fears,
the griefs, the woes that you
have gone through. And now
to be cast down ! I, too, am
in this cell, far more weak a
man than you, and Giant De-
spair dealt his blows at me as
well as you, and keeps me
from food and light. Let us
both(if but to shun the shame)
bear up as well as we can.
When night came on, the
wife of Giant Despair said to
him : Well, will the two men
yield ?

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

To which he said : No ;
they choose to stand firm, and
will not put an end to their
lives. ■

Then said Mrs. Diffidence:
At dawn of day take them
to the yard, and show them
the graves where all those
whom you have put to death
have been thrown, and make
use of threats this time.

So Giant Despair took
them to this place, and said :
In ten days' time you shall
be thrown in here if you
do not yield. Go ; get you
down to your den once more.
With that he beat them all
the way back, and there they
lay the whole day in a sad
plight.

Now, when night was
come, Mrs. Diffidence said to
Giant Despair: I fear much
that these men live on in
hopes to pick the lock of the
cell and get free.

Dost thou say so, my dear ?
quoth Giant Despair to his

wife ; then at sun rise I will
search them.

Now, on that night, as
Christian and Hopeful lay in
the den, they fell on their
knees to pray, and knelt till
the day broke ; when Christ-
ian gave a start, and said :
Fool that I am thus to lie in
this dark den when I miorht
walk at large ! I have a key
in my pouch, the name of
which is Promise, that, I feel
sure, will turn the lock of all
the doors in Doubting Castle.

Then said Hopeful: That
is good news; pluck it from
thy breast, and let us try it.

So Christian put it in the
lock, when the bolt sprang
back, the door flew wide, and
Christian and Hopeful both
came out. When they got
to the yard door the key did
just as well; but the lock of
the last strong gate of Doubt-
ing Castle went hard, yet it
did turn at last, though the
hinge gave so loud a creak

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

that it woke up Giant Despair,
who rose to seek for the two
men. But just then he felt
his limbs fail, for a fit came
on him, so that he could by
no means reach their cell.
Christian and Hopeful now
fled back to the high way, and
were safe out of his grounds.
When they sat down to rest
on a stile, they said they
would warn those who might
chance to come on this road.
So they cut these words on a
post: "This is the way to
Doubting Castle, which is
kept by Giant Despair, who
loves not the King of the
Celestial Country, and seeks
to kill all who would go there."
Then they came to The

^ Delectable Mountains, which
the Lord of the Hill owns.
Here they saw fruit trees,
vines, shrubs, woods, and
streams, and drank and ate

, of the grapes. Now there
were men at the tops of these
hills who keot watch on their

flocks, and as they stood by
the high way. Christian and
Hopeful leant on their staves
to rest, while thus they spoke
to the men : — Who owns
these Delectable Mountains,
and whose are the sheep that
feed on them ?

Men. — These hills are Im-
manuel's, and the sheep are
His too, and He laid down
his life for them.

Christian. — Is this the way
to The Celestial City ?

Men. — You are in the
right road.

Christian. — How far is it?

Men. — Too far for all but
those that shall get there, in
good truth.

Christian.— Is the way safe ?

Men. — Safe for those for
whom it is to be safe ; but the
men of sin shall fall there.

Christian. — Is there a place
of rest here for those that
faint on the road ?

Men. — ^The Lord of these
Hills gave us a charge to help

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

those that came here, should
they be known to us or not ;
so the good things of the
place are yours.

I then saw in my dream
that the men said : Whence
come you, and by what means
have you got so far ? For but
few of those that set out come
here to show their face on
these hills.

So when Christian and
Hopeful told their tale, the
men cast a kind glance at
them, and said : With joy we
greet you on The Delectable
Mountains !

Their names were Knowl-
edge, Experience, Watchful,
and Sincere, and they led
Christian and Hopeful by the
hand to their tents, and bade
them eat of that which was
there, and they soon went to
their rest for the niorht.

When the morn broke, the
men woke up Christian and
Hopeful, and took them to a
spot whence they saw a bright

view on all sides. Then they
went with them to the top of
a high hill, the name of which
was Error ; it was steep on
the far off side, and they bade
them look down to the foot
of it. So Christian and Hope-
ful cast their eyes down, and
saw there some men who had
lost their lives by a fall from
the top ; men who had been
made to err, for they had put
their trust in false guides.

Have you not heard of
them ? said the men.

Christian. — Yes, I have.

Men. — These are they, and
to this day they have not
been put in a tomb, but are
left here to warn men to take ^
good heed how they come too
near the brink of this hill.

Then I saw that they had
led them to the top of Mount
Caution, and bade them look
far off. From that stile, said
they, there goes a path to
Doubting Castle, which is
kept by Giant Despair, and

Giant Despair.
"Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept b/ Giant Despair."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

the men whom you see there
came as you do now, till they
got up to that stile; and, as
the right way was rough to
walk in, they chose to go
through a field, and there
Giant Despair took them, and
shut them up in Doubting
Castle, where they were kept
in a den for a while, till he at
> last sent them out quite blind,
and there they are still. At
this Christian gave a look at
Hopeful, and they both burst
out with sobs and tears, but
yet said not a word.

Then the four men took
them up a high hill, the name
of which was Clear, that they
might see the gates of The
Celestial City, with the aid of
q a glass to look through, but
their hands shook, so they
could not see well.

When Christian and Hope-
ful thought they would move
on, one of the men gave them
a note of the way, and the
next (Experience by name)

bade them take heed that
they slept not on The En-
chanted Ground, and the
fourth bade them God speed
Now it was that I woke from
my dream.

Then I slept, and dreamt
once more, and saw Christian
and Hopeful go down near
the foot of these hills, where
lies the land of Conceit,
which joins the way to Mount
Zion, by a small lane. Here
they met a brisk lad, whose
name was Ignorance, to whom
Christian said : Whence come
you, and to what place do
you go.*^

Ignorance. — Sir, I was
born in the land that lies off
there on the left, and I wish
to go to The Celestial City.

Christian. — How do you
think to get in at the gate }

Ignorance. — ^Just as the
rest of the world do.

Christian. — But what have
you to show at that gate to
pass you through it ?

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Ignorance. — I know my
Lord's will, and I have led a
good life; I pay for all that I
have, I give tithes, and give
alms, and have left my own
land for that to which I
now go.

Ignorance.

Christian. — But you came
not in at the gate that is at
the head of this way, you
came in through a small lane;
so that I fear, though you
may think well of all you

have done, that when the
time shall come, you will have
this laid to your charge, that
you are a thief — and so you
will not get in.

Ignorance. — Well, I know
you not; do you keep to
your own creed, and I will
keep to mine, and I hope
all will be well. And as
for the gate that you talk
of, all the world knows that
that is far from our land,
and I do not think that there
is a man in all our parts
who does so much as know
the way to it, and I see not
what need there is that he
should, since we have, as
you see, a fine green lane
at the next turn that comes
down from our part of the
world.

Christian said in a low tone
of voice to Hopeful: There
is more hope of a fool than
of him.

Hopeful. — Let us pass
on if you will, and talk to

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

him by and by, when, may
be, he can bear it.

So they went on, and Ig-
norance trod in their steps a
short way from them, till they
saw a road branch off from
the one they were in, and they
knew not which of the two to
f ^, raice.

As they stood to think of
it, a man whose skin was
black, but who was clad in a
white robe, came to them and
said : Why do you stand
here? They told him that
they were on their way to The
Celestial City, but knew not
which of the two roads to
take.

Come with me, then, said
the man, for it is there that I
mean to go.

So they went with him,
though it was clear that the
road must have made a bend,
for they found they would
soon turn their backs on The
Celestial City.

Ere long. Christian and

Hopeful were both caught in
a net, and knew not what to
do ; and with that the white
robe fell off the black man's
back. Then they saw where
they were. So there they
sat down and wept.

Christian. — Did not one of
the four men who kept guard
on their sheep tell us to take
heed lest Flatterer should
spread a net for our feet ?

Hopeful. — Those men, too,
gave us a note of the way,
but we have not read it, and
so have not kept in the right
path. Thus they lay in the
net to weep and wail.

At last they saw a Bright
One come up to them with a
whip of fine cord in his hand,
who said : What do you here ?
Whence come you .'^

They told him that their
wish was to go to Zion, but
that they had been led out of
the way by a black man with
a white cloak on, who, as he
was bound for the same place,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

said he would show them the
road.

Then said he: It is Flat-
terer, a false man, who has
put on the garb of a Bright
One for a time.

So he rent the net and let
the men out. Then he bade
them come with him, that he
might set them in the right
way once more. He said:
Where were you last night?

Quoth they: With the men
who kept watch on their
sheep on The Delectable
Mountains.

Then he said: But when
you were at a stand why did
you not read your note?

They told him they had
not thought of it.

Now I saw in my dream
that he bade them lie down,
'^ and whipt them sore, to teach
them the good way in which
they should walk; and he
said: Those whom I love I
serve thus.

So they gave him thanks

for what he had taught them,
and went on the right way up
the hill with a song of joy.

At length they came to a
land the air of which made i
men sleep, and here the lids
of Hopeful's eyes dropt, and
he said : Let us lie down here
and take a nap.

Christian. — By no means,
lest if we sleep we wake no
more.

Hopeful. — Nay, friend
Christian, sleep is sweet to the
man who has spent the day
in toil.

Christian. — Do you not
call to mind that one of the
men who kept watch on the
sheep bade us take care of
The Enchanted Ground? He
meant by that that we should
take heed not to sleep ; so let
us not sleep, but watch.

Hopeful. — I see I am in
fault.

Christian. — Now then, to
keep sleep from our eyes I
will ask you, as we go. to tell

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE,

me how you came at first to
do as you do now ?

Hopeful. — Do you mean
how came I first to look to
the good of my soul ?

Christian. — Yes.

Hopeful. — For a long time
the things that were seen and
sold at Vanity Fair were a
great joy to me.

Christian. — What things
do you speak of .'^

Hopeful. — All the goods
of this life; such as lies, oaths,
drink ; in a word, love of
self and all that tends to kill
the soul. But I heard from
you and Faithful that the end
of these things is death.

Thus did they talk as they
went on their way.

But I saw in my dream
that by this time Christian
and Hopeful had got through
The Enchanted Ground, and
had come to the land of Beu-
lah, where the air is sweet ;
and as their way lay through
this land, they made no haste

to quit it, for here they heard
the birds sing all day long,
and the sun shone day and
night ; the Valley of Death
was on the left, and it was out
of the reach of Giant Despair;
nor could they from this place
so much as see Doubting:
Castle.

Now were they in sight of
Zion, and here some of the
Bright Ones came to meet
them. Here, too, they heard
the voice of those who dwelt
in Zion, and had a good view
of this land of bliss, which
was built of rare gems of all
hues, and the streets were
laid with gold. So that
the rays of light which shone
on Christian were too briofht
for him to bear, and he
fell sick: and Hopeful had a
fit of the same kind. So they
lay by for a time, and wept,
for their joy was too much
for them.

At length, step by step,
they drew near to Zion, and

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

saw that the gates were flung
back.

A man stood in the way,
to whom Christian and Hope-
ful said : Whose vines and
crops are these ?

He told them they were
the king's, and were put there
to give joy to those who should
go on the road. So he bade
them eat what fruit they chose,
and took them to see the
king's walks ; where they
slept.

Now I saw in my dream
that they spoke more in their
sleep than they had done all
the rest of the way, and I
could but muse at this. But
the man said : Why do you
muse at it ? The juice from
the grapes of this vine is so
sweet as to cause the lips of
them that sleep to speak.

I then saw that when they
woke, they would fain go up
to Zion; but as I said, the
sun threw off such bright
rays from The Celestial City,

which was built of pure gold,
that they could not, as yet,
look on it, save through a
glass made for that end.

Now as they went, they
met with two men in white
robes, and the face of each
shone bright as the light.
These men said : Whence
come you? And when they
had been told they said : You
have but one thing more to
do, which is a hard one, and
then you are in Zion.

Christian and Hopeful did
then beg of the two men to
go with them ; which they
did. But, said they. It is by
your own faith that you must
gain it.

Now 'twixt them and the
gate was a fierce stream which
was broad and deep ; it had
no bridge, and the mere sight
of it did so stun Christian and
Hopeful that they could not
move.

But the men who went with
them said : You can not

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

come to the gate but through
this stream.

Is there no way but this
one to the gate? said poor
Christian.

Yes, quoth they, but there
have been but two men, to
wit, Enoch and Elijah who
have trod that path since the
world was made.

When Christian and Hope-
ful cast their eyes on the
stream once more, they felt
their hearts sink with fear,
and gave a look this way
and that in much dread of
the waves. Yet through it
lay the way to Zion. Is the
stream all of one depth ? said
Christian. He was told that
it was not, yet that in that
there was no help, for he
would find the stream more
or less deep, as he had faith
in the King of the place. So
they set foot on the stream,
but Christian gave a loud
cry to his good friend Hope-
ful, and said: The waves

close round my head, and I
sink. Then said Hopeful :
Be of good cheer ; my feet
feel the bed of the stream,
and it is good.

But Christian said : Ah,
Hopeful, the pains of death
have got hold of me ; I shall
not reach the land that I longr
for. And with that a cloud
came on his sight, so that he
could not see.

Hopeful had much to do
to keep Christian's head out
of the stream ; nay, at times
he had quite sunk, and then
in a while he would rise up
half dead.

Then said Hopeful: My
friend, all this is sent to try
if you will call to mind all
that God has done for you,
and live on Him in your
heart.

At these words Hopeful
saw that Christian was in
deep thought ; so he said to
him : Be of good cheer,
Christ will make thee whole.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Then Christian broke out
with a loud voice: Oh, I see
Him, and He speaks to me
and says, ''When you pass
through the deep streams, I
will be with you."

" Thus they got to the right bank."

And now they both got
strength, and the stream was
as still as a stone, so that
Christian felt the bed of it
with his feet, and he could
walk through it. Thus they

got to the right bank, where
the two men in bright robes
stood to wait for them, and
their clothes were left in the
stream.

Now you must bear in
mind that Zion was on a
steep hill, yet did Christian
and Hopeful go up with ease
and great speed, for they had
these two men to lead them
by the arms.

The hill stood in the sky,
for the base of it was . there.
So in sweet talk they went
up through the air. The
Bright Ones told them of the
bliss of the place, which they
said was such as no tongue
could tell, and that there they
would see The Tree of Life,
and eat of the fruits of it.

When you come there, said
they, white robes will be put
on you, and your talk from
day to day shall be with the
King for all time. There you
shall not see such things as
you saw on earth, to wit, care

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

and want, and woe and
death. You now go to be
with Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob.

Christian and Hopeful. —
What must we do there ?

They said : You will have
rest for all your toil, and joy
for all your grief You will
reap what you have sown —
the fruit of all the tears you
shed for the King by the way.
In that place you will wear
crowns of gold, and have at
all times a sight of Him who
sits on the throne. There
you shall serve Him with love,
with shouts of joy and with
songs of praise.

Now, while they thus drew
up to the gate, lo, a host of
saints came to meet them, to
whom the two Bright Ones
said : These are men who felt
love for our Lord when they
were in the world, and left
all for His name; and He
sent us to bring them far on
their way, that they might go

in and look on their Lord
with joy.

Then the whole host with
great shouts came round on
all sides (as it were to guard
them) ; so that it would seem
to Christian and Hopeful as
if all Zion had come down to
meet them.

Now, when Christian and
Hopeful went in at the gate
a great change took place in
them, and they were clad in
robes that shone like gold.
There were bright hosts that
came with harps and crowns,
and they said to them: Come,
ye, in the joy of the Lord.
And then I heard all the bells

in Zion ring.

Now, just as the gates were
flung back for the men to
pass in, I had a sight of
Zion, which shone like the
sun ; the ground was of gold,
and those who dwelt there
had love in their looks, crowns
on their heads, and palms in
their hands, and with one

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

voice they sent forth shouts
of praise.

But the gates were now
once more shut, and I could

but wish that I, too, had
gone in to share this bliss.
Then I woke, and, lo, it was
a dream.

" Then I woke

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

PART II.

Once more I had a dream,
and it was this : — Christiana,
the wife of Christian, had
been on her knees to pray,
and as she rose, she heard a
loud knock at the door. If
you come in God's name,
said she, come in. Then I
thought in my dream that a
form, clad in robes as white as
snow, threw back the door,
and said: Peace be to this
house. At a sight so new to
her, Christiana at first grew
pale with fear, but in a short
time took heart and told him
she would fain know whence

he came, and why. So he
said his name was Secret,
and that he dwelt with those
that are on high. Then said
her guest: Christiana, here is
a note for thee, which I have
brought from Christian. So
she took it, broke the seal,
and read these words, which
were in gold: — "To her who
was my dear wife. The King
would have you do as I have
done, for that was the way to
come to his land, and to
dwell with him in joy." When
Christiana read this, she shed
tears, and said to him who

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

brought the note : Sir, will
you take me and my sons
with you, that we, too, may
bow down to this king ? But
he said: Christiana, joy is
born of grief: care must come
first, then bliss. To reach
the land where I dwell thou
must go through toils, as well
as scorn and taunts. But
take the road that leads up to
the field gate which stands in
the head of the way; and I
wish you all good speed. I
would have thee wear this
note in thy breast, that it may
be read by thee till thou hast
got it by rote, but thou must
give it up at the last gate that
leads to The Celestial City.

Then Christiana spoke to
her boys, and said: My sons,
I have of late been sad at the
death of Christian, your dear
sire. But I feel sure now
that it is well with him, and
that he dwells in the land of
life and peace. I have, too,
felt deep grief at the thoughts

of my own state and yours ;
for we were wrong to let our
hearts grow cold, and turn
a deaf ear to him in the time
of his woe, and hold back
from him when he fled from
this City of Destruction.

The thought of these
things would kill me, were it
not for a dream which I had
last night, and for what a
guest who came here at dawn
has told me. So come, my
dear ones, let us make our
way at once to the gate that
leads to The Celestial City,
that we may see your sire
and be there with him and
his friends.

Then her first two sons
burst out in tears of joy that
Christiana's heart was set
that way.

Now while they put all
things right to go, two friends
of Christiana's came up to her
house, and gave a knock at
the door. To them she said:
If you come in God's name,

Christiana opens heb Mind to her Childrkn.
"Then said she to her children, 'Sons, we are all undone.'"

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

«5

come in. This mode of speech
from the lips of Christiana
struck them as strange. Yet
they came in, and said : Pray
what do you mean by this ?
I mean to leave my home,
said she to Mrs. Timorous —
for that was the name of one
of these friends.

Timorous. — To what end,
pray tell me ?

Christiana. — To go to my
dear Christian. And with
that she wept.

Timorous. — Nay, can it be
so ? Who or what has brought
you to this state of mind ?

Christiana.— Oh, my friend,
if you did but know as much
as I do, I doubt not that you
would be glad to go with me.

Timorous.— Pray what new
lore have you got hold of that
draws your mind from your
friends, and tempts you to go
no one knows where ?

Christiana. — I dreamt last
night that I saw Christian.
Oh, that my soul were with

him now ! The Prince of the
place has sent for me, through
one who came to me at sun
rise, and brought me this note
to bid me go there ; do read
it, I pray you.

Timorous. — Ah, how mad
to run such risks ! You have
heard, I am sure, from our
friend Obstinate, what Christ-
ian met with on the way, for
he went with him ; yea, and
Pliable too, till they, like wise
men, came back through fear.
You heard how he met with
the beasts of prey and Apol-
lyon, what he saw in the Val-
ley of the Shadow of Death,
and more still that makes my
hair stand on end to hear of;
think, too, of these four sweet
boys who are your own flesh
and bone ; and, though you
should be so rash as to wish
to go, yet for their sake, I
pray you keep at home.

But Christiana said: Tempt
me not. I have now a chance
put in my hand to get gain,

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and in truth I should be a fool
if I had not the heart to
grasp it. And these toils and
snares that you tell me of
shall not keep me back ; no,
they serve but to show me

"Well, I see you have a mind to play the
fool too."

that I am in the right. Care
must first be felt, then joy.
So since you came not to my
house in God's name, as I
said, I pray you to be gone,
and tempt me no more.

Then Timorous said to
Mercy (who had come with
her) : Let us leave her in her
own hands, since she scorns
all that I say.

But Mercy thought that
if her friend Christiana must
be gone, she would go part
of the way with her to help
her. She took some thought,
too, of her own soul, for what
Christiana had said had laid
hold on her mind, and she
felt she must have some talk
with this friend ; and if she
found that truth and life were
in her words, she would join
her with all her heart.

So Mercy said to Timo-
rous : I came with you to see
Christiana, and since on this
day she takes leave of the
town, I think the least I can
do would be to walk a short
way with her, to help her on.
But the rest she kept from
Timorous.

Timorous. — Well, I see
you have a mind to play the

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

fool too ; but take heed in
good time, and be wise.

So Mrs. Timorous went to
her own house ; and Christi-
ana, with her four boys and
Mercy, went on their way.

Mercy, said Christiana, I
take this as a great boon that
you should set foot out of
doors to start me on my way.

Then said young Mercy
(for she was quite young) :
If I thought it would be good
to join you, I would not go
back at all to the town.

Christiana. — Well, Mercy,
cast your lot in with mine ;
I know what will be the end
of our toils. Christian is
where he would not fail to be
for all the gold in the mines
of Spain. Nor shall you be
sent back, though there be
no one but I to ask it for you ;
for the King who has sent
for me and my boys is One
who turns not from those
who seek Him. If you like
[ will hire^ you, and you

maid, and
all things
that you do

shall go as my
yet shall share
with me, so
but go.

Mercy. — But how do I
know that I shall be let in ?
If I thought I should have
help from Him from whom
all help comes, I would make
no pause, but would go at
once, let the way be as rough
as it might.

Christiana. — Well, Mercy,
I will tell you what I would
have you do. Go with me
as far as to the field gate,
and there I will ask ; and
if no hopes should be held
out to you by him who keeps
the gate, you can but go back
to your home.

Mercy. — Well, I will go
with you, and the Lord grant
that my lot may be cast to
dwell in the land for which
my heart yearns.

Christiana then felt glad
that she had a friend to join
her, and that that friend

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

should have so great a care
for her soul.

So they went on their way ;
but the face of Mercy wore
so sad a mien that Christiana
said to her: What ails you?
Why do you weep?

Mercy. — Oh, who could
but weep to think of the state
of my poor friends near and
dear to me, in our bad town ?

Christiana. — You feel for
your friends as my good
Christian did for me when he
left me, for it went to his
heart to find that I would not
see these things in the same
light as he did. And now
you, I, and these dear boys,
reap the fruits of all his woes.
I hope, Mercy, these tears of
yours will not be shed in
vain, for He who could not
lie, has said that they who
sow in tears shall reap in joy.

Now when Christiana came
up to the Slough of Despond,
she and her sons made a
stand, and Christiana told

them that this was the place
in which her dear Christian
fell. But Mercy said: Come,
let us try ; all we have to do
is to keep the steps well in
view. Yet Christiana made a
slip or two in the mud ; but
at last they got through the
slough, and then they heard
a voice say to them : Blest is
she who hath faith, for those
things which were told her
of the Lord shall come to
pass.

So now they went on once
more, and Mercy said: Had
I as good grounds to hope to
get in at the gate as you have,
I think no Slough of Despond
would keep me back.

Well, said Christiana, you
know your sore, and I know
mine, and hard toil will it be
for both of us to get to the
end of the way ; for how can
we think that they who set out
on a scheme of so much bliss,
should steer clear of frights
and fears on their way to that

Mbrcy Fallen in a Swoon at the Wicket-Gate.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

bright bourn which it is their
aim to reach ?

When they came to the
gate, it took them some time
to make out a plan of what
they should say to Him who
stood there ; and as Mercy
was not so old as her friend,
she said that it must rest with
Christiana to speak for all of
them. So she gave a knock,
and then (like Christian) two
more; but no one came.

Now they heard the fierce
bark of a dog, which made
them shake with fear, nor did
they dare for a while to knock
a third time, lest the dog
should fly at them. So they
were put to their wits' end to
know what to do : to knock
they did not dare, for fear of
the dog ; to go back they did
not dare, lest He who kept
the gate should see them as
they went, and might not like
it. At last they gave a knock
four times as loud as the first.

Then He who stood at the

gate said : Who is there ?
The doo^ was heard to bark
no more, and the gate swung
wide for them to come in.

Christiana sank on her
knees, and said : Let not our
Lord be wroth that we have
made this loud noise at His
gate.

At this He said : Whence
come you, and what is it that
you would have ?

Quoth Christiana : We are
come from the town whence
Christian came, to beg to be
let in at this gate, that we may
go on our way to The Celestial
City. I was once the wife of
Christian, who now is in the
land of bliss.

With that. He who kept
the gate threw up his arms
and said : What ! is she on
her road to The Celestial City
who, but a short time since,
did hate the life of that place ?

Then Christiana bent her
head, and said: Yes, and so
are these my dear sons. So

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

He took her by the hand and
led her in ; and when her four
sons had gone through, He
shut the gate. This done, He
said to a man hard by : Sound
the horn for joy.

But now that Christiana
was safe through the gate
with her boys, she thought it
time to speak a word for
Mercy, so she said: My
Lord, I have a friend who
stands at the gate-, who has
come here with the same trust
that I did. One whose heart
is sad to think that she comes,
it may be, when she is not
sent for ; while I had word
from Christian's King to
come.

The time did so lag with
poor Mercy while she stood
to be let in, that though it was
but a short space, yet through
fear and doubt did it seem to
her like an hour at least ; and
Christiana could not say more
for Mercy to Him who kept
the gate for the knocks, which

came so fast, and were at last
so loud, that they made Chris-
tiana start.

Then said He: Who is
there ?

Quoth Christiana : It is my
friend.

So He threw back the
gate to look out, but Mercy
was in a swoon, from the
fear that she should not be
let in.

Then He took her by the
hand, and said : Fear not ;
stand firm on thy feet, and tell
me whence thou art come,
and for what end ?

Mercy. — I do not come as
my friend Christiana does,
for I was not sent for by the
King, and I fear I am too
bold. Yet if there is grace
to share, I pray thee let me
share it.

Then He took her once
more by the hand and led
her in, and said : All may
come in who put their trust
in me, let the means be what

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

they may that brought them
here.

Then He told those that
stood by to bring her some
myrrh, and in a while she got
well.

Now I saw in my dream
that He spoke good words to
Mercy, Christiana, and her
boys, so as to make glad their
hearts. And He took them
up to the top of the gate,
where He left them for a
while, and Christiana said :
Oh my dear friend, how glad
am I that we have all got in !

Mercy. — So you may well
be ; but I most of all have
cause for joy.

Christiana. — I thought at
one time as I stood at the
gate, and none came to me,
that all our pains had been
lost.

Mercy. — But my worst
fears came on when I saw
Him who kept the gate grant
you your wish, and take no
heed of me. And this

brought to my mind the two
who ground at the same mill,
and how I was the one who
was left ; and I found it hard
not to cry out, I am lost ! I
am lost !

Christiana. — I thought you
would have come in by rude
force.

Mercy. — Ah me ! You saw
that the door was shut on me,
and that a fierce hound was
not far off Who, with so
faint a heart as mine, would
not give loud knocks with all
her might ? But pray, what
said my Lord at this rude
noise .'^ Was He not wroth
with me }

Christiana. — When He
heard your loud thumps at
the door He gave a smile;
and to my mind, what you
did would seem to please
Him well. But it is hard to
guess why He keeps such a
dog. Had I known of it, I
fear I should not have had
the wish to come. But now

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

we are in we are safe ; and I
am glad with all my heart.

One of Christiana's boys
said : Pray ask to have a
chain put on the dog, for it
us when we go

bite

will
hence.

Then He who kept the
gate came down to them once
more, and Mercy fell with
her face to the ground, and
said : Oh let me bless and
praise the Lord with my lips!

So He said to her: Peace
be to thee ; stand up.

But she would not rise till
she had heard from Him why
He kept so fierce a dog in the
yard. He told her He did
not own the dog, but that it
was shut up in the grounds
of one who dwelt near. In
truth, said He: it is kept
from no good will to me or
mine, but to cause those who
come here to turn back from
my gate by the sound of its
voice. But hadst thou known
more of me thou wouldst not

have felt fear of a dog. The
poor man who goes from
door to door will, for the sake
of alms, run the risk of a bite
from a cur; and shall a dog
keep thee from me.'^

Mercy. — I spoke of what
I knew not ; but, Lord, I
know that thou dost all things
well.

Then Christiana rose as if
she would go on her way.
So He fed them, and set
them in the right path, as He
had done to Christian. And
as they went, Christiana sang
a hymn: "We turn our tears
to joy, and our fears to faith."

They had not gone far
when they saw some fruit
trees, the boughs of which
hung from the top of a wall
that was built round the
grounds of him who kept the
fierce hound, and at times
those that came that way
would eat them to their cost.
So as they were ripe, Christi-
ana's boys threw them down

CHRISTTAN IN THE ARMOTtVRECERnNG HIS AVEAPONS EROM
DISC RETION, PIETY. CH/UilTY AND PRUDENCE.

'■it

'So Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, and the fruit that did hang thereon.

did plash them, and began to eat."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

and ate some of them ;
though Christiana chid them
for It, and said : That fruit is
not ours. But she knew not
then whose it was. Still the
boys would eat of it.

Now when they had gone
but a bow shot from the
place, they saw two men, who
with bold looks came fast
down the hill to meet them.
With that, Christiana and her
friend Mercy drew down their
veils, and so kept on their
way, and the boys went on
first. Then the men came
up to them, but Christiana
said; Stand back, or go by in
peace, as you should. Yet
they took no more heed of
her words than if they had
been deaf

Christiana, who did not
like their looks, said: We are
in haste, and can not stay ; our
work is a work of life and
death. With that, she and
the rest made a fresh move
to pass, but the men would

not let them. So with one
voice they all set up a loud
cry. Now, as they were not
far from the field gate, they
were heard from that place,
and some of those in the

"They saw two men, who with bold looks
came fast down the hill to meet them."

lodge came out in haste to
catch these bad men ; when
they soon leapt the wall, and
got safe to the grounds where
the dog was kept.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Reliever. — How was it that
when you were at the gate
you did not ask Him who
stood there to take you on
your way, and guard you from
harm? Had you done so
you would not have gone
through these frights, for He
would have been sure to grant
you your wish.

Christiana. — Ah, Sir, the
joy we felt when we were let
in, drove from our thoughts
all fears to come. And how
could we think that such bad
men could lurk in such a
place as that? True, it
would have been well for
us if we had thought to ask
Him; but .since our Lord
knew it would be for our
good, how came it to pass
that He did not send some
one with us ?

Reliever. — You did not
ask. When the want of a
thing is felt, that which we
wish for is worth all the more.

Christiana. — Shall we go

back to my Lord and tell
Him we wish we had been
more wise, and ask for a
guard ?

Reliever. — Go back you
need not, for in no place
where you go will you find a
want at all.

When he had said this he
took his leave, and the rest
went on their way.

Mercy. — What a blank is
here ! I made sure we had
been past all risk, and that we
should see no more care.

Christiana. — Your youth
may plead for you, my friend,
and screen you from blame ;
but as for me, my fault is so
much the worse, in so far as
I knew what would take place
ere I came out of my door.

Mercy. — But how could
you know this ere you set
out?

Christiana. — Why, I will
tell you. One night as I lay
in bed, I had a dream, in
which I saw the whole scene

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

as it took place just now.

By this time Christiana,
Mercy, and the four boys had
come to the house of Inter-
preter. Now when they drew
near to the door they heard
the sound of Christiana's
name ; for the news of her
flight had made a great stir ;
but they knew not that she
stood at the door. At last
she gave a knock, as she had
done at the gate, when there
came to the door a young
maid. Innocent by name.

Innocent. — With whom
would you speak in this place?

Christiana. — As we heard
that this is a place of rest for
those that go by the way, we
pray that we may be let in,
for the day, as you see, is far
spent, and we are loth to go
on to night.

Innocent. — Pray what is
your name, that I may tell
it to my Lord.'^

Christiana. — My name is
Christiana; I was the wife of

Christian, who some time
since came by this way, and
these are his four sons.

Innocent then ran in, and
said to those there : Can you
guess who is at the door?

■

Innocent.

There are Christiana, her
boys and her friend !

So they leapt for joy, and
went to tell it to their Lord,
who came to the door and
said : Art thou that Christi-

lOO

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

dim, whom Christian left in
the town of Destruction,
when he set out for The
Celestial City ?

Christiana. — I am she, and
my heart was so hard as to
slight his woes, and leave him
to make his way as he could;
and these are his four sons.
But I, too, am come, for I
feel sure that no way is right
but this.

Interpreter. — But why do
you stand at the door ? Come
in, it was but just now that
we spoke of you, for we heard
that you were on your way.
Come, my dear boys, come
in ; come, my sweet maid,
come in. So he took them
to the house, and bade them
sit down and rest. All in the
house wore a smile of joy to
think that Christiana was on
her way to The Celestial City,
and they were glad to see the
young ones walk in God's
ways, and gave them a kind
clasp of the hand to show

their good will. They said
soft words, too, to Mercy,
and bade them all to be at
their ease. To fill up the
time till they could sup. Inter-
preter took them to see all
those things that had been
shown to Christian. This
done, they were led to a room
in which stood a man with a
prong in his hand, who could
look no way but down on
the ground ; and there stood
one with a crown in his hand,
which he said he would give
him for his prong ; yet the
first man did not look up, but
went on to rake the straws,
dust, and sticks which lay on
the floor.

Then said Christiana : I
think I know what this means.
It is a sketch of a man of this
world, is it not, good Sir ?

Interpreter. — Thou art
right, and. his prong shows
that his mind is of the earth,
and that he thinks life in the
next world is a mere song;

Gatheeinq thk Things of this Wobld eeqakdlkss of the Celestial Cboww offebkd.
"A man that could look no way but downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand."

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

103

take note that he does not
so much as look up ; and
straws, sticks, and dust, with
most, are the great things to
live for.

At that Christiana and
Mercy wept, and said : Ah,
yes, it is too true !

Interpreter then took them
to a room where were a hen
and her chicks, and bade
them look well at them for a
while. So one of the chicks
went to the trough to drink,
and each time she drank
would she lift up her head
and her eyes to the sky.

See, said he, what this bird
does, and learn of her to
know whence all good comes,
and to give to the Lord who
dwells on high, the praise and
thanks for it. Look once
more, and see all the ways
that the hen has with her
young brood. There is her
call that goes on all day long;
and there is her call that
comes but now and then ; she

has a third call to shield them
with her wings ; and her
fourth is a loud cry, which she
gives when she spies a foe.
Now, said he, set her ways
by the side of your King's,
and the ways of these chicks
by the side of those who love
to do His will, and then you
will see what I mean. For
He has a way to walk in with
His saints. By the call that
comes all day He gives
naught ; by a call that is rare
He is sure to have some good
to give ; then there is a call,
too, for those that would come
to His wings, which He
spreads out to shield them ;
and He has a cry to warn
men from those who might
hurt their souls. I choose
scenes from real life, as they
are not too hard for you to
grasp, when I fit them to
your own case ; and it is the
love I have for your souls
that prompts me to show you
these things.

I04

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Christiana. — Pray let us
see some more.

Interpreter then took them
to his field, which was sown
with wheat and corn ; but
when they came to look, the
ears were cut off, and there
was naught but the straw left.

I nterpreter. — What shall
we do with the crop ?

Christiana. — Burn some,
and use the rest to dress the
ground with.

I nterpreter. — F r u i t , you
see, is the thing you look for,
and for want of that you cast
off the whole crop. Take
heed that in this you do not
seal your own doom : for by
fruit I mean works.

Now when they came back
to the house the meal was
not yet spread, so did Chris-
tiana beg of Interpreter to
show or tell them some more
things.

Interpreter. — So much the
more strong a man's health is,
so much the more prone is he

to sin. The more fat the sow
is, the more she loves the
mire. It is not so hard to sit
up a night or two, as to watch
for a whole year ; just as it is
not so hard to start well as it
is to hold out to the end.
One leak will sink a ship, and
one sin will kill a man's soul.
If a man would live well, let
him keep his last day in mind.

Now when Christiana,
Mercy, and the boys had all
had a good night's rest, they
rose with the sun, and made
a move to leave ; but Inter-
preter told them to wait a
while. For, said he^ you
must go hence in due form,
such is the rule of the house.

Then he told Innocent to
take them to the bath, and
there wash the dust from
them. This done, they came
forth fresh and strong, and as
Interpreter said: Fair as the
moon.

Next he told those near
him to bring the seal, and

Mb. Qbeat-hkabt.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

107

when it was brought he set
his mark on them, that they
might be known in each place
where they went.

Then said Interpreter:
Bring vests for them. And
they were clad in robes as
white as snow, so that it made
each start to see the rest shine
with so bright a light.

Interpreter then sent for
one of his men whose name
was Great-heart, and bade that
he should be clad in a coat of
mail, with sword and shield,
and that he should take them
to a house, the name of which
was Beautiful, where they
would rest.

Then Interpreter took his
leave of them, with a good
wish for each. So they went
on their way, and thus they
sang : —

*' Oh move me, Lord, to watch and pray.
From sin my heart to clear ;
To take my cross up day by day,
And serve the Lord with fear."

They next came to the

place where Christian's load
had been lost in the tomb.
Here they made a pause, and
gave thanks to Him who laid
down His life to save theirs.
So now they went up the hill,
which was so steep that the
toil made Christiana pant for
breath.

How can we doubt, said
she, that they who love
rest more than their souls
would choose some way
on which they could go with
more ease than this t

Then Mercy said : Come
what may, I must rest for a
while.

And James, who was the
least of the boys, gave way to
tears*

Come, come ! said Great-
heart, sit not down here ; for
there is a seat near us put
there by the Prince. With
this he took the young child
by the hand, and led him to
it ; and they were all glad to
sit down, and to be out of

io8

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the heat of the sun's rays.

Then said Mercy: How
sweet is rest to them that
work ! And how good is the
Prince to place this seat here
that such as we may rest !
Of this spot I have heard
much, but let us take heed
that we sleep not, for that cost
poor Christian dear.

Then, said Mr. Great-
heart: Well, my brave boys,
how do you do ? What think
you of this hill ?

Sir, said James, this hill
beats me out of heart ! And
I see now that what I have
been told is true, the land of
bliss is up steps; but still. Sir,
it is worse to go down hill to
death than up hill to life.

You are a good boy, said
Great-heart.

At this Mercy could but
smile, and it made James
blush.

Christiana. — Come, will
you not drink out of this
flask, and eat some fruit, while

we sit here to rest ? For Mr.
Interpreter put these in my
hand as I came out of his
door.

Now when they had sat
there a while, their guide said
to them: The day runs on,
and if you think well of it, let
us now go on our way.

So they all set out, the
boys first, then the rest ; but
they had not gone far when
Christiana found she had left
the flask, so she sent James
back to fetch it. .

Mercy. — I think this is the
place where Christian lost his
scroll. How was this. Sir.'*

Great-heart. — We may
trace it to two things ; one is
sleep, and one is that you
cease to think of that which
you cease to want : and when
you lose sight of a boon you
lose sight of Him who grants
it, and the joy of it will end
in tears.

By and by they came to a
small mound with a post on

Q
H

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

Ill

it, where these words were
cut, " Let him who sees this
post take heed of his heart
and his tongue that they be
not false." Then they went
on till they came up to two
large beasts of prey.

Now Great-heart was a
strong man, so he had no fear;
but their fierce looks made the
boys start, and they all clung
round Great-heart.

How now, my boys ! You
march on first, as brave as
can be, when there is no
cause for fear ; but when a
test of your strength comes
you shrink.

Now when Great-heart
drew his sword to force a way
there came up one Giant
Grim, who said, in a gruff
voice : What right have you
to come here ?

Great-heart. — T h e s e folk
are on their way to The
Celestial City, and this is the
road they shall go, in spite
of thee and the wild beasts.

Grim. — This is not their
way, nor shall they go on it.
I am come forth to stop them,
and to that end will back the
wild beasts.

Now, to say truth, so fierce
were these beasts, and so
grim the looks of him who
had charge of them, that the
road was grown with weeds
and grass from want of use.
And still Grim bade them
turn ; for, said he, you shall
not pass.

But their guide came up,
and struck so hard at him
with his sword as to force
him to fall back.

Giant Grim. — Will you
slay me on my own ground ?

Great-heart. — It is the
King's high way on which we
stand, and in His way it is
that you have put these
beasts. But these, who are
in my charge, though weak,
shall hold on in spite of all.
And with that he dealt him
a blow that brought him to

112

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the ground ; so Giant Grim
was slain.

Then Great-heart said:
Come now with me, and you
shall take no harm from the
two beasts. So they went
by, but shook from head to
foot at the mere sight of their
teeth and claws.

At length they came in
sight of the lodge, to which
they soon went up, but made
the more haste to get there
as it grew dusk. So when
they were come to the gate
the guide gave a knock, and
the man at the lodge said in
a loud voice : Who is there ?

Great-heart. — It is I.

Mr. Watchful. — How now,
Mr. Great-heart ? What has
brought you here at so late
an hour? Then Great-heart
told him that he had come
with some friends on their
way to Zion.

Mr. Watchful— Will you
go in and stay till the day
dawns ?

Great-heart. — No, I will go
back to my Lord to night.

Christiana. — Ah, Sir, I
know not how we can part
with you, for it is to your
stout heart that we owe our
lives. You have fought for
us, you have taught us what
is right, and your faith and
your love have known no
bounds.

Mercy. — O that we could
have you for our guide all the
rest of the way ! For how
can such weak folk as we are
hold out in a path fraught
with toils and snares if we
have no friend to take us "^

James. — Pray, Sir, keep
with us and help us, when the
way we go is so hard to find.

Great-heart. — As my Lord
wills, so must I do; if He
send me to join you once
more, I shall be glad to wait
on you. But it was here that
you were in fault at first, for
when He bade me come thus
far with you, if you had said.

S»'>,

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

We beg of you to let him go
quite through with us, He
would have let me do so.
But now I must go back ; and
so good Christiana, Mercy,
and my dear boys, fare ye
all well.

Then did Watchful, who
kept the lodge, ask Christiana
whence she had come, and
who her friends were.

Christiana. — I come from
The City of Destruction, and
I was the wife of one Chris-
tian, who is dead.

Then Watchful rang the
bell, as at such times he is
wont, and there came to the
door a maid, to whom he
said: Go, make it known that
Christiana, the wife of Chris-
tian, and her four boys are
come on their way to The
Celestial City.

So she went in and told all
this. And, oh, what shouts
of joy were sent forth when
those words fell from her
mouth? So all came with

haste to Watchful ; for Chris-
tiana still stood at the door.

Some of the most grave
then said to her: Christiana,
come in, thou wife of that
good man; come in, thou

" I lay in some lone wood to weep
and wail."

blest one; come in, with all
that are with thee.

So she went in, and the
rest with her. They then
bade them sit down in a large
room, where the chief of the

114

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

house came to see them and
to cheer up his guests. Then
he gave each of them a kiss.
But as it was late, and Chris-
tiana and the rest were faint
with the great fright they had
had, they would fain have
gone to rest.

Nay, said those of the
house, take first some meat;
for as Watchful had heard that
they were on their way, a
lamb had been slain for them.
When the meal had come to
an end, and they had sung a
psalm, Christiana said: If we
may be so bold as to choose,
let us be in that room which
was Christian's when he was
here.

So they took them there,
but ere she went to sleep
Christiana said : I did not
think when my poor Chris-
tian set off with his load on
his back that I should do
the same thing.

Mercy. — No, nor did you
think then that you should

rest in the same room as he
had done.

Christiana. — And less still
to see his dear face once more
who was dead and gone,
and to praise the Lord the
King with him ; and yet now
I think I shall.

Mercy. — Do you not hear
a noise?

Christiana. — Hark ! as far
as I can make out, the sounds
we hear come from the lute,
the pipe, and the horn.

Mercy. — Sweet sounds in
the house, sweet sounds in
the air, sweet sounds in the
heart, for joy that w^e are
here !

Thus did Christiana and
Mercy chat a while, and they
then slept.

Now at dawn when they
woke up, Christiana said to
Mercy, What was it that
made you laugh in your sleep
last night ? ^Were you in a
dream ?

Mercy. — Yes, and a sweet

Mr. Brisk.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

117

dream it was. But are you
sure that I did laugh ?

Christiana. — Yes, you gave
a laugh as if from your heart
of hearts. Do pray Mercy
tell it to me.

Mercy. — I dreamt that I
lay in some lone wood to
weep and wail, for that my
heart should be so hard a one.
Now I had not been there
long when I thought there
were some who had come to
hear me speak in my sleep ;
but I went on with my moans.
At this they said with a laugh,
that I was a fool. Then I
saw a Bright One with wings
come up to me, who said :
Mercy, what ails you ? And
when he heard the cause of
my grief, he said : Peace be
to thee. He then came up
to wipe off my tears, and
had me clad in robes of gold,
and put a chain on my neck,
and a crown on my head.
Then he took me by the
hand and said : Mercy, come

this way. So he went up
with me till we came to a
gate, at which he gave a
knock, and then he took me
to a throne on which one sat.
The place was as bright as
the stars, nay more like the
sun. And I thought that
I saw Christian there. So I
woke from my dream. But
did I laugh ?

Christiana. — Laugh ! Yes,
and so you might, to see how
well off you were ! For you
must give me leave to tell you,
that as you find the first part
true, so you will find the last.

Mercy. — Well, I am glad
of my dream, for I hope ere
long to see it come to pass, so
as to make me laugh once
more.

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

Mercy. — Pray, if they
should ask us to stay, let us
by all means do so ; for I
should much like to know

Ii8

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

more of these maids. I think
Prudence, Piety, and Charity
have, each of them, a most
choice mien.

Christiana. — We shall see
what they will do.

So they came down.

Then said Prudence and
Piety : If you will stay here,
you shall have what the house
will yield.

Charity. — Yes, and that
with a good will.

So they were there some
time, much to their good.

Prudence. — Christiana, I
give you all praise, for you
have brought your boys up
well. With James I have
had a long chat ; he is a good
boy, and has learnt much that
will bring peace to his mind
while he lives on this earth,
and in the world to come it
will cause him to see the face
of Him who sits on the
throne. For my own part,
I will teach all your sons.
At the same time, said she to

them, you must still give heed
to all that Christiana can
teach you ; but more than all,
you must read the Book of
God's Word, which sent your
dear sire on his way to the
land of bliss.

By the time that Christiana
and the rest had been in this
place a week, a man, Mr.
Brisk by name, came to woo
Mercy, with the wish to wed
her. Now Mercy was fair to
look on, and her mind was at
all times set on work and the
care of those round her. She
would knit hose for the poor,
and give to all those things
of which they stood in need.

She will make me a good
house wife, thought Brisk.

Mercy one day said to
those of the house : Will you
tell me what you think of Mr.
Brisk ?

They then told her that the
young man would seem to
have a great sense of the love
of God, but that they had

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

119

fears it did not reach his soul,
which they thought did cleave
too much to this world.

Nay then, said Mercy, I
will look no more on him,
for I will not have a clog to
my soul.

Prudence. — If you go on
as you have set out, and work
so hard for the poor, he will
soon cool.

So the next time he came,
he found her at her work.

What ! still at it? said he.

Mercy. — Yes.

Mr. Brisk. — How much
can you earn a day?

Mercy. — I work at these
things for the good of those
for whom I do them; and
more than this, to do the will
of Him who was slain on the
cross for me.

With that his face fell,
and he came no more to
see her.

Prudence.^ — Did I not tell
you that Mr. Brisk would
soon flee from you? Yea, he

may seem to love Mercy, but
Mercy and he could not tread
the same road of life side by
side.

Now Matthew, the son of
Christiana, fell sick, so they
sent to Mr. Skill to cure him.
Then said he : Tell me what
he eats.

Christiana. — Well, there is
no food here but what is good.

Mr. Skill.— This boy has
in him a crude mass of food,
which if I do not use the means
to get rid of, he will die.

Samuel said to Christiana,
What was it that you saw
Matthew pick up and eat
when we came from the gate
which is at the head of this
way?

Christiana. — It was some
of the fruit that grows there ;
I chid him for it.

Skill. — I felt sure that it
was some bad food ; now that
fruit hurts more than all, for
it is the fruit from Beelzebub's
grounds. Did no one warn

I20

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

you of it ? Some fall down
dead when they eat it.

Then Christiana wept and
said : What shall I do for my
son ? Pray, Sir, try your best
to cure him, let it cost what it
may.

Then Skill gave strange
drugs to him, which he would
not take. So Christiana put
one of them to the tip of her
tongue. Oh Matthew, said
she, it is sweet, sweet as balm ;
if you love me, if you love
Mercy, if you love your life,
do take it.

So in time he did, and felt
grief for his sin. He "quite
lost the pain, so that with a
staff he could walk, and went
from room to room to talk
with Mercy, Prudence, Piety,
and Charity.

Christiana. — Pray,Sir,what
else are these pills good for ?

Skill. — They are good for
all those that go on their way
to The Celestial City.

Christiana. — I pray of you

to make me up a large box
full of them, for if I can get
these, I will take none else.

Skill. — I make no doubt
that if a man will but use them
as he should, he could not
die. But, good Christiana,
these pills will be of no use if
you do not give them as I have
done, and that is, in a glass of
grief for the sins of those who
take them. So he gave some
to Christiana and the rest of
her boys, and to Mercy; he
bade Matthew, too, keep a
good look out that he ate no
more green plums; then he
gave him a kiss, and went his
way.

Now, as they had spent
some time here, they made a
move to go. Then Joseph,
who was Christiana's third
son, said to her : You were to
send to the house of Mr. In-
terpreter to beg of him to
grant that Mr. Great-heart
should go with us as our
g^uide.

Doctor Skill.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

'23

Good boy ! said Christiana,
I had not thought of it.

So she wrote a note, and
Interpreter said to the man
who brought it: Go, tell them
that I will send him.

Great-heart soon came, and
he said to Christiana and
Mercy : My Lord has sent
you some wine and burnt
corn, and to the boys figs and
dry grapes.

They then set off, and Pru-
dence and Piety went with
them. But first Christiana
took leave of Watchful, who
kept the gate, and put a small
coin in his hand while she
gave him her thanks for all
that he had done for her and
her dear boys. She then said
to him: Have you seen men
go by since we have been
here?

Watchful. — Yes, I have,
and there has been a great
theft on this high way ; but
the thieves were caught.

Then Christiana and

Mercy said they felt great
fear to go on that road.

Matthew. — Fear not, as
long as we have Mr. Great-
heart with us to guide us.

I now saw in my dream
that they went on till they
came to the brow of the hill,
when Piety said: Oh, I must
go back to fetch that which I
meant to give to Christiana
and Mercy, and it was a list
of all those things which they
had seen at the house where
we live. On these, said she,
I beg of you to look from
time to time, and call them to
mind for your good.

They now went down the
hill to The Vale of Humilia-
tion. It was a steep hill, and
their feet slid as they went on;
but they took great care, and
when they had got to the foot
of it. Piety said to Christiana:
This is the vale where Chris-
tian met with Apollyon, and
where they had that fierce
fight which I know you must

124

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

have heard of. But be of
good cheer, as long as we
have Mr. Great-heart to guide
us, there is naught here that
will hurt us, save those sights
that spring from our own
fears. And as to Apollyon,
the good folk of the town,
who tell us that such a thing
fell out in such a place, to
the hurt of such a one, think
that some foul fiend haunts
that place, when lo ! it is
from the fruit of their own
ill deeds that such things
do fall on them. For they
that make slips must look
for frights. And hence it is
that this vale has so bad
a name.

James. — See, there is a
post with words on it, I will
go and read them.

So he went, and found that
these words were cut on it :
Let the slips which Christian
met with ere he came here,
and the fights he had in this
place, warn all those who

come to The Vale of Humili-
ation.

Mr. Great-heart. — It is not
so hard to go up as down this
hill, and that can be said of
but few hills in this part of
the world. But we will leave
the good man, he is at rest,
and he had a brave fight with
the foe; let Him who dwells
on high grant that we fare no
worse when our strength
comes to be put to the test.
This vale brings forth much
fruit.

Now, as they went on, they
met a boy who was clad in
mean clothes and kept watch
on some sheep. He had a
fine fresh face, and as he sat
on a bank he sang a song.

Hark, said Great-heart, to
the words of that boy's song.

So they gave ear to it.

" He that is down need fear no fall,
He that is low, no pride,
He that is meek at all times shall
Have God to be his guide."

Then said Great-heart : Do

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

125

you hear him? I dare say
this boy leads as gay a life as
he that is clad in silk, and that
he wears more of that plant
which they call heart's ease.

Samuel. — Ask Great-heart
in what part of this vale it
was that Apollyon came to
fight Christian?

Great-heart. — The fight
took place at that part of the
plain which has the name of
Forgetful Green. And if
those who go on their way
meet with a shock, it is when
they lose sight of the good
which they have at the hand
of Him who dwells on high.

Mercy. — I think I feel as
well in this place as I have
done in all the rest of our
way. This vale has a sweet
grace, and just suits my mind;
for I love to be in such a spot
as this, where there are no
coach wheels to make a din.
Here one may think a while
what he is, whence he came,
and for what the King has

made him ; here one may
muse and pray.

Just then they thought that
the ground they trod on
shook. But the guide bade
them be of good cheer, and

Giant Maul.

look well to their feet, lest by
chance they should meet with
some snare.

Then James felt sick, but
I think the cause of it was
fear, and Christiana gave him

ia6

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

some of the wine which Mr.
Interpreter had put in her
hands, and three of the pills
which Mr. Skill had made
up, and the boy soon got
well.

They then went on a while,
and Christiana said : What is
that thing on the road ? A
thing of such a shape I have
not seen in all my life !

Joseph said : What is it ?

A vile thing, child ; a vile
thing ! said she.

Joseph. — But what is it
like ?

Christiana. — It is like — I
can't tell what. Just then it
was far off, now it is nigh.

Great-heart. — Well, well,
let them that have the most
fear keep close to me.

Then it went out of sight
of all of them.

But they had not gone far
when Mercy cast a look back,
and saw, as she thought, a
great beast come fast up to
them with a loud roar.

This noise made them all
quail with fright, save their
guide, who fell back and put
the rest in front of him. But
when the brute saw that
Great-heart meant to fight
him, he drew back and was
seen no more.

Now they had not left the
spot long when a great mist
fell on them, so that they
could not see.

What shall we do ? said
they.

Their guide told them not
to fear, but to stand still, and
see what an end he would
put to this too.

Then said Christiana to
Mercy : Now I see what my
poor dear Christian went
through ; I have heard much
of this place. Poor man, he
went here in the dead of the
night, and no one with him ;
but who can tell what The
Valley of the Shadow of
Death should mean, till they
come to see it ? To be here

The Shepherd Boy.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

129

fills my breast with awe !

Great-heart. — It seems now
as if the earth and its bars
were round us. I would not
boast, but I trust we shall still
make our way. Come, let
us pray for light to Him that
can give it.

So did they weep and pray.
And as the path was now
more smooth, they went
straight on.

Mercy. — To be here is not
so sweet as it was at The
Gate, or at Mr. Interpreter's,
or at the house where we
were last.

Oh, said one of the boys,
it is not so bad to go through
this place as it is to dwell
here for all time; for aught I
know we have to go this way
that our last home may seem
to us the more blest.

Great-heart. — Well said,
Samuel ; thou dost now speak
like a man.

Samuel. — Why, if I do in
truth get out of this place, I

think I shall prize that which
is light and good more than I
have done all my life.

Great-heart. — We shall be
out by and by.

So on they went.

Gaius.

Joseph. — Can we not see
to the end of this vale yet }

Great-heart.— Look to your
feet, for you will soon be
where the snares are.

So they took good heed.

I30

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Great-heart. — M en come
here and bring no guide with
them; hence it is they die
from the snares they meet with
in the way. Poor Christian !
it is stranee he should have

" The meal was then spread."

got out of this place, and been
safe. But God dwelt in his
soul, and he had a stout heart
of his own, or else he could
not have done it.

Christiana. — I wish that

there were some inn here
where we could all take rest.

Well, said Mr. Honest —
one whom they had just
met — there is such a place
not far off.

So there they went, and the
host, whose name was Gaius,
said: Come in, for my house
was built for none but such as
you.

Great-heart. — Good Gaius,
let us sup. What have you
for us to eat? We have gone
through great toils, and stand
much in want of food.

Gaius. — It is too late for us
to go out and seek food ; but
of such as we have you shall
eat.

The meal was then spread,
and near the end of the feast
all sat round the board to
crack nuts, when old Honest
said to Gaius : Tell me what
this verse means ?

A man there was, and some did count

him mad;
The more that this man gave the more

he had.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

13'

Then all the youths gave a
guess as to what Gaius would
say to it ; so he sat still a while,
and then said :

He that gives his goods to the poor,
Shall have as much and ten times more.

Joseph. — I did not think,
Sir, that you would have
found it out.

Gaius. — Ah! I have learnt
of my Lord to be kind, and
I find I gain by it.

Then Samuel said in a low
tone to Christiana: This is a
good man's house ; let us
make a long stay, and why
should not Matthew wed
M ercy here ?

When Gaius heard him say
this, quoth he : With all my
heart. And he gave Mercy
to Matthew to wife.

By this time Christiana's
son James had come of age,
and Gaius gave Phebe (who
was his child) to be his wife.
They spent ten days more at
the house of Gaius, and then
took their leave. But on the

last day he made them a feast,
of which they all ate and
drank

Great-heart. — Now, Gaius,
the hour has come that we
must be gone ; so tell me

Mercy and Matthew.

what I owe you for this long
stay at your inn, for we have
been here some years.

Gaius. — At my house no
one pays ; for the good Sa-
maritan told me that I was to

132

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

look to him for all the charge This is the wife of Christian,

I was at.

They now took leave of
him and went on their way,
when they met with all kinds
of frights and fears, till they
came to a place which bore
the name of Vanity Fair.
There they went to the house
of Mr. Mnason, who said to
his guests : If there be a thing
that you stand in need of, do
but say so, and we will do
what we can to get it for you.

Well, then, said they, we
should like much to see some
of the good folk in this town.

So Mnason gave a stamp
with his foot, at which Grace
came up, and he sent her to
fetch some of his friends who
were in the house, and they
all sat down to a meal.

Then said Mr. Mnason,
as he held out his hand to
point to Christiana: My
friends, I have guests here
who are on their way to Zion.
But who do you think this is ?

whom (with his friend Faith-
ful) the men of this town did
treat so ill.

Well, said they, who would
have thouo^ht to meet Chris-
tiana at this place ! May The
King whom you love and
serve bring you where he is,
in peace !

They then told her that the
blood of Faithful had lain
like a load on their hearts ;
and that since they had burnt
him no more men had been
sent to the Stake at Vanity
Fair. In those days, said
they, good men could not
walk the streets, but now they
can shew their heads.

Christiana and her sons
and Mercy made this place
their home for some years,
and in course of time Mr.
Mnason, who had a wife and
two girls, gave his first born,
whose name was Grace, to
Samuel to wife, and Martha
to Joseph.

Old Honest.

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

135

Now, one day, a huge
snake came out of the woods
and slew some of the folk of
the town. None of these
were so bold as to dare to
face him, but all fled when
they heard that he came near,
for he took off the babes by
scores.

But Great-heart and the
rest of the men who were at
Mr. Mnason's house, made
up their minds to kill this
snake, and so rid the town of
him. So they went forth to
meet him, and at first the
snake did not seem to heed
them ; but as they were
strong men at arms, they
drove him back. Then they
lay in wait for him, and fell
on him, till at last they knew
he must die of his wounds.
By this deed Mr. Great-heart
and the rest won the eood
will of the whole town.

The time now drew near
for them to go on their way.
Mr. Great-heart went first as

their guide ; and I saw in
my dream that they came to
the stream on this side of
The Delectable Mountains,
where fine trees grew on
each bank, the leaves of
which were good for the
health, and the fields were
green all the year round;
and here they might lie down
and be safe. Here, too, there
were folds for sheep, and a
house was built in which to
rear the lambs, and there
was One who kept watch
on them, who would take
them in His arms and lay
them in His breast.

Now Christiana bade the
four young wives place their
babes by the side of this
stream, so that they might
lack naught in time to come :
For, said she, if they should
stray or be lost. He will
bring them back ; He will
give strength to the sick, and
here they shall not want
meat, drink, or clothes. So

136

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

they left their young ones
to Him.

When they went to By-
Path Meadow they sat on
the stile to which Christian
had gone with Hopeful, when

Despondency.

Giant Despair 'shut the two
up in Doubting Castle.
They sat down to think what
would be the best thing: to
do, now that they were so
strong a force, and had such

a man as Mr. Great-heart to
guide them; to wit, if it
would not be well to pull
down Doubting Castle, and
should there be poor souls
shut up there who were on
their way to The Celestial
City, to set them free. One
said this thing, and one said
that; at last quoth Mr. Great-
heart : We are told in the
book of God's Word, that we
are to fight the good fight.
And, I pray, with whom
should we fight if not with
Giant Despair ? So who will
go with me ?

Christiana's four sons said :
We will ; for they were young
and strong ; so they left their
wives and went.

When they gave their
knock at the gate, Giant
Despair and his wife. Diffi-
dence, came to them.

Giant Despair. — Who and
what is he that is so bold
as to come to the gate of
Giant Despair .^^

IN WORDS UF ONE SYLLABLE.

Great-heart. — It is I, a
guide to those who are on
their way to Zion. And I
charge thee to throw wide
thy gates and stand forth, for
I am come to slay thee and
pull down thy house.

Giant Despair. — What,
shall such as Great-heart
make me fear? No.

So he put a cap of steel on
his head, and with a breast
plate of fire, and a club in
his hand, he came out to
fight his foes.

Then these six men made
up to him, and they fought
for their lives, till Despair was
brought to the ground, and
put to death by Great-heart.
Next they fell on his house,
but it took six days to pull it
down. They found there Mr.
Despondency and one Much-
afraid, his child, and set them
free.

Then they all went on to
The Delectable Mountains.
They made friends with the

men that kept watch on their
flocks, who were as kind to
them as they had been to
Christian and Hopeful.

You have brought a good
train with you, said they.

Much-afraid.

Pray, where did you find
them 1

So their guide told them
how it had come to pass.

By and by they got to The
Enchanted Ground, where

138

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the air makes men sleep.
Now they had not gone far,
when a thick mist fell on
them, so that for a while they
could not see ; and as they

Heedless.

could not walk by sight, they
kept near their guide by the
help of words. But one fell
in a bush, while one stuck
fast in the mud, and some of
the young ones lost their
shoes in the mire. Oh, I

am down ! said one. Where
are you "^ cries the next ; while
a third said : I am held fast
in this bush.

Then they came to a bench,
Slothful's Friend by name,
which had shrubs and plants
round it, to screen those who
sat there from the sun. But
Christiana and the rest gave
such good heed to what their
guide told them, that though
they were worn out with toil,
yet there was not one of them
that had so much as a wish
to stop there ; for they knew
that it would be death to sleep
but for a short time on The
Enchanted Ground.

Now as it was still dark,
their guide struck a light mat
he might look at his map (the
book of God's Word) ; and
had he not done so, they
would all have been lost, for
just at the end of the road
was a pit, full of mud, and no
one can tell how deep.

Then thought I : Who is

IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

139

there but would have one of
these maps or books in which
he may look when he is in
doubt, and knows not which
way he should take ?

They soon came to a
bench, on which sat two men.
Heedless and Too-bold ; and
Christiana and the rest shook
their heads, for they saw that
these men were in a bad case.
They knew not what they
ought to do : to go on and
leave them in their sleep, or to
try to wake them. Now the
guide who knew them both,
spoke to them by name ; but
not a sound could he hear
from their lips. So Great-
he^t at last shook them, and
did all he could to wake them.

One of the two, whose
name was Heedless, said:
Nay, I will pay you when I
get in my debts.

At this the guide shook
his head.

Then Too-bold spoke
out : I will fight as long

as I can hold my sword.

When he had said this all
who stood round gave a
laugh.

Christiana. — What does
that mean "i

Too-bold.

Great-heart. — They talk in
their sleep. If you strike or
shake them, they will still talk
in the same way, for their
sleep is like that of the man
on the mast of a ship, when

I40

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the waves of the sea beat on
him.

Then did Christiana, Mer-
cy and their train go on with
fear, and they sought from
their guide a light for the rest
of the way.

But as the poor babes'
cries were loud for want of
rest, all fell on their knees to
pray for help. And, by the
time that they had gone but
a short way, a wind sprang
up which drove off the fog ;
so, now that the air was clear,
they made their way.

Then they came to the
land of Beulah, where the
sun shines night and day.
Here they took some rest,
and ate of the fruit that hung
from the boughs round them.
But all the sleep that they
could wish for in such a land
as this was but for a short
space of time ; for the bells
rang to such sweet tunes, and
such a blaze of lights burst
on their eyes, that they soon

rose to walk to and fro on
this bright way, where no
base feet dare to tread.

And now they heard
shouts rise up, for there was
a noise in the town that a
post was come from The
Celestial City with words of
great joy for Christiana, the
wife of Christian. So search
was made for her, and the
house was found in which
she was.

Then the post put a note
in her hands, the words of
which were: Hail, good
Christiana ! I bring thee word
that the Lord calls for thee,
and waits for thee to stand
near His throne in robes of
white, in ten days' time.

When he who brought the
note had read it to her, he
gave her a sign that they
were words of truth and love,
and said he had come to bid
her make haste to be gone.
The sign was a shaft with a
sharp point, which was to tell

IN- WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE.

143

her that at the time the note
spoke of she must die.

Christiana heard with joy
that her toils would so soon
be at an end, and that she
should once more live with
her dear Christian.

She then sent for her sons
and their wives to come to
her. To these she gave
words of good cheer. She
told them how glad she was
to have them near her at
such a time. She sought,
too, to make her own death,
now close at hand, of use
to them, from this time up
to the hour when they should
each of them have to quit
this world. Her hope was
that it might help to guide

them on their path ; that the
Faith which she had taught
them to cling to, would have
sunk deep in their hearts ;
and that all their works
should spring from love to
God. She could but pray
that they would bear these
words in mind, and put their
whole trust in Him who
had borne their sins on the
Cross, and had been slain
to save them.

When the day came that
she must go forth to the world
of love and truth, the road
was full of those who would
fain see her start on her way ;
and the last words that she
was heard to say were: I
come, Lord, to be with Thee.

THE END.

The Little Pilgeim.

In a large old house, with two kind aunts,

The little Marian dwelt ;
And a happy child she was, I ween,

For though at times she felt
That playmates would be better far

Than either birds or flowers.
Yet her kind old aunts, and story books,

Soothed many lonely hours.

Her favorite haunt, in the summer-time,

Was a large old apple-tree ;
And oft amid the boughs she sat,

With her pet book on her knee.
The " Pilgrim's Progress " was its name.

And Marian loved it much ;
It is, indeed, a glorious book,

There are not many such I

She read it in her little bed.

Beside the winter fire.
And in summer-time in the apple-tree.

As though she would never tire.

But, unexplained, 'tis just the book

To puzzle the young brain ;
And the poor child had no kind friend,

Its meaning to explain.

For though her aunts were very kind,

They were not overwise,
And only said, " Don't read so, child,

Fm sure you'll spoil your eyes."

156

loG THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

But Marian still went reading on,

And visions strange and wild
Began to fill the little head

Of the lonely, dreaming child ;
For she thought that Christian and his wi£^

And all their children too,
Had left behind their pleasant home.

And done what she must do.

" ril take my Bible," said the child,

" And seek the road to heaven ;
ril try to find the Wicket Gate,

And hope to be forgiven.
I wish my aunts would go with me,

But 'tis in vain to ask ;
They are so deaf and rather lame,

They'd think it quite a task.

No ! I must go alone, I see.

So I'll not let them know ;
Or, like poor Christian's friends, they'll say,

' My dear, you must not go.'
But I must wait till some grand scheme

Can all their thoughts engage ;
And then I'll leave my pleasant home.

And go ou pilgrimage."

She had not waited long, before,

One fine autumnal day,
She saw the large old coach arrive.
To take her aunts away.
" We're going out to spend the day,"

The two old ladies said ;
" We mean to visit Mrs. Blair —
Poor soul I — she's ill in bed.

" But, Marian, you must stay at home.

For the lady's ill, you see ;
You can have your dinner, if you like.

In the large old apple-tree,
And play in the garden all the day.

Quite happy and content."
A few more parting words were said.

And off the ladies went.

THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 167

The servants, too, were all engaged ;

" The iay is come at last,"
Said Marian, " but oh, I wish,

My pilgrimage was past."
She knelt beside the apple-tree.

And for God's assistance prayed ;
Then, with her basket in her hand,

Forth tripped the little maid.

Behind the house where Marian dwelt,

Far oiF in the distance, lay
A high steep hill, which the sun at morn

Tinged with its earliest ray.
" Difficulty " was its rightful name.

The child had often thought ;
Towards this hill she turned her steps,

With hopeful visions fraught.

The flowers seemed to welcome her,

'Twas a lovely autumn morn.
The little lark sang merrily.

Above the waving corn.
" Ah, little lark, you sing," said she,

"On your early pilgrimage;
I, too, will sing, for pleasant thoughts

Should now my miud engage."

In clear sweet strains she sung a hymn,

And tripped lightly on her way ;
Until a pool of soft thick mud

Across her pathway lay.
" This is the Slough of Despond," she cried,

But she bravely ventured through ;
And safely reached the other side.

But she lost one little shoe.

On an old gray stone she sat her down,

To eat some fruit and bread ;
Then took her little Bible out.

And a cheering psalm she read.
Then with fresh hope she journeyed on ,

For many miles away ;
And she reached the bottom of the hill,

Before the close of day.
41

158 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS,

She clambered up the steep ascent,
Though faint and weary too;

But firmly did our Marian keep
Her purpose still in view.

" I'm glad, at least, the arbor's past/'

Said the little tired soul ;
** I'm sure I should have sat me down,
And lost my little roll !"
On the high hill-top she stands at last^

And our weary Pilgrim sees
A porter's lodge, of ample size,
Half hid by sheltering trees.

She clapped her hands with joy, and cried,

" Oh, there's the Wicket Gate,
And I must seek admittance there,

Before it is too late."
Gently she knocks — 'tis answered soon,

And at the open door
Stands a tall, stout man — poor Marian felt

As she ne'er had felt before.

With tearful eyes, and trembling hand.

Flushed cheek, and anxious brow,
She said, " I hope you're Watchful, Sir,

I want Discretion now."
"Oh yes, I'm watchful," said the man,

" As a porter ought to be ;
I s'pose you've lost your way, young Miss,

You've lost your shoe, I see.

** Missus," he cried to his wife within,

" Here's a child here, at the door,
You'll never see such a one again,

If you live to be fourscore.
She wants discretion, so she says.

Indeed I think 'tis true ;
But I know some who want it more.

Who will not own they do."

** Go to the Hall," his wife replies,
" And take the child with you,
The ladies there are all so wise.

They'll soon know what to do."
The man complied, and led the child
Through many a flowery glade;
« Is that the Palace Beautiful ?"
The little Pilgrim said.

THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 159

** There, to the left, among the trees ?

Why, Miss, 'tis mighty grand ;
Call it a palace, if you please,

'Tis the finest in the land.
Now we be come to the fine old porch,

And this is the Marble Hall ;
Here, little lady, you must stay,

VVhile I the servants call."

Tired and sad he left the child.
But he quickly re-appeared,
And with him the lady of the house-
Poor Marian's heart was cheered.
" Sweet little girl," the lady said.

In accents soft and kind,
" I'm sure you sadly want some rest.
And rest you soon shall find."

To a room where three young ladies sat^
The child was quickly led ;
" Piety, Prudence, and Charity,"

To herself she softly said.
"What is your name, my little dear?"
Said the eldest of the three.
Whom Marian, in her secret thought.
Had christened Piety.

** We'll send a servant to your friends.

How uneasy they must be !"
Admiringly she watched the child.

Who, indeed, was fair to see ;
Around her bright and lovely face

Fell waves of auburn hair.
As modestly she told her name,

With whom she lived and where.

"How did you lose your way, my love?"

She gently raised her head,
** I do not think I've lost my way,"

The little Pilgrim said.
** This is the Palace Beautiful,

May I stay here to-night ?"
They smiled and said, " We're glad our hoose

Finds favor in your sight : —

160 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

** Yes, gladly will we keep you here,

For many nights to come."
" Thank you," said Marian, " but I soon
Must seek my heavenly home.-
The valley of the Shadow of Death

Is near this house, I know " —
She stopped, for she saw, with great surpristj^
Their tears began to flow.

She little thought the mourning dress,

Which all the ladies wore.
Was for one whom they had dearly loved,

And should see on earth no more.
Their brother had been called away.

Their brightest and their best ;
No wonder, then, that Marian's words

•Roused grief in every breast.

Sobs only for awhile were heard ;

At length the ladies said,
" My, love, you have reminded us

Of our loved and early dead ;
But this you could not know, my dear,

And it indeed is true ;
We are all near to Death's dark door,

Even little girls like you."

** Yes," said the timid, trembling child,

" I know it must be so ;
But, ma'am, I hope that Piety

May be with me when I go.
And will you show me your armory,

When you have time to spare ?
I hope you have some small enough

For a little girl to wear."

No more she said, for Piety,

As Marian called her, cast
Her arms around the Pilgrim's neck,

The secret's out at last.
* You puzzled all," said Piety ;

" But now, I see, you've read
A glorious book, which, unexplained.

Has turned your little head.

THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 1 6 1

**Oh, dearly, when I was a child,

I loved that Pilgrim Tale ;
But then mamma explained it well—

And if we can prevail
On your kind aunts to let you stay

Some time with us, my dear.
You shall read that book with my mamma,

And she will make it clear."

Now we'll return to Marian's home, ,

And see what's passing there.
The servants all had company,

And a merry group they were.
They had not missed our Pilgrim long,

For they knew she oft would play
In that old garden, with a book,

The whole of the livelong day.

** Betty," at last, said the housekeeper,

" Where can Miss Marian be ?
Her dinner was in the basket packed,

But, sure, she'll come into tea !"
They sought her here, they sought her ther^

But they could not find the child ;
And her poor old aunts, when they came home,

With grief were almost wild.

The coachman and the footman too,

In different ways were sent;
But none thought of the narrow way
In which the Pilgrim went.
" Perhaps she followed us to town,"

Poor Aunt Rebecca said,
" I wish we had not left our home ;
I fear the child is dead."

And to the town the coachman went.

For they knew not what to do ;
And night drew on, when a country boy

Brought Marian's little shoe.
With the shoe in her hand, the housekeeper

Into the parlor ran,
** Oh, Mistress, here is all that's left

Of poor Miss Marian.

162 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

It was found sticking in the mud,

Just above Harlem Chase ;
I fear the poor child's perished there,

For 'tis a frightful place,"
Then louder grew the ladies' grief;

But soon their hearts were cheered,
When a footman grand, with a note in his hand,

From the distant Hall appeared.

Aunt Ruth now read the note, and cried,

" Oh, sister, all is well I
The child is safe at Brookland Hall,

With Lady Arundel,
Who wants to keep her for a month ;

Why, yes ; I think she may —
Such friends as Lady Arundel

Are not met with every day.

** Our compliments, and thanks to h&c,

When you return, young man ;
We'll call to-morrow at the Hall,

And see Miss Marian."
Then came a burst of grateful joy.

That could not be suppressed,
And, with thankful hearts and many tears,

The ladies went to rest.

We'll take a peep at our Marian now.

There in her bed lies she ;
How blissful were her dreams that night,

In the arms of Piety.
Oh, that happy month at Brookland Hall,

How soon it passed away !
Cheerful and good were Marian's friends,

And who so kind as they ?

And, more than all, while there she stayed,

They did their best to bring
The little lamb to that blest fold

Where reigns the Shepherd King.
For many a lesson ne'er forgot.

The little Marian learned ;
And a thoughtful and a happier child

She to her home returned.

THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 163

Years rolled away, the scene has changed,

A wife and mother now,
Marian has found the Wicket Gate,

She and her children too.
And oh ! how sweet it is to see

This little Pilgrim band,
As on towards their heavenly home,

They travel hand in hand.
When cloudy days fall to their lot.

They see a light afar.
The light that shone on Bethlehem's plain.

The Pilgrim's guiding star.

And now, dear children, whosoe'er.

Or wheresoe'er you be,
Who ponder o'er this strange, true tale

Of Marian's history, —
If to the flowers of your young hearts.

Instruction's dews are given.
Oh ! be earnest as our Marian was,

To find the road to Heaven.

mTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOK

HE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS" is, without question, of all uninspired volumes,
the most extraordinary book in the English language. Regard being had to the
condition of its author, and the circumstances connected with its production, to
its widespread popularity, and its suitableness for readers of every class, there is
none to compare with it.

We shall probably find few readers who are not already acquainted with the

leading facts of Banyan's life ; and to whom a record of them would not appear

like the rehearsal of an old story. It may suffice, therefore, if we present, in few

words, such a summary as will refresh the memory, dwelling only on those which are

fitted to shed a little lighten his immortal production.

Born at Elstow in Bedfordshire in 1628, of parents who belonged to the humbler
walks of life, he received little early education worthy of the name; but grew up in the
ignorance which was then, and in England is stilly common to his class. At an early age
he learned the trade of tinker, and by that occupation earned his livelihood for a few
years. Up to the time of his first marriage he lived, if not a desperately profligate, yet
a thoroughly godless and openly wicked life. And though the character and conversation of his
wife exerted a restraining influence, and awoke in him some desire for reformation, no real, and
but little apparent, change took place until some time afterwards, when he became the subject of
converting grace. The deep experiences through which he had passed in connection with this
change, combined with his natural gifts, qualified him for profitably addressing others; and he
very soon began, in an irregular way at first, to exercise the ministry, which ultimately became
his sole occupation, and in which he obtained to a proficiency unsurpassed by any preacher
of his time. His preaching, and consequent absence from the parish church, attracted the
jiotice of the ecclesiastical authorities of the neighborhood, at whose instigation he was thrown
into prison for twelve years, where he tagged laces to support his wife and blind child, and
conceived and wrote the wonderful allegory by which he has ranked himself forever among the
peers of the intellectual world, and secured for himself an ever-widening and undying fame. After
his release he preached with great acceptance and usefulness, statedly at Bedford, occasionally in
London and elsewhere ; and composed and published various other works of great practical useful-
ness, some of which would no doubt have attained to a wide popularity had they not been eclipsed
by his greatest production. He diligently prosecuted his labors until he was sixty years of age,
when a severe cold caught in the discharge of a ministerial duty — a journey which he took for the
purpose of reooooiling a father and son who had quarrelled — abruptly terminated his life.
1(34

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 165

In the circumstances we have thus briefly narrated— especially in his imprisonment — some
writers see the discipline and training which were necessary to fit him for writing "The Pilgrim's
Progress." But though we cannot question that whatsoever God did for him and whatsoever men
were permitted to do, had some effect in fitting him for whatever work he was destined to perform,
it seems to us that such a discovery is but one of numerous instances in which men are wise after
the event, and that Bunyan's great work is not to he accounted for except by a profounder phi-
losophy than such writers bring to the task. Few beforehand would have ventured to predict, from
anything in the antecedents of the man Bunyan, that he would be able to produce such a book ; or
that anything in his circumstances and upbringing and parentage would produce such a man. He
is a great creation, no more to be accounted for in such a manner than is the creation of a world.
Antecedents conduce to, but do not account for> it. He is a phenomenon only to be understood on
the principle that God, by a process which we cannot trace, and sometimes by means which appear
to us unsuitable, raises up great men for the performance of great works. Not only does He make
the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak to confound the mighty, but
gives us to find both wisdom and strength where such qualities are least likely to exist.

It is a fact significant of the nature of the times, that Christian England, which ought to have
been proud to rank him among her favored sons, had no better treatment for this man than the most
relentless persecution, no better home for twelve years than a damp cell in the gaol which stood on
the bridge over the Ouse at Bedford. His crime, as we have intimated, was that of absenting him-
self from the Established Church, and holding meetings where he preached the gospel, and conducted
worship in a manner which appeared to him more in accordance than the established service with
New Testament principles — one of the worst crimes, in the estimation of the authorities, of which a
man could be guilty. On the warrant of a Justice he was apprehended at a meeting in Sansell, and,
no bail being found, was thrown into prison to await his trial, which took place seven weeks after-
wards. His indictment set forth that "John Bunyan, of the town of Bedford, laborer, hath devil-
ishly and perniciously abstained from coming to church to hear Divine service, and is a common
upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of
the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king." On this
indictment, without any examination of witnesses, he was found guilty. Justice Keeling, in a
savage tone strangely unbecoming in a judge passing sentence, said, "Hear your judgment: you
must be had back to prison, and there lie for three months following. And at three months' end, if
you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be
banished the realm ; or be found to come back again without special license from the king, you must
stretch by the neck for it, I tell you plainly. Jailor, take him away."

Bunyan's reply was as worthy of his Christian chara« ter as the judge's manner was unworthy of
his exalted office. All that he had to say in answer to such brutal browbeating was, " If I was out
of prison to-day, I would preach again to-morrow, by the help of God ! " Such a man was evidently
not to be frightened either by frowns or by threats; so they had him back to prison, of which he had
already tasted the sweets. But not all the horrors of prison — not the pain of separation from his
wife and four children, could move his dauntless soul. He felt that separation most keenly — no
man could have felt it more. Especially was he solicitous about his blind daughter, to whom he was
all the more tenderly attached because of her helplessness. "Poor child, thought I; what sorrovr
art thou like to have for thy portion in this world I Thou must be beaten, must beg, suffer hunger,
cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon
thee ! Oh, the hardships I thought my blind one might go under would break my heart in pieces."
Still he did not falter, for he could oommit her as well as himself to God ; and God's peace was with

166 INTROD UCTOR Y NOTICE OF THE A UTHOR.

him. " Veril/, as I was going forth out of the doors, I had much ado to forbear saying to them that
I carried the peace of God along with me ; and, blessed be the Lord, I went away to prison with
God's comfort in my poor soul ! "

His case seems to have given some trouble to the Justices. He was had up before them re-
peatedly, and always remanded. They were either unwilling or afraid to carry out Justice Reeling's
threat of banishment. And as their prisoner would not promise to change his course, they kept
him where he was. His friends interceded for him. His wife, who was of a kindred spirit with
himself, came to London with a petition for his release, and had it presented to the House of Lords.
Although " a delicate young woman of retiring habits," she appeared before the Judges and pleaded
his cause "in language worthy of the most talented counsel." But all their efforts were in vain.
The one condition on which his release could be granted was the condition with which the prisoner
would not comply. " Will your husband leave preaching?" said Judge Twisden to his wife; "if
he will do so, then send for him." " My Lord," she replied, " he dares not leave preaching, so long
as he can speak." " My principles," says Bunyan on another occasion, "are such as lead me to a
denial to communicate in the things of the kingdom of Christ with ungodly and open profane ;
neither can I, in or by the superstitious inventions of this world consent that ray soul should be
governed in any of my approaches to God, because commanded to the contrary, and commended for
60 refusing. Wherefore, excepting this one thing, for which I ought not to be rebuked, I shall, I
trust, in despite of slander and falsehood, discover myself as a peaceable and obedient subject. But
if nothing will do unless I make my conscience a continual butchery and slaughter shop — unless,
putting out mine own eyes, I commit me to the blind to lead me (as I doubt is desired by some) — I
have determined, the Almighty God being my help and shield, yet to suffer, and if frail life shall
continue so long, even till the moss shall grow on mine eyebrows, rather than violate my faith and
principles."

He lay in prison for more than twelve years. Twelve years ! How easy to write the words ; how
difficult to grasp all that they mean ! The fifth part of his life at the season when life was in its
prime — when his appreciation of nature was keenest — when free exercise would have proved the
greatest luxury to a stalwart frame like his — when he would have entered with the greatest zest into
home enjoyments — when his physical system was full of bounding life and capable of acting with the
greatest vigor — the fifth part of his life spent within the limits of a dungeon — the little cell which
he aptly calls his den I What a testimony to the heroic endurance of the man ! What a testimony
to his country's disgrace ! It is sad to think that England, with her Christian constitution, had no
better treatment than this for one of her noblest sons, whose worth, blinded as she was by flunkeyisms
and debaucheries in high places, she was unable to recognize.

To Bunyan it mattered little what they did. Happier far was he in prison than the clergyman
in his living, or the bishop in his palace, or the king on his throne. Yea, it may be questioned if in
all England there was a man so happy or so much to be envied as that prisoner on Bedford bridge.
The " God's peace " — " God's comfort " — of which he speaks as dwelling in his " poor soul," is not
dependent on place or circumstances, cannot be disturbed by the treatment he receives. He who
hath it can defy the persecutor's rage. Do to him what you will — strip him of his possessions and
friends — drive him into exile — make him a homeless wanderer — he is happier in his penury and
homelessness, than others in the abundance of their wealth and comfort. If, by prison walls, Bunyan
was shut out from nature's beauty — from daylight and the fragrant air — still he has left to him God
and himself. The soul's freedom is unimpaired. It can soon soar above all restraint and enjoy
Divine fellowship. No prison walls are so thick that prayer cannot pierce them. No -cUngeon
gloom so dark that it may not be radiated with celestial light.

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR 167

" Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage ;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage.

*' For though men keep my outward man 0

Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars,"

These were no meaningless sounds to him — no poetical expression of the feelings which he
rapposed might be experienced — no rhapsodical or exaggerated description of what he actually felt.
Poetry apart, he elsewhere tells us of the glorious visions with which he was favored there. " O
the Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the judge
)f all; Jesus the mediator, and the spirits of just men made perfect! I have seen here what I
aever can express. I have felt the truth of that Scripture 'Whom having not seen, ye love; in
Whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.'"
Most of the day was spent in " tagging laces," with his blind girl by his side — an employment which
be learned in prison, that thereby he might help to support his family. But when evening came,
ind the child was dismissed to her home with a parting benediction, his soul, free to soar where it
listed, saw those glorious visions, and indulged in those pious meditations which are embodied in hia
immortal work. He had but to close his eyes, and he was no more the prisoner, but the pilgrim
whose progress he so graphically describes. Bedford gaol fades away, and his unfettered soul stands
Dn some mount of vision where, from its commencement to its close, the course of his pilgrim lies
apen to his view. There he sees the City of Destruction, and remembers how he left it with the
burden on his back — the Slough of Despond, and the overhanging hill near the house of Mr. Legality,
with its deep rifts and flashing fires. He recalls his entrance at the wicket-gate — his visit to the
Interpreter's house — his rapture when, standing at the foot of the Cross and gazing on the Crucified,
his burden fell from his shoulders and he was free. Again he is entertained at the Palace Beautiful,
finds there refreshment and repose, and at break of day wakes up singing in the chamber whose
name is Peace. Or he wanders among tha Delectable Mountains with the shepherds for his com-
panions ; and from the hill Clear, looking through the glass of faith, discerns in the distance the
pearly gates, and golden turrets, and jasper walls, that surround the City of the Blest. Or he dwells
In the land of Beulah, where, not in imagination only, but in reality, his soul summers even now,
ripening for the heaven which is so near that already he inhales its fragrance, and walks in its light,
and holds converse with its shining ones — where the sun shineth night and day, and the birds sing
continually, aud the flowers are ever fresh and fair, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.
Or, the river crossed, he climbs the hill which leads up to the gate of the City, or rather glides
upward ; for the shining ones have clasped his hands, and the burden of mortality left in the river
no more clogs the movements of the ascending soul. The gates opeu at his approach — the trumpets
sound in honor of his coming. The bells of the city " ring again for joy." "Angels meet him with
harp and crown, and give him the harp to praise withal and the crown in token of honor." And
the hosts of the glorified standing round welcome him with acclamations to their exalted fellowship,
saying, " Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

All these are real to him — more r^al than the prison walls that surround him, or his prison
garb, or prison fare. These are but the illusions which shall vanish ; those the realities which shall
endure. And, being so vividly presented to his mind, he is constrained to imprint them on his page.
Eousing himself from his reverie, but with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for " he writes as

1 68 INTROD UCIOR Y NOTICE OF THE A UTHOR.

if joy did make him write," he flings from his graphic and fluent pen those vivid, brilliant pictures,
over which, after his persecutors have perished, and his prison walls have crumbled into dust, and
the painful circumstances of his earthly life have receded into the dim and distant past, — in many
lands and throughout all generations — in the closet and the chamber — in the solitary hut and the
crowded city — ^young and old, rich and poor, learned and illiterate, shall bend with ever fresh
delight.

Without question Bunyan's imprisonment was made conducive for the furtherance of the gospel
The providence which controls the wrath of man, and makes it contribute to its own purposes, ho
overruled the malice of his persecutors, as to make it serve the cause which they sought to destroy.
Not only may we see the Divine hand, in the fact that Bunyan's imprisonment afforded him leisure
for the composition of those works which have made his name immortal ; but an overruling Provi-
dence is specially seen in some of the circumstances which facilitated his work. Cruelties such as
were perpetrated in other prisons would probably have shortened his days, or at least have rendered
writing and study impossible; but in the gaol at Bedford where he was confined, though the place
was loathsome in the extreme, the jailor treated the prisoners with such humanity that he incurred
the displeasure of the Justices. Banyan was allowed to visit his family occasionally, and it was on
one of his visits that the circumstance occurred which most people would consider peculiarly provi-
dential. A neighboring priest heard of his absence from prison, and immediately despatched a
messenger that he might bear witness against the jailor. Meanwhile Bunyan, feeling uneasy at homC;
had returned to prison sooner than was intended, so that when the messenger demanded, " Are all
the prisoners safe ? " the jailor could answer " Yes." " Is John Bunyan (safe ? " " Yes." Bunyan,
on being called, appeared ; and, said the jailor afterwards, " You may go out when you will, for you
know much better when to return than I can tell you." Thus were his health and life preserved,
and the man who was forbidden to speak to a few assembled in a peasant's cottage, furnished with
facilities for writing a book by which he speaks to millions in every land, and through all succeeding
generations; while the men who sought to silence him have been all but forgotten. So do the
enemies of the gospel frustrate their own schemes. So does the right live on, emerging into ever-
increasing splendor, while the wrong sinks into merited oblivion.

The acceptance which his "Pilgrim's Progre&s" has met with is altogether unparalleled.
During the Author's lifetime many copies are said to have been circulated in England — and that
was at a time when books and readers were comparatively scarce. Several editions — some of them
got up, as booksellers would say, in very superior style — were published in North America, and
translations were issued in French and Flemish, Dutch, Welsh, Gaelic, and Irish. Nor does time
show any abatement of its popularity. Among all the competitors for public favor which have since
issued from the press, it retains its pre-eminence. There is scarcely a known language into which
it has not been rendered. Wherever English is spoken it is familiar as a household word. Not-
withstanding the millions in circulation, and the new editions which are constantly apjveurin^',
publishers can still reckon on a sale of hundreds of thousands for one edition alone. It ap[iears in
all forms, and is read by all classes. Richly illustrated and elegantly bound, it adorns the drawin;;
room tables of the wealthy. Well-thumbed and sometimes tattered, as if from constant, if nit
careless, usage, it lies on the shelf or the window-sill of the poor. Children are entranced with th-
interest of the story ; its tranquil or gloomy scenes, its pictures of danger and conflict — of triumph
and despair. Men too illiterate to account for the fascination, are attracted to its pages. Ami
learned men, who have hctle sympathy with its religious purpose, feel the spell of its genius, and
are compelled to admire it for the beauty or the awtulness of its creations, its vivid embodiments,
its clear insight and keen satire, its terse Saxon style. The young Christian, just starting on hi*

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 169

course, reads it for guidance and encouragement in his own conflicts and perils ; and the aged saint
lingering for a while on the river's brink, before the messenger summons him into the presence of
the King, testifies to the accuracy with which it pictures the serene and mellowed joys of the land of
Beulah — the celestial air which the pilgrim breathes, the celestial fragrance which is wafted from on
high, the celestial visitants with whom he holds converse as he nears his journey's end; and the
'^Uil eye brightens, and the withered countenance glows with rapture, as, by the pilgrim's passage
of the river, and entrance at the gates, he is led to anticipate his own. It is wonderful that any
man should have written a book of such universal and enduring popularity. More wonderful still
that it should have been written in prison by an uneducated tinker, the descendant of a vagrant
tribe — written spontaneously and unconsciously — not as an effort, but as a relief from mental fulness
— as the thoughts came crowding up in all their freshness in an untrained but singularly original
and fertile mind.

With all its popularity and excellence, it is easy to see that the book is not without faults. Its
theology, scriptural in the main, is colored by his own experience. The long and painful journey
which Christian makes with his burden before he finds relief at the cro&s, though it accords with
fact often, is somewhat at variance with the Scripture ideal. The Second Part shows some improve-
ment on the First in this respect; but there, too, the cross is placed too far on the way. It should
have been at the wicket-gate, and not at the further side of the Interpreter's house ; for there is
really no true progress heavenward until the cross is seen. As an allegory, moreover, it presents, as
it could scarcely fail, some obvious inconsistencies. The wicket-gate is the proper entrance to the
pilgrim's course; and yet Hopeful enters it not through the wicket-gate, but at Vanity Fair, which
is far on the way. Faithful, again, leaves it not by the river, which represents death, but is taken
up in a chariot of fire. These and such like discrepancies are obvious to every reader ; and the best
excuse for them is that his purpose rendered them unavoidable. It was not possible by any consistent
allegory to set forth so many distinct phases of spiritual life.

The wonder is not that there are inconsistencies in the allegory, but that these are so few and
the beauties of the book so manifold. " It is the highest miracle of genius," says Macaulay, " that
things which are not should be as though they were, that the imagination of one mind should become
the personal recollections of another. And this miracle the tinker has wrought. There is no ascent,
no declivity, no resting-place, no turnstile, with which we are not perfectly acquainted." His characters,
though some of them are mere embodiments of abstract qualities, are painted with equal vividness.
They are marked with individuality as much as if they were real personages who had sat for their
portraits. There is no danger of our mistaking one for another; and such is the impression they
produce on our minds, that, when once we have made acquaintance with them, they are not easily
forgotten. Stern as he is in his treatment of wrong, and especially in peeling off the skin from
sanctimonious villainy, what a depth of tenderness there is in his nature, and what a keen apprecia-
tion of the beautiful he now and again displays! When he writes of Christiana in the Second Part
there is a perceptible softening in his tone; and the incidents of the journey are suited to the delicacy
of woman and the tenderness of youth ; for the writer knew well, and had himself imbibed, the
spirit of Him " Who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" — " Who gathers the lambs in His arms,
and carries them in His bosom." The quiet beauty of some of his scenes, and the soft light which
falls on them, is perfectly charming; and all the more noticeable as contrasted with the lurid
grandeur of others. What a sweet picture is that Palace Beautiful, with its waiting damsels and its
chamber of peace — "the country birds that, in the spring-time, sing gll day long in a most curious,
melodious note," one carolling, as Christiana listens with words much like these :

170 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR,

"Through all my life Thy favor is
So frankly showed to me,
That in Thy house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be."

And another responding,^

" 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."

Not less lovely, when Christiana passes through, is the Valley of Humiliation, green and fertile, and
** beautified with lilies," where " our Lord formerly had his country house, and loved to walk the
meadows, for he found the air was pleasant," where " laboring men have good estates," where the
shepherd boy doth sing his artless song, giving utterance to his heart's content, —

" He that is down needs fear no fall ;
He that is poor no pride ;
He that is humble ever shall
Have Grod to be his guide. "

And that land of Beulah, so near the gates of the city with only the river between, where the pilgrim,
after the toils of the way, rests and ripens for glory, is so vividly presented to us, that, forgetting
our surroundings, we can sometimes fancy ourselves in it, soothed and refreshed by its delicious in-
fluences, bathed in its golden light, and breathing its balmy air. And the Celestial City itself, shin-
ing like the sun, with its bells and trumpets, its golden pavement, its white-robed inhabitants, wearing
crowns and waving palms, with " harps to play withal " — what reader does not feel as if he stood
with the writer looking in at the open gate, and, sympathizing with his desire, when carried away by
his own imaginings, he says, "which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them."

But time would fail and ?pace forbids us to expatiate on the beauties of the book. The more
we study it, the more do we feel how much it deserves its matchless popularity; and the more
cordially do we commend it to the careful perusal of our readers. Our desire and prayer is, that
some of them may be influenced by Bunyan's pleasant companionship and wise guidance to commence
or, if they have commenced already, to persevere in and complete the pilgrimage which he so
graphically describes.

.■«^--

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.^^r-vi^is^ riscsi^Sri^ iiiir^

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