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 Christian is Troubled 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 Pilgrim's Pr 
 
The Pilgrim's 
 Progress 
 
 ifrom tl;t0 ^orlD to tljat iulitcl) 10 to Come 
 
 5J/JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 With Scenes and Illustrations 
 
 R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS : : NEW YORK 
 

 LIBRARY of 0ON6RESS 
 TVio OoDl«s RecelvMl 
 AUG 11 1904 
 « Oooyrletit Entry 
 
 CLASS ^ XXo. N<x 
 
 ' COPY B 
 
 Copyright, 1904 
 R. F. FEN NO & COMPANY 
 
THE 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME 
 
 DELIVERED 
 
 UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 
 
 WHEREIN IS DISCOVERED 
 
 THE MANNER OF HIS SETTING OUT, HIS DANGEROUS JOURNEY, 
 
 AND SAFE ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED COUNTRY 
 
 "I have used similitudes," — Hos. lii. 10. 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 
 
 FOR HIS BOOK 
 
 When at the first I took my pen in hand 
 Thus for to write, I did not understand 
 That I at all should make a little book 
 In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook 
 To make another ; which, when almost done. 
 Before I was aware, I this begun. 
 
 And thus it was : I, writing of the way 
 And race of saints, in this our gospel day. 
 Fell suddenly into an allegory 
 About their journey, and the way to glory. 
 In more than twenty things which I set down. 
 This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
 And they again began to multiply. 
 Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. 
 Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast 
 I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
 Should prove ad inj'mitum, and eat out 
 The book that I already am about. 
 
 Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
 To show to all the world my pen and ink 
 In such a mode ; I only thought to make 
 I knew not what : nor did I undertake 
 Thereby to please my neighbour ; no, not I ; 
 I did it my own self to gratify. 
 
10 xrbe Butlxn'3 Bpoloov 
 
 Neither did 1 but v.-u-ant seasons spend 
 In this my seribble ; nor did 1 intend 
 But to divert myself in do'xuix this 
 From worser tluniiihts whieh make me do amiss. 
 
 Thus, I set pen to paper with iU>Uuht, 
 And quiekly had my thou<::hts in black anil white; 
 For, liavino- now my methoil by the end. 
 Still as 1 pidld, it eame ; and so I penn'd 
 It down : until it eame at last to be. 
 For length anil breadth, the biuness whieh you see. 
 
 Well, when I hnd thus put mine ends together, 
 I show'd them others, that I might see whether 
 Thev would eonilemn them, or them justify : 
 And some said. Let them live : some. Let them die; 
 Some said, John, print it ; others said. Not so : 
 Some said. It might do good : others said. No. 
 
 Now was I in a str.nit. and did not see 
 Whieh was the best thing to be done by me: 
 At last 1 thought. Since you are thus divided, 
 I print it will, and so the case decided. 
 
 For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done, 
 Though others in that channel do not run : 
 To piwe, then, who advised for the best. 
 Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 
 I further thought, if now I did deny 
 Those that would have it, thus to gratify; 
 I did not know but hinder them I might 
 Of that which would to them be great delight. 
 
 For those which were not for its coming forth, 
 I said to them. Offend you I am loath. 
 Yet, since your brethren pleaseil with it be. 
 Forbear to judge till you do further see. 
 
 If that thou wilt not read, let it alone; 
 Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone. 
 Yea. that I might them better palKate, 
 1 did too with them thus expostulate : — 
 
Zbc Butboc's Bpoloai? 11 
 
 May I not write in such a style as this? 
 
 In such a method, too, and yet not miss 
 
 My end— thy good ? Why may it not be done ? 
 
 Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. 
 
 Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
 
 Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, 
 
 Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either. 
 
 But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; 
 
 Yea, so coitunixes both, that in her fruit 
 
 None can distinguish this from tliat : they suit 
 
 Her well when hungry ; but, if she be full, 
 
 She sj)ev/s out both, and makes their blessings null. 
 
 You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
 To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make ! 
 Behold how he engageth all his wits ; 
 Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets ; 
 Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line. 
 Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine: 
 They must be groped for, and be tickled too. 
 Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. 
 
 How does the fowler seek to catch his game 
 By divers means ! all which one cannot name : 
 His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell ; 
 He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell 
 Of all his postures ? Yet there's none of these 
 Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
 Yea, he must [)ij)e and whistle to catch this ; 
 Yet, if he does so, /./ml bird he will miss. 
 
 If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell. 
 And may be found too in an oyster-shell; 
 If things that jjromise nothing do contain 
 What better is than gold ; who will disdain. 
 That have an inkling of it, there to look. 
 That they may find it ? Now, my little book 
 (Though void of all these paintings that may make 
 It with this or the other man to take) 
 
12 trbc Hutbor's Hpoloa^ 
 
 Is not without those things that do excel. 
 What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 
 
 " Well, yet I am not fully satisfied. 
 That this your book will stand, when soundly tried." 
 
 Why, what's the matter ? " It is dark." What though ? 
 " But it is feigned." What of that ? I trow 
 Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine. 
 Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine. 
 " But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. 
 *' They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind." 
 
 Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
 Of him that writeth things divine to men ; 
 But must I needs want solidness, because 
 By metaphors I speak } Were not God's laws. 
 His gospel laws, in olden times held forth 
 By types, shadows, and metaphors .'' Yet loath 
 Will any sober man be to find fault 
 With them, lest he be found for to assault 
 The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops. 
 And seeks to find out what by pins and loops. 
 By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams. 
 By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
 God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
 That finds the light and grace that in them be. 
 
 Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
 That I want solidness — that I am rude ; 
 All things solid in show not solid be ; 
 All things in parables despise not we ; 
 Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive. 
 And things that good are, of our souls bereave. 
 My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold 
 (The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. 
 
 The prophets used much by metaphors 
 To set forth truth ; yea, who so considers 
 Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see. 
 That truths to this day in such mantles be. 
 
Xrbe Butbor's Bpoloo^ is 
 
 Am I afraid to say, that holy writ, 
 Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, 
 Is everywhere so full of all these things — 
 Dark figures, allegories ? Yet there springs 
 From that same book that lustre, and those rays 
 [of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. 
 
 Come, let my carper to his hfe now look. 
 And find there darker lines than in my book 
 He findeth any ; yea, and let him know. 
 That in his best things there are worse lines too. 
 
 May we but stand before impartial men. 
 To his poor one I dare adventure ten. 
 That they will take my meaning in these lines 
 Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
 Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find. 
 Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ; 
 Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
 Submit ; the memory too it doth fill 
 With what doth our imaginations please : 
 L,ikewise it tends our troubles to appease. 
 
 Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use. 
 And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; 
 But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid 
 The use of parables ; in which lay hid 
 That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were 
 Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 
 
 Let me add one word more. O man of God, 
 Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
 Put forth my matter in another dress .'' 
 Or, that I had in things been more express ? 
 Three things let me propound ; then I submit 
 To those that are my betters, as is fit. 
 
 1. I find not that I am denied the use 
 Of this my method, so I no abuse 
 Put on the words, things, readers ; or be rude 
 In handling figure or similitude. 
 
14 Zbc Butbor's Bpoloai? 
 
 In application ; but, all that I may. 
 Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
 Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave 
 (Example too, and that from them that have 
 God better pleased, by their words or ways. 
 Than any man that breatheth nowadays) 
 Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
 Things unto thee that excellentest are. 
 
 2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write 
 Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight 
 For writing so : indeed, if they abuse 
 
 Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 
 To that intent ; but yet let truth be free 
 To make her sallies upon thee and me. 
 Which way it pleases God ; for who knows how. 
 Better than He that taught us first to plough, 
 (To guide our mind and pens for His design ? 
 And He makes base things usher in divine. 
 
 3. I find that holy writ in many places 
 
 Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
 Do call for one thing, to set forth another ; 
 Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother 
 Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may 
 Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 
 
 And now before I do put up my pen, 
 I'll show the profit of my book, and then 
 Commit both thee and it unto that Hand 
 That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 
 
 This book it chalketh out before thine eyes 
 The man that seeks the everlasting prize ; 
 It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes ; 
 What he leaves undone, also what he does ; 
 It also shows you how he runs and runs, 
 Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 
 
 It shows, too, who set out for life amain. 
 As if the lasting crown they would obtain ; 
 
XTbe Butbor'5 Hpoloai? is 
 
 Here also you may see the reason why 
 (They lose their labour, and like fools do die. 
 ' This book will make a traveller of thee. 
 If by its counsel thou wilt rul6d be. 
 It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
 If thou wilt its directions understand : 
 Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; 
 The blind also delightful things to see. 
 
 Art thou for something rare and profitable ? 
 Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable ? 
 Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember 
 From New Year's day to the last of December .'' 
 Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burs. 
 And may be, to the helpless, comforters. 
 
 This book is writ in such a dialect 
 As may the minds of listless men affect : 
 It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
 Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 
 
 Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
 Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly .'' 
 Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation ? 
 Or else be drowned in thy contemplation .'' 
 Dost thou love picking meat .>* Or wouldst thou see 
 A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee .'' 
 Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
 Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ? 
 Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm. 
 And find thyself again without a charm ? 
 \Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest not what. 
 And yet know whether thou art blest or not, 
 By reading the same lines ? — Oh, then come hither. 
 And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
THE 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 
 
 AS I walked through the wilderness of this world, I 
 ■^-^ lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and I 
 laid me down in that place to sleep : and, as 1 slept, I 
 dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man 
 clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his 
 face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a gi'eat 
 burden upon his back (Isa. Ixiv. 6; Luke xiv. 33; Ps. 
 xxxviii. 4 ; Hab. ii. 2). I looked, and saw him open the 
 book, and read therein ; and, as he read, he wept and 
 trembled ; and, not being able longer to contain, he 
 brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall 
 I do ?" (Acts ii. 37, xvi. 30, 31). 
 
 In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained 
 himself as long as he could, that his wife and children 
 should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be silent 
 long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at 
 length he brake his mind to his wife and children ; and 
 thus he began to talk to them. O my dear wife, said he, 
 and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am 
 in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard 
 upon me ; moreover, I am for certain informed that this 
 our city will be burned with fire from heaven ; in which 
 
18 XTbe pilorim's proorcss 
 
 fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my wife, and 
 you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except 
 (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, 
 whereby we may be delivered. At this his relations were 
 sore amazed ; not for that they believed that what he had 
 said to them was true, but because they thought that 
 some frenzy distemper had got into his head ; therefore, 
 it drawing towards night, and they hoping that sleep 
 might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to 
 bed. But the night was as troublesome to him as the 
 day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs 
 and tears. So, when the morning was come, they would 
 know how he did. He told them. Worse and worse ; he 
 also set to talking to them again ; but they began to be 
 hardened. They also thought to drive away his dis- 
 temper by harsh and surly carriages to him ; sometimes 
 they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and 
 sometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he 
 began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and 
 pity them, and also to condole his own misery ; he would 
 also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and 
 sometimes praying : and thus for some days he spent 
 his time. 
 
 Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the 
 fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, 
 and greatly distressed in his mind ; and, as he read, he 
 burst out, as he had done before, crying, " What shall I 
 do to be saved ? " 
 
 I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if 
 he would run ; yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, 
 he could not tell which way to go. I looked then, and 
 saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, who asked, 
 Wherefore dost thou cry ? 
 
 He answered, Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand, 
 
XTbe BMlorfin's prootess 19 
 
 that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to 
 judgment (Heb. ix. 27); and I find that I am not wilHng 
 to do the first (Job xvi. 21), nor able to do the second 
 (Ezek. xxii. 14). 
 
 Christian no sooner leaves the World but meets 
 Evangelist, who lovinglj' him greets 
 With tidings of another ; and doth show 
 Him how to mount to that from this below. 
 
 Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this 
 life is attended with so niany evils ? The man answered. 
 Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will 
 sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet 
 (Isa. XXX. 33). And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, 
 I am not fit, I am sure, to go to judgment, and from 
 thence to execution ; and the thoughts of these things 
 make me cry. 
 
 Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why 
 standest thou still ? He answered, Because I know not 
 whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment roll, and 
 there was written within, " Flee from the wrath to come" 
 (Matt. iii. 7). 
 
 The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist 
 very carefully, said. Whither must I fly.? Then said 
 Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field. 
 Do you see yonder wicket-gate ? (Matt. vii. 13, 14). The 
 man said. No. Then said the other. Do you see yonder 
 shining light.? (Ps. cxix. 105 ; 2 Pet. i. 19). He said, I 
 think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in 
 your eye, and go up directly thereto: so shalt thou see 
 the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told 
 thee what thou shalt do. So I saw in my dream that the 
 man began to run. Now, he had not run far from his 
 own door, but his wife and children, perceiving it, began 
 
20 ube lpilatim'5 iproatess 
 
 to cry after him to return ; but the man put his fingers 
 in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life ! life ! eternal life ! 
 (Luke xiv. 26). So he looked not behind him, but fled 
 towards the middle of the plain (Gen. xix. 17). 
 
 The neighours also came out to see him run (Jer. xx. 
 10); and, as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and 
 some cried after him to return; and, among those that 
 did so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back by 
 force. The name of the one was Obstinate, and the name 
 of the other Pliable. Now, by this time, the man was got 
 a good distance from them ; but, however they were re- 
 solved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little time 
 they overtook him. Then said the man. Neighbours, 
 wherefore are ye come ? They said, To persuade you to 
 go back with us. But he said. That can by no means be ; 
 you dwell, said he, in the City of Destruction, the place 
 also where I was born : I see it to be so ; and, dying there, 
 sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a 
 place that burns with fire and brimstone : be content, good 
 neighbours, and go along with me. 
 
 Obstinate. What ! said Obstinate, and leave our friends 
 and our comforts behind us ? 
 
 Christian, Yes, said Christian, for that was his name, 
 because that all which you shall forsake is not worthy to 
 be compared with a little of that which I am seeking to 
 enjoy (2 Cor. v. 17) ; and, if you will go along with me, 
 and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there, where I 
 go, is enough and to spare (Luke xv. 17). Come away, 
 and prove my words. 
 
 Obstinate. What are the things you seek, since you 
 leave all the world to find them .'' 
 
 Christian. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, unde- 
 filed, and that fadeth not away (1 Pet. i. 4), and it is laid 
 up in heaven, and safe there (Heb. xi. 16), to be bestowed. 
 
Ube pilgrim's progress 2I 
 
 at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. 
 Read it so, if you will, in my book. 
 
 Obstinate. Tush ! said Obstinate, away with your book ; 
 will you go back with us or no ? 
 
 Christian. No, not I, said the other, because I have 
 laid my hand to the plough (Luke ix. 62). 
 
 Obstinate. Come, then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn 
 again, and go home without him ; there is a company of 
 these crazy-headed coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy 
 by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men 
 that can render a reason (Prov. xxvi. 16). 
 
 Pliable. Then said Pliable, Don't revile ; if what the 
 good Christian says is true, the things he looks after 
 are better than ours ; my heart inclines to go with my 
 neighbour. 
 
 Obstinate. What ! more fools still ! Be ruled by me, 
 and go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow 
 will lead you ! Go back, go back, and be wise. 
 
 Christian. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, 
 Pliable ; there are such things to be had which I spoke of, 
 and many more glories besides. If you believe not me, 
 read here in this book ; and for the truth of what is ex- 
 pressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of 
 Him that made it (Heb. ix. 17-22, xiii. 20). 
 
 Pliable. Well, neighbour Obstinate, saith Pliable, I 
 begin to come to a point ; I intend to go along with this 
 good man, and to cast in my lot with him : but, my good 
 companion, do you know the way to this desired place ? 
 
 Christian, I am directed by a man, whose name is 
 Evangelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, 
 where we shall receive instructions about the way. 
 
 Pliable. Come, then, good neighbour, let us be going. 
 Then they went both together. 
 
 Obstinate. And I will go back to my place, said 
 
22 XTbe ipilgrim's iproGtess 
 
 Obstinate; I will be no companion of such misled, fan- 
 tastical fellows. 
 
 Now, I saw in my dream, that, when Obstinate was gone 
 back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain ; 
 and thus they began their discourse. 
 
 Christian. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do.? 
 I am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had 
 even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the 
 powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not 
 thus lightly have given us the back. 
 
 Pliable, Come, neighbour Christian, since there are 
 none but us two here, tell me now further what the things 
 are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going. 
 
 Christian. I can better conceive of them with my mind, 
 than speak of them with my tongue : but yet, since you 
 are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book. 
 
 Pliable. And do you think that the words of your book 
 are certainly true ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that 
 cannot lie (Tit. i. 2). 
 
 Pliable. Well said ; what things are they ? 
 
 Christian. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, 
 and everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit 
 that kingdom for ever (Isa. xlv. 17 ; John x. 28, 29). 
 
 Pliable. Well said ; and what else ? 
 
 Christian. There are crowns of glory to be given us, 
 and garments that will make us shine like the sun in the 
 firmament of heaven (2 Tim. iv. 8; Rev. iii. 4; Matt, 
 xiii. 43). 
 
 Pliable. This is very pleasant ; and what else ? 
 
 Christian. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow : 
 for He that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from 
 our eyes (Isa. xxv. 6-8; Rev. vii. 17, xxi. 4). 
 
 Pliable. And what company shall we have there ? 
 
yS^^gSpSltgi^ 
 
 The Slough of Despond 
 
 22. 
 
Christian. There we shall be with seraphims and 
 cherubims, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look 
 on them (Isa. vi. 2). There also you shall meet with 
 thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to 
 that place ; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy; 
 every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in 
 His presence with acceptance for ever (1 Thess. iv. 16, 
 17; Rev. v. 11). In a word, there we shall see the elders 
 with their golden crowns (Rev. iv. 4) ; there we shall see 
 the holy virgins with their golden harps (Rev. xiv. 1-5) ; 
 there we shall see men that by the world were cut in 
 pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the 
 seas, for the love that they bare to the Lord of the place, 
 all well, and clothed with immortality as with a garment 
 (John xii. 25 ; 2 Cor. v. 4). 
 
 Pliable. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one''s 
 heart. But are these things to be enjoyed.? How shall 
 we get to be sharers thereof.'' 
 
 Christian. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath 
 recorded that in this book ; the substance of which is, If we 
 be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us freely 
 (Isa. Iv. 1, 2 ; John vi. 37, vii. 37 ; Rev. xxi. 6, xxii. 17). 
 
 Pliable. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear 
 of these things : come on, let us mend our pace. 
 
 Christian. I cannot go so fast as^J would, by reason of 
 this burden that is on my back. 
 
 Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended 
 this talk they drew near to a very miry slough, that was 
 in the midst of the plain ; and they, being heedless, did 
 both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough 
 was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, 
 being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, 
 because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink 
 in the mire. 
 
«4 UDc piUiriin'5 proorcss 
 
 Pliablk. Then said Pliable, Ah ! neighbour Christian, 
 where arc you now ? 
 
 CuKisriAX. Truly, said Christian, I do not know, 
 
 Pliabi.k. At this Pliable began to be offended, and 
 angrily said to his follow. Is this the happiness you have 
 told nie all this while of? If we have such ill speed at our 
 first setting out, what may we expect betwixt this and our 
 journey's eml ? Mt\\ I get out again with my life, vou 
 shall possess the brave country alone for me. And, with 
 that, he gave a des|>erate struggle or two, and got out of 
 the mire on that side of the slough which was next to his 
 own house : so away he went, and Christian Siiw him no 
 more. 
 
 Wherefore Ciu-istian was left to tund)le in the Slough of 
 Despond alone : but still he endeavoured to struggle to 
 that side of the slough that was still farther from his owu 
 liouse, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but 
 could not get out, because of the burilen that was upon his 
 back : but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him 
 whose name was Help, and asked him. What he did there? 
 
 (^UKisi'iAN. Sir, said Christian, I was bid go this wav bv 
 a man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder 
 gate, that I might escape the wrath to come ; and as I was 
 going thither 1 tell in here. 
 
 Hklp. But w by did not you look for the steps ? 
 
 Christian. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the 
 next way, and fell in. 
 
 IIki.p. Then said he. Give me thy hand : so he gave 
 him his haml, and he drew him out, and set him upon 
 sound ground, and bid him go on his way (Ps. xl. ^). 
 
 Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said. 
 Sir, wheivfore, since over this place is the way from the 
 City of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is 
 not mended, that poor travellers nnght go thither with 
 
Ubc pilgrim's progress 25 
 
 more security ? And he said unto nie, This miry slough 
 is such a place as cannot he mended ; it is the descent 
 whither the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin 
 doth continually run, and therefore it is called the Slough 
 of Despond ; for still, as the sinner is awakened ahout his 
 lost condition, there ariseth in his soul many fears, and 
 doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them 
 get together, and settle in this place. And this is the 
 reason of the badness of this ground. 
 
 It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should 
 remain so bad (Isa. xxxv. 3, 4). His labourers also have, 
 by the direction of His Majesty"'s surveyors, been for above 
 these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of 
 ground, if perhaps it might have been mended : yea, and 
 to my knowledge, said he, here have been swallowed up at 
 least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of whole- 
 some instructions, that have at all seasons been brought 
 from all places of the King's dominions, and they that can 
 tell, say they are the best materials to make good ground 
 of the place, if so be it might have been mended, but it 
 is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when they 
 have done what they can. 
 
 True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain 
 good and substantial steps, placed even through the very 
 midst of this slough ; but at such time as this place doth 
 much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of 
 weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or, if they be, men, 
 through the dizziness of their heads, step beside, and then 
 they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps 
 be there ; but the ground is good when they are once got 
 in at the gate (1 Sam. xii. 23). 
 
 Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was 
 got home to his house again, so that his neighbours came 
 to visit him ; and some of them called him wise man 
 
26 UDc pilQvim'B prooress 
 
 for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding 
 himself with Christian : others again did mock at his 
 cowardliness ; saying, Surely, since you began to venture, 
 I would not have been so base to have given out for a few 
 difficulties. So Pliable sat sneaking among them. But 
 at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned 
 their tales, and began to deride poor Chi'istian behind his 
 back. And thus much concerning Pliable. 
 
 Now, as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he 
 espied one afar off, come crossing over the field to meet 
 him ; and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing 
 the way of each other. The gentleman"'s name that met 
 him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman : he dwelt in the town of 
 Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard-by from 
 whence Christian came. This man, then, meeting with 
 Christian, and having some inkling of him, — for Christian''s 
 setting forth from the City of Destruction was much noised 
 abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also it 
 began to be the town-talk in some other places, — Mr. 
 Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him, 
 by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs 
 and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some 
 talk with Christian, 
 
 AVoRLDLY. How now, good fellow, whither away after 
 this burdened manner ? 
 
 Christian. A burdened manner, indeed, as ever, I think, 
 poor creature had ! And whereas you ask me, Whither 
 away. I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket-gate 
 before me ; for there as I am informed, I shall be put into 
 a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 
 
 Worldly. Hast thou a wife and children ? 
 
 Christian. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, 
 that I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly ; 
 methinks I am as if I had none (1 Cor. vii. 29). 
 
XTbe pilgrim's iprootess 27 
 
 Worldly. Wilt thou hearken unto me if I give thee 
 counsel ? 
 
 Christian. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of 
 good counsel. 
 
 Worldly. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all 
 speed get thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt never 
 be settled in thy mind till then ; nor canst thou enjoy the 
 benefits of the blessing which God hath bestowed upon 
 thee till then. 
 
 Christian. That is that which I seek for, even to be 
 rid of this heavy burden ; but get it off myself, I cannot ; 
 nor is there any man in our country that can take it off 
 my shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I told 
 you, that I may be rid of my burden. 
 
 WoRLDLV. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy 
 burden .'' 
 
 Christian. A man that appeared to me to be a very 
 great and honourable person ; his name, as I remember, is 
 Evangelist. 
 
 Worldly. I beshrew him for his counsel ! there is not 
 a more dangerous and troublesome way in the world than 
 is that unto which he hath directed thee ; and that thou 
 shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou 
 hast met with something, as I perceive already ; for I see 
 the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that 
 slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend 
 those that go on in that way. Hear me, I am older than 
 thou ; thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou 
 goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, 
 sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, 
 and what not ! These things are certainly true, having 
 been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should 
 a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed to 
 a stranger ? 
 
28 Ube pilorim's iproovcss 
 
 Christian. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more 
 terrible to me than are all these things which you have 
 mentioned ; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with 
 in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from 
 my burden. 
 
 Worldly. How camest thou by the burden at 
 first ? 
 
 Christian. By reading this book in my hand. 
 
 Worldly. I thought so ; and it is happened unto thee 
 as to other weak men, who, meddling with things too 
 high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions; 
 which distractions do not only unman men, as thine, I 
 perceive, has done thee, but they run them upon desperate 
 ventures to obtain they know not what. 
 
 Christian. 1 know what I would obtain ; it is ease for 
 my heavy burden. 
 
 Worldly. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, 
 seeing so many dangers attend it ? especially since, hadst 
 thou but patience to hear me, I could direct thee to the 
 obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that 
 thou in this way wilt run thyself into; yea, and the remedy 
 is at hand. Besides, I will add, that, instead of those 
 dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, 
 and content. 
 
 Christian. Pray, sir, open this secret to me. 
 
 Worldly. \^Vhy, in yonder village — the village is 
 named Morality^ there dwells a gentleman whose name 
 is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very 
 good name, that has skill to help men off with such 
 burdens as thine are from their shoulders : yea, to my 
 knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way ; 
 ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that are 
 somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To 
 him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. 
 
Zbc pilgrim's prooress 29 
 
 His house is not quite a mile from this place, and if 
 he should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty 
 young man to his son, whose name is Civility, that can 
 do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman him- 
 self; there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden ; 
 and if thou art not minded to go back to thy former 
 habitation, as, indeed, I would not wish thee, thou 
 mayest send for thy wife and children to thee to this 
 village, where there are houses now stand empty, one 
 of which thou mayest have at reasonable rates ; pro- 
 vision is there also cheap and good; and that which 
 will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure, there 
 thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good 
 fashion. 
 
 Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but presently 
 he concluded. If this be true, which this gentleman hath 
 said, my wisest course is to take his advice ; and with 
 that he thus further spoke. 
 
 Christian. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's 
 house ? 
 
 Worldly. Do you see yonder hill ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, very well. 
 
 Worldly. By that hill you must go, and the first house 
 you come at is his. 
 
 •So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. 
 Legality's house for help; but, behold, when he was got 
 now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side 
 of it that was next the wayside did hang so much over, 
 that Christian was afraid to venture farther, lest the hill 
 should fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still, 
 and wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed 
 heavier to him than while he was in his way. There 
 came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made Chrisr 
 tian afraid that he should be burned (Ex. xix. 16, 18). 
 
so TOe ipilorfm's prooress 
 
 Here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear (Heb. 
 xii. 21). 
 
 A'Hien Christians unto carnal men give ear, 
 Out of their way did go, and pay fort dear ; 
 For Master Worldly \Visemau can but show 
 A saint the way to bondage and to woe. 
 
 And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. 
 Worldly AViseman's counsel. And with that he saw 
 Evangelist coming to meet him ; at the sight also of 
 whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew 
 nearer and nearer ; and coming up to him, he looked 
 upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and 
 thus began to reason with Christian. 
 
 Evangelist. What dost thou here. Christian.? said 
 he : at which words Christian knew not what to answer ; 
 wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. 
 Then said Evangelist further, Art not thou the man 
 that I found crying without the walls of the City of 
 Destruction ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 
 
 Evangelist. Did not I direct thee the way to the little 
 wicket-gate ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, dear sir, said Christian. 
 
 Evangelist. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly 
 turned aside ? for thou art now out of the way. 
 
 Christian. I met with a gentleman so soon as 1 had 
 got over the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that 
 I might, in the village before me, find a man that could 
 take off mv burden. 
 
 Evangelist. What was he ? 
 
 Christian. He looked like a gentleman, and talked 
 much to me, and got me at last to yield ; so I came 
 hither: but when I beheld this hiD, and how it hangs 
 
Zl)c ipilorim's proavess si 
 
 over the way, I suddenly made a stand lest it should fall 
 on my head. 
 
 Evangelist. What said that gentleman to you ? 
 
 Christian. Why, he asked me whither I was going ? 
 And I told him. 
 
 Evangelist. And what said he then ? 
 
 Christian. He asked me if I had a family.? And I 
 told him. But, said I, I am so loaden with the burden 
 that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them 
 as formerly. 
 
 Evangelist. And what said he then ? 
 
 Christian. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; 
 and I told him it was ease that I sought. And, said I, 
 I am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further 
 direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So 
 he said that he would show me a better way, and short, 
 not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you 
 set me in ; which way, said he, will direct you to a 
 gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these 
 burdens, so I believed him, and turned out of that way 
 into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. 
 But when I came to this place, and beheld things as they 
 are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger : but I now 
 know not what to do. 
 
 Evangelist. [Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little, 
 that I may show thee the words of God. So he stood 
 trembling. Then said Evangelist, " See that ye refuse 
 not him that speaketh. For if they escaped not who 
 refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not 
 : we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from 
 heaven " (Heb. xii. 25). He said, moreover, "Now the 
 just shall live by faith : but if a7it/ man draw back, my 
 soul shall have no pleasure in him " (Heb. x. 38). He 
 also did thus apply them : Thou art the mao that art 
 
32 trbe DMlovim's iproorcss 
 
 running into this misery ; thou hast begun to reject the 
 counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot 
 from the way of peace, even ahnost to the hazarding of 
 thy perdition. 
 
 Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, 
 " Woe is me, for I am undone ! " At the sight of which. 
 Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, " All 
 manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto 
 men" (Matt. xii. 31 ; Mark iii. 28) ; " Be not faithless, 
 but believing" (John xx. 27). Then did Christian again 
 a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before 
 Evangelist. 
 
 Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest 
 heed to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now 
 show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was 
 also to whom he sent thee. — The man that met thee is 
 one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he so called ; partly, 
 because he savoureth only the doctrine of this world 
 (1 John iv. 5), (therefore he always goes to the town of 
 Morality to church) : and partly because he loveth that 
 doctrine best, for it saveth him best from the cross (Gal. 
 vi. 12). And because he is of this carnal temper, there- 
 fore he seeketh to prevent my ways, though right. Now 
 there are three things in this man's counsel that thou 
 must utterly abhor. 
 
 1. His turning thee out of the way. 2. His labouring 
 to render the cross odious to thee. And, 3. His setting 
 thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the administration 
 of death. 
 
 First, Thou nmst abhor his turning thee out of the 
 way ; and thine own consenting thereto : because this is 
 to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of 
 a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, " Strive to enter 
 in at the strait gate" (Luke xiii. 24), the gate to which 
 
I send thee ; for " strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, 
 and few there be that find it " (Matt. vii. 14). From this 
 httle wicket-gate, and froni the way thereto, hath this 
 wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost 
 to destruction; hate, therefore, his turning thee out of 
 the way, and abhor thyself for hearkening to him. 
 
 Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the 
 cross odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it "before 
 the treasures in Egypt " (Ileb. xi. 25, 26). Besides, the 
 King of glory hath told thee, that he that " will save his 
 life shall lose it" (Mark viii. 35; John xii. 25; Matt. x. 
 39). And, " He that couieth after me, and hateth not his 
 father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, 
 and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my 
 disciple " (Luke xiv. 26). I say, therefore, for man to 
 labour to persuade thee, that that shall be thy death, 
 without which, the truth hath said, thou' canst not have 
 eternal life ; this doctrine thou must abhor. 
 
 Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the 
 way that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for 
 this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also 
 how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy 
 burden. 
 
 He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name 
 Legality, is the son of the bondwoman which now is, and 
 is in bondage with her children (Gal. iv. 21-27) ; and is, 
 in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, which thou hast feared 
 will fall on thy head. Now, if she, with her children, are 
 in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made 
 free ? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free 
 from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his 
 burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be : ye cannot be 
 justified by the works of the law ; for by the deeds of the 
 law no man living can be rid of his burden : therefore, 
 
 c 
 
84 iTbc ipiliUiniiJ lproorci^3 
 
 Air. NVorlillv ^Yisemau i;* an alien, ami Mr. Ix^galitv is a 
 cheat ; ami tor his son Civility, i\ot\vithstaniiii\g his 
 sin»|vrinj; liH'ks, he is but a hyp^vrite, iu\d avnui^t help 
 thtv. iH'lieve nie, tiieiv is nothing in all this noise that 
 thou hfist heanl of these sottish men, but a vlesiijn to 
 Wijuile tluv of thv s^vlvntion, bv turning tluv fi\nn the 
 wav in whieh I h.ui set thiv. After this Kvangelist oalletl 
 aloud ti> the heavens for ivntlrniation of what he had 
 said; v'uul with that theiv eauie woixls anil tliv out of the 
 mountain under whieh p<H>r (.'hristiau stvunl, that made 
 the hair of his tlesli stand up. The wouls weiv thus 
 pivnounetxl : " As many as aiv of the works «.>f the law 
 aiv under the cui"se; for it is written, Cnrseti is every one 
 that ixMitiuueth not in all things whieh aiv written in the 
 tHK»k ot' the law to do theuj " (lial. iii. 10). 
 
 Ni»w i'hristi»u\ Kx^keii t\vr noticing but death, and Ivgaii 
 to erv out lamentably ; even eui"sing the time in whieh he 
 met with Mr. Worldly Wisenian; still calling himself a 
 thousand fix^ls for heaikening ti> his ii>unst»l : he aJso was 
 git^tlv ashauHxi to think tiiat this gvnitlemanV ai'guments, 
 tlowing onlv fivm the tlesli, sliould have the pivvalency 
 with him as to CfUise him to forsake the xnght way. This 
 done, he applit^l hims^^lf again to Kvangt^list in w oi\ls and 
 svnse as follow : — • 
 
 (^iKisHAN. Sir, what think you r Is thert^ hojH? ? May 
 I now gv> tvtck and gt.> up to the wieket-gate ? Shall I not 
 Iv alxandontxl tor this, and stmt IxHck frv>m themv ai^hameil.^ 
 1 am sorry 1 have hearkentxl to this uiiui's counsel. But 
 may my sin lx» ^rgiven ? 
 
 KvANGKHsr. (Then said Evangt^list to him. Thy sin is 
 very givat, for by it thou kast cxnnmitttxi two evils: thou 
 hast forsakexi the way that is gvKKl, to tiwnd in forbidden 
 paths ; yet will the maji at the gate rtn-eive thee, for he 
 hfts g\xxl-will for men ; only, said he, take hetxl that thou 
 
turn not tisido uf^Min, " Irst thou perisli from llie way, 
 when his wnilli is kindled hiit .-i lillU' " (l\s. ii. 1^). Then 
 (litl Christiuii julchcss hiinsi'lf lo ^o burU ; and l*iVnn^oIist, 
 ftftor ho had kissed him, ^avo him tme smile, nnd bid him 
 (Jod-s|K>ed. So ho wont on witli hiisto, noithor spako ho 
 to any man by tho way ; nor, if any askod him, woidd ho 
 voiu'hsato Ihom an answiT. IIo wont Hko one that was 
 all tho while troadinj;" on forbidden "ground, and could by 
 no moans think himself safe, till aj^ain he was got into 
 the way whieh ho left to follow Mr. Worldly VViseman'M 
 counsel. So, in pi-oi-oss of time, Christian j;ot ii|) to the 
 gate. Now, over the gali" there was written, " Knock, 
 and it sltall be opened unto \<)ii "(Matt. vii. S). 
 
 " lit" lliiit. will oiilor ill imisl lirsl vvillioiit 
 Stiiiiii kiuii-liiii^ at lli(« ^:il(\ nor iuhmI Iio doubt 
 'I'lial. is A KNO('Ki';ii liiit. Lo ciiltM- in ; 
 l"'oi- (Jod (•ail lo\'^^ liiiii, ami foif^ivci his sin." 
 
 lie knocked, thoroforo, more than once or twice, saying — 
 
 "May I now cntiw licm.^ Will \ni within 
 ()|UMi lo Koiry inc, thoiif^h I liav»^ hccii 
 An iiii<lt's»M'viiif^' tcIkO .'' 'I'luMi shall I 
 Not. lail to siiif;- his lasting' |)i-ais(^ on hif^li." 
 
 At last there came a grave poison to the gate, named 
 Good-will, who askod who was there? and whence he 
 came .f' and what lu- would havi' P 
 
 CuKisriAN. lloie is a poor buidcnod sinner. I conu; 
 from the City of Destruction, but am going to Mount 
 Zion, that I may be doliverod from the wrath lo c«)me. 
 I would theri'fore, sii-, since 1 am inronncd that by this 
 gate is tho way thither, know if you are willing to lot 
 me in ! 
 
 Goon-wiM.. I am willing with all my heart, saiil he; 
 and with that he opened the gate. 
 
36 xrbe ipilorim's prootess 
 
 So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him 
 a pull. Then said Christian, What means that ? The 
 other told him. A little distance from this gate there is 
 erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain ; 
 from thence, both he and them that are with him shoot 
 arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they 
 may die before they can enter in. 
 
 Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when 
 he was got in, the man of the gate asked him who directed 
 him thither ? 
 
 Christian. Evangelist bid me come hither, and knock 
 (as I did) ; and he said that you, sir, would tell me what 
 I must do. 
 
 Good- WILL. An open door is set before thee, and no 
 man can shut it. 
 
 Christian. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my 
 hazards. 
 
 Good-will. But how is it that you came alone ? 
 
 Christian. Because none of my neighbours saw their 
 danger, as I saw mine. 
 
 Good-will. Did any of them know of your coming ? 
 
 Christian. Yes ; my wife and children saw me at the 
 first, and called after me to turn again ; also, some of my 
 neighbours stood crying and calling after me to return; 
 but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way. 
 
 Good- WILL. But did none of them follow you, to per- 
 suade you to go back ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable ; but when 
 they saw that they could not prevail. Obstinate went 
 railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 
 
 Good-will. But why did he not come through ? 
 
 Christian. We, indeed, came both together, until we 
 came at the Slough of Despond, into the which we also 
 suddenly fell. And then was my neighbour, Pliable, 
 
Z\)c ipilortm's iproaress ^t 
 
 discouraged, and would not adventure farther. Wherefore, 
 getting out again on that side next to his own house, he 
 told me I should possess the brave country alone for him ; 
 so he went his way, and I came mine — he after Obstinate, 
 and I to this gate. 
 
 Good-will. Then said Good-will, Alas, poor man! is 
 the celestial glory of so small esteem with him, that he 
 counteth it not worth running the hazards of a few diffi- 
 culties to obtain it ? 
 
 Christian. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth 
 of Pliable, and if I should also say all the truth of myself, 
 it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and 
 myself. It is true, he went back to his own house, but I 
 also turned aside to go in the way of death, being per- 
 suaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. 
 Worldly Wiseman. 
 
 Good-will. Oh ! did he light upon you ? What ! he 
 would have had you a-sought for ease at the hands of 
 Mr. Legality. They are, both of them, a very cheat. 
 But did you take his counsel ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, as far as I durst ; I went to find out 
 Mr. Legality, until I thought that the mountain that 
 stands by his house would have fallen upon my head : 
 wherefore, there I was forced to stop. 
 
 Good-will. That mountain has been the death of many, 
 and will be the death of many more; it is well you escaped 
 being by it dashed in pieces. 
 
 Christian. Why, truly, I do not know what had be- 
 come of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me 
 again, as I was musing in the midst of my dumps ; but it 
 was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had 
 never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as 
 I am, more fit, indeed, for death by that mountain, than 
 thus to stand talking with my Lord ; but, oh, what a 
 
38 XLbc ipil^rfin's prooress 
 
 favour is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance 
 here ! 
 
 Good-will. \We make no objections against any, not- 
 withstanding all that they have done before they came 
 hither. They are " in no wise cast out " (John vi. 37) ; 
 and therefore, good C'hristian, come a little way with me, 
 and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look 
 before thee ; dost thou see this narrow way ? That is 
 the way thou must go ; it was cast up by the patriarchs, 
 prophets, Christ, and His apostles ; and it is as straight 
 as a rule can make it. This is the way thou must go. 
 
 Christian. But, said Christian, are there no turnings 
 or windings, by which a stranger may lose his way ? 
 
 Good-will. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon 
 this, and they are crooked and wide. But thus thou 
 mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right 
 only being straight and narrow (Matt. vii. 14). 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him 
 further if he could not help him off with his burden that 
 was upon his back ; for as yet he had not got rid thereof, 
 nor could he by any means get it off without help. 
 
 (He told him. As to thy burden, be content to bear it, 
 until thou comest to the place of deliverance ; for there 
 it will fall from thy back of itself. 
 
 Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to 
 address himself to his journey. So the other told him, 
 That by that he was gone some distance from the gate, 
 he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose 
 door he should knock, and he would show him excellent 
 things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and 
 he again bid him God-speed. 
 
 Then he went on till he came to the house of the Inter- 
 preter, where he knocked over and over ; at last one came 
 to the door, and asked who was there. 
 
Christian. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an 
 acquaintance of the good-man of this house to call here 
 for my profit ; I would therefore speak with the master of 
 the house. So he called for the master of the house, who, 
 after a little time, came to Christian, and asked him 
 what he would have. 
 
 Christian. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am 
 come from the City of Destruction, and am going to the 
 Mount Zion ; and I was told by the man that stands at 
 the gate, at the head of this way, that if I called here, 
 you would show me excellent things, such as would be a 
 help to me in my journey. 
 
 Interpreter. ^Then said the Interpreter, Come in ; I 
 will show that which will be profitable to thee. So he 
 connnanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian 
 follow him : so he had him into a private room, and bid 
 his man open a door; the which when he had done. 
 Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up 
 against the wall ; and this was the fashion of it. It had 
 eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, 
 the law of truth was written upon his lips, the world was 
 behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with men, and 
 a crown of gold did hang over his head. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? 
 
 Interpreter. The man whose picture this is, is one of 
 a thousand, he can beget children (1 Cor. iv. 15), travail 
 in birth with children (Gal. iv. 19), and nurse them him- 
 self when they are born. And whereas thou seest him 
 with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in his 
 hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show 
 thee that his work is to know and unfold dark things to 
 sinners ; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded 
 with men ; and whereas thou seest the world as cast be- 
 hind him, and that a crown hangs over his head, that is 
 
40 Ube ipilGtim's lPro(}re5s 
 
 to show thee that slighting and despising the things that 
 are present, for the love that he hath to his Master''s 
 service, he is sure in the world that comes next to have 
 glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have 
 showed thee this picture first, because the man whose pic- 
 ture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place 
 whither thou art going, hath authorised to be thy guide 
 in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way ; 
 wherefore take good heed to what I have showed thee, 
 and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in 
 thy journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead 
 thee right, but their way goes down to death. 
 
 Then he took him by the hand and led him into a very 
 large parlour that was full of dust, because never swept ; 
 the which after he had reviewed a little while, the Inter- 
 preter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began 
 to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that 
 Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said 
 the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by. Bring hither 
 the water, and sprinkle the room ; the which, when she 
 had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian, What means this ? 
 
 Interpreter. I The Interpreter answered, This parlour is 
 the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet 
 grace of the gospel ; the dust is his original sin and in- 
 ward corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. He 
 that began to sweep at first is the Law ; but she that 
 brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, 
 whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to 
 sweep, the dust did so fly about that the room by him 
 could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked 
 therewith : this is to show thee, that the law, instead of 
 cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth rcvive, 
 put strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it 
 
doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to 
 subdue (Rom. vii. 6; 1 Cor. xv. 56; Rom. v. 20). 
 
 Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room 
 with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure ; 
 this is to show thee, that when the Gospel comes in the 
 sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, 
 I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by 
 sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and 
 subdued, and the soul made clean through the faith of it, 
 and consequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit 
 (John XV. 3; Eph. v. 26; Acts xv. 9; Rom. xvi. 25, 26; 
 John XV. 13). 
 
 I saw, moreover, in my dream, that the Interpreter took 
 him by the hand, and had him into a little room, where 
 sat two little children, each one in his chair. The name 
 of the eldest was [Passion, and the name of the other 
 Patience. Passion seemed to be much discontented ; but 
 Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, What is 
 the reason of the discontent of Passion ? The Interpreter 
 answered. The Governor of them would have him stay for 
 his best things till the beginning of the next year, but he 
 will have all now ; but Patience is willing to wait. 
 
 Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him 
 a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the 
 which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed 
 Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had 
 lavished all away and had nothing left him but rags. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Ex- 
 pound this matter more fully to me. 
 
 Interpreter. , So he said, These two lads are figures : 
 Passion, of the men of this world ; and Patience, of the 
 men of that which is to come ; for as here thou seest. 
 Passion will have all now this year, that is to say, in this 
 world ; so are the men of this world : they must have all 
 
42 Zbc pilotim'5 iprooress 
 
 their good things now, tliey cannot stay till next year, 
 that is, until the next world, for their portion of good. 
 That proverh, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the 
 bush," is of more authority with them than are all the 
 Divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But 
 as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and 
 had presently left him nothing but rags ; so will it be with 
 all such men at the entl of this world. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience 
 has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. First, 
 because he stays for the best things. Second, and also 
 because he will have the glory of his, when the other has 
 nothing but rags. 
 
 iNrKiiruKTKK.LNay, you may add another, to wit, the 
 glory of the next world will never wear out; but these 
 are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much 
 reason to laugh at Patience, because he had his good 
 things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, 
 because he hatl his best things last ; for first must give 
 place to last, because last must have his time to come; 
 but last gives place to nothing; for there is not another to 
 succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first, must 
 needs have a time to spend it; but he that hath his 
 portion last, must have it lastingly; therefore it is said 
 of Dives, " Thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good 
 things, and likewise La/arus evil things ; but now he is 
 comforted, and thou art tormented"" (Luke xvi. 25). 
 
 CnuisTiAN. Then I pei'ceive it is not best to covet things 
 that are now, but to wtxit for thinjjs to come. 
 
 Interpketer. ^You say the truth : "' For the things 
 which are seen are temporal; but the things which are 
 not seen arc eternal " (!2 Cor. iv. 18). But though this 
 be so, yet since things present and our fleshy ap}^)etite are 
 such near neighbours one to another ; and again, because 
 
Ube ipflarfm's progress 43 
 
 things to come, and carnal sense, are such strangers 
 one to another ; therefore it is that the first of these so 
 suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued 
 between the second. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took 
 Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where 
 was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, 
 always casting much water upon it, to quench it ; yet did 
 the fire burn higher and hotter. 
 
 Then said Christian, What means this ? 
 
 The Interpreter answered,i^''his fire is the work of grace 
 that is wrought in the heart ; he that casts water upon 
 it, to extinguish and put it out, is the Devil ; but in that 
 thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, 
 thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him 
 about to the backside of the wall, where he saw a man 
 with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also 
 continually cast, but secretly, into the fire. 
 
 Then said Christian, What means this ? 
 
 The Interpreter answered,ijl'his is Christ, who continu- 
 ally, with the oil of His grace, maintains the work already 
 begun in the heart: by the means of which, notwithstand- 
 ing what the devil can do, the souls of His people prove 
 gracious still (2 Cor. xii. 9). And in that thou sawest 
 that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire, 
 that is to teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to 
 see how this work of grace is maintained in the soul. 
 
 I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the 
 hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was builded 
 a stately palace, beautiful to behold ; at the sight of 
 which Christian was gi-eatly delighted. He saw also, 
 upon the top thereof, certain persons walking, who were 
 clothed all in gold. 
 
 Then said Christian, May we go in thither? 
 
44. Zbc UMlotitiVs progress 
 
 Irhen the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards 
 the door of the palace ; and behold, at the door stood a 
 great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst 
 not. There also sat a man at a little distance from the 
 door, at a table side, with a book and his inkhorn before 
 him, to take the name of him that should enter therein ; 
 he saw also that in the door-way stood many men in 
 armour to keep it, being resolved to do the men that 
 woukl enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now 
 was Christian somewhat in a maze. At last, when every 
 man started back for fear of the armed men. Christian 
 saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the 
 man that sat there to write, saying, " Set down my name, 
 sir : " the which when he had done, he saw the man draw 
 his sword, and put an helmet upon his head, and rush 
 toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him 
 with deadly force ; but the man, not at all discouraged, fell 
 to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had re- 
 ceived and given many wounds to those that attempted to 
 keep him out, he cut his way through them all (Acts xiv. 
 22), and pressed forward into the palace, at which there was 
 a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even 
 of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying— 
 
 " Come in, come in ; 
 
 Eternal glory thon shalt win." 
 
 So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as 
 they. Then Christian smiled and said, I think verily I 
 know the meaning of this. 
 
 Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said 
 the Interpreter, till I have showed thee a little more, and 
 after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by 
 the hand again, and led him into a very dark room, where 
 there sat a man in an iron cage. 
 
xrbe pilorim's prooress 45 
 
 (Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad ; he sat with 
 his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded 
 together, and he sighed as if he would break his heart. 
 Then said Christian, What means this ? At which the 
 Interpreter bid him talk with the man. 
 
 Then said Christian to the man. What art thou ? The 
 -man answered, I am what I was not once. 
 
 Christian. What wast thou once ? 
 
 Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing 
 professor, both in mine own eyes and also in the eyes of 
 others; I once was, as I thought, fair for the Celestial 
 City, and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should 
 get thither (Luke viii. 13). 
 
 Christian. Well, but what art thou now ? 
 
 Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in 
 it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh, now I 
 cannot ! 
 
 Christian. But how earnest thou in this condition ? 
 
 Man. I left off to watch and be sober ; I laid the reins 
 upon the neck of my lusts ; I sinned against the light of 
 the Word and the goodness of God ; I have grieved the 
 Spirit, and He is gone ; I tempted the devil, and he is 
 come to me ; I have provoked God to anger, and He has 
 left me : I have so hardened my heart, that I cannot 
 repent. 
 
 Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no 
 hope for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the Inter- 
 preter. Nay, said Christian, pray, sir, do you. 
 
 Interpreter. Then said the Interpreter, Is there no 
 hope, but you must be kept in the iron cage of despair? 
 
 Man. No, none at all. 
 
 Interpreter. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very 
 pitiful. 
 
 Man. I have crucified Him to myself afresh (Heb. vi. 
 
46 zbc pilQvim's pvoQvces 
 
 6); I have despised His person (Luke xix. 14); I have 
 despised His righteousness; I have "counted His blood 
 an unholy thing "" ; I have " done despite to the Spirit of 
 Grace " (Heb. x. 28, 29). Therefore I have shut myself 
 out of all the promises, and there now remains to me 
 nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful 
 threatenings of certain judgment and fiery indignation, 
 which shall devour me as an adversary. 
 
 Interpreter. For what did you bring yourself into this 
 conditionj^ 
 
 Man. (For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world ; 
 in the enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much 
 delight ; but now every one of those things also bite me, 
 and gnaw me like a burning worm. 
 
 Interpreter. But canst thou not now repent and turn ? 
 
 Man, God hath denied me repentance. His Word 
 gives me no encouragement to believe ; yea. Himself hath 
 shut me up in this iron cage ; nor can all the men in the 
 world let me out. O eternity ! eternity ! how shall I 
 grapple with the misery that I must meet with in 
 eternity ! 
 
 Interpreter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, 
 Let this man''s misery be remembered by thee, and be an 
 everlasting caution to thee. 
 
 Christian. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God 
 help me to watch and be sober, and to pray that I may 
 shun the cause of this man's misery ! Sir, is it not time 
 for me to go on my way now ? 
 
 Interpreter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing 
 more, and then thou shalt go on thy way. 
 
 So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him 
 into a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed ; 
 and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. 
 Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble ? 
 
Ube pilodm's proaress 47 
 
 The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason 
 of his so doing. So he began and said, This night, as I 
 was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew 
 exceeding black ; also it thundered and lightened in most 
 fearful wise, that it put me into an agony : so I looked 
 up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual 
 rate, upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, 
 and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the 
 thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire ; also 
 the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice 
 saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment;" and 
 with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead 
 that were therein came forth. Some of them were exceed- 
 ing glad, and looked upward ; and some sought to hide 
 themselves under the mountains (1 Cor. xv. 52 ; 1 Thess. 
 iv. 16; Jude 14; John v. 28, 29; 2 Thess. i. 7, 8; Rev. 
 XX. 11-14 ; Isa. xxvi. 21 ; Micah vii. 16, 17 ; Ps. xcv. 1-3 ; 
 Dan. vii. 10). Then I saw the man that sat upon the 
 cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet 
 there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and 
 came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him 
 and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the 
 bar (Mai. iii. 2, 3 ; Dan. vii. 9, 10). I heard it also pro- 
 claimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the 
 cloud, " Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, 
 and cast them into the burning lake " (Matt. iii. 12, xiii. 
 30; Mai. iv. 1). And, with that, the bottomless pit 
 opened, just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of 
 which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and 
 coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the 
 same persons, " Gather my wheat into the garner "" (Luke 
 iii. 17). And with that I saw many catched up and 
 carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind 
 (1 Thess. iv. 16, 17). I also sought to hide myself, but 
 
48 xibe ipilarfm's prooreas 
 
 I could not, foi- the man that sat upon the cloud still 
 kept his eve upon me : my sins also came into my mind ; 
 and my conscience did accuse me on every side (Rom. ii. 
 14, 15). Upon this I awaked from my sleep. 
 
 Chuistian. But what was it that made you so afraid of 
 this sight ? 
 
 Man. iWhy, I thought that the day of judgment was 
 come, and that I was not ready for it : but this frighted 
 me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left 
 me behind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth just 
 where I stood. My conscience, too, afflicted me ; and, as 
 I thought, the Judge had always His eye upon me, showing 
 indignation in His countenance. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou 
 considered all these things ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, and they put me iu hope and fear. 
 
 Intkrprkter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind 
 that they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee 
 forward in the way thou must go. Then Christian began 
 to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. 
 Then said the interpreter. The Comforter be always with 
 thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads 
 to the City. So Christian went on his way, saying — 
 
 " Here I have seen things rare and profitable ; 
 
 Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable 
 In what I have begun to take in hand ; 
 Then let nie think on them, and understand 
 ^^^lerefore they show'd me were, and let me be 
 Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee." 
 
 (Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which 
 Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, 
 and that wall was called Salvation (Isa. xxvi. 1). Up 
 this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not 
 without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. 
 
^ 
 
 u 
 
Zbc jptlarfrn's proatess 49 
 
 He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending, 
 and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in 
 /the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just 
 ; as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from 
 I off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to 
 /tumble, and so continued to tlo, till it came to the mouth 
 of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. 
 
 Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with 
 a merry heart, " He hath given me rest by His sorrow, and 
 life by His death." Then he stood still awhile to look 
 and wonder; for it was very surprising to him, that the 
 sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. 
 He looked therefore, and looked again, even till the 
 springs that were in his head sent the waters down his 
 cheeks (Zech. xii. 10). Now, as he stood looking and 
 weeping, behold three Shining Ones came to him and 
 saluted him with " Peace be to thee." So the first said 
 to him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee" (Mark ii. 5); the 
 second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him " with 
 change of raiment " (Zech. iii. 4) ; the third also set a mark 
 on his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, 
 which he bade him look on as he ran, and that he should 
 give it in at the Celestial gate (Eph. i. 13). So they 
 went their way. 
 
 Who's this.'' the Pilj^rim. Mow ! 'tis very true. 
 Old thirif^s are ])ast away, all's become new. 
 Strarifi^e ! he's another man, upon my word, 
 They be fine feathers that make a line bird. 
 
 Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on 
 singing — 
 
 *'Thu8 far I did come laden with my sin ; 
 Nor could autflit ease the grief that I was in 
 Till I came hitlier : What a place is this ! 
 Must here be the beginning of my bliss.'' 
 
 D 
 
50 JLbc pflorim'B iP>rooresB 
 
 Must here the burden fall from off my back? 
 Must here the strinjjs that bound it to me crack? 
 Blest cross ! blest sepulchre ! blest rather be 
 Tlie Man that there was put to shame for me ! " 
 
 I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even 
 until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of 
 the wayi_three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their 
 heels. (The name of the one was Simple, another Sloth, 
 and the third Presumption. 
 
 Cliristian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, 
 if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, You are 
 like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the Dead 
 Sea is under you — a gulf that hath no bottom (Prov. 
 xxiii. 34). Awake, therefore, and come away ; be willing 
 also, and I will help you off with your irons. He also 
 told them, if he that "goeth about like a roaring lion" 
 comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth 
 (1 Pet. V. 8). With that they looked upon him, and 
 began to reply in this sort: Simple said, "I see no 
 danger ; ■" Sloth said, " Yet a little more sleep ; "" and 
 Presumption said, "Every fat must stand upon its own 
 bottom ; what is the answer else that I should give thee .'' " 
 And so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went 
 on his way. 
 
 V Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger 
 should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely 
 offered to help them, both by awakening of them, coun- 
 selling of them, and proffering to help them off with 
 their irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied 
 two men come tumbling over the wall, on the left hand 
 of the narrow way ; and they made up apace to him. 
 The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the 
 other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, 
 who thus entered with them into discourse. 
 
Ube ipilottm's prooress si 
 
 Christian. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither 
 go you ? 
 
 Formalist and Hypocrisy. We were bom in the land 
 of Vain-Glory, and are going for praise to Mount Zion. 
 
 Christian. Why came you not in at the gate which 
 standeth at the beginning of the way.'' Know you not 
 that it is written, that he that cometh not in by the door, 
 "but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief 
 and a robber".? (John x. 1). 
 
 Formalist and Hypocrisy. They said. That to go to 
 the gate for entrance was, by all their countrymen, counted 
 too far about ; and that, therefore, their usual way was 
 to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as 
 they had done. 
 
 Christian. Itut will it not be counted a trespass against 
 the Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate 
 His revealed will ? 
 
 Formalist and Hypocrisy. They told him. That, as for 
 that, he needed not to trouble his head thereabout ; for 
 what they did they had custom for ; and could produce, 
 if need were, testimony that would witness it for more 
 than a thousand years. 
 
 Christian. But, said Christian, will your practice stand 
 a trial at law ? 
 
 Formalist and Hypocrisy. They told him, That custom, 
 it being of so long a standing as above a thousand years, 
 would, doubtless, now be admitted as a thing legal by 
 any impartial judge ; and beside, said they, if we get into 
 the way, what's matter which way we get in ? if we 
 are in, we are in ; thou art but in the way, who, as we 
 perceive, came in at the gate ; and we are also in the way, 
 that came tumbling over the wall ; wherein, now, is thy 
 condition better than ours ? 
 
 Christian. I walk by the rule of my Master ; you walk 
 
52 Ube BMlarim's {Progress 
 
 by the rude working of your fancies. You are counted 
 thieves ah'eady, by the Lord of the way; therefore, I 
 doubt you will not be found true men at the end of 
 the way. You come in by yourselves, without His direc- 
 tion; and shall go out by yourselves, without His 
 mercy. 
 
 To this they made him but little answer; only they 
 bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on 
 every man in his way, without much conference one with 
 another ; save that these* two men told Christian, that as 
 to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but they should 
 as conscientiously do them as he ; therefore, said they, we 
 see not wherein thou difFerest from us but by the coat 
 that is on thy back, which was, as we trow, given thee 
 by some of thy neighbours, to hide the shame of thy 
 nakedness. 
 
 Christian. By laws and ordinances you will not be 
 saved, since you came not in by the door (Gal. ii. 16). 
 And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me 
 by the Lord of the place whither I go ; and that, as you 
 say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a 
 token of His kindness to me ; for I had nothing but 
 rags before. And besides, thus I comfort myself as I go : 
 Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, the 
 Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have His 
 coat on my back — a coat that He gave me freely in the 
 day that He stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, 
 a mark in my forehead, of which, perhaps, you have 
 taken no notice, which one of my Lord"'s most intimate 
 associates fixed there in the day that my burden fell off 
 my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then 
 given me a roll, sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go 
 on the way ; I was also bid to give it in at the Celestial 
 gate, in token of my certain going in after it ; all which 
 
Ube pilgrim's jproaress 53 
 
 things I doubt you want, and want them, because you 
 came not in at the gate. 
 
 To these things they gave him no answer; only they 
 looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw that 
 they went on all, save that Christian kept before, who 
 had no more talk but with himself, and that sometimes 
 sighingly, and sometimes comfortably ; also he would be 
 often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones 
 gave him, by which he was refreshed. 
 
 1 1 beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to 
 the foot of the Hill Difficulty ; at the bottom of which 
 was a spring. There were also in the same place two 
 other ways besides that which came straight from the 
 gate ; one turned to the left hand, and the other to the 
 right, at the bottom of the hill ; but the narrow way lay 
 right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side 
 of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian now went to the 
 spring, and drank thereof, to refresh himself (Isa. xlix. 10), 
 and then began to go up the hill, saying — • 
 
 "The hill, though high, I covet to ascend. 
 The difficulty will not me offend ; 
 For I perceive the way to life lies here. 
 Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear ; 
 Better, though difficult, the right way to go, 
 Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe." 
 
 ' The other two also came to the foot of the hill ; but 
 when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that 
 there were two other ways to go ; and supposing also that 
 these two ways might meet again, with that up which 
 Christian went, on the other side of the hill ; therefore 
 they were resolved to go in those ways. Now the name 
 of one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the 
 other Destruction. So the one took the way which is 
 called Danger, which led him into a great wood, and the 
 
54. XTbe ptlorim's progress 
 
 other took directly up the way to Destruction, which led 
 him into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he 
 stumbled and fell, and rose no more. 
 
 ' Shall they who wrong heg-in yet rightly ond ? 
 
 Shall they at all have safety for their friend? 
 
 No, no ; in headstrong manner they set out, 
 [And lieadlong will they fall at last, no douht. 
 
 [1 looked, then, after Christian, to see him go up the 
 hill, where I perceived he fell from running to going, and 
 from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees 
 because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the 
 midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour, 
 made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing of weary 
 travellers; thither, therefore. Christian got, where also 
 he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his roll out of 
 his bosom, and read therein to his comfort ; he also now 
 began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that 
 was given him as he stood by the cross. Thus pleasing 
 himself awhile, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence 
 into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place until 
 it was almost night ; and in his sleep his roll fell out of 
 his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to 
 him, and awaked him, saying, " Go to the ant, thou 
 sluggard ; consider her ways, and be wise " (Prov. vi. 6). 
 And with that Christian started up, and sped him on 
 his way, and went apace, till he came to the top of the 
 hill. 
 
 O^ow, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there 
 came two men runniny; to meet him amain ; the name of 
 the one was Timorous, and of the other, JMistrust; to 
 whom Christian said. Sirs, whafs the matter ? You run 
 the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were 
 going to the City of Zion, and had got up that difficult 
 
piace ; but, said he, the farther we go, the more danger 
 we meet with ; wherefore we turned, and are going back 
 again. 
 
 Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us He a couple of 
 lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know 
 not, and we could not think, if we came within reach, but 
 they would presently pull us in pieces. 
 
 Christian.'^ Then said Christian, You make me afraid, 
 but whither shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to mine 
 own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and 
 I shall certainly perish there. If I can get to the Celestial 
 City, I am sure to be in safety there. I must venture. 
 To go back is nothing but death ; to go forward is fear 
 of death, and life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go 
 forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, 
 and Christian went on his way. But, thinking again of 
 what he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for 
 his roll, that he might read therein, and be comforted ; 
 but he felt, and found it not. Then was Christian in 
 great distress, and knew not what to do ; for he Avanted 
 that which used to relieve him, and that which should 
 have been his pass into the Celestial City. Here, there- 
 fore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what 
 to do. At last he bethought himself that he had slept in 
 ■ the arbour that is on the side of the hill; and, falling 
 1 down upon his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that 
 Jhis foolish act, and then went back to look for his roll. 
 j But all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set 
 j forth the sorrow of Christian's heart! Sometimes he 
 ! sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself 
 for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was 
 erected only for a little refreshment for his weariness. 
 Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this 
 side and on that, all the way as he went, if haply he 
 
56 zbc pUatim'5 proorcss 
 
 might find liis roll, that had been his comfort so many 
 times in his journey. He went thus, till he came again 
 within sight of the arbour where he sat and slept ; but 
 that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing again, 
 even afresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind (Rev. ii. 5 ; 
 1 Thess. V. 7, 8). Thus, therefore, he now went on be- 
 wailing his sinful sleep, saying, "O wretched man that I 
 am ! "" that I should sleep in the day-time ! that I should 
 sleep in the midst of difficulty ! that I should so indulge 
 the tlesh, as to use that rest for ease to my tlesh, which 
 the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the 
 spirits of pilgrims ! 
 
 How many steps have I took in vain! Thus it happened 
 to Israel, for their sin ; they were sent back again by the 
 M'av of the Keil Sea ; and I am made to tread those steps 
 with sorrow, which I might have trod with delight, had it 
 not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have been 
 on mv wav by this time ! I am made to tread those steps 
 thrice over, which I needed not to have troil but once ; 
 yea, now also I am like to be benighted, for the day is 
 almost spent. Oh, that I had not slept ! 
 
 Now, by this time he was come to the arbour again, 
 I whei-e for a while he sat down and wept ; but at last, as 
 Christian would have it, looking sorrowfully down under 
 the settle, there he espied his roll ; the which he, with 
 trembling and haste, catched up, and put it into his 
 bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when 
 he had gotten his roll again ! for this roll was the assurance 
 of his life and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore 
 he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to Gotl for direct- 
 ing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and 
 tears betook himself again to his journey. But oh, how 
 nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill ! Yet, 
 before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian ; and 
 
Zbc pilQdm's proorcss 57 
 
 this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to 
 his remembrance ; and thus he again began to condole 
 with himself. O thou sinful sleep ; how, for thy sake am 
 I like to be benighted in my journey ! I must walk with- 
 out the sun ; darkness must cover the path of my feet .; 
 and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because 
 of my sinful sleep (1 Thess. v, 6, 7). Now also he remem- 
 bered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, 
 how they were frightened with the sight of the lions. 
 Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range 
 in the night for their prey ; and if they should meet 
 with me in the dark, how should I shift them ? How 
 should I escape being by them torn in pieces ? Thus he 
 went on his way. But while he was thus bewailing his 
 unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold 
 there was a very stately palace before him, the name of 
 which was Beautiful ; and it stood just by the highway 
 side. 
 
 ^So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went 
 /forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. 
 ' Now, before he had gone far, he entered into a very 
 narrow passage, which was about a furlong off of the 
 porter''s lodge ; and looking very narrowly before him as 
 he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought 
 he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were 
 driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not 
 the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also him- 
 self to go back after them, for he thought nothing but 
 death was before him. But the porter at the lodge, 
 whose name is Wa|^chful, perceiving that Christian made 
 a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying. Is 
 thy strength so small ? (Mark xiii. 34-37). Fear not 
 the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for 
 trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those that 
 
58 xrbe UMlcjrfm's iprooress 
 
 had none. Keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt 
 shall come unto thee. 
 
 Difficulty is behind. Fear is before, 
 
 Though he's got on the hill, the lions roar ; 
 
 A Christian man is never long at ease, 
 
 When one fright's gone, another doth him seize. 
 
 Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of 
 the lions, but taking good heed to the directions of the 
 porter; he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. 
 Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came 
 and stood before the gate where the porter was. Then 
 said Christian to the porter, Sir, what house is this.? 
 And may I lodge here to-night ? The porter answered, 
 I This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and 
 \ he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. The 
 porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was 
 going. 
 
 Christian. I am come from the City of Destruction, 
 and am going to Mount Zion ; but because the sun is 
 now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 
 
 PoRTKR. What is your name ? 
 
 Christian. My name is now Christian, but my name at 
 the first was Graceless ; I came of the race of Japheth, 
 whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem 
 (Gen. ix. 27). 
 
 Porter. But how doth it happen that you come so 
 late ? The sun is set. 
 
 Christian. I had been here sooner, but that, " wretched 
 man that I am ! " I slept in the arbour that stands on the 
 hill-side; nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here 
 much sooner, but that, in my sleep, I lost my evidence, 
 and came without it to the brow of the hill ; and then 
 feeling for it, and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow 
 
Zbc BMlgrtrn's prooress 59 
 
 of heart to go back to the place where I slept my sleep, 
 where I found it, and now I am come. 
 
 Porter. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this 
 place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you into the 
 rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. 
 So Watchful, the porter, rang a bell, at the sound of 
 which came out at the door of the house, a grave and 
 beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she 
 was called. 
 
 The porter answered. This man is in a journey from 
 the City of Destruction to Mount Zion, but being weary 
 and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to- 
 night; so I told him I would call for thee, who, after 
 discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, 
 even according to the law of the house. 
 
 i Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he 
 was going ; and he told her. She asked him also how he 
 got into the way; and he told her. Then she asked him 
 what he had seen and met with in the way ; and he told 
 her. And last she asked his name ; so he said, It is 
 Christian, and I have so much the more a desire to lodge 
 here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was 
 built by the Lord of the hill, for the relief and security 
 of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her 
 eyes; and after a little pause, she said, I will call forth 
 two or three more of the family. So she ran to the door, 
 and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a 
 little more discourse with him, had him into the family; 
 and many of them, meeting him at the threshold of the 
 house, said, " Come in, thou blessed of the Lord ; this 
 house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to 
 entertain such pilgrims in." Then he bowed his head, 
 and followed them into the house. So when he was come 
 in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and 
 
60 Zbc ipilorlnrs proorcss 
 
 consented tocjether, that until suj^pcr was ready, some of 
 them should have some particular iliscourse with Christian, 
 for the best improvement of time; and they appointed 
 Piety, and Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him : 
 and thus they began : — 
 
 Piety. Conic, good Christian, since we have been so 
 loving to vou, to receive yow iii our house this night, let 
 us, if perhaps we mav better ourselves thereby, talk with 
 you of all things that have happened to you in your 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 CiiKisTiAX. With a very good will, and I am glad that 
 you are so well disposed. 
 
 Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself to 
 a pilgrim's life? 
 
 Christian. I was driven out of my native country, by 
 a dreadful sound that was in mine ears : to wit, that 
 unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that 
 place where I was. 
 
 Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of 
 your country this way ? 
 
 Chkistiax. It was as God would have it ; for when I 
 was under the fears of destruction, I did not know whither 
 to go ; but by chance there came a man, even to me, as I 
 was trembling and weeping, wliose name is Evangelist, 
 and he directed me to the wicket-gate, which else I should 
 never have found, and so set me into the way that hath 
 led me directlv to this house. 
 
 PiETV. But did you not come by the house of the 
 Interpreter ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, and did see such things there, the re- 
 membrance of which will stick by me as long as I live; 
 especially three things : to wit, how Christ, in despite of 
 Satan, maintains His work of grace in the heart ; how 
 the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's 
 
Ube ipilodm'9 iprooress 6i 
 
 mercy; and also the dream of him that thought in his 
 sleep the day of judgment was come. 
 
 Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought 
 it made my heart ache as he was telling of it ; but yet I 
 am glad I heard it. 
 
 Piety. Was that all that you saw at the house of the 
 Interpreter ? 
 
 Christian. No ; he took me and had me where he showed 
 me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in gold 
 that were in it ; and how there came a venturous man and 
 cut his way through the armed men that stood in the 
 door to keep him out, and how he was bid to come in, 
 and win eternal glory. Methought those things did 
 ravish my heart ! I would have stayed at that good man's 
 house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to go. 
 
 Piety. And what saw you else in the way ? 
 
 Christian. Saw ! why, I went but a little farther, and 
 I saw One, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon 
 the tree ; and the very sight of him made my burden fall 
 oft' my back (for I groaned under a very heavy burden), 
 but then it fell down from oft' me. It was a strange thing 
 to me, for I never saw such a thing before ; yea, and while 
 I stood looking up, for then I could not forbear looking, 
 three Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified 
 that my sins were forgiven me ; another stripped me of 
 my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see ;] 
 and the third set the mark which you see in my forehead,\ 
 and gave me this sealed roll. (And with that he plucked 
 it out of his bosom.) 
 
 Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not ? 
 Christian. The things that I have told you were the 
 best ; yet some other matters I saw, as, namely : I saw three 
 men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep a little out 
 
62 Ubc pllorim's prooress 
 
 of the way, as I came, with irons upon their heels ; but 
 do you think I could awake them ? I also saw Formality 
 and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as 
 they pretended, to Zion, but they were quickly lost, even 
 as I myself did tell them ; but they would not believe. 
 But above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, 
 and as hard to come by the lions"' mouths ; and truly if it 
 had not been for the good man, the porter that stands at 
 the gate, I do not know but that after all I might have 
 gone back again ; but now, I thank God I am here, and I 
 thank you for receiving of me. 
 
 Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, 
 and desired his answer to them. 
 
 PiiuDENCE. Do you not think sometimes of the country 
 from whence you came ? 
 
 CimisTiAN. Yes, but with much shame and detestation : 
 *' truly, if I had been mindful of that country/ from whence 
 I came out, I might have had opportunity to have returned ; 
 but now I desire a better country, that is, an heavenly " 
 (Heb. xi. 15, 16). 
 
 Prudence. Do you not yet bear away with you some of 
 the things that then you were conversant withal ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially 
 my inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my 
 countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted ; but now 
 all those things are my grief; and might I but choose 
 mine own things, I would choose never to think of those 
 things more ; but when I would be doing of that which is 
 best, that which is worst is with me (Rom. vii.). 
 
 Prudence. Do you not find sometimes, as if those 
 things wei'e vanquished, which at other times are your 
 perplexity ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, but that is seldom ; but they are to 
 nie golden hours in which such things happen to me. 
 
XTbe UMlgdm's iprogress 63 
 
 Prudence. Can you remember by what means you find 
 your annoyances, at times, as if they were vanquished ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, 
 that will do it, and when I look upon my broidered coat, 
 that will do it ; also when I look into the roll that I carry 
 in my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax 
 warm about whither I am going, that will do it. 
 
 Prudence. And what is it that makes you so desirous 
 to go to Mount Zion ? 
 
 Christian. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that 
 did hang dead on the cross ; and there I hope to be rid of 
 all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance 
 to me; there they say, there is no death; and there I 
 shall dwell with such company as I like best (Isa. xxv. 8; 
 Rev. xxi. 4). For, to tell you truth, I love Him, because 
 I was by Him eased of my burden ; and I am weary of 
 my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no 
 more, and with the company that shall continually cry, 
 « Holy, Holy, Holy ! " 
 
 Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family ? 
 Are you a married man ? 
 
 Christian. I have a wife and four small children. 
 
 Charity. And why did you not bring them along with 
 you? 
 
 Christian. Then Christian wept, and said. Oh, how 
 willingly would I have done it ! but they were all of them 
 utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage. 
 
 Charity. But you should have talked to them, and 
 have endeavoured to have shown them the danger of 
 being behind. 
 
 Christian. So I did ; and told them also what God had 
 shown to me of the destruction of our city ; " but I seemed 
 to them as one that mocked," and they believed me not 
 (Gen. xix. 14)). 
 
64 trbe lIMIorim'5 iprooress 
 
 Charity. And did you pray to God that He would 
 bless your counsel to them ? 
 
 Chuistian, Yes, and that with much affection : for you 
 must think that my wife and poor children were very dear 
 unto me. 
 
 Chaiutv. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, 
 and fear of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction 
 was visible enough to you. 
 
 Chuistian. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might 
 also see my feat's in my countenance, in my tears, and also 
 in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment 
 that did hang over our heads ; but all was not sufficient to 
 prevail with them to come with me. 
 
 Chakity. But what could they say for themselves, why 
 they came not ? 
 
 Christian. ; Why, my wife was afraid of losing this 
 world, and my^children were given to the foolish delights 
 of youth : so what by one thing, and what by another, 
 they left me to wander in this manner alone. 
 
 CuARnY. But did you not, with your vain life, damp 
 all that you by words used by way of persuasion to bring 
 them away with you ? 
 
 Christian. Indeed, I cannot connnend my life ; for I am 
 conscious to myself of many failings therein : I know also, 
 that a man bv his conversation may soon overthrow, what 
 by argument or persuasion he doth labour to fasten upon 
 others for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary 
 of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make 
 them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very 
 thing they would tell me I was too precise, and that I 
 denied myself of things, for their sakes, in which they saw 
 no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if what they saw in 
 me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning 
 against God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbour. 
 
trbe BMlodin's iprooress 65 
 
 Chakity. Indeed Cain hated his brother, " because 
 his own works were evil, and his brother''s righteous" 
 (1 John iii. 12); and if thy wife and children have been 
 ofl'ended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves 
 to be implacable to good, and " thou hast delivered thy 
 soul from their blood" (Ezek. iii. 19). 
 
 /Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking to- 
 gether until supper was ready. So when they had made 
 ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table was furnished 
 " with fat things, and with wine that was well refined ; " 
 and all their talk at the table was about the I^ord of the 
 hill ; as, namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he 
 did what he did, and why he had builded that house. And 
 by what they said, I perceived that he had been a great 
 warrior, and had fought with and slain " him that had the 
 power of death," but not without great danger to himself, 
 which made me love him the more (Heb. ii. 14, 15). 
 
 For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), 
 he did it with the loss of much blood ; but that which 
 put glory of grace into all he did, was, that he did it out 
 of pure love to his country. And besides, there were 
 some of them of the household that said they had been 
 and spoke with him since he did die on the cross; and 
 they have attested that they had it from his own lips, 
 that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is 
 not to be found from the east to the west. 
 
 They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, 
 and that was, he had stripped himself of his glory, that 
 he might do this for the poor ; and that they heard him 
 say and affirm, "that he would not dwell in the mountain 
 of Zion alone." They said, moreover, that he had made 
 many pilgrims princes though by nature they were beggars 
 born, and their original had been the dunghill (1 Sam. 
 ii. 8 ; Ps. cxiii. 7). 
 
 E 
 
66 XTbe pflarim's progress 
 
 (Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and 
 after they had committed themselves to their Lord for 
 protection, they betook themselves to rest : the Pilgrim 
 they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened 
 toward the sun-rising : the name of the chamber was 
 [Peace; where he slept till break of day, and then he 
 awoke and sang — 
 
 ** Where am I now? Is this the love and care 
 Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims are? 
 iThus to provide ! that I should be forgiven ! 
 ; And dwell already the next door to heaven ! " 
 
 So m the morning they all got up ; and, after some 
 more discourse, they told him that he should not depart 
 till they had shown him the rarities of that place. And 
 first they had him into the study, where they showed him 
 records of the greatest antiquity ; in which, as I remember 
 my dream, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord 
 of the hill, that he was the son of the Ancient of Days, 
 and came by that eternal generation. Here also was more 
 fully recorded the acts that he had done, and the names 
 of many hundreds that he had taken into his service ; 
 and how he had placed them in such habitations, that 
 could neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be 
 dissolved. 
 
 Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that 
 some of his servants had done : as, how they had " sub- 
 dued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, 
 stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of 
 fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were 
 made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight 
 the armies of the aliens" (Heb. xi. 33, 34). 
 
 They then read again, in another part of the records of 
 the house, where it was showed how willing their Lord 
 
Zbc WqvWs iprooress 67 
 
 was to receive into his favour any, even any, though they 
 in time past had offered gi'eat affronts to his person and 
 proceedings. Here also were several other histories of 
 many other famous things, of all which Christian had a 
 view ; as of things both ancient and modern ; together 
 with prophecies and predictions of things that have their 
 certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement 
 of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims. 
 
 The next day they took him and had him into the 
 armoury, where they showed him all manner of furniture, 
 which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, 
 shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that 
 would not wear out. And there was here enough of this 
 to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord 
 as there be stars in the heaven for multitude. 
 
 They also showed him some of the engines with which 
 some of his servants had done wonderful things. They 
 showed him Moses' rod ; the hammer and nail with which 
 Jael slew Sisera ; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, 
 with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. 
 Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar 
 slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw- 
 bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They 
 showed him, moreover, the sling and stone with which 
 David slew Goliath of Gath ; and the sword, also, with 
 which their Lord will kill the Man of Sin, in the day that 
 he shall rise up to the prey. They showed him, besides, 
 many excellent things, with which Christian was much de- 
 lighted. This done, they went to their rest again. 
 
 \Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got 
 up to go forw ard ; but they desired him to stay till the 
 next day also ; and then, said they, we will, if the day be 
 clear, show you the Delectable Mountains, which, they 
 said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they 
 
68 ui)c pilovim'5 proGress 
 
 were nearer the desired haven than the place where at 
 present he was ; so he consented and stayed. When the 
 niorniiii]^ was np, they had him to the top of the house, 
 and hid him look south ; so he did : and behold, at a 
 great distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous 
 coinitry, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all 
 sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delec- 
 table to behold (Isa. xxxiii. 16, 17). Then he asked the 
 name of the country. They said it was Immanuers Land ; 
 and it is as common, said they, as this hill is to and for all 
 the pilgrims. And when thou comest there from thence, 
 said they, thou maycst see to the gate of the Celestial 
 City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear. 
 
 Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they 
 were willing he should. But first, said they, let us go 
 again into the armoury. So they did ; and when they 
 came there, they harnessed him from head to foot with 
 what was of proof, lest, perhaps, he should meet with 
 assaults in the way. He being, therefore, thus accoutred, 
 walketh out with his friends to the gate, and there he 
 asked the porter if he saw any pilgrims pass by. Then 
 the porter answered. Yes. 
 
 Chuistian. Pray, did you know him ? said he. 
 
 Pouter. I asked him his name, and he told me it was 
 /Faithful. 
 
 CiiKisTiAN. Oh, said Christian, I know him ; he is my 
 townsman, my near neighbour; he comes from the place 
 where I was born. How far do you think he may be 
 before ? 
 
 PoKTER. He is got by this time below the hill. 
 
 Christian. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord 
 be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase 
 for the kindness that thou hast showed to me. 
 (Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety, 
 
xrbe flMlattm's iprooress 69 
 
 Charity, and Prudence would accompany him down to 
 the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating 
 their former discoui'ses, till they came to go down the hill. 
 Then said Christian, As it was difiicult coming up, so (so 
 far as I can see) it is dangerous going down. Yes, said 
 Prudence, so it is, for it is a hard matter for a man to go 
 down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and 
 to catch no slip by the way ; therefore, said they, are we 
 come out to accompany thee down the hill. So he began 
 to go down, but very warily ; yet he caught a slip or two. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, 
 when Christian was gone to the bottom of the hill, gave 
 him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of 
 raisins ; and then he went on his way. 
 
 But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian 
 was hard put to it ; for he had gone but a little way, 
 before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to 
 meet him ; his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian 
 begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go 
 back or to stand his ground. But he considered again 
 that he had no armour for his back ; and therefore 
 thought that to turn the back to him might give him 
 the greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his 
 darts. Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his 
 ground ; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than 
 the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand. 
 
 So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the 
 monster was hideous to behold ; Ke was clothed with 
 scales, like a fish (and they are his pride) ; he had wings 
 like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly 
 came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth of 
 a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld 
 him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to 
 question with him. 
 
70 z\K ipUonm's il>roin*c35 
 
 Ai'oi.i.YON. WhoiKv ooiiie you? and whither are you 
 bound ? 
 
 CnuisriAX. I jun come from the City of Destruction, 
 which is the place of all evil, and am ^oing to the City 
 of /ion. 
 
 Ai'oi.i.YON, IJy this 1 perceive thou art one of my 
 subjects, for all that country is mine, jind I am the prince 
 and i:;oil of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away 
 from thy kino^P \\'ore it not that 1 hope thou nuvyest 
 do me more service, 1 would strike thee now, at one blow, 
 to the ij;round. 
 
 C'uiusTiAN. 1 was born, iiulced, in your dominions, but 
 your service was hard, and your waives such as a man 
 coulil not live on, "for the wages of sin /,v tleath " (Uom. 
 vi. '2jJ); therefore, when 1 was come to years, 1 did as 
 other considerate persons ilo, look out, if, perhaps, I 
 miij;hl mend myself. 
 
 Aroi.i.YON. There is no prince that will thus lightly 
 lose his subjects, neither will 1 as yet lose thee; but since 
 thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to 
 go back : what our country will all'ord, 1 ilo here promise 
 to give thee. 
 
 Cmkistian. Ihit 1 have let myself to another, even to 
 the King of princes, anil how can 1, with fairness, go l)ack 
 with thee.^ 
 
 Ai'oi.i.vox. Thou hast done in this, according to the 
 proverb, " Ctiangeil a bad for a worse;" but it is ordinary 
 for tliose that have professed themselves his servants, 
 after a while to give liim the slip, and return again to me. 
 Do thou so too, ami all shall be well. 
 
 Christiax. 1 Imve given him my faith, and sworn my 
 allegiance to him ; liow, then, can I go back from this, 
 and not be haiiged as a traitor ? 
 
 Aroi.\.YO\. Thou ilidsl the same to me, and vet I am 
 
Zbc pilorlm's proorcss 7i 
 
 willing to pass by ull, if now thou wilt yet turn again and 
 go buck. 
 
 Christian. (^'^ hat I promised thee was in my nonage; 
 and, besides, I count the I'rince under whose banner now 
 I stand is able to absolve me ; yea, and to pardon also 
 what I did as to my compliance with thee; and besides, 
 () thou destroying ApoUyon ! to speak truth, I like his 
 service, his wjiges, his servants, his goverrunent, his com- 
 pany and country better than thine; and, therefore, leave 
 off to persuade me further; I am liis servant, and I will 
 follow him. 
 
 Ai'oiJ-Yox. Consider, again, when tliou art in cool lilood, 
 what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou 
 goest. 'i'iiou knowcst that, for the most part, his servants 
 come to an ill end because they are transgressors against 
 me and my ways. How many of them have been put to 
 shameful deaths; and, besides, thou countest his service 
 better than uu'ne, whereas he never came yet from the 
 place where he is to deliver any that served him out of 
 their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all the 
 world very well knows, have 1 delivered, either by power 
 or fraud, those that have faitlifully served me, from him 
 and his, though taken by them; and so I will deliver 
 thee. 
 
 CiTRisijAN. His forbearing at present to deliver them is 
 on purpose to try their love, wiiether they will cleave to 
 him to the end; and as for the ill end thou sayest they 
 come to, that is most glorious in their account; for, for 
 present deliverance, they do not much exjiect it, for they 
 stay for their glory, and then they shall have it, when their 
 Prince comes in his, and the glory of the ang(!ls. 
 
 Apollyon. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy 
 service to him ; and how dost thou think to receive wages 
 of him ? 
 
72 zbc pilQvim'B proorcss 
 
 Christian. Wlierciii, () Apollyon! have 1 been unfaith- 
 ful to him ? 
 
 Aroi.i.vox. Tliou tliilst faint at lirst setting out, when 
 thou wast ahnost elioked in the Gulf of Despond ; thou 
 didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of tliv burden, where- 
 as thou shouliiest have staved till thy I'rinec had taken 
 it off; thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice thing; 
 thou wast, also, ahnost persuaded to go baek, at the sight 
 of the lions; and when thou talkest of thv journev, and 
 of what thou hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly 
 desirous of vain-glorv in all that thou savest or doest. 
 
 C'uHisriAX. All this is true, anil much more whieh thou 
 hast left out ; but the Priuee w hom I serve and honour is 
 niereiful, anil rendv to forgive; but, besides, these inlirnn- 
 ties possessed me in thy eountry, for there I sueked them 
 in ; and I have groaned under them, been son*}' for them, 
 and have obtained pardon of my Prinee. 
 
 Aroi.i.vox. Then .\pollvon broke out into a grievous 
 i*age, saying, I am an enemy to this Prince; I hate his 
 person, his laws, and people ; I am come out on purpose 
 to withstand thee. 
 
 CiiKisriAN. ApoUyon, beware what yon do ; for I am in 
 the king's highway, the w ay of holiness ; therefore take 
 heed to yourself. 
 
 Aroi.i.Yox. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the 
 whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in 
 this matter : prej>are thyself to die ; for I swear by my 
 infernal den, that thou shalt go no farther; heix^ will I 
 spill thy soul. 
 
 And with that he threw a tlaming dart at his breast; 
 but Christian had a shield in his hand, with whieh he 
 caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. 
 
 (^hen did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to 
 bestir him : and Apollyon jvs fast made at him, throwing 
 
trbe pilorim's jprooress 73 
 
 darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstaiidiii^ 
 all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyoii wounded 
 him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian 
 give a little back ; Apollyon therefore followed his work 
 amain, and Christian again took com-age, and resisted as 
 manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for above 
 half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent; 
 for you must know that Christian, l)y reason of his wounds, 
 must needs grow weaker and weaker. 
 
 (Then Apollyon, espying his oi)p()rtunity, l)egan to 
 gather up close to (Jlu'istian, and wrestling with him, 
 gave him a dreadful fall ; and with that Christian's sword 
 flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of 
 thee now. And with that he had almost pressed him to 
 death, so that Christian began to despair of life : but as 
 God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his 
 last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man. 
 Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, 
 and caught it, saying, " llejoice not against me, O mine 
 enemy: when I fall I shall arise" (Micah vii. 8); and 
 with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him 
 give back, as one tliat hud received his mortal wound. 
 Christian perceiving that, made at him ugain, saying, 
 "Nay, in all these things we are more than concjuerors 
 through bim that loved us" (Rom. viii. 'il). And with 
 that Apollyon spread forth his di-agon''s wings, and sped 
 him away, that Christian for a season saw him no more 
 (James iv. 7). 
 
 (in this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen 
 and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring 
 Apollyon made all the time of the fight — he spake like a 
 dragon ; and, on the other side, what sighs and groans 
 burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the 
 while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived 
 
74. Zbc il>tUn*iin'£^ proorci^s 
 
 ho had wouiuloil Apc^Ilvi>n with his two-odo-od sword; 
 thiMi, imlooil, he d\d smile, ami look upwaixl ; but it ujis 
 the thvaiit'iiiost sii<;ht that over I saw. 
 
 A move iint>(Hi;il miitfli ran liariUy ho, — 
 ("luistian iwiist tiiilit an Aiii;vl ; hut you sop, 
 'ri\o valiant man by liantUiui;' Sword ami Shiold, 
 Pi>tli ntako liim. tlioui^h a Praii'on. quit tlio tioltl. 
 
 So wluMi the battle was mev, Christian saiil, "I will 
 here give thanks to him that Jeliveivd me out of the 
 ujouth of the lion, to him tiiat did help me against 
 Apollvon/' And so he ilid, saving — 
 
 ** tnvat l>ool/ol)nl», tho captain of tliis tiond, 
 IVsisjn'd luy ruin ; tliorotoro to this ond 
 Ho sout liini liarnoss'd out : and ho witli raire 
 Tliat l»ollisl\ was, did tiorcoly nu» onjraiio. 
 Uut blossod Mii-haol holpod nio. and I. 
 Uy dint »>t"sw»n-d. did (luii'kly n\ako liini fly. 
 Tlioi-oforo to him lot mo jjivo lastin<r praise. 
 And thank and Moss liis iioly namo always." 
 
 (Then tlien^ came to him a hand, with some of the hwves 
 of the tree of life, the whieh Christian took and applied 
 to the wounds that he had reeeivinl in the battle, Jind was 
 healed inuntHliately. He also sat ilown in that plaiv to 
 eat bivad, and to drink of the bottle that was given him 
 a little befoiv; so being ivfivshed, he addressed himself 
 ti> his jovnnev, w ith his sword drawn in his hand ; for he 
 vS'xid, 1 know not but some other enemy may W at hand. 
 Ihit he n\et with no other atlVont from Apollvon ipiite 
 through this vallev. 
 
 Now at the end of this valley was another, calleil tJie 
 Valley o\' the Shallow of lX\>ith, and Christian must ntwls 
 go through it. beecuise the way to the Celestial City lay 
 thivugh the midst o( it. Now, this valley is a very 
 
Llirisiiai) lMj.'lit.s Apollyrtn p,^,,, ^ , 
 
 Vllyrim', /V,,;., 
 
Zbc lIMIorim'3 proorc^s 75 
 
 solitary {)luce. The j)r(){)hot Jeremiah thus describes it: 
 "A wilderness, a land of deserts and of pits, a land of 
 droiii;lil,aiid of the shadow of death, a land that no man" 
 (l)iit a ('hristian) "passed through, and where no man 
 dwelt "(.Fer. ii. (J). 
 
 Now here ('hristian was worse put to it than in his 
 fight with Apollyon : as hy the secpiel you shull see. 
 
 I saw tlieu in my dream, that when ("hiistian was got 
 to Ihe borders of the Sliadow of Dealh, thert; met him 
 two men, children of them that brought up an (!vil report 
 of the good land (Num. xiii.), making hasix; to go baek ; 
 to whom Christian spake as follows: — 
 Christian. Whither are you going ? 
 Mkn. They said, Hack! back! and we would have 
 you to do so too, if either life or peaee is prized by you. 
 CniusTiAN. Why, what's the matter.^ said Christian, 
 Mkn. Matter! said they; we were going that way as 
 you are going, and went as far as we durst; and indeed 
 we were almost past coming back ; for had we gone a 
 little farther, we had not been here to biing tlu; news 
 to thee. 
 
 Christian, lint what have you met with.^ said 
 Christian. 
 
 Mkn. Why, we were almost, in the Valley of the Shadow 
 of Death; but that, by good hap, we looked before us, 
 and saw the danger before we came to it (l*s. xliv. 19, 
 evii. 10). 
 
 (!uRisTiAN. Ihit what have you seen ? said (Christian. 
 Mkn. Seen! Why, the valley itself, which is as dark as 
 pitch ; we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and 
 dragons of the pit; we heard also in that valley a con- 
 tinual howling and yelling, as of a peojjie under umitter- 
 able misery, who there sat bound in afllictioii and irons; 
 and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds of 
 
76 Xlbc ipiliiritn't? pvoovct^s 
 
 confusion. Dcatli also ilolh always spivtui his winijs over 
 it. In a word, it is ovory whit ihvailful, hoiuix ultorly 
 wiliioul ovdcv (,h)h iii. 5, x. '2(\). 
 
 CuKisri.w. 'Thon, saiil Christian, 1 perceive not yet, by 
 what YOU havo saiii, hut that this is my way to the desired 
 Imven (Jor. ii. ()). 
 
 Mkn. lU^ it tin way ; wo will not choose it for ours. 
 So thev part Oil, aiul Christian went on his way, but still 
 with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he shovdd 
 Ik* fussiiultoil. 
 
 1 saw then in niv dream so far as this valley iwielied, 
 theix^ was on the rioht hanil a very deep iliteh ; that diteh 
 is it into whieh the hliml have knl the blind in all aijes, 
 and have both theiv miserably perished (Ps. l\ix. It, 
 IT)). Ao:ain, behold, on the left hand, there was a very 
 danijvM'ous quag, into which, if even a gooil man falls, he 
 can find no bottom for his foot to stand on. Into that 
 qua*;; King David once did fall, and had no doubt theivin 
 been snuitheiwi, had not 11k that is able plucked him out. 
 
 The pathway was heiv also exceeding narrow, ami there- 
 foiv good CMu'istian was the more put to it ; for when he 
 sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, 
 he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other; also 
 yvhen he sought to escape the mire, without great caivful- 
 ness he would be ivadv to fall into the ditch. Thus he 
 went on, and 1 heanl him here sigh bitterly; for. besides 
 the dangei's nientioned above, tiic pathway was here so 
 dark, that oft-tinu\s, when he lift up his foot to set for- 
 Avanl, he knew not wheiv or n})on what he should set 
 it next. 
 
 riH>r ju:in I wlioro art tluni now ? thy day is niffht, 
 Ciood man. l>o tiot oast «li)\vn, thou yot art riirlit, 
 Tin- wav to lioavtMi lies by ttio si-sUes ot" lioll ; 
 Choor up, hohl out. witli tlioo it jiliall sro >>oll. 
 
TTbc i(Ml(n*iin'9 proorcss 77 
 
 About the midst of this vulley, I percoived Llie luouLli 
 of yu;ll to he, unci it, stood idso hard hy tlio way-side. 
 Now, tlioii^ht ('hristiaii, what shall I do? And ever and 
 niion the flame and smoke would come out in such abund- 
 ance, with sparks and hideous noises (lhiii<^s that cared 
 not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that 
 he was forced to put ii{) his sword, and betake himself to 
 another weapon, called ;\ll-piayer ( Mph. vi. 18). So he 
 cried in my hearin<^, "• () Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my 
 soul ! " (Vs. cxvi. 4). Thus he went on a great while, yet 
 still the flames would be reacliino- towards him. Also he 
 heartl dolcl'ul voices, and rushiii<;s to and fro, so tliiit 
 sometimes he tliou'^hl lie should l)e torn in pieces, or 
 trodden down like miic in the streets. This fi'iohtful 
 si<;-ht was seen, and these dreadful noises were heai'd by 
 him for sevei-al miles to^clher; and, comiuf;" to a place 
 where he tliou<;ht he heard a conipatiy of (icnds c(>min<;- 
 forward to me(>t him, he sl()p|)e(l, and henan to nuise 
 what he had hest to do. Sometimes he had half a thouu'lit 
 to '^o hack ; then a;;-ain he th()u<;hl he nM"<4ht he half-way 
 through the valley; he remend)ered also how hv had 
 already vanquished many a danger, and that the danger 
 of going back might be mu(;h more Ihan for to go for- 
 ward ; so he i-esolved to go on. ^'et tlu; (lends seemed lo 
 come nearer and nearer; bui when I hey were come even 
 almost at him, he crietl out with a most vehement voice, 
 "I will walk in the strength of the Lord (iod !" so they 
 gave back, and came no farther. 
 
 One thing I would not let slip; I took notice that now 
 poor ('hristian was so confounded, that he did not know 
 his own voice; and thus I perceived it. Just when he 
 was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, oiu; 
 of the wicked ones got behind him, and stept u{) softly 
 to him, and whispcringly suggested many grievous bias- 
 
78 Zbc ipiUniin'i^ proorcs?*^ 
 
 pheniios to him, >vhii-h lu> vorily thouL^hl li;ul prorciHlod 
 IVdju his own niiiiil. This put Chrislinn mow to it tiian 
 Huvlhiiiiij Ihiit ho im>i with ln'toiv, oviMi [o think that ho 
 shoulil now hlasphiMiio 11 im th;it \\c loviul so imioh hofoiv; 
 vot, it' ho ooulil liMvo h(>lpo(l it. ho woulil not havo doi\o it; 
 but ho had not thi' ilisorotion oilhor to stop his oars, or 
 ti> know lVi>ni w honoo thoso lilasphoniios oanio. 
 
 Whon tM\ristian l\ail travolloil in this ilisoonsok-ito oon- 
 ilition sonio i-onsiiiorahlo linio. ho thought \\c hoani the 
 vi)iio i>t a man. as i:;i>in>j^ liot'oro hint, savin^i;, "Thouixh I 
 walk tlu-i>U!;;h tho vallov of tho sl»aih)w of iloath, I will 
 i'oar no ovil, tor thou urt with mo" (Ps. xxiii. 4). 
 
 Thon iio was i^lad, nuil ti\at tor thoso roasons : — 
 
 First, Hooanso ho «;athoroil from thonoo. that somo who 
 foaiwl CJoil woro in this vallov as woU as hinisolt'. 
 
 Sctvndlt/, Vox- that ho porooivod Ciml was with thoni, 
 thoxiii'h in that dark and disniai stato; and why not, 
 thoui^ht ho, witii xno? thouiih, hv roason of tho impodi- 
 mont tl\at attonds this pkioo. 1 oannot }HMVoivo it (rloli 
 i\. 11). 
 
 'JViinili/, Vov tliat ho hopoil. oould ho ovortako thom, 
 to havo oompany by and by. So ho wont on, and oallod 
 to him that wtis bofoiv ; but ho know not what to answor; 
 for that ho also thoujxht hinisoU' to bo alono. And by 
 and bv tlio dav broko; tluM\ said (.'hristian, llo hath turmnl 
 "tho shadow i>f doath into tho morninsx" (Amos v. S\ 
 
 Nmv morninoj l^oiui;; oi>\no. ho looked back, not out of 
 ilosiiv to rot urn, but to soo, by tho lii^ht of tho day, wliat 
 ha/anls ho had s::i>no t1\roni;h in tho dark. So ho saw 
 nunv iHM-footlv tho ditoh that was on tho ono haitd. and 
 tho vpiai; that was on tho othor ; also how narrow tiio 
 wav was whioh lod botwixt thon\ both; also now ho saw 
 tho lu>bjxoblins. and satyrs, and drai;ons o\' tho {lit. but all 
 afar oil" ^^t'or aftor broak o\' day thoy oamo not nio-h) ; yot 
 
Zbc lpilorim'9 progress 79 
 
 tlK?y were discovered to him, according to that which is 
 W)-iti(;n, " He discovcTctli de(;|) Uiirij^s out of djirkness, and 
 brin^eth out to li^^fit the shadow of deatli ■" (Joh. xii. ^^). 
 
 Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance 
 from all the dan^c^rs of liis solitary way; wliicli (\iuiij;crH, 
 though he fean-d them more before, yet he saw them moi'e 
 clearly now, hccause the li<i;ht of the day madt; them con- 
 spicuous to him. And ahout this time the sun was risin<^, 
 and this was anotliei- mercy to ('hristian; for you riuist 
 nol,(;, that though the first part of the ValU^y of the 
 Sliadow of Death was dangerous, 'yet this second {)art 
 which he was yet to g(j, was, if possible, far more danger- 
 ous : for from the place where he now stood, even to the 
 end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of 
 snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pit- 
 falls, deep holes, and shelvings down there, that, had it 
 now been dark, as it was when he came the first part of 
 the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason 
 been cast away ; but, as I said just now, the sun was 
 rising. Then said he, "His candle shineth upon my head, 
 and by his light I walk through darkness" (Job. xxix. ii). 
 
 In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the 
 valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of this 
 valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of 
 men, even of [)ilgrims that hjul gone this way fonrierly ; 
 and while I was musing what should be the reason, I 
 espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, POPE 
 and l*A(jrAN, dwelt in old time; by whose pf)wer and 
 tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, he, lay there, 
 were cruelly put to death. But by this place Christian 
 went without much dangei-, wlicreat I somewhat wondered ; 
 but 1 have learnt since, that I'AGAN has been dead many 
 a day ; and as for the other, though he be yet alive, he 
 is, by reason of age, and also <jf the many shrewd brushes 
 
80 Ubc ilMIorim'5 prooicss 
 
 that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and 
 stiff in his joints, that he can now do Httle more than sit 
 in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, 
 and biting his nails because he cannot come at them. 
 
 So I saw that Christian went on his wav ; vet, at the 
 sight of" the Old INIan that sat in the mouth of" the cave, 
 he could not tell wliat to think, especially because he 
 spake to him, though he could not go after him, saving, 
 "You will never mend till more of you be burned/'' But 
 he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went 
 by and catched no hurt. Then sang Christian — 
 
 *'0 world of wonders ! (I can say no less) 
 That I should be preserved in that distress 
 That I have n\et with liere ! O blessed be 
 That hand that from it hath deliver'd nie ! 
 Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin. 
 Did compass me, while 1 this vale was in : 
 Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets, did He 
 My path about, tliat worthless, silly I 
 Might have been catch'd, entantrled, and cast down; 
 lint since 1 live, let Jesis wear tlie crown." 
 
 Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little 
 ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might 
 see befoi'e them. Up there, therefore. Christian went, 
 and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his 
 journey. Then said Christian aloutl, " Ho ! ho ! soho ! 
 stay, and I will be your companion ! " At that, Faithful 
 looked behind him ; to whom Christian cried again, " Stay, 
 stay, till I come up to you."" But Faithful answered, 
 " No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is 
 behind me."'"' 
 
 At this, Christian was somewhat moved, and putting 
 to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and 
 did also overrun him ; so tbe last was first. Then did 
 

 
 h- 
 
trbe ipllQrIm'B progress si 
 
 Christian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten 
 the start of his brother; but not taking good heed to 
 his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise 
 again until Faithful came up to help him. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on 
 together, and had sweet discourse of all things that had 
 happened to them in their pilgrimage; and thus Christian 
 began : — 
 
 Christian. My honoured and well -beloved brother, 
 Faithful, I am glad that I have overtaken you ; and that 
 God has so tempered our spirits, that we can walk as 
 companions in this so pleasant a path. 
 
 P AITHFUL. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your 
 company quite from our town ; but you did get the start 
 of me, wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the 
 way alone. 
 
 Christian. How long did you stay in the City of De- 
 struction, before you set out after me on your pilgrimage ? 
 
 Faithful. Till I could stay no longer; for there was 
 great talk presently after you were gone out, that our 
 city would, in short time, with fire from heaven, be burned 
 down to the ground. 
 
 Christian. What ! did your neighbours talk so 'i 
 
 Faithful. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth. 
 
 Christian. What ! and did no more of them but you 
 come out to escape the danger .'' 
 
 Faithful. Though there was, as I said, a great talk 
 thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. 
 For in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them 
 deridingly speak of you and of your desperate journey (for 
 so they called this your pilgrimage), but I did believe, and 
 do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brim- 
 stone from above ; and therefore I have made my escape. 
 
 Christian. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable.'* 
 
88 Zbc ilMlovtm'5 |p»ro(irc9S 
 
 FAiTHFn.. Yos.C'hiisliaiul hcAvd thai lu" followed voutill 
 he oanio at the Slouij,h ot" Dospoiul, whoiv, as some said, ho 
 foil in; but l\o would not. ho known to havo so dono ; but 
 I am suro ho was soundly bodabblod with tiiat kiml of dirt. 
 
 C'musTiAN. Ami what said tho noii^hbours to him? 
 
 Faituful. He hath, sinoo his i^oing baok, boon had 
 ^ivatlv in ilorision, and that anioui^ all sorts of }>oo[)lo ; 
 sonio lio luook and ilospiso him ; ami scaroo will any sot 
 him on work. Ho is now sovou timos worso than if he 
 had novor o-ono out of tho city. 
 
 C^iuisriAX. But why should thov bo so sot against him, 
 sinoo thov also despise tho way that ho foi-sook? 
 
 FAvrui ri.. Oh, thoy sav, hang him, he is a turn-ooat ! 
 he was not true to his profession. 1 think (loil has stirred 
 up even his enemies ti> hiss at him, and make him a pro- 
 verb, booauso he hath torsakon tho way (.lor. wix. IS, ID). 
 
 CuKisriAX. Hail vou no talk with him before you oamo 
 out ? 
 
 FArruKri,. I mot him onoo in the streets, but he leered 
 away on tho other side, as one ashamed of what ho hail 
 dono ; so I spake not to him. 
 
 ruKisriAN. Well, at my first sotting out, 1 had hopes of 
 that man; but now I fear ho will perish in the overthrow 
 of the city : for it is happened to him neoording to the 
 true proverb, "The dog w turned to his own vomit again; 
 and tho sow that was washed, to her wallowing in tho 
 mire " (5i Pet. ii. il^). 
 
 Ywnivi'X.. Those are my fears of him too ; but w i\o oan 
 hinder that which will he? 
 
 CinusriAX. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, 
 let us leave him, and talk of things that moiv innnediatoly 
 coneern oui"selves. Toll me now what you have met with 
 in the way as you oamo; for I know you have mot with 
 some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. 
 
Faithful. I escaped the slouch that I perceived you 
 fell into, and ^ot up to the gate without that danger; 
 ordy I met with one whose name was Wanton, who had 
 like to have done me a mischief. 
 
 Christian. It was well you escaped her net; Jose|)h 
 was hard put to it hy her, and he escaped her as you did ; 
 but it had like to have cost him his life ((ien. xxxix. 
 11-13). ]Jut what did she do to you ? 
 
 FAiTiii'Tir,. You cannot think, but that you know some- 
 thing, what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me 
 hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of 
 content. 
 
 CuiiisriAN. Nay, she did not pronn'se you the content 
 of a good conscience. 
 
 FArniFUL. You know what I mean; all carnal and 
 fleshly content. 
 
 CuKis'JiAN. Thank God you have escaped her: "The 
 abhorred of the Lord shall fall into her ditch" (Ps, 
 xxii. 14). 
 
 FArrni-UL. Nay, I know not whether 1 did wholly 
 escape her or no. 
 
 Christian. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her 
 desires P 
 
 FAirHi'iJi-. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an 
 old writing that I had seen, which said, "Her ste{)s take 
 hold on hell " (I's. v. 5). So I shut mine eyes, because I 
 would not be bewitched with her looks (Job. xxxi. 1). 
 Then slie railed on me, and I went my way. 
 
 Chrisi'ian. Did you meet with no other assault as you 
 came ? 
 
 Faithk(jl. When I came to the foot of the hill called 
 l^ifliculty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me 
 what I was and whither bound. I told him that I am a 
 pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old 
 
84 XTbc piknlm'5 iproorcss 
 
 man. Thou lookost like an honest fellow ; wilt thou be 
 content to dwell with nie for the wages that I shall give 
 thee ? Then I asked him his name, and where he d\> elt. 
 He sail! his name was Adam the First, and that he dwelt 
 in the Town of Deeeit (Eph. iv. J2i2). I asked him then 
 what was liis work, and what the wages that he woulil 
 give. He told me, that his work was many delights ; anv( 
 his wages that I should be his heir at last. I further 
 asked him what house he kept, anil what other servants 
 he had. So he told me, that his house was maintained 
 with all the dainties in the world; and that his servants 
 were those of his own begetting. Then I asked if lie had 
 any children. He said that he had but three daughters; 
 the Lust of the Flesh, the Tust of the Kyes, and the Pride 
 of Life, and that I should marry them all if I would 
 (1 John ii. !()). Then I asked how long time he would 
 have me live with him ? And he told me, As long as he 
 lived himself. 
 
 CuuisriAN. Well, and what conclusion came the old 
 man and vou to at last ? 
 
 FAmn-UL. AVhy, at first, 1 found myself somewhat in- 
 clinable to go with the man, for T thought he spake very 
 fair; but looking in his foreheail, as 1 talked with him, I 
 saw there written, '• Put off the old man with his deeds." 
 
 CniusriAX. And how then.^ 
 
 FAnuFri.. Then it came burning hot into mv mind, 
 whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got 
 me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So I 
 bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the 
 door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me that 
 he would send such a one after me, that should make my 
 M'ay bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from 
 him; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him 
 take hold of my fiesh, and give me such a deadly twitch 
 
XTbe ipiloHm's prooress 85 
 
 back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after him- 
 self. This made me cry, "() wretched man ! "" (Iloin. vii. 
 24). So I went on my way up tFie hill. 
 
 Now when I had got about liulf'-way up, I looked 
 behind, and saw one coming aft(;r me, swift as the wind ; 
 so h(! overtook me just about tPie place where the settle 
 stands. 
 
 CuKis'jiAN. Just there, said (Christian, did I sit down to 
 rest me ; but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this 
 roll out of my bosom. 
 
 FAnuKi;!.. Hut, good })rother, hear me out. So soon as 
 the man overtook me, he was but a word and a l)low, for 
 down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. Ijut when I 
 was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore 
 he served me so. He said, })ecause of my secret inclining 
 to Adam the First : and with that he struck me another 
 deadly blow on the bi'east, and beat me down backward; 
 so I lay at his foot as dead as before. So, when I came 
 to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said, I know 
 not how to show mercy ; and with that knocked me down 
 airain. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that 
 one came by and bid him forbear. 
 
 CiriiisTiAX. Who was that that bid him forbear? 
 
 Fajtiii'"i;l. I did not know him at first, but as he went 
 by, I perceived the holes in his hands and in his side; 
 then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up 
 the hill. 
 
 CiiKJS'iiAN. That man that overtook you was Moses. 
 He spareth none, neither knoweth he how to show mercy 
 to those that trangress his law. 
 
 FArriii-ijL. I know it very well ; it was not the first 
 time tliat he has met with me. It was he that came to 
 me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he 
 would burn my house ov<ir my head if I stayed there. 
 
C'uKisriAX. \h\[ ilid you not soe the house that stood 
 thoiv on [\\c top *if tho hill, on the side of which IMosos 
 \iiol you ? 
 
 IVvnui I 1,. Vos, anil the Hons too, befou^ 1 came at it: 
 hut I'oi" the hous, I think they weiv asleep, for it wjis 
 ahtnit noon ; and heeau.se 1 had so niueh of the dav before 
 nu\ I {)!issed by the jiorter, and eanie down the hill. 
 
 t'uuisijAN. He toll! me, indeeil, that he saw you go by, 
 but I wish you had called at the house, for they woidd 
 have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce 
 h;\ve forgot tiiem to the day of your death. Hut pray 
 tell me. Did you meet nobtnly in \\\c \ alley of Humility? 
 
 l-'Arrni'i'i.. Ves. I met with one Discontent, who would 
 willinolv hjive pcrsunded nie to «;■«> back again with him; 
 his ri\'\son was. I'ov thai the valK^v was alti>gether Mithout 
 honi>ur. \\c [o\A nie, moivover, that theiv to go was tlie 
 way to ilisobcy all my friends, as l\-ide, Arrog.ancy, Self- 
 conceit, XN'onllv-glorv, with others. wlu>, he knew, as he 
 sjiid. wt>nKl be verv much »)trendetl. if I made sui-h a t\>ol 
 of uiYself a.s to wade ti\n>ugh this vallev. 
 
 CuuKSTl.w. \\ ell, auil how liiil xahi .answer him? 
 
 FArrniri.. 1 \o\i.\ him th.at .although .all these that l\e 
 Tiamed might claim kindred o( me, ami th.at rightly, for 
 indeed thev were mv rel.ations .acciMxling to the flesh; vet 
 since I becaine a pilgrim, thev h.ave tlisownal me, as I 
 .also have ivjected them; .and th»Mvf\)re thev were ti> me 
 now uo \uovc than iftlu^v had never been of mv line.agw 
 
 1 tolil hin\, moivover, Ih.at as to this valley, he h.ad 
 tpiite misrepresented the thing; " fiir before honour is 
 humihty, .and a h.aughtv spirit bet'ore a fall." Theivfore, 
 sjvid I, I had rather go tiu\>ugh this valley to the honour 
 that was so acci)unted bv the wi.sest, than choose that 
 whicii he esteenuHl most wiirthv our airections. 
 
 C'uiasriAX. 1NK4 vou \\ilh nothiusi" else in th.at valley? 
 
XTbc iptloiini's proorcss 87 
 
 FAlTirrtii,. Yes, I riicl, vvilh Shame; bill, of all I.Ik; iiicii 
 that I met with in my [)il;^iima^e, he, 1 think, bcurH the 
 wroTif^ name. 'I'Ik; others would be said nay, after a little 
 ar^iuiiciitation, and somewh/it (-Ise ; but this bold-faced 
 Shame would never have done. 
 
 CniM.siiAN. Why, wliat (Hd lie say to yon P 
 FArriiKiu,. Wtiat ! wiiy, he objected against ri'li^'ion 
 itself; he said it was a pitiful, low, sneakin/^ business for 
 a man to mind religion ; he said that a tender conscience 
 was an umnanly thirif^; and tliat i'or a man to watch over 
 his words and ways, so as to tie U[) himself from that 
 hectoring liberty tliat the brave spirits of the times ac- 
 custom themselves unto, would m.ike him the ridicule of 
 the times. He objected also, that but f<;w of tlu; mighty, 
 rich, or wise, were ever of my opinion (1 ('or. i. ^0, iii. 
 18 ; Phil. iii. 7, 8) ; nor any of them neither (John vii. 48), 
 before they were persuaded to Ix; fools, and to be of a 
 voluntary fondness, to venture the loss of all, for nobody 
 knows what. He, moreover, object(;d the base; and low 
 estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pilrrrinis, 
 of the times in which they lived : also their ignorance 
 and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, 
 h(; did liold nu! to it at that rab- also, aboid, a ^r(!at many 
 more things than ]u:n: I relate; as, that it was a .ikairu: 
 to sit whining and mournin/^ under a sermon, and a shame 
 to come sigliing and groaning home; that it was a nharnc 
 to ask my neiglibour forgiveness for petty faults, or to 
 make restitution where I have taken from any. He said, 
 also, that religion made a man grow strange to the great, 
 because of a few vic(;s, which he called by finer nani(!s; and 
 made him own and respect the base, because of the same 
 religious fraternity. And is not this, .said 1h;, a .sluiinc 'i* 
 (JiiRisTiAN'. And what did you say to him .'' 
 Faithful. Say ! I could not tell what to say at the; first. 
 
88 ZlK ipilovim'i^ ll>roorci^3 
 
 ^'l^•^, lie pill iiu' so Id il, that my l)li)oil i'anKMi|) in luyfaco; 
 ovoM this shamo t\>U-lu'il it up, ami liail almost boat mo 
 (luito oil". Hut at last 1 hcoaii to roiisiiliM-, that "that 
 wliirli is hii;l»Iv rsliHMiUHl amoii<;' moil is hail in ahomina- 
 tioii with (Joil" (Liiko \vi. I,")). Ami 1 thought ai;aiii, 
 this Sliami^ ti'lls mo \vhat mi'u ai'o; hut il lolls mo iiolhiug 
 what (loil or tlu> \\\)rii of iJoil is. Autl 1 lhoui>;iil, more- 
 oviM", that at tho dav of ih)om, wo shall iiol ho (.loomod to 
 lioalli or lifo aooonliiiii; to tho hooloriuu^ spirits of the 
 worM, hut noooriliiiii; to lhi> wisilom and law of tho lliiihost. 
 Thoroforo, thougiit l,what Cioil says is host, iuilooii is host, 
 tlu)uuh all tho mon in tho world aro ai::ainsl it. Sooiuij;, 
 thou, that (uul profors his lolinion ; sooiuij: Ciod profors a 
 londor oonsoionoo ; sooinijthov thai mako tluMUsolvos fools 
 ft)r tho kiuodom of hoavtai ai\> wi^-st ; and that tho poor nuvn 
 thai lovolh Christ is riohor than tiio i;;ivalost man in tho 
 AvorKl that hatos him ; iS7/(////<-, doparl, lht)U art an ouimuv 
 to mv s;ilvatit)u! Shall 1 outortaiu thtv au'aiust mv 
 sovoroiiin l.onl. llow thon shall 1 look him in tho i\u.'v 
 at his oomino;? ShouKl 1 now ho ashanioil of his wavs and 
 siMvauts, how i-an 1 oxpi-ol tho hU'ssino- ? (Mark viii. JJS). 
 Ihit. ii\dood, this Shanu^ was a hold villain; 1 oi>uld soaroo 
 shaki> him out oi' mv oompanv ; yoa, lu> wi>uld ho hauntino; 
 of mo, aud 0(>utinuallv wiiispoi-in^- mo in tho oar, with 
 somo ono t)r otluM" of tho inlirmilios that altond roligion ; 
 but at last 1 tt>lil hiuj it was hut in vain to attompt 
 furliior in this husinoss : t\>r thosc> thini:;s that ho ilis- 
 dainod, in thosi' diil I soo nn>sl olorv ; and so at last I 
 jjol past this imporluualo ono. Anil whon 1 had shakou 
 him o{\\ Ihoii 1 hoi;an ti> sin^- — 
 
 ** TIjo trials tliat thoso iiiiMi «li> moot witlial, 
 Tliat aro t)l)oiUtM\t to tlu' lioavoiily oall, 
 .\ro luaiiit'old, and siiitod to tho tlosh. 
 Ami o»»iuo. anil oomo, ami oi)mo ai;ain afresh. 
 
Ube piloi'iin'3 proorcss sy 
 
 TliJit now, or HoiiKfUfrio elso, vvci l»y Uicrri iiifiy 
 Ho takciii, ovcri^oiiK!, ;iriil cust Jiway. 
 Oh, lot tlio itilf^ririiH, let llio j)il^riins, llicn 
 1J« vifrilaiii, ;iii(l ()niL f liiunsrlvcis liU(! men." 
 
 CniiisTiAN. I luu ^IjkI, my hiotlH!!', Ihaf, lliou didst 
 wil lislfind lliis villiiin so hruvcly ; for of all, us llioii saycst, 
 I lliiiik Ik; lias LIk; vvroii^ naiiic; lor Ik; is so hold as to 
 follow lis in tlu; stn^^ls, and toattijinpt to put us to slianic 
 iM'foro all men : that is, to make; us ashaiiUMi of that whicJi 
 is good ; hut if he was not liinisclf audacious, Ik; would 
 Jic;v(!r attempt to do as he does. Jiut let us still resist 
 him ; for not\vithstan(lin<^ all his bravadoes, he promoteth 
 the fool and Horn; else. " 'I'Ik; wise siiall iniierit glory," 
 8aid Solomon; "but shame shall l)e the promotion of 
 fools "(I'rov. iii. .%). 
 
 1*'ai'I'hmm,. I think w(! must cry to llim for hclj) against 
 Shame, who would have us to b(! valiant for the truth 
 upon the eai'th. 
 
 Christian. You say true; but did you meet nobody 
 else in that valley P 
 
 FAnirii'iii,. No, not I; for I had simshinc; all I he rest of 
 the way through that, and also through the Valley of 
 the Shadow of Death. 
 
 (-MRISTIAN. It was well for you. I am sure it fared far 
 otherwise with me; I had for a long season, as soon aliiKjst 
 as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that 
 fold fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily lu? would have 
 killed me, especially when he got mo down and crushed 
 me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces; 
 for as he threw me, my sword flew out of my liand ; nay, 
 he told me he was sure of me : but I cried to God, and 
 he heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles. 
 Then I entered into the Valley of the Sliadow of Death, 
 and had no liglit for almost half the way throiigli it. I 
 
90 Zbc iptlovtm's proorcss 
 
 thouirht I should have been killed there, over and over ; but 
 at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went through 
 that which was behind with far more ease and quiet. 
 
 Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on, 
 Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man 
 whose name is Talkative, walking at a distance beside 
 them ; for in this place there was room enough for them 
 all to walk. He was a tall man, and something more 
 comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful 
 addressed himself in this manner : — 
 
 FArrnFui.. Friend, w hither away ? Are you going to 
 the heavenly country ? 
 
 Talkative. I am going to the same place. 
 ^ FArrHKui,. That is well ; then I hope we may have your 
 good company. 
 
 Talkative. With a very good will will I be your com- 
 panion. 
 
 Faithful. Come on, then, and let us go together, and 
 let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are 
 profitable. 
 
 Talkative. To talk of things that are good, to me is 
 very acceptable, w ith you or with any other ; and I am 
 glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a 
 work ; for, to speak the truth, there are but few that care 
 thus to spend their time (as they are in their travels), 
 but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no 
 profit ; and this hath been a trouble to me. 
 
 Faituittl. That is indeed a thing to be lamented ; for 
 what things so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth 
 of men on earth, as are the things of the God of heaven ? 
 
 Talkative. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings 
 are full of conviction; and 1 will add, what thing is so 
 pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things 
 of God ? What things so pleasant (that is, if a man hath 
 
TLbc ipilorim's iproorcss 91 
 
 any d(li<^lil in things that are wonderful)? For instance, 
 if a man doth deh'^ht to talk of the history or the mystery of 
 things ; or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, worulcrs, 
 or sip'iis, where shall he lind things reconh-d so delight- 
 ful, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture? 
 
 FAViiiviJf.. That is true; but to he f)rofited by such 
 things in our talk should be that which we design. 
 
 Tai.kaiivk. That is it that 1 said; for to talk of such 
 things is most profitable; for by so doing, a man may 
 g(!t knowledge of inany things; as of the vanity of earthly 
 things, and the benefit of things above. 'J'hus, in general, 
 but more particularly, by this, a man may learn the 
 necessity of the new birth, the insufficienciy of our works, 
 the need of Christ's righteousness, Hic. JJcsides, by this 
 a man may learn, by talk, what it is to repent, to believe, 
 to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this also a man may 
 learn what are the great promises and consolations of the 
 gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by tliis a man may 
 learn to refute false opinions, to vindioite the truth, and 
 also to instruct the ignorant. 
 
 I'aitukul. All this is true, and glad am I to hear these 
 things from you. 
 
 Tai-kaiivk. Alas! the want of this is the cause why so 
 few understand the need of faith, and the necessity of a 
 work of grace in their soid, in order to eterrjal life; but 
 ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a man 
 can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 FAinnarL. IJut, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of 
 these is the gift of Ood ; no man attuiricth to them by 
 human industry, or ordy by the talk of them. 
 
 Tai-kativk. All this I know very well; for a man can 
 receive nothing, exce[)t it be given him from heaven; all 
 is of grace, not of works. I could give you a hundred 
 scriptures for the confirmation of this. 
 
92 XTbc pilorim*!? Il>r0in*c55 
 
 Faitiu'iii.. \\'o1I, tlieii, said Faithful, what is that one 
 thiui*' that wo shall at this timo tbuml our tliscourso ujiou? 
 
 Talkaiivk. What you will. I will talk of things 
 lieavonlv, or thinii's earthly; thing's moral, or things 
 ovangvlii-al ; things sacred, or things profane; things past, 
 or things to come ; things foreign, or things at home ; 
 things more essential, or things circumstantial; provided 
 that all be done to our profit. 
 
 FAniiiri,. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and 
 stepping to I'hristian (for he walked all this wlule by 
 himself), he saiil to him (but softly), AVhat a brave com- 
 jianion have we got! Surely this man will make a very 
 excellent pilgrim. 
 
 CnuisriAN. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said. 
 This man, with whom vou are so taken, will beguile, with 
 that tongue of his, twenty of them that know him not. 
 
 FAiruiri.. Do vou know him, then? 
 
 CHiusriAN. Know him ! Yes, better than he knows 
 himself. 
 
 FAvrniri,. Tray, what is he.? 
 
 Christian. His name is Talkative ; he dwelleth in our 
 town. I w onder that you should be a stranger to him, 
 onlv 1 consider that our town is large. 
 
 FArruKii,.» \Vhose son is he? Ami whereabout does he 
 dwell.? 
 
 CmusriAN. lie is the son of one Say- well; he dwelt in 
 Prating Kow ; and is known of all that are acquainted 
 with him, bv the name of Talkative in Prating Row ; and 
 notwithstanding his tine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow. 
 
 FAvrnFii.. Well, he seems to be a very pivtty man. 
 
 CuuisriAN. Thi\t is, to them who have not thorough 
 acquaintance w ith him ; for he is best abroad ; near liome, 
 he is uglv enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man, 
 brings to mv mind what I have observed in the work of 
 
Ube piloi*im'5 prooress 9s 
 
 the painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but, 
 very near, more uiipleasin«jj. 
 
 FArruKiJi,. Hut I am ready to think you do but jest, 
 because you smiled. 
 
 Cuuis'iiAN. God forbid that I should jest (althou^-h I 
 smiled) in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely! 
 I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is 
 for any coinj)any, and for any talk; as he talketh now 
 with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench; 
 and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of 
 these thino-s he hath in his mouth ; religion hath no })lace 
 in his heart, or house, or conversation ; all he hath, lieth 
 in his tongue, and his religion is, to make a noise there- 
 with. 
 
 Faithful. Say you so ! then am I in this man greatly 
 deceived. 
 
 Christian. Deceived! you may be sure of it; remember 
 the proverb, " They say and do not " (Matt, xxiii. .'J), liut 
 the "kingdom of God is not in word, but in power" 
 (1 Cor. iv. 20). He talketh of prayer, of repentance, 
 of faith, and of the new birth ; but he knows but ordy 
 to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have 
 observed him both at home and abroad ; and 1 know what 
 I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of 
 religion as the white of an egg is of savoiu-. 'J'here is 
 there neither prayer, nor sign of repentance for sin ; yea, 
 the brute in his kind serves God far better than he. lie 
 is the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion, to all 
 that know him ; it can hardly have a good word in all 
 that end of the town where he dwells, through him (Jlorn. 
 ii. 24, 25). Thus say the connnou people that know him, 
 A saint abroad, and a devil at home. J lis poor family 
 finds it so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so 
 unreasonable with his servants, that they neither know 
 
94 XTbc pllGilm's prootcss 
 
 how to do for, or speak to him. Men that have any 
 dealings with him, say it is better to deal with a Turk 
 than with him ; for fairer dealing they shall liave at their 
 hands. This Talkative (if it be possible) will go beyond 
 them, defraud, beguile, and overreach them. IJesides, he 
 brings up his sons to follow his steps ; and if lie findeth 
 in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the 
 first appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them 
 fools and blockheads, and by no means will employ them 
 in much, or speak to their connnendations before others. 
 For my part, I am of opinion, that he has, by his wicked 
 life, caused many to stumble and fall ; and will be, if God 
 prevent not, the ruin of many more. 
 
 FAiTHi'tTL. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe 
 you; not only because you say you know him, but also 
 because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. 
 For I cannot think that you speak these things of ill-will, 
 but because it is even so as you say. 
 
 Christian. Had I known him no more than you, I 
 might perhaps have thought of him, as, at the first, you 
 did ; yea, had he received this report at their hands only 
 that are enemies to religion, I should have thought it had 
 been a slander — a lot that often falls from bad men"'s 
 mouths upon good men''s names and professions ; but all 
 these things, yea, and a great many more as bad, of my 
 own knowledge, I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good 
 men are ashamed of him ; they can neither call him 
 brother nor friend ; the very naming of him among them 
 makes tliem blush, if they know him. 
 
 FAn'HFUL. Well, I see that saying and doing are two 
 things, and hereafter 1 shall better observe this distinction, 
 
 CnuisTiAN. They are two things, indeed, and are as 
 diverse as are the soul and the body ; for as the body with- 
 out the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if it be alone. 
 
TTbe ipttl^rfiiVs iprootess 95 
 
 is but a dead carcass, also. The soul of religion is the 
 practical part : " Pure religion and undefiled, before God 
 and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows 
 in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the 
 world ■" (James i. 27 ; see ver. 22-26). This Talkative is 
 not aware of; he thinks that hearing and saying will 
 make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own 
 soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed ; talking 
 is not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart 
 and life ; aiid let us assure ourselves, that at the day of 
 doom men shall be judged according to their fruits (Matt, 
 xiii., xxv.)j It will not be said then. Did you believe.? 
 but, Were you doers, or talkers only ? and accordingly 
 shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared 
 to our harvest; and you know men at harvest regard 
 nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted 
 that is not of faith, but I speak this to show you how in- 
 significant the profession of Talkative will be at that day. 
 
 Faithful. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by 
 which he describeth the beast that is clean (Lev. xi. ; 
 Deut. xiv.). He is such a one that parteth the hoof and 
 cheweth the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that 
 cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but 
 yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And 
 this truly resembleth Talkative ; he cheweth the cud, he 
 seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the word ; but he 
 divideth not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of 
 sinners ; but, as the hare, he retaineth the foot of a dog 
 or bear, and therefore he is unclean. 
 
 Christian. You have spoken, for aught I know, the 
 true gospel-sense of those texts. And I will add another 
 thing : Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers, 
 too, " sounding brass and tinkling cymbals," that is, as he 
 expounds them in another place, "things without life, 
 
jjivinij somul" {\ Cov. xiii. 1-3, xiv. 7). 'riiinjxs without 
 litV, Ih.it is. wilhmit tlio true faith aiul ijnuv of the 
 ijosprl ; aiul i-i)nsiH|uiMillv, Ihinujs that sliali novor he 
 nlaivil ill the kini;vii>iu of hcavoii aiuoiio- those tliat are 
 the ehikhen of lite; thouol» tiieir somul, bv their talk, be 
 as if it weiv liie toni^ue or voiee of an ano^«l. 
 
 FviruKi I.. Well, 1 was not so foml of his eouijvxiiy at 
 (li-st, but I am jus siek of it now. \\'hat shall we ilo to l)0 
 rill of hiu) ? 
 
 (^nnsn.w. Take mv ailviir, ai\il ilo as I bill you, anil 
 vou shall llnil that he will soon be siek of your eompany 
 too, exeept Cioil shall tmuh his heart, anil turn it. 
 
 l'\\rrnKri. N\ iiat wouKl vou have me to ilo? 
 
 C^UKisriAN. Whv, i2;o to hinu ami enter into some serious 
 ilivseoui'se about the power of ivliu:ion ; ami ask him plainly 
 (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether this 
 thino- be set up in his heart, house, or eonvei-sation. 
 
 FAiruiii. 'V\\c\\ Faithful steppinl forwanl aoaiu, ami 
 siiiil to Talkative, Come, what eheer? How is it now ? 
 
 'IVwKAnvK. Thank vou, well. I tliouixht we shouM 
 have hail a i::reat ileal oi' talk by this time. 
 
 FAUuKn.. Well, if vou will, we will fall to it now; ami 
 siniv von let't it with me to slate the question, let it l>e 
 this: How ili>ll» the saviiii; i^raee o( Cioil iliseover itself, 
 NNhen it is in the heart of man r 
 
 Tai.kmivk. I peiveive, then, that our talk nuist be 
 about the power o( t]\it»ix^. Well, it is a very i;;otHl 
 question, ami 1 shall be willing to answer you. Auil take 
 mv answer in brief, thus: Fii-st, Wheiv the ijraee of CJoii 
 is in the heart, it eauseth theiv a oreat outery ai::ainst sin. 
 Seeomlly 
 
 FAvruKi 1. Nav, hoKl, let us eonsiiler oi' one at onee. 
 I think you should mther say. It shows itself by inelining 
 the soul to abhor its sin. 
 
XTbc OMIflcim's D^ro(Irc5B 97 
 
 Tai.kaiivk. Why, what (lidbrence is there l)etw(!('n cry- 
 ing oiil, a<^aiiiHl,, and abhorring of nin P 
 
 J''Arnii'ni.. Oh, a ^rcal, doil. A man may ci'y oiil, 
 against sin of policy, hiil, he c/innol, ahhor il, hiil. I)y 
 virtue of a ^'odly aniipalhy a;^ainHl, il. I liav(r h(rai(l 
 many cry out a<<;ainHL sin in IJk; pnlpil, wlio yet can abid(! 
 it well enouf^Ii in the lujart, hoiiH(;, and conversation. 
 Joseph's mistress cried out witli a loud voice, as if she IiatI 
 been very holy; but slie would willingly, notwithstanding 
 that, have comrrntted unchiarmesH witii him ((ten. xxxix. 
 15). Some cry out a^aitist sin, even as the; mother cries 
 out against lier cliild in }ier lap, when slie calleth it slut 
 and riauf^ld.y ^irl, and then falls to hu<^^in^ and kissing it. 
 
 Talkaiivi;. Yom lie; at the catt'h, 1 perceive. 
 
 l''Airiii(ii,. No, not I; I am only for Hettinf»; things rif^ht. 
 IJut wh/it is the s(,'cond thin/^ whereby you would prove; a 
 dis(!overy of a work of ^ra<;e in tlie lieart ? 
 
 'rAi.KAiivi:. (ir(iat knowledf^e of ^osjiel inyHterieH. 
 
 FAniiKiii,. 'I'Jiis si^n should liave been first; but (irstor 
 last, it is also false; for knowlecJ^e, ^reat knowledge;, may 
 be obtain(!(l in the iriysteries of tlie gospel, and yet no 
 work of f^race in the soul (1 (.'or. xiii.). V(;a, if a man 
 liav(,' all knowledf^e, Ik; may yet Im; nothing, and so conse- 
 (piently be no child of (iod. WJi(;n (^Jirist said, " Do you 
 know ail these thiri;i;s ? ^ and the disciples liad answtiicd. 
 Yes; [le addeth, " l{lessed are ye if ye do them." lb; 
 doth not lay the; blessing in the knowing of tf)(;m, but in 
 the doinp^' of them. J'"or th(;r(; is a knowledge; Ihat is not 
 attended with (Joing : "lie that knoweth his master's 
 will, and doeth it not."" A man may know lik(; an an^ei, 
 and yet be no ('lu-istian, tfi(;refore your si^^ti of it is not 
 true. Indeed, to know is a tiling that pleas(;tl) talkers 
 and boasters; but to do is that which j)leasetii (ioti. Not 
 that the heai't can be good without knowledge;; for with- 
 
98 Ubc ipilovim'B proorcss 
 
 out that tho lioiirt is nauojht. There is, therefore, know- 
 leth'-e and knowledge. Knowledge that resteth in the 
 bare speculation of things; and knowledge that is accom- 
 panied with the grace of faith and love; which puts a 
 man upon doing even the will of (iod from the heart: 
 the fii-st of these will serve the talker ; but without tlie 
 other the true Christian is not content. " Give me under- 
 standing, and I shall keep thv law; yea, I shall observe it 
 with my whole heart " (Ps. cxix. 34). 
 
 Talkative. You lie at the catch again; this is not for 
 edification. 
 
 Faithful. Well, if you please, propound another sign 
 how this work of grace discovereth itself where it is. 
 
 Tai.kai'ivk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 
 
 Faithful. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave 
 to do it .? 
 
 Talka'itvk. You may use your liberty. 
 
 FArniFUL. A work of grace in the soul discovereth it- 
 self, either to him that hath it, or to standers by. 
 
 To him that hath it tluis : It gives liim conviction of 
 sin, especially of the detilenient of his nature and the sin 
 of unbelief (for the siike of w Inch he is sure to be dannied, 
 if he findeth not mercy at God's hand, by faith in Jesus 
 Christ), (John xvi. 8 ; Rom. vii. 2-i ; John xvi. 9 ; jNIark 
 xvi. 16). This sight and sense of things worketh in him 
 sorrow and shame for sin ; he iindeth, moreover, revealed 
 in him the Saviour of the woi-ld, and the absolute necessity 
 of closing with him for life, at the wliich he Iindeth 
 hungerings and thirstings after him ; to which hungerings, 
 &c., the promise is made (Ps. xxxviii. 18; Jer. xxxi. 19; 
 Gal. ii. IG; Acts iv. 12; Matt. v. (J; llev. xxi. 6). Now, 
 according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his 
 Saviour, so is his jov and peace, so is his love to holiness, 
 so are his desires to know him more, and also to serve him 
 
trbe lIMlorim'5 iProorcss 99 
 
 in tin's world. IJut lli<)ii<;li I say it (liscovcivlh ilself thus 
 unto hiui, yet it is but scklom tliat lie is able to conclude 
 that this is a work of ^race ; because his corruptions now, 
 and his abused reason, make Jiis mind to tnisjiid<^e in this 
 matter; therefore, in him that liath tliis work, there is 
 required a very sound "jud<ifment before he can, with steadi- 
 ness, conchide tliat this is a work of grace. 
 To others, it is thus discovered : — 
 
 1. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ 
 (Rom. X. 10; rhil. i. 27; Matt. v. 19). 
 
 2. JJy a life answerable to that confession ; to wit, a 
 life of holiness, heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath 
 a fairnly), and by conversation-holiness in the world ; 
 which, in the general, teacheth him, inwardly, to abhor 
 his sin, and himself for that, in secret; to suppress it in 
 his family, and to promote; holiness in the world; not by 
 talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative person iriay do, but 
 by a practical subjection, in faith and love, to the power 
 of the Word (John xiv. 15; Ps. 1. 2.'i ; Job xlii. 5, 6; 
 Ezekiel xx. 43). And now, sir, as to this brief description 
 of the work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if you 
 have aught to object, object ; if not, then give me leave 
 to propound to you a second (juestion. 
 
 Talkative. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to 
 hear; let me, therefore, have your second question. 
 
 FArniKiiL. It is this : J)o you experience this first part 
 of this description of it ? and doth your life and conversa- 
 tion testify the same ? or standeth your religion in word or 
 in tongue, and not in deed and truth ? Pray, if you incline 
 to answer me in this, say no more than you know the God 
 above will say Amen to ; and also nothing but what yo'ir 
 conscience can justify you in; "for, not he that com- 
 mendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord com- 
 mendeth." Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my 
 
 L.cfC. 
 
100 XTbe pilgrim's progress 
 
 conversation, and all my neighbours, tell me I lie, is great 
 wickedness. 
 
 Talkative. Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but, 
 recovering himself, thus he replied : You come now to 
 experience, to conscience, and God ; and to appeal to Him 
 for justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse 
 I did not expect ; nor am I disposed to give an answer to 
 such questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, 
 unless you take upon you to be a catechiser, and, though 
 you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. 
 But, I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such 
 questions ? 
 
 Faithful. Because I saw you forward to talk, and 
 because I knew not that you had aught else but notion. 
 Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you, that 
 you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your 
 conversation gives this your mouth-profession the lie. They 
 say, you are a spot among Christians ; and that religion 
 fareth the worse for your ungodly conversation ; that some 
 have already stumbled at your wicked ways, and that 
 more are in danger of being destroyed thereby; your 
 religion, and an ale-house, and covetousness, and unclean- 
 ness, and swearing, and lying, and vain-company keeping, 
 &c., will stand together. The proverb is true of you 
 which is said of a whore, to wit, that she is a shame to all 
 women ; so are you a shame to all professors. 
 
 Talkative. Since you are ready to take up reports and 
 to judge so rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude you are 
 some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed 
 with ; and so adieu. 
 
 Christian. Then came up Christian, and said to his 
 brother, I told you how it would happen : your words and 
 his lusts could not agree ; he had rather leave your com- 
 pany than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said; 
 
trbe UMlgdm's jprootess loi 
 
 let him go, the loss is no man's but his own ; he has saved 
 us the trouble of going from him ; for he continuing (as I 
 suppose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a 
 blot in our company : besides, the apostle says, " From 
 such withdraw thyself." 
 
 Faithful. But I am glad we had this little discourse 
 with him ; it may happen that he will think of it again : 
 however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear 
 of his blood, if he perisheth. 
 
 Christian. You did well to talk so plainly to him as 
 you did ; there is but little of this faithful dealing with 
 men nowadays, and that makes religion to stink so in 
 the nostrils of many, as it doth; for they are these 
 talkative fools whose religion is only in word, and are 
 debauched and vain in their conversation, that (being so 
 much admitted into the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle 
 the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. 
 I wish that all men would deal with such as you have 
 done : then should they either be made more conformable 
 to religion, or the company of saints would be too hot 
 for them. Then did Faithful say — 
 
 " How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes ! 
 How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
 To drive down all before him ! But so soon 
 As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
 That's past the full, into the wane he g-oes. 
 And so will all, but he that heart-work knows." 
 
 Thus they went on talking of what they had seen by 
 the way, and so made that way easy which would other- 
 wise, no doubt, have been tedious to them ; for now they 
 went through a wilderness. 
 
 Now, when they were got almost quite out of this 
 wilderness. Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and 
 espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh ! 
 
 / 
 
102 Ubc pilorim's jproorcss 
 
 said Faithful to liis brother, who conies yonder? ITien 
 Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist. 
 Ay, and my good friend too, said Faithful, for it was he 
 that set me the way to the gate. Now was Evangelist 
 come up to them, and thus saluted them : — 
 
 Evangelist. Peace be with you, dearly beloved ; and 
 peace be to your helpei-s. 
 
 Chiustiax. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist; 
 the sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance 
 thy ancient kindness and unwearied labouring for my 
 eternal good. 
 
 Faitiii-i'l. And a thousand times welcome, said good 
 Faithful. Thy company, O sweet Evangelist, how- 
 desirable it is to us poor pilgrims ! 
 
 EvAXc.KLisT. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared 
 w ith you, my friends, since the time of our last parting ? 
 What have you met with, and how have you behaved 
 yourselves ? 
 
 Then Christian and Faithful told him of all thinffs 
 that had happened to them in the wav ; and how, and 
 with what ditlieulty, they hail arrived to that place. 
 
 Evangelist, liight glad am I, said Evangelist, not 
 that you have met with trials, but that you have been 
 victors; and for that you have, notwithstanding many 
 weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. 
 
 I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine 
 own sake and yours. I have sowed, and vou have reaped : 
 and the day is coming, when both he that sowed and they 
 tliat reaped shall rejoice together; that is, if you hold 
 out: "for in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint not''"' 
 (John iv. 36; Gal. vi. 9). The crown is before you, and 
 it is an incorruptible one ; '* so run, that you may obtain 
 it" (1 Cor. ix, 24-^7). Some there be that set out for 
 tliis crown, and, after they have gone far for it, auotlier 
 
comes in, and takes it from them : hold fast, therefore, 
 that you have; let no man take your crown (Rev. iii. 11). 
 You are not yet out of the gunshot of the devil ; you 
 have not resisted unto blood, striving against sin ; let the 
 kingdom be always before you, and believe steadfastly 
 concerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that is 
 on this side the other world get within you ; and, above 
 all, look well to your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof, 
 "for they are deceitful above all things, and desperately 
 wicked;" set your faces like a flint; you have all power 
 in heaven and earth on your side. 
 
 Christian. Then Christian thanked him for his exhor- 
 tation ; but told him, withal, that they would have him 
 speak further to them for their help the rest of the way, 
 and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a 
 prophet, and could tell them of things that might happen 
 unto them, and also how they might resist and overcome 
 them. To which request Faithful also consented. So 
 Evangelist began as followeth : — 
 
 Evx\N(;kijst. My sons, you have heard, in the words of 
 the truth of the gospel, that you must, through many 
 tribulations, enter into the kingdom of heaven. And, 
 again, that in every city bonds and afflictions abide in 
 you ; and therefore you cannot expect that you should go 
 long on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort or 
 other. You have found something of the truth of these 
 testimonies upon you alrcady, and more will inniiediately 
 follow; for now, as you see, you are almost out of this 
 wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into a town 
 that you will by-and-by see before you; and in that town 
 you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain 
 hard but they will kill you; and be you sure that one or 
 both of you must seal the testimony which you hold, with 
 blood ; but be you faithful unto death, and the King 
 
104 ube ipflariin's progress 
 
 will give you a crown of life. He that shall die there, 
 although his death will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps 
 great, he will yet have the better of his fellow; not only 
 because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, 
 but because he will escape many miseries that the other 
 will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you 
 are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled what I have 
 here related, then remember your friend, and quit your- 
 selves like men, and commit the keeping of your souls to 
 your God in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out 
 of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, 
 and the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the town 
 there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair : it is kept all the 
 year long ; it beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because 
 the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity ; and also 
 because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is 
 vanity. As is the saying of the wise, " All that cometh 
 is vanity" (Eccles. i., ii. 11-17, xi. 8; Isa. xi. 17). 
 
 This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of 
 ancient standing ; I will show you the original of it. 
 
 Almost five thousand years agone, there were pilgrims 
 walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons 
 are : and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their 
 companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims 
 made, that their way to the city lay through this town of 
 Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair ; a fair wherein 
 should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last 
 all the year long; therefore at this fair are all such 
 merchandise sold, as houses, lands, trades, places, honours, 
 preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures, 
 and delights of all sorts, as whores, bawds, wives, husbands, 
 children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, 
 silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not. 
 
And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be 
 seen juggling, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, 
 and rogues, and that of every kind. 
 
 Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, 
 murders, adulteries, false swearers, and that of a blood - 
 red colour. 
 
 And as in other fairs of less moment, there are the 
 several rows and streets, under their proper names, where 
 such and such wares are vended ; so here likewise you have 
 the proper places, rows, streets (viz., countries and king- 
 doms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be 
 found. Here is the Britain Row, the French Row, the 
 Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where 
 several sorts of vanities are to be sold. But, as in other 
 fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair, 
 so the ware of Rome and her merchandise is greatly pro- 
 moted in this fair; only our English nation, with some 
 others, have taken a dislike thereat. 
 
 Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just 
 through this town where this lusty fair is kept ; and he 
 that will go to the City, and yet not go through this 
 town, must needs " go out of the world " (1 Cor. v. 10). 
 The Prince of princes himself, when here, went through 
 this town to his own country, and that upon a fair day 
 too ; yea, and as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord 
 of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities; yea, 
 would have made him lord of the fair, would he but have 
 done him reverence as he went through the town (Matt, 
 iv. 8 ; Luke iv. 5-7). Yea, because he was such a person 
 of honour, Beelzebub had him from street to street, and 
 showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, 
 that he might, if possible, allure the Blessed One to 
 cheapen and buy some of his vanities; but he had no 
 mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the town, 
 
io(> z\yc ipiIorim'i> proorct?!^ 
 
 without layiuix out so nuich as ono iartUiuiX upon these 
 vanities. This fair, thoivtoro, is an anciont thiu*;, of Kino; 
 standiuix, ami a vorv i^roat fair. Now those pilixiiins, as I 
 said, nuist ueoils i^o throui^h this fair. \Voll. si> thev d'u\ : 
 but, bohoKI, oven as tlioy entered into the fair, all the people 
 in the fair weiv moved, and tlie town itself as it were in 
 !V hubbub about them ; anil that for several reasons : for — 
 
 I'irst, The pili<;rinjs were elothoil with sueh kind of 
 raiment as w.-vs diverse from the raiment of anv that 
 tradini in that fair. The people, therefoiv, of the fair 
 matlo a ijivat ijazing u})on them : some said thev were 
 tools, some they weiv bedlams, and some they aiv out- 
 lauilish men (1 Cov. ii. 7, 8). 
 
 Seeondly, And as they wouiloroil at their apparel, so 
 they did likewise at their speeeh ; for few eould under- 
 stand what they siiid ; they naturally spoke the lano^uage 
 o( (\*vnaan, but they that kept the fair weiv the men of 
 this world ; so that, from one cud of the tair to the other, 
 thev seemed barbarians oaeh to the other. 
 
 Thiixlly, Ihit that whieh did not a little amuse the 
 nunvhandisers was. that these pilo;rims sot verv lii^ht bv 
 all their Mares ; thev eaivil not so mueh as to look upon 
 them; ami if they ealled u}n>n them to buv. thev would 
 put their (iuixers in their ears, and erv. *" Turn awav mine 
 eyes tVom boholdiug vanitv." and look upwards, signifviuij 
 that their trade and tratlie was in heaven (Ps. exix. 37; 
 Phil. iii. 11), ^20). 
 
 One ehana\i moekinijlv. bohoKliuiX the earriai::^ of the 
 men. to say imto them. What will ve buv.'' Hut thev, 
 looking i:;ravolv upi>n him. answoroil, "We buv the 
 truth" (IVov. wiii. ^i'A). .\t that thoiv wa.s an oeea.sion 
 taken to despise the men the more; some moekiuij. some 
 taunt iuix. some sjK^aking ivproaehfuUv. and some i-alliuo; 
 upon others to smite them. At last thin^TS eame io a 
 
trbe {[Mlorftn'5 pcootess 107 
 
 hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch that all 
 order was confounded. Now was word presently brought 
 to the great one of the fair, who quickly came down, 
 and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take these 
 men into examination, about whom the fair was almost 
 overturned. So the men were brought to examination ; 
 and they that sat upon them asked them whence they 
 came, whither they went, and what they did there, iu 
 such an unusual garb ? The men told them that they 
 were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they 
 were going to their own country, which was the heavenly 
 Jerusalem (Heb. ix. 13-16); and that they had given no 
 occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchan- 
 disers, thus to abuse them, and to let them in their 
 journey, except it was for that, when one asked them 
 what they would buy, they said they would buy the 
 truth. Hut they that were appointed to examine them 
 did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and 
 mad, or else such as came to put all things into a con- 
 fusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat 
 them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them 
 into the cage, that they might be made a spectacle to all 
 the men of the fair. 
 
 Behold Vanity P^air ! the pilji^rims there 
 
 Are chain'd and stand beside : 
 Even so it was our Lord pass'd here. 
 
 And on Mount (Calvary died. 
 
 There, therefore, they lay for some time, and were made 
 the objects of any man''s sport, or malice, or revenge, the 
 great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. 
 But the men being patient, and not rendering railing for 
 railing, but contrariwise, blessing, and giving good words 
 for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the 
 
108 XLbc piloriin'3 Il>ro(irc50 
 
 fair that were more observinor, and less prejudiced than 
 the rest, began to eheck and blame the baser sort for their 
 continual abuses done by thcni to the men ; thev, there- 
 fore, in angry manner, let fly at them again, counting 
 them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them 
 that they seemed confederates, and should be made par- 
 takers of their misfortunes. The other replied, that for 
 aught they could see, the men were quiet, and sober, and 
 intended nobody any harm ; and that there Mere many 
 that traded in their fair that were more worthy to be put 
 into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men 
 they had abused. Thus, after divers words had jmssed on 
 both sides, the men behaving themselves all the while verv 
 wisely and soberly before them, they fell to some blows 
 among themselves, and did harm one to another. Then 
 were these two poor men brought before their examiners 
 again, and there charged as being guilty of the late 
 hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat them 
 pitifullv, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in 
 chains up and down the fair, for an example and a terror 
 to othei-s, lest any should speak in their behalf, or 
 join themselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful 
 behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the igno- 
 miny and shame that was cast upon them, with so much 
 meekness and patience, that it won to their side, though 
 but few in comparison of the rest, several of the men in 
 the fair. This put the other party yet into greater rage, 
 insomuch that thev concluded the ileath of these two men. 
 Wherefore they threatened that the cage nor irons should 
 serve their turn, but that they should die, for the abuse 
 they had done, aiul for deluding the men of the fair. 
 
 Then were thev romanihul to the cage again, until 
 further order sliould be taken with them. So they put 
 them in. and made their feet fast in the stocks. 
 
Ube flMlorfm'3 proarcss 109 
 
 Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they 
 had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were 
 the more confirmed in their way and sufferings by what 
 he told them would happen to them. They also now com- 
 forted each other, that wliose lot it was to suffer, even he 
 should have the best of it; thereforeeach man secretly wislied 
 that he might have that preferment : but committing 
 themselves to the all-wise disposal of Ilim that ruleth all 
 tilings, with much content, they abode in the condition in 
 which they were, until they should l)e otherwise disposed of. 
 
 Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought 
 them forth to their trial, in order to their condenmation. 
 When the time was come, they were brougfit before their 
 enemies and arraigned. The Judge''s name was Lord 
 Hate-good. Their indictment was one and the same in 
 substance, though somewhat varying in form, the contents 
 whereof were this : — 
 
 "That they were enemies to and disturbers of their 
 trade; that they had made connnotions and divisions in 
 the town, and had won a party to their own most danger- 
 ous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince." 
 
 Now, Faithful, play the man, speak for thy God : 
 Fear not the wickcfl's malice, nor their rod : 
 Speak holdly, man, the truth is on tliy side : 
 Die for it, and to life in triumph ride. 
 
 Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set 
 himself against that which hath set itself against Him 
 that is higher than the highest. And, said he, as for 
 disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of peace ; 
 the parties that were won to us, were won by beholding 
 our truth and innocence, and they are only turned from 
 the worse to the better. And as to the king you talk 
 of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our Lord, I defy 
 him and all his angels. 
 
no Zbc lp»il(jrfm's prooress 
 
 Then proclamation was made that they that had aught 
 to say for their lord the king against the prisoner at the 
 bar, should forthwith appear and give in their evidence. 
 So there came in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Supersti- 
 tion, and Pickthank. They were then asked if they knew 
 the prisoner at the bar; and what they had to say for 
 their lord the king against him. 
 
 Then stood forth Envy ; and said to this effect : My 
 Lord, I have known this man a long time, and will attest 
 upon my oath before this honourable bench that he is — 
 
 Judge. Hold ! Give him his oath, (So they sware 
 him.) Then he said — 
 
 Envy. My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible 
 name, is one of the vilest men in our country. He neither 
 regardeth prince nor people, law nor custom ; but doth all 
 that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal 
 notions, which he in the general calls principles of faith 
 and holiness. And, in particular, I heard him once 
 myself affirm that Christianity and the customs of our 
 town of Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could 
 not be reconciled. By which saying, my Lord, he doth 
 at once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us 
 in the doing of them. 
 
 Judge. Then did the Judge say to him. Hast thou any 
 more to say ? 
 
 Envy. My Lord, I could say much more, only I would not 
 be tedious to the court. Yet, if need be, when the other 
 gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than any- 
 thing shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will enlarge 
 my testimony against him. So he was bid to stand by. 
 
 Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon 
 the prisoner. They also asked, what he could say for 
 their lord the king against him. Then they sware him ; 
 so he began. 
 
Superstition. My Loi-d, I have no great acquaintance 
 with this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge 
 of him ; however, this I know, that he is a very pestilent 
 fellow, from some discourse that, the other day, I had 
 with him in this town; for then, talking with him, I 
 heard him say, that our religion was naught, and such 
 by which a man could by no means please God. Which 
 sayings of his, my Lord, your Lordship very well knows, 
 what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we do 
 still worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall 
 be damned ; and this is that which I have to say. 
 
 Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, 
 in behalf of their lord the king, against the prisoner at 
 the bar. 
 
 Pickthank. My Lord and you gentlemen all, This 
 fellow I have known of a long time, and have heard him 
 speak things that ought not be spoke : for he hath railed 
 on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken contemp- 
 tibly of his honourable friends, whose names are the Lord 
 Old Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, 
 the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir 
 Having Greedy, with all the rest of our nobility ; and he 
 hath said, moreover, That if all men were of his mind, if 
 possible, there is not one of these noblemen should have 
 any longer a being in this town. Besides, he hath not 
 been afraid to rail on you, my Lord, who are now ap- 
 pointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, 
 with many other such like vilifying terms, with which he 
 hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town. 
 
 When this Pickthank had told his tale, the Judge 
 directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying. 
 Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what 
 these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee ? 
 
 Faithful. May I speak a few words in my own defence? 
 
112 xibc ilMlin1m'5 iproovcsd 
 
 JuDGK. Sirrah ! sirrah ! thou deservest to live no longer, 
 but to bo slain inunodiately ujmn tlie place; yet, that all 
 men niav see our i^entleness towards thee, let us hear what 
 thou, vile runagate, hast to say. 
 
 F.vrrui ri,. 1. I say, then, in answer to what INIr. Envy 
 hath spoken, I never said aught but this. That what rule, 
 or laws, or customs, or people, were flat against the ^Vord 
 of God, are diametrically opposite to Christianity. If I 
 liave said amiss in this, convince me of my error, and I am 
 ready here before you to make my recantation, 
 
 i?. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his 
 charge against me, 1 said oidv this. That in the worship 
 of God there is recpiired a Divine faith; but there can be 
 no Divine faith without a Divine revelation of the will of 
 God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of 
 God that is not agreeable to Divine revelation, cannot be 
 done but by a human faith, which faith will not be pro- 
 titable to eternal life. 
 
 t3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding 
 terms, as that 1 mn said to rail, and the like), that the 
 prince of this town, witJi all the rabblement, his attend- 
 ants, bv this giMitleman named, are more iit for a being 
 in hell, than in tJiis town and country : and so, the Lord 
 have mercy upon me ! 
 
 Then the Judge called to the jnry (who all this while 
 stooil by, to heju* and observe): Gentlemen of the jury, 
 vou see tliis man about whom so great an uproar hath 
 been made in this town. You have also heard what these 
 worthv gentlemen have witnessed against him. Also 
 vou have heard his repiv and confession. It lieth now in 
 your breasts to hang him or save his life; but yet I think 
 meet to instruct vou into our law. 
 
 There was an Act made in the days of Pharaoh tlie 
 Great, servant to our prince, that lest those of a contrary 
 
Ube ipilorim'0 proorcss iis 
 
 religion should multiply and grow too strong for him, 
 their males should be thrown into the river (Exod. i.). 
 There was also an Act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar 
 the Great, another of his servants, that whosoever would 
 not fall down and worship his golden image, should be 
 thrown into a fiery furnace (Dan. iii.). There was also 
 an Act made in the days of Dai'ius, that whoso, for some 
 time, called upon any god but him, should be cast into 
 the lions' den (Dan. vi.). Now the substance of these 
 laws this rebel has broken, not only in thought (which is 
 not to be borne), but also in word and deed ; which must 
 therefore needs be intolerable. 
 
 For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposi- 
 tion, to prevent mischief, no crime being yet apparent; 
 but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, 
 you see he dis{)uteth against our religion ; and for the 
 treason he hath confessed, he deserveth to die the death. 
 
 Then went the jury out, whose names were, Mr. Blind- 
 man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live- 
 loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, 
 Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable; who 
 every one gave in his private verdict against him among 
 themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring 
 him in guilty before the Judge. And first, among them- 
 selves, Mr. Blind-man, the foreman, said, I see clearly that 
 this man is a heretic. Then said Mr, No-good, Away 
 with such a fellow from the earth. Ay, said Mr. Malice, 
 for I hate the very looks of him. Then said Mr. Love- 
 lust, I could never endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live- 
 loose, for he would always be condemning my way. Hang 
 him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. 
 High-mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr. 
 Enmity. He is a rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too 
 good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch him 
 
114 Zbc ipilcirim's iprooi'css 
 
 out of the way, said Mr. Hate-lisjht. Then said Mr. 
 Inipl;u\'ibIo, Might I have all the world given me, I could 
 not be reconciled to him; therefore, let us forthwith bring 
 him in guilty of death. And so they did; therefore he 
 was presently condennied to be had from the place where 
 he was, to the place from whence he came, and there to 
 be put to the most cruel death that could be invented. 
 
 They, therefore, brought him out, to do with him ac- 
 cording to their law ; and, tirst, they scourged him, then 
 they bulf'eted him, then they lanced his flesh with knives ; 
 after that, they stoned him with stones, then pricked him 
 with their swords ; and, last of all, they burned him to 
 ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful to his end. 
 
 Now I saw that tJiere stood behind the nuiltitude a 
 chai-iot and a couple of horses, waiting for Faithful, who (so 
 soon as his adversaries hatl despatched him) Wiis taken up 
 into it, and straightway was carried up through the clouds, 
 witli sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the Celestial gate. 
 
 Brave Faithful, bravely done in word and deed ; 
 Judtre, witnesses, and jury have, instead 
 Of overoomintr thee, Init shown their raye : 
 A\lieu they are dead, thou'lt live frt)ni iii^e to age. 
 
 But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was 
 remanded back to prison. So he there remained for a 
 space; but He that overrules all things, h. ving the power 
 ot their rage in His own hand, so wrought it about, that 
 Christian for that time escaped them, and went his way; 
 and as lie went, he sang, saying — 
 
 " Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest 
 Unto thy Lord ; with whom thou shalt be blest, 
 ^^'hen faithless ones, with all their vain delights. 
 Are oryina: out under their hellish plights : 
 Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; 
 For, tliough tliey killd thee, thou art yet aliva" 
 
XTbe lIMlotim's prooress us 
 
 Now I saAv in my dream, that Christian went not forth 
 alone, for there was one whose name was Hopeful (hein^ 
 made so by the beholding of Christian and Faithful in 
 their words and behaviour, in their sufferings at the 
 fair), who joined himself unto him, and, entering into a 
 brotherly covenant, told him that he would be his com- 
 panion. Thus, one died to bear testimony to the truth, 
 and another rises out of his ashes, to be a companion with 
 Christian in his pilgrimage. This rio{)eful also told 
 Christian, that there were many more of the men in the 
 fair, that would take their time and follow after. 
 
 So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the 
 fair, they overtook one that was going before them, whose 
 name was By-ends : so they said to him. What country- 
 man, sir ? and how far go you this way ? He told them 
 that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and he 
 was going to the Celestial City, but told them not his 
 name. 
 
 From Fair-speech ! said Christian. Is there any good 
 that lives there ? (Prov. xxvi. 25). 
 
 By-ends. Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 
 
 Christian. Pray, sir, what may I call you? said Christian. 
 
 By-enl)s. I am a stranger to you, and you to me : if 
 you be going this way, I shall be glad of your company ; 
 if not, I must be content. 
 
 CiiRisi'iAN. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, 
 I have heard of; and, as I remember, they say, it is a 
 wealthy place. 
 
 By-ends. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have 
 very many rich kindred there. 
 
 Christian. Pray, who are your kindred there ? if a man 
 may be so bold. 
 
 By-ends. Almost the whole town ; and in particular, 
 my Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord 
 
116 Zbc lpilovim'3 proiircsjs 
 
 Fair spetvh (tVoni m1u>so aiuVvstoi"s that town first took 
 its naiiio\ also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. K-u-iui^-both-wavs, 
 Mr. Aiiv-thiiii::, ami tho parsc>n of our parish, Mr. Two- 
 tonguos, was mv motlicr's own hrotiior In lather's side; 
 and ti> toll vou tho truth, 1 am hooonio a i^Mitloman of 
 gooil iiuality, yet my i::roat-i;ranilfathor was but a water- 
 man, lookin*:' one way ami rowiuij another, anil 1 got 
 most of my estate by tho same oooujiation. 
 
 (."nuusriAX. Aiv vou a married man .-^ 
 
 Uy-knus. Yes, ami my wife is a very virtuous woman, 
 the daughter of a virtuous woman; she was mv I^idv 
 l'Vii:^nini;-'s daughter, therefoix^ she eame of a very honour- 
 able family, and is arrivinl to sueh a piteh of bivetling, 
 that she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and 
 peasant. It is true we somewhat ilitlbr in religion from 
 those of the stricter sort, yet but in two snuxJl points: 
 fii*st, we never strive against wind and tide; secondlv, we 
 mv alwavs most zealous when Religion goes in his silver 
 slippers; we love nuich to walk with him in tho stivot, if 
 the sun shines, and the people applaud him. 
 
 Then Christian stofipoil a little aside to his fellow. 
 Hopeful, s.>uing. It runs in my mind that this is one By- 
 enils of Fair-s}Kvch ; and if it bo he, we have as very a 
 knave in our company as dwolloth in all these parts. 
 Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; mothinks he should not be 
 ashamed of his name. So Christian came up witli him 
 again, tvud said. Sir, vou talk as if you knew something 
 nioiv than all the work! doth ; and if I take not my mark 
 amiss, 1 dtvm I have half a guess of you : Is not your 
 name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-vSj>ee<'h ? 
 
 By-k\os. This is not niv name, but ii\dtH\l it is a nick- 
 naujo that is given me bv some that cjinnot abide me: 
 and I must be i*ontent to boar it as a ivprotxch, as other 
 iTocx! men have borne thoii-s bot'oro me. 
 
s 
 s 
 
 '5 
 
 a. 
 
 h 
 
ILbc IMlorim's |p»roorcss ii7 
 
 Christian. But did you never give an occasion to men 
 to call you by this name ? 
 
 Jiv-KNDs. Never, never ! Tlie worst that ever I did to 
 give them an occasion to give me this name was, that I 
 had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the 
 present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance 
 was to get thereby ; but if things are thus cast upon me, 
 let me count them a blessing ; but let not the malicious 
 load me therefore with reproach. 
 
 CiiHisTiAN. I thought, indeed, that you were the man 
 that I heard of; and to tell you what I think, I fear this 
 name belongs to you more })roperly than you are willing 
 we should think it doth. 
 
 Bv-KNi)s. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help 
 it; you shall find me a fair comj)any keeper, if you will 
 still admit me your associate. 
 
 CniiisTiAN. If you will go with us, you must go against 
 wind and tide; the which, I perceive, is against your 
 opinion ; you must also own Religion in his rags, as well 
 as when in his silver slippers; and stand by him, too, 
 when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the 
 streets with applause. 
 
 By-KNus. You must not impose, nor lord it over my 
 faith; leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 
 
 Christian. Not a step farther, unless you will do in 
 what I propound as we. 
 
 Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old prin- 
 ciples, since they are harmless and profitable. If I may 
 not go with you, I must do as I did before you overtook 
 me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that will 
 be glad of my company. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful 
 forsook him, and kept their distance before him ; but one 
 of them looking back, saw three men following Mr. By- 
 
118 XTbe pilsrim's procjress 
 
 ends, and behold, as they came up with him, he made 
 them a very low conge ; and they also gave him a compli- 
 ment. The men's names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. 
 Money-love, and Mr. Save-all ; men that Mr. By-ends had 
 formerly been acquainted with ; for in their minority they 
 were school-fellows, and were taught by one Mr. Gripe- 
 man, a school-master in Love-gain, which is a market 
 town in the county of Coveting, in the north. This 
 school-master taught them the art of getting, either by 
 violence, cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting on a 
 guise of religion ; and these four gentlemen had attained 
 much of the art of their master, so that they could each of 
 them have kept such a school themselves. 
 
 Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, 
 Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By-ends, Who are they upon 
 the road before us ? (for Christian and Hopeful were yet 
 within view). 
 
 By-ends. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, 
 after their mode, are going on pilgrimage. 
 
 MoNEY-LovE. Alas ! Why did they not stay, that we 
 might have had their good company ? for they, and we, 
 and you, sir, I hope, are all going on a pilgrimage. 
 
 By-ends. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us 
 are so rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do 
 also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a 
 -nuan be never so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in 
 all things, they thrust him quite out of their company. 
 
 Save-all. That is bad, but we read of some that are 
 righteous overmuch ; and such men's rigidness prevails 
 with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. 
 But, I pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein 
 you differed ? 
 
 By-ends. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, con- 
 clude that it is duty to rush on their journey all weathers ; 
 
and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They are for 
 hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am for taking all 
 advantages to secui-e my life and estate. They are for 
 holding their notions, though all other men are against 
 them ; but I am for religion in what, and so far as the 
 times, and my safety, will bear it. They are for Religion 
 when in rags and contempt ; but I am for him when he 
 walks in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with 
 applause. 
 
 Mr. Hold-the-world. Ay, and hold you there still, 
 good Mr. By-ends ; for, for my part, I can count him but 
 a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he has, shall 
 be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents ; it 
 is best to make hay when the sun shines ; you see how 
 the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when 
 she can have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes 
 rain, and sometimes sunshine ; if they be such fools to go 
 through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather 
 along with us. For my part, I like that religion best 
 that will stand with the security of God's good blessings 
 unto us ; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, 
 since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this 
 life, but that He would have us keep them for His sake ? 
 Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion. And Job 
 says, that a good man shall lay up gold as dust. But he 
 must not be such as the men before us, if they be as you 
 have described them. 
 
 Mr. Save-all. I think that we are all agreed in this 
 matter, and therefore there needs no more words about it. 
 
 Mr. Money-love. No, there needs no more words about 
 this matter, indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture 
 nor reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither 
 knows his own liberty, nor seeks his own safety. 
 
 Mr. By-eni)s. My brethren, we are, as you see, going 
 
120 XTbe BMIorim's proovess 
 
 all on pilgrimage; and for our better diversion from 
 things that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you 
 this question : — 
 
 Suppose a man, a minister or a tradesman, &c., should 
 have an advantage lie before him, to get the good blessings 
 of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by 
 them except, in appearance at least, he becomes extraordi- 
 narily zealous in some points of religion that he meddled 
 not with before ; may he not use these means to attain 
 his end, and yet be a right honest man ? 
 
 Mr. Money-love. I see the bottom of your question; 
 and, with these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour 
 to shape you an answer. And first, to speak to your 
 question as it concerns a minister himself: Suppose a 
 minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small 
 benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat, and plump 
 by far; he has also now an oppoi'tunity of getting of it, 
 yet so as by being more studious, by preaching more 
 frequently, and zealously, and, because the temper of the 
 people requires it, by altering of some of his principles ; 
 for my part, I see no reason but a man may do this 
 (provided he has a call), ay, and more a great deal besides, 
 and yet be an honest man. For why — 
 
 1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot 
 be contradicted), since it is set before him by Providence; 
 so then, he may get it, if he can, making no question for 
 conscience' sake. 
 
 2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him 
 more studious, a more zealous preacher, &c., and so makes 
 him a better man; yea, makes him better improve his 
 parts, which is according to the mind of God. 
 
 "6. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his 
 people, by dissenting, to serve them, some of his principles, 
 this argueth — (1) That he is of a self-denying temper ; (2) 
 
TOe ipilarfm's progress 121 
 
 Of a sweet and winning deportment ; and so (3) more fit 
 for the ministerial function. 
 
 4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a 
 small for a great, should not, for so doing, be judged as 
 covetous ; but rather, since he has improved in his parts 
 and industry thei-eby, be counted as one that pursues his 
 call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good. 
 
 And now to the second part of the question, which con- 
 cerns the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such an one 
 to have but a poor employ in the world, but by becoming 
 religious, he may mend his market, perhaps get a rich 
 wife, or more and far better customers to his shop; for 
 my part, I see no reason but that this may be lawfully 
 done. For why — 
 
 1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means 
 soever a man becomes so. 
 
 2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom 
 to my shop. 
 
 3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming reli- 
 gious, gets that which is good, of them that are good, by 
 becoming good himself; so then here is a good wife, and 
 good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming 
 religious, which is good; therefore, to become religious, 
 to get all these, is a good and profitable design. 
 
 This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money-love to Mr. 
 By-ends'" question, was highly applauded by them all ; 
 wherefore they concluded, upon the whole, that it was 
 most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they 
 thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because 
 Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly 
 agreed to assault them with the question as soon as they 
 overtook them ; and the rather because they had opposed 
 Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, and they 
 stopped, and stood still till they came up to them ; but 
 
122 zbc iJMIorim's proorcss 
 
 they concliuled, as they went, that not Mr. By-ends, but 
 old Mr, llold-the-world, should propound the question to 
 them, because, as they supposed, their answer to him would 
 be without the remainder of that heat that was kindled 
 betwixt Mr. By-ends and them, at their parting a little 
 before. 
 
 So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation, 
 Mr. llold-the-world propounded the question to ChrisLian 
 and his fellow, and hid them to answer it if they could. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion 
 may answer ten thousand such questions. For if it be 
 unlawful to follow Christ for loaves (as it is in the sixth 
 of John), how much more abominable is it to make of liim 
 and religion a stalking-horse, to get and enjoy the world .-^ 
 Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, 
 and witches, that are of this opinion. 
 
 1. Heathens; for when llamor and Shechem had a 
 mind to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that 
 there was no ways for them to come at them, but by 
 becoming circumcised ; they say to their companions, if 
 every male of us be circumcised, as they are circumcised, 
 shall not their cattle, and their substance, and every beast 
 of theirs, be ours ? Their daughter and their cattle were 
 tliat which they sought to obtain, and their religion the 
 stalking-horse they made use of to come at them. Read 
 the w hole story (Gen. xxxiv. 20-2J3). 
 
 2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion ; 
 long prayers were their pretence, but to get widows'" 
 houses w as their intent ; and greater danuiation was from 
 God their judgment (Luke xx. 46, 47). 
 
 a. Judas the devil was also of this religion ; he was 
 religious for the bag, that he might be })ossessed of what 
 was therein ; but he w as lost, cast away, and the very son 
 of perdition. 
 
Ube pilorfm's iproaress 123 
 
 4. Simon the witch was of this religion too ; for he would 
 have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have got money 
 therewith ; and his sentence from Peter's mouth was 
 according (Acts viii, 19-22). 
 
 5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man 
 that takes up religion for the world, will throw away 
 religion for the world ; for so surely as Judas resigned the 
 world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell 
 religion and his Master for the same. To answer the 
 question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have 
 done, and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is both 
 heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish; and your reward 
 will be according to your works, llien they stood staring 
 one upon another, but had not wherewith to answer 
 Christian. Hopeful also approved of the soundness of 
 Christian"'s answer ; so there was a great silence among 
 them. Mr. By-ends and his company also staggered and 
 kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo 
 them. Then said Christian to his fellow. If these men 
 cannot stand before the sentence of men, v\hat will they 
 do with the sentence of God ? And if they are mute when 
 dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they do when they 
 shall be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire .'' 
 
 Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and 
 went till they came at a delicate plain called Ease, where 
 they went with much content; but that plain was but 
 naiTow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the 
 farther side of that plain was a little Hill called Lucre, 
 and in that hill a silver mine, which some of them that 
 had formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, 
 had tui-ned aside to see ; but going too near the brink of 
 the pit, the gi'ound being deceitful under them, broke, and 
 they were slain ; some also had been maimed there, and 
 could not, to their dying day, be their own men again. 
 
124 XTbe UMlGdrn's progress 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over 
 against the silver mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to 
 call to passengers to come and see ; who said to Christian 
 and his fellow, Ho ! turn aside hither, and I will show 
 you a thing. 
 
 Christian. What thing so deserving as to turn us out 
 of the way to see it ? 
 
 Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it 
 for treasure. If you will come, with a little pains you 
 may richly provide for yourselves. 
 
 Hopeful. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 
 
 Christian. Not I, said Christian, I have heard of this 
 place before now ; and how many have there been slain ; 
 and besides that, treasure is a snare to those that seek it ; 
 for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. Then Christian 
 called to Demas, saying. Is not the place dangerous ? Hath 
 it not hindered many in their pilgrimage ? (Hos, xiv. 8). 
 
 Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that are 
 careless (but withal, he blushed as he spake). 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not 
 stir a step, but still keep on our way. 
 
 Hopeful. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if 
 he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in thither 
 to see. 
 
 Christian. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead 
 him that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. 
 
 Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you 
 not come over and see ? 
 
 Christian. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, 
 Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord 
 of this way, and hast been already condemned for thine 
 own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges (2 Tim. 
 iv. 10) ; and why seekest thou to bring us into the like 
 condemnation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord 
 
C:be BMlGrim's progress 125 
 
 the King will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us 
 to shame, where we would stand with boldness before him. 
 
 Demas cried again, that he also was one of their frater- 
 nity ; and that if they would tarry a little, he also himself 
 would walk with them. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian, What is thy name? 
 Is it not the same by the which I have called thee ? 
 
 Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of 
 Abraham. 
 
 Christian. I know you ; Gehazi was your great-grand- 
 father, and Judas your father ; and you have trod in their 
 steps (2 Kings v. 20 ; Matt. xxvi. 14, 15, xxvii. 1-5). It is 
 but a devilish prank that thou usest; thy father was hanged 
 for a traitor, and thou deservest no better reward. Assure 
 thyself, that when we come to the King, we will do him 
 word of this thy behaviour. Thus they went their way. 
 
 By this time By-ends and his companions were come 
 again within sight, and they, at the first beck, went over 
 to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit by looking 
 over the brink thereof, or whether they went down to dig, 
 or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the 
 damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not 
 certain ; but this I observed, that they never were seen 
 again in the way. Then sang Christian — 
 
 " By-ends and silver Demas both agree ; 
 One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
 A sharer in his lucre ; so these do 
 Take up in this world, and no farther go." 
 
 Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the 
 Pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monument, 
 hard by the highway side, at the sight of which they were 
 both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form 
 thereof; for it seemed to them as if it liad been a woman 
 transformed into the shape of a pillar ; here therefore they 
 
126 Zbc l|Mlorfm'6 proovess 
 
 stood looking, and looking upon it, but could not for a 
 time tell what they should make thereof. At last Hope- 
 ful espied written above the head thereof, a writing in an 
 unusual hand ; but he being no scholar, called to Christian 
 (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the mean- 
 ing ; so he came, and after a little laying of letters together, 
 he found the same to be this, "Remember Lofs wife." 
 So he read it to his fellow ; after which they both concluded 
 that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was 
 turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart, when 
 she was going from Sodom for safety (Gen. xix, 26). 
 Which sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion of 
 this discourse. 
 
 Christian. Ah, my brother ! this is a seasonable sight ; 
 it came opportunely to us after the invitation which 
 Demas gave us to come over to view the Hill Lucre ; and 
 had we s:one over, as he desired us, and as thou wast 
 inclining to do, my brother, we had, for aught I know, 
 been made ourselves like this woman, a spectacle for those 
 that shall come after to behold. 
 
 Hopeful. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am 
 made to wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife; for 
 wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine.? 
 She only looked back ; and I had a desire to go see. Let 
 o-race be adored, and let me be ashamed that ever such a 
 thing should be in mine heart. 
 
 Christian. Let us take notice of what we see here, for 
 our help for time to come. This woman escaped one 
 judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; 
 yet she was destroyed by another, as we see she is turned 
 into a pillar of salt. 
 
 Hopeful. True; and she may be to us both caution 
 and example ; caution, that we should shun her sin ; or a 
 sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be 
 
XTbe iPflotfm's proQtess 127 
 
 prevented by this caution ; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, 
 with the two hundred and fifty men that perished in their 
 sin, did also become a sign or example to others to beware 
 (Num. xxvi. 9, 10). But above all, I muse at one thing, 
 to wit, how Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently 
 yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman, but 
 for looking behind her after (for we read not that she 
 stepped one foot out of the way), was turned into a pillar 
 of salt; especially since the judgment which overtook 
 her did make her an example, within sight of where they 
 are ; for they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift 
 up their eyes. 
 
 Christian. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it 
 argueth that their hearts are grown desperate in the case ; 
 and I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly, as to 
 them that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or 
 that will cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the 
 men of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because 
 they were sinners before the Lord, that is, in His eyesight, 
 and notwithstanding the kindnesses that He had showed 
 them (Gen. xiii. 13) ; for the land of Sodom was now like 
 the garden of Eden heretofore (Gen, xiii, 10). This, 
 therefore, provoked Him the more to jealousy, and made 
 their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven 
 could make it. And it is most rationally to be concluded, 
 that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, 
 yea, and that, too, in despite of such examples that are 
 set continually before them, to caution them to the con- 
 trary, must be partakers of severest judgments. 
 
 Hopeful. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what 
 a mercy is it, that neither thou, but especially I, am not 
 made myself this example ! This ministereth occasion to 
 us to thank God, to fear before Him, and always to re- 
 member Lot's wife. 
 
126 U\)c piloi*im'3 progress 
 
 1 Siiw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant 
 river ; which David the king called " the river of God," 
 bnt John, " the river of the water of life "" (Ps. Ixv, 9 ; 
 Rev. xxii. ; E/.ek. xlvii,). Now their way lay just upon 
 the bank of the river ; here, therefore. Christian and his 
 companion walked with great delight ; they drank also of 
 the water of the river, which was pleasant, and enlivening 
 to tlieir weary spirits : besides, on the banks of this river, 
 on either side, were green trees, that bore all manner of 
 fruit ; and the loaves of the trees were good for medicine ; 
 with the fruit of these trees they were also much delighted; 
 and the leaves they eat to prevent surfeits, and other dis- 
 eases that are incident to those that heat their blood by 
 travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow, 
 curiously beautified with lilies, and it wjvs green all the 
 year long. In this meadow they lay down, and slept ; for 
 here they might lie down sately. When they awoke, they 
 gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again 
 of the water of the river, and then lay down again to 
 sleep (Ps. xxiii. 2; Isa. xiv. 30). Thus they did several 
 days and nights. Then they SiUig — 
 
 " Behold ye how tliese crystal streams do ^lide. 
 To comt'ort pilirrims by the highway side ; 
 'Hie meadows ffreen, beside their fraj;ant smelj, 
 Yiehi dainties for them : and he that can tell 
 N\'liat pleasiint fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, 
 ^\'ill soon sell all, that he may buy this field." 
 
 So when they were disposed to go on (for they were 
 not, as yet, at tlieir journey's end), they ate and drank, 
 and departetl. 
 
 Now, I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed 
 far, but the river and the way for a time parted; at which 
 tliey were not a little sorry ; yet they durst not go out 
 of the way. Now the way ^m the river >\ as rough, and 
 
Ube pilorim's iprooress 129 
 
 their feet tender, by reason of their travels ; " so the souls 
 of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the 
 way " (Num. xxi. 4), Wherefore, still as they went on, 
 they wished for better way. Now, a little before them, 
 there was on the left hand of the road a meadow, and a 
 stile to go over into it ; and that meadow is called By- 
 path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow. If this 
 meadow lieth along by our wayside, let us go over into it. 
 Then he went to the stile to see, and behold, a path lay 
 along by the way, on the other side of the fence. It is 
 according to my wish, said Christian. Here is the easiest 
 going ; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over. 
 
 Hopeful. But how if this path should lead us out of 
 the way ? 
 
 Christian. That is not like, said the other. Look, 
 doth it not go along by the wayside ? So Hopeful, being 
 persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. 
 When they were gone over, and were got into the path, 
 they found it very easy for their feet; and withal, they, 
 looking before them, espied a man walking as they did 
 (and his name was Vain-confidence); so they called after 
 him, and asked him whither that way led. He said. To 
 the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, did not I tell 
 you so.!' By this you may see we are right. So they 
 followed, and he went before them. But, behold, the 
 night came on, and it grew very dark ; so that they that 
 were behind lost the sight of him that went before. 
 
 He, therefore, that went before (Vain-confidence by 
 name), not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit 
 (Isa. ix. 16), which was on purpose there made, by the 
 Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools 
 withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall. 
 
 Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they 
 called to know the matter, but there was none to answer, 
 
 X 
 
ISO zbc UMIorim's prooress 
 
 only they heard a groaning. Then said Hopeful, AVhere 
 are we now ? Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting 
 that he had led him out of the way : and now it began to 
 rain, and thunder, and lighten in a very dreadful manner ; 
 and the water rose amain. 
 
 Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh that I 
 had kept on my way ! 
 
 Christian. Who could have thought that this path 
 should have led us out of the way ? 
 
 Hopeful. I was afraid on it at the very first, and there- 
 fore gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoken 
 plainer, but that you are older than I. 
 
 Christian. Good brother, be not offended ; I am sorry 
 I have brought thee out of the way, and that I have put 
 thee into such imminent danger ; pray, my brother, forgive 
 me; I did not do it of an evil intent. 
 
 Hopeful. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; 
 and believe, too, that this shall be for our good. 
 
 Christian. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; 
 but we must not stand thus : let us try to go back again. 
 
 Hopeful. But, good brother, let me go before. 
 
 Christian. No, if you please, let me go first, that if 
 there be any danger, I may be first therein, because by 
 my means we are both gone out of the way. 
 
 Hopeful. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first ; for 
 your mind being troubled may lead you out of the way 
 again. Then for their encouragement, they heard the 
 voice of one saying, " Set thine heart toward the highway, 
 even the way which thou wentest ; turn again " ( Jer. xxxi. 
 21). But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by 
 reason of which the way of going back was very danger- 
 ous. (Then I thought that it is easier going out of the 
 way, when we are in, than going in when we are out.) 
 Yet they adventured to go back, but it was so dark, and 
 
Ube Ipilorlm's jDroaress isi 
 
 the flood was so high, that in their going back they had 
 hke to have been drowned nine or ten times. 
 
 Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again 
 to the stile that night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under 
 a little shelter, they sat down there until the daybreak ; 
 but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now there was, not 
 far from the place where they lay, a castle called Doubting 
 Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair ; and it was 
 in his grounds they now were sleeping : wherefore he, 
 getting up in the morning early, and walking up and 
 down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in 
 his grounds. Then, with a grim and surly voice, he bid 
 them awake; and asked them whence they were, and 
 what they did in his grounds. ITiey told him they were 
 pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said 
 the Giant, You have this night trespassed on me, by 
 trampling in, and lying on my grounds, and therefore 
 you must go along with me. So they were forced to go, 
 because he was stronger than they. They also had but 
 little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The 
 Giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them 
 into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and 
 stinking to the spirits of these two men (Ps. Ixxxviii. 
 18). Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till 
 Saturday night, without one bit of broad, or drop of 
 drink, or light, or any to ask how they did; they were, 
 therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends and 
 acquaintance. Now in this place Christian had double 
 sorrow, because it was through his unadvised counsel that 
 they were brought into this distress. 
 
 The pilgrims now, to g^ratify the flesh. 
 Will seek its ease ; but oh ! how they afresh 
 Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into ! 
 Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo. 
 
132 Ube BMlotim's iprooress 
 
 Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was 
 Diffidence. So when he was gone to bed, he told his wife 
 what he had done ; to wit, that he had taken a couple of 
 prisoners and cast them into his dungeon, for trespassing 
 on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had 
 best to do further to them. So she asked him what they 
 were, whence they came, and whither they were bound ; 
 and he told her. Then she counselled him that when he 
 arose in the morning he should beat them without any 
 mercy. So, when he arose, he getteth him a grievous 
 crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to 
 them, and there first falls to rating of them as if they 
 were dogs, although they never gave him a word of dis- 
 taste. Then he falls upon them, and beats them fear- 
 fully, in such sort, that they were not able to help 
 themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done, 
 he withdraws and leaves them, there to condole their 
 misery, and to mourn under their distress. So all that 
 day they spent the time in nothing but sighs and bitter 
 lamentations. The next night, she, talking with her 
 husband about them further, and understanding they 
 were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make 
 away themselves. So when morning was come, he goes 
 to them in a surly manner as before, and perceiving them 
 to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them 
 the day before, he told them, that since they were never 
 like to come out of that place, their only way would be 
 forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, 
 halter, or poison, for why, said he, should you choose life, 
 seeing it is attended with so much bitterness ? But they 
 desired him to let them go. With that he looked ugly 
 upon them, and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an 
 end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits 
 (for he sometimes, in sunshiny weather, fell into fits), and 
 
Ube ptlgrim's progress iss 
 
 lost for a time the use of his hand ; wherefore he with- 
 drew, and left them as before, to consider what to do. 
 Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, 
 whether it was best to take his counsel or no; and thus 
 they began to discourse : — 
 
 Christian. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? 
 The life that we now live is miserable. For my part I 
 know not whether is best, to live thus, or to die out of 
 hand. "My soul chooseth strangling rather than life," 
 and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon 
 (Job vii. 15). Shall we be ruled by the Giant ? 
 
 Hopeful. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, 
 and death would be far more welcome to me than 
 thus for ever to abide ; but yet, let us consider, the 
 Lord of the country to which we are going hath said. 
 Thou shalt do no murder : no, not to another man's 
 person ; much more, then, are we forbidden to take his 
 counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, 
 can but commit murder upon his body ; but for one to 
 kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. And, more- 
 over, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave ; but 
 hast thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain the 
 murderers go ? For " no murderer hath eternal life," &c. 
 And let us consider, again, that all the law is not in the 
 hand of Giant Despair. Others, so far as I can under- 
 stand, have been taken by him, as well as we; and yet 
 have escaped out of his hand. Who knows, but that God 
 that made the world may cause that Giant Despair may 
 die ? or that, at some time or other, he may forget to 
 lock us in ? or that he niay, in a short time, have another 
 of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs ? 
 and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I 
 am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try 
 my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that 
 
134 Ubc pllQtim's ptOQVCSS 
 
 I did not try to do it before ; but, however, my brother, 
 let us be patient and endure awhile. The time may 
 come that may give us a happy release ; but let us not be 
 our own murderers. With these words, Hopeful at pre- 
 sent did moderate the mind of his brother ; so they con- 
 tinued together (in the dark) that day, in their sad and 
 doleful condition. 
 
 Well, towards evening, the Giant goes down into the 
 dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his 
 counsel ; but when he came there he found them alive ; 
 and truly, alive was all ; for now, what for want of bread 
 and water, and by reason of the wounds they received 
 when he beat them, they could do little but breathe. 
 But, I say, he found them alive ; at which he fell into a 
 grievous rage and told them that, seeing they had dis- 
 obeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if 
 they had never been born. 
 
 At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian 
 fell into a swoon ; but, coming a little to himself again, 
 they renewed their discourse about the Gianfs counsel ; 
 and whether yet they had best to take it or no. Now 
 Christian again seemed to be for doing it, but Hopeful 
 made his second reply as followeth : — 
 
 Hopeful. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not 
 how valiant thou hast been heretofore ? Apollyon could 
 not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, 
 or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What 
 hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone 
 through ! And art thou now nothing but fear ! Thou 
 seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker 
 man by nature than thou art; also, this Giant has wounded 
 me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and 
 water from my mouth; and with thee I mourn without 
 the light. But let us exercise a little more patience; 
 
> 
 
 ^ 
 
 u 
 
remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and 
 wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of 
 bloody death. Wherefore let us (at least to avoid the 
 shame, that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear 
 up with patience as well as we can. 
 
 Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his 
 wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, 
 and if they had taken his counsel. To which he replied, 
 They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather to bear all 
 hardship, than to make away themselves. Then said she. 
 Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them 
 the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already 
 despatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to 
 an end, thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast 
 done their fellows before them. 
 
 So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them 
 again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows 
 them as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were 
 pilgrims as you are, once, and they trespassed in my 
 grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I 
 tore them in pieces, and so, within ten days, I will do you. 
 Go, get you down to your den again ; and with that he 
 beat them all the way thither. They lay, therefore, all 
 day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now, 
 when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her 
 husband, the Giant, Avere got to bed, they began to renew 
 their discourse of their prisoners; and withal the old 
 Giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor 
 his counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife 
 replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hope that some 
 will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks 
 about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. 
 And sayest thou so, my dear ? said the Giant ; I will, 
 therefore, search them in the morning. 
 
136 ZbC ^ilQVWS ^V0QVCB5 
 
 Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to 
 pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day. 
 
 Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one 
 half amazed, brake out in this passionate speech : What 
 a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, 
 when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a key in my 
 bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any 
 lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That is good 
 news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom and try. 
 
 Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom and began 
 to try at the dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the 
 key) gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and 
 Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to 
 the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and, 
 with his key, opened that door also. After, he went 
 to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that 
 lock went damnable hard, yet the key did open it. 
 Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape 
 with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a 
 creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising 
 to pursue his j^risoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits 
 took him again, so that he could by no means go after 
 them. Then they went on, and came to the King''s 
 highway, and so were safe, because they were out of 
 his jurisdiction. 
 
 Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began 
 to contrive with themselves what they should do at that 
 stile, to prevent those that should come after, from falling 
 into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to 
 erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof 
 this sentence : " Over this stile is the way to Doubting 
 Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the 
 King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy his 
 holy pilgrims." Many, therefore, that followed after, read 
 
Zbc ipilorim's progress 137 
 
 what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, 
 they sang as follow :— 
 
 " Out of the way we went, and then we found 
 What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground ; 
 And let them that come after have a care, 
 Lest heedlessness make them, as we, to fare. 
 Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are. 
 Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair." 
 
 They went then till they came to the Delectable Moun- 
 tains, which mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of 
 which we have spoken before; so they went up to the 
 mountains, to behold the gardens and orchards, the vine- 
 yards and fountains of water ; where also they drank and 
 washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards. 
 Now, there were on the tops of these mountains Shepherds 
 feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway side. 
 The Pilgrims therefore went to them, and leaning upon 
 their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims, when 
 they stand to talk with any by the way), they asked, 
 Whose Delectable Mountains are these, and whose be the 
 sheep that feed upon them ? 
 
 Mountains delectable they now ascend. 
 Where Shepherds be, which to them do commend 
 Alluring things, and things that cautious are ; 
 Pilgrims are steady kept by faith and fear. 
 
 Shepherds. These mountains are ImmanuePs Land, and 
 they are within sight of his city ; and the sheep also are 
 his^ and he laid down his life for them (John x. 11). 
 
 Christian. Is this the way to the Celestial City ? 
 
 Shepherds. You are just in your way. 
 
 Christian. How far is it thither ? 
 
 Shepherds. Too far for any but those that shall get 
 thither indeed. 
 
1S8 Zbc pilgrim's prooress 
 
 Christian. Is the way safe or dangerous ? 
 
 Shepherds. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe,- 
 " but the transgressors shall fall therein " (Hos. xiv. 9). 
 
 Christian. Is there, in this place, any relief for pilgrims 
 that are weary and faint in the way ? 
 
 Shepherds. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a 
 charge not to be " forgetful to entertain strangers "" (Ileb. 
 xiii. 2) ; thfeKefore the good of the place is before you. 
 
 I saw also in my dream, that when the Shepherds per- 
 ceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put 
 questions to them, to which they made answer as in 
 other places ; as, Whence came you ? and, How got you 
 into the way ? and. By what means have you so perse- 
 vered therein ? For but few of them that begin to come 
 hither, do show their face on these mountains. But when 
 the Shepherds heard their answers, being pleased there- 
 with, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said. 
 Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. 
 
 The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, 
 Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the 
 hand, and had them to their tents, and made them par- 
 take of that which was ready at present. They said, 
 moreover, We would that ye should stay here awhile, to 
 be acquainted with us ; and yet more to solace yourselves 
 with the good of these Delectable Mountains. They then 
 told them that they were content to stay ; so they went 
 to their rest that night, because it was very late. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the 
 Shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with 
 them upon the mountains ; so they went forth with them, 
 and walked awhile, having a pleasant prospect on every 
 side. Then said the Shepherds one to another. Shall we 
 show these pilgrims some wonders? So when they had 
 concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of a 
 
TTbe UMlorim's iprooress 139 
 
 liill called Error, which was very steep on the furthest 
 side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian 
 and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several 
 men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from the 
 top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? The 
 Shepherds answered. Have you not heard of them that 
 were made to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and 
 Philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of 
 the body? (2 Tim. ii. 17, 18). They answered. Yes. 
 Then said the Shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in 
 pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they ; and they 
 have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an 
 example to others to take heed how they clamber too high, 
 or how they come too near the brink of this mountain. 
 
 Then I saw that they had them to the top of another 
 mountain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid them 
 {ook afar off; which, when they did, they perceived, as 
 Ihey thought, several men walking up and down among 
 Ihe tombs that were there ; and they perceived that the 
 men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon 
 the tombs, and because they could not get out from among 
 them. Then said Christian, What means this ? 
 
 The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little 
 below these mountains a stile, that led into a meadow, on 
 the left hand of this way ? They answered, Yes. Then 
 said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a path 
 that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by 
 Giant Despair, and these, pointing to them among the 
 tombs, came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even till 
 they came to that same stile ; and because the right way 
 was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into 
 that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, 
 and cast into Doubting Castle; where, after they had 
 been awhile kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out 
 
14.0 ubc piUjiVim'B pvoQVCss 
 
 their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he 
 has left them to wander to this very day, that the saving 
 of the wise man might be fulfilled, "He that wandereth 
 out of the way of understanding shall remain in the con- 
 gregation of the dead ■" (Prov. xxi. 16). Then Christian 
 and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears gushing 
 out, but yet said nothing to the Shepherds. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them 
 to another place, in a bottom, where was a door in the 
 side of a hill, and they opened the door, and bid them 
 look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that within 
 it was very dark and smoky ; they also thought that they 
 heard there a rumbling noise as of fire, and a cry of some 
 tormented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. 
 Then said Christian, What means this ? The Shepherds 
 told them, This is a by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites 
 go in at ; namely, such as sell their birthright, with 
 Esau; such as sell their master, with Judas; such as 
 blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander; and that lie and 
 dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife. Then 
 saiil Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these had 
 on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage as we have 
 now ; had they not ? 
 
 Shepherds, Yes, and held it a long time too. 
 
 Hopeful. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in 
 their day, since they notwithstanding were thus miserably 
 cast awav ? 
 
 Shepherds. Some farther, and some not so far, as these 
 mountains. 
 
 Then said the Pilgrims one to another. We have need 
 to cry to the Strong for strength. 
 
 Shepherds. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when 
 you have it, too. 
 
 By this time the Pilgrims had a desii'e to go forward, 
 
Zhc ilMlorliu'5 iproorcss i^i 
 
 and the Shepherds a desire they should; so thoy walked 
 to<j;othcr towards the end of the nioiintainK. TIkmi said 
 tlie Shepherds one to another, Jx't us here show to tlie 
 Pil«>jrinis the ^ates of the Celestial City, if they have skill 
 to look throuo-h oiu- jjerspcctive ^lass. The l*il<^rrinis then 
 lovin<>;Iy accepted the motion ; so they iiatl them to the 
 top of a hi^h hill called Clear, and gave them their glass 
 to look. 
 
 Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that 
 last thing that the Shepherds had shown them made their 
 hands shake; by means of which impediment, they could 
 not look steadily through the glass; yet they thought 
 they saw something like the gate, and also sonK> of the 
 glory of the place. Then they went away, and sang this 
 
 so nil- 
 
 "Thus, t)y tlie Shojiherds, secrets are reveal'd, 
 Which from all other men are kept conreal'd. 
 Conw) to the Shei)henlw, tlu^ii, ifyoii would see 
 Thinf,'s deep, thin(j;^H hid, and that mysterious he." 
 
 When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds 
 gave them a note of the way. Another of them bid them 
 beware of the Flatterer. 'I'he third bid them take heed 
 that they sleep not upon the Enchanted (J round. And 
 the fourth l)id them God-speed. So 1 awoke from my 
 dream. 
 
 And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two 
 Pilgrims going down the mountains along the highway 
 towards the city. Now, a little below these mountains, 
 on the left hand, lieth the Country of Conceit; from which 
 country there comes into the way in which the Pilgrims 
 walked, a litth; crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met 
 with a very brisk lad, that came out of that country ; and 
 his name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him from 
 what parts he came, and whither he was going. 
 
142 Z\K ilMkniin't^ proorci^s 
 
 Ignohancm",. Sir, 1 was boin in tlu> loimliy that lioth off 
 tluMV a Iitllt> oil the li'tX liaiul, and 1 am ii;oinij^ to the 
 Celcsliul City. 
 
 CnKisTiAN. Hut lu)\v ilo you think, to j^ct in at the gate? 
 for yi>ii nuiy tint! .soino iliiru-ultv there. 
 
 IcNORANCi',. AvS other _<>;oinl |)eo})le (h), said he. 
 
 CiiuisriAN. Hut what liave you to show at that gate, 
 that niav eause that tlie i;;ate shouUl he openeil to you i^ 
 
 I(;nok.\nc'K. 1 know my Lord's will, ami 1 have been a 
 good Hvi>r; 1 pay I'very man his own; 1 pray, fast, pay 
 tithes and give ahns, and have left my eounlrv tor whither 
 1 am going. 
 
 ('lUUsriAN. Hut thou eamest not in at the wickot-gatc 
 that is at the heail of this way; thou earnest in liither 
 thn)ugli that same erookinl lane, ami therefore, 1 fear, 
 however thou maxest think oi' thyself, when the i"ec'koning 
 day shall eonu>, thou wilt have laid to thy i-harge tliat 
 thou art a thii>t' ami a n)hher, insteail of getting admit- 
 tanei" inli> the eil \ . 
 
 li;Noi{ANeK. CuMillemen, ye be utter strangers to me, T 
 know you not; be eontent to folK)w tiie religit)n of your 
 country, and 1 will t"olK>w the religion ot' mine. I lu)pe 
 all will be well. Ami as for tiie gate that you talk of, 
 all the world knows that that is a great way otf of our 
 country. I cannot think that any man in all our parts 
 dolii so much a.s know the way to it, nor need they matter 
 whether they ilo or no, since we have, as you see, a line, 
 pleasant green lane, that i-omes ilown tVom our country 
 the next way into the way. 
 
 When Christian saw that the man was "wise in his 
 own coiiceit," he saitl to Hopeful, whisperingly, "• Theiv is 
 inoiv hope of a t\)ol than of him" (Prov. xxvi. 1J2). And 
 sjvid, nu)reoyer, "When he that is a fool waiketij by the 
 way, liis wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one 
 
Ubc BMloriin's ipioorcss i*'^ 
 
 that he is a fool" (Etx-les. x. ii). What, sliall wo talk 
 further with him, or ont-^o hiin at j)reseiit, and so kiave 
 him to thitik of wliat hv. hath lieard already, and then 
 stop again for him afterwards, and see if by degrees we 
 can do any good to him ? "^rhen said Hopeful— 
 
 " Let If^iioraiioc u little wliihi now inuHO 
 Oil wliat is said, and let him not refuse 
 (><«id <M)nns(d to ernhrare, lest he r(Mnain 
 Still if^nor.'Mit of what's the ehiefest ^ain. 
 (iod saith, tlutse that no understanding^ have, 
 Althoug^h lie made them, them lie will not save." 
 
 Hopeful. He further added, It is not good, I think, to 
 say all to him at once; let us pass him by, if you will, 
 and talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear it. 
 
 So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. 
 Now when they had passed him a little way, they entered 
 into a v(!ry dark lane, whcsre they jnet a man whom seven 
 devils had bound with seven stjong cords, and were carry- 
 ing of him back to the door that they saw on the side of 
 the hill (Matt. xii. 45; I'rov. v. ^2). Now good (.'hrislian 
 began to tremble, and so did Hopeful, his companion; 
 yet as the devils led away the man, Christian looked to 
 see if he knew him ; and he thought it might be one 
 'J'urnaway, that dwelt in the town of Aj)()stasy. IJut he 
 did not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his head 
 like a thief that is found. But being cmce past. Hopeful 
 looked after him, and espied on his ba(-k a paper with this 
 inscrij)tion, " Wanton professor and damnable apostate." 
 Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to remem- 
 brance, that which was told ine of a thing that happened 
 to a good man hereabout. 'J'lie imuw. of the man was 
 l^ittle-faith, but a good man, and he dwelt in the town of 
 Sincere. The thing was this : At the entering in at this 
 passage, there comes down from Broadway-gate, a lane 
 
1^^ UlK ilMIiU*lm'i< iproorct^tJ 
 
 i\'»lliil \\\\{\ M;\n's l.Mno; so oiIKhI l>iv.'Uiso i>t' lluMminliM-s 
 \\\!\{ .MX' oou>uu>nlv tlono tluMV; !\i\d this l.iltlo-tailh ji'oinjjj 
 t>u })ili5rin\ap\ as wo tlo iu>\v. chamwi to sit, liowu tl\oix\ aiul 
 slrpt. Now thiMV haj>{UMHHU at that tiiuo, to oomo tlowu 
 \\\v lanr. tVoui Hn)ail\va\ -gato. thiw stunly n)guos. ami 
 thoir uaiuos woro Kaiut-hoart, MistriKst, ami (Juilt (thiw 
 bn>thiM-s). ami thoy cspyiniij l.ittU^-faith. whoiv ho wjis, 
 oaiuo calloping up \\\\\\ s|voih Now tho gxn)il luaii was 
 just ttwako tVoiu his sloop, ami was i>vttit\i;' uj> to ij;o on 
 his journov. So thoy caiuo up all to him, ami with 
 tluvatouiuii- lauiiuay>^ hitl him staml. At tins 1 .ittlo-taith 
 lookixl as whito as a oK>ut, ami luul noithor powor to lii^lU 
 nor lly. Thou saiil laiut-hoart. Dolivor tin pui-so. Hut 
 ho luakiuij no hasto tv> ilo it (^t'or ho was loth to loso his 
 uuMiov), Mistrust ran up \o hitu. aud thvustiuij his haml 
 i»\to liis [HK'kot. pulKxl t>ut thiMuv a hag of silvor. Thou 
 ho oriinl i>ut. Thiovos ! Tiiiovos! With that (luilt, with 
 a ijjvat olub that was iu his hauil. struok l.ittlo-lailh on 
 tho hoail. auil with that Mow. t'oliovl hiu» tlat to t ho i:^n>uiul, 
 wluMv ho lav hloovliuii' as ouo that wouKl IiKhhI to tloath. 
 All this whilo tho tliiovos stooil hy. Hut. at last, thoy 
 hojivitiij that svmuo won' upv>n tho i\>ail. ami foariui; lost it 
 sl\ouKl ho ouo Ciivat-i;raoo. that dwoUs iu tho oitv of 
 (.iOiHl-i\M\tiilouvv. thoy l>otv>ok thomsolvos to thoir luvls, 
 and lott this jjihhI u\au to shitt for himsolf. Now, aftor 
 a \>hilo. l.ittlo faith oau\o to hiu\solf. ai\d tx^^ttiuji' up mailo 
 shitt to sovabhlo i>u his wav. This was tho stow. 
 
 HorK.vi\,. Hut iliil thoy tako tVom hiui all that ovor ho 
 hHil ? 
 
 (.''HKisriAN. No; tho pkuv whoiv his jowols woiv thov 
 novor rat>saokovl. so thoso ho kopt still. Hut, as I was 
 toKl. tho jj*hk1 man was nuioh atlliot^xl for his loss, for tho 
 thiovos ^>t u\vvst of his spouvliuij-mouoy. That whioh thov 
 gi^t not (as I sjviil) won^ jowols. alsv> ho hail a littlo inlil 
 
money left, but Hcurcc ciioii^l" lo l)iiii<^ liitn to his joiinicy'H 
 end (1 IV'L iv. 18); nay, if I was nol niisinfornicd, he wjim 
 forced to lu-jr us l)(; went, to l<('c|) liiniscH" nJivc; for liis 
 jewels he rni^ht not sell. MiiL Ixn-, find do whnt he could, 
 he went (us we say) with many a hun^cy Ix-lly the most 
 j)art of the rest of I he way. 
 
 IIoi'KKiii,, IJut is it not a wonder they got not from him 
 his certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance 
 at the C'elestial (Jat(!p 
 
 ( "nriisi IAN. It is a wonder ; l)nt they got not that, thongli 
 they missi'd it not through any good cuiniing of liis; for 
 lie, being dismayed with their coming upon him, had 
 neither power nor skill to hide anything; ho it was more 
 by good Providence than by his endeavour, that they 
 missed of that good thing. 
 
 Moi'Ki'iii-. IJut it must needs be a comfort lo him, that 
 they got not his jewels from him. 
 
 Cniiisi'iAN. It might have been great comfort to him, 
 had he used it as he should ; but they that told me the 
 story said, that he made but little use of it all the rest of 
 the way, and that beouisc; of the dismay that he had in 
 the taking away his money : indeed, he forgot it a great 
 part of the rest of his journey; and besides, when at any 
 time it came into his mind, and he began to be comforted 
 therewith, then would fr(!sh ihoiights of his loss come 
 again upon him, and those thoughts would swallow up all 
 (1 Tet. i. 9). 
 
 Ilori;i(ri,. Alas! poor man. 'i'his coidd not but Ik; a 
 great grief to him. 
 
 Christian. Gr'wSl ny, a grief indeed. Woidd it not, 
 liave been so to any of us, h.ul we beeti used as he, t,o be 
 robbed, and wounded too, and that in a strange [)lace, as 
 he wasp It is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor 
 heart! I was told that he scattered almost all the re.st of 
 
 K 
 
146 Zbc ipUortin'5 proorcss 
 
 the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints; 
 telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook 
 in the way as he went, whore he was robbed, and how ; 
 who they were that diil it, nnd what he lost; how he was 
 wounded, and that he hardly escaped with his life. 
 
 IIorKi ri,. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not 
 put him upon selliug or pawning some of his jewels, that 
 he might have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey. 
 
 Ck':)stiax. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is 
 tiie shell to this very day ; for what should he pawn them, 
 or to whom should he sell them ? In all that country 
 where he wjus robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; 
 nor did he want that relief which could from thence be 
 administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been missing 
 at the gate of the Celestial City, he had (anil that he knew 
 well enougk) been excluded from an inheritance there; and 
 that would have been worse to him than the appearance 
 and villainy of ten thousand thieves. 
 
 IIorKFUL. Why art thou so birt, my brother? Esau 
 sold his birthright, and that for a mess of pottage, and 
 tiiat birthright was his greatest jewel ; and if he, why 
 might not Little-faith do so too.? (Heb. xii. 16). 
 
 CnuisTiAN. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so 
 do many besides, and by so doing exclude themselves 
 from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff did ; but you 
 must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-faith, 
 and also betwixt their estates. Esau's birthright was 
 typical, but I^ittle-faith's jewels were not so ; Esau"'s belly 
 was his god, but Little-faith's belly was not so; Esau's 
 want lay in his fleshly ap}>etite. Little-faith's did not so. 
 Besides, Esau could see no furtJier than to the fulfilling of 
 his lusts ; " Behold I am at the point to die (said he), and 
 what profit shall this birthright do me? "(Gen. xxv. J52). 
 But Little-faith, tliough it was his lot to have but a little 
 
XTbe BMlorlm's ip)roGrc56 147 
 
 faith, was by his little faith kept from such extravagances, 
 and made to see and prize his jewels more than to sell 
 them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not anywhere 
 that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a little ; therefore 
 no marvel if, where the flesh only bears sway (as it will 
 in that man where no faith is to resist), if he sells 'his 
 birthright, and his soul and all, and that to the devil of 
 hell ; for it is with such, us it is with the ass, who in her 
 occasions cannot be turned away (Jer. ii. ^4>). When their 
 minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them what- 
 ever they cost. But Little-faith was of another temper, 
 his mind was on things divine ; his livelihood was upon 
 things that were spiritual, and from above; therefore, 
 to what end should he that is of such a temper sell his 
 jewels (had there been any that would have bought them) 
 to fill his mind with empty things.? Will a man give a 
 penny to fill his belly with hay.? or can you })ersuade the 
 turtle-dove to live upon carrion like the crow.? Though 
 faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, or 
 sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot; yet 
 they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, 
 cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake. 
 
 HoPKKiiL. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflec- 
 tion had almost made me angry. 
 
 Christian. Why, I did but compare thee to some of 
 the birds that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and 
 fro in untrodden paths, with the shell upon their heads; 
 but pass by that, and consider the matter under debate, 
 and all shall be well betwixt thee and me. 
 
 Hopeful. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am 
 persuaded in my heart, are but a company of cowards; 
 would they have run else, think you, as they did, at the 
 noise of one that was coming on the road .? Why did 
 not Little-faith pluck up a greater heart.? He might, 
 
Its Zbc piKirim'5 procii'css 
 
 niethinks, htive siood duo brush willi llunu, jiiul have 
 violiloil when Ihi'iv liail been lu) ivuunly. 
 
 C'uinsriAN. That thov aro oowarils, many have saiil, but 
 low have found it so in the time of trial. As for a ti;i*eat 
 heart, l.ittle-taith hail none; ami I pereeive bv thee, my 
 brotlier, haiist thou been the man eoneerned, tliou art but 
 for a brush, and then to yielih And, verily, sinee this is 
 tlie heii;ht of tl\v stomaeh, now tliey are at a chstanee 
 from us, shouKl they appear to thee as they liid to him, 
 they might put tliee to second tlioughts. 
 
 IJut, consider again, they arc but journeymen thieves, 
 thev serve uniler the king of the bottondess }>it, wiio, if 
 need be, will come in to their aiil himself, and his voice is 
 as the roaring of a lion (l*s. vii. Ji ; 1 IVt. v. 8). I my- 
 self have been engageil as this Little-faith was, and I 
 found it a terrible thing. These thrce villains set upon 
 me, and I beginning, like a Christian, to resist, tliey gave 
 but a call, and in came their master. 1 would, as the 
 saving is, have given my life for a penny ; but that, as 
 Cioil would have it, I was clotJied with armour of proof. 
 Ay, and vet, though I was so harnessed, I found it hard 
 work to quit myself like a man. No man can tell wliat 
 in that conibat attenils us, but he tl\at hath been in tlie 
 battle himself. 
 
 lIorKii 1.. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did 
 but suppose tiiat one Great -grace was in the way. 
 
 Chkistian. IVue, they have often fled, both tliey and 
 their master, when Cireat-grace hath but appeared ; ami 
 no marvel; for he is the King's Champion, liut, I trow, 
 you will put some ditlerence betwixt Little-faith and the 
 King's Champion. All the King's subjects aiv not his 
 champions, nor can they, when tried, do such feats of war 
 as he. Is it meet to tliink that a little child should handle 
 Goliath as David did.? or that there should be the strcngth 
 
of ail ox ill a wi(!n ? Soiiu? are Htrong, some are weak ; 
 some ljav(! <>;r('al, faitli, some have little. This man was 
 one of the weak, and thcrelon! he went to the wail. 
 
 IIoi'Kiiii.. I would it had been Grcat-^race for their sakes. 
 
 (.'mkistian. If it had been, he ini<>lit liave had his hands 
 full; for 1 must tell yon, that though ( i reat-/i;race is 
 excellent good at his weapons, and has, and can, so lon;^ 
 as he keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with 
 them; yet, if they ^et within him, even Taint-heart, Mis- 
 trust, or the other, it shall go hard but they will throw 
 up his heels. And when a man is down, you know, what 
 can he do ? 
 
 Whoso looks well upon (Jreat-grace's face, shall see 
 those scars and cuts there, that shall easily give demon- 
 stration of what I say. Yea, once; I heard that he should 
 say (and that when lu; was in the combat), "We desjiaired 
 even of life." I low did these sturdy rogues and their 
 fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar! Yea, Ibiinan, 
 and Ilezekiah, too, though champions in their day, were 
 forced to bestir them, when by these assaultt^d; and yet, 
 notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by 
 them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could 
 do; but though some do say of him that lie is the prince 
 of the apostles, they handled him so, that they made him 
 at last afraid of a sorry girl. 
 
 Ik'sides, their king is at their whistle. lie is never out 
 of hearing; and if at any time they be put to the worst, 
 he, if possible, comes in to help them ; and of him it is 
 said, "Tlie sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold 
 the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon : he esteemeth iron 
 as straw, and brass as rotten wood. Thi; arrow cannot 
 make him (lee; sling stones are turned with him into 
 stul)ble. Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at 
 the shaking of a spear " (.lob xli. 26-^9). WTiat can a 
 
150 xrbc ipilodin's jProcress 
 
 man do in this case ? It is true, if a man could, at every 
 turn, have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride 
 him, he might do notable things; "for his neck is clothed 
 witli thunder, he will not be afraid of the grasshopper; 
 the glory of his nostrils is terrible; he paweth in the 
 valley, and rejoice th in his strength, he goeth on to meet 
 the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not aftrighted, 
 neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver 
 rattleth iigainst him, the glittering spear, and the shield. 
 He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, neither 
 bclicveth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith 
 among the trumpets, Ha, ha ! and he smelleth the battle 
 afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting '" 
 (Job xxxix. 19-^>5). 
 
 But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never 
 desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could 
 do better, when we hear of others that they have been 
 foiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own man- 
 hood ; for such connnonly come by the worst when tried. 
 Witness Peter, of \vhom I made mention before. He 
 would swagger, ay, he would : he would, as his vain mind 
 prompted him to say, do better, and stand more for his 
 Master than all men ; but who so foiled, and run down 
 by these villains, as he ? 
 
 When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done 
 on the King's highway, two things become us to do : 1. 
 To go out harnessed and to be sure to take a shield with 
 us; for it was for want of that, that he that laid so 
 lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield: for, indeed, 
 if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore, he 
 that had skill hath said, " Above all, taking the shield of 
 faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery 
 darts of the wicked" (F.ph. vi. 16). 
 
 J2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy, 
 
Ube pilorim'3 prooress I'^i 
 
 yea, that he will go with us himself. This made David 
 rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and 
 Moses was rather for dying where he stood, than to go 
 one step without his God (Exod. xxxiii. 15). O my 
 brother, if He will but go along with us, what need we be 
 afraid of ten thousands that shall set themselves against 
 us (l*s. iii. 5-JS, xxvii. 1-3). IJut, without him, the proud 
 helpers "fall under the slain" (Isa. x. 4). 
 
 I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and 
 though, through the goodness of Him that is best, I am, 
 as you see, alive; yet I catniot boast of my manhood. 
 Glad shall I be, if I meet with no more such brunts; 
 though I fear we are not got beyond all danger. How- 
 ever, since the lion and the beai- have not as yet devoured 
 me, I hope God will also deliver us from the next un- 
 circumcised Philistine. Then sang Christian — 
 
 "Poor Little-faith ! Hast been nmou^ the thieves? 
 Wast rohb'd ? llememher this, whoso l)elieves. 
 And f^ets more faith, sliall tlien a victor be 
 Over ten thousand, else scarce over three." 
 
 So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went 
 then till they came at a |)lace where they saw a way put 
 itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight 
 as the way which they should go : and here they knew not 
 which of the two to take, for both seemed straight before 
 them; therefore, here they stood still to consider. And 
 as they were thinking about the way, behold a man, black 
 of Hesh, but covered with a very light robe, came to them, 
 and asked them why they stood there. 'Hiey answered 
 they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which 
 of these ways to take. Follow me, said the man, it is 
 thither that I am going. So they followed him in the 
 way that but now came into the road, which by degrees 
 turned, and turned them so from the city that they desired 
 
152 Ubc BMlortin's prooress 
 
 to go to, that in little time, their faces were turned 
 away from it ; yet they followed him. But by and by, 
 before they were aware, he led them both within the 
 compass of a net, in which tliey were both so entangled, 
 that they knew not what to do ; and with that the white 
 robe fell oft' the black man's back. Then they saw where 
 they were. Wherefore, there they lay crying some time, 
 for they could not get themselves out. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian to his fellow. Now do I 
 see myself in error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware 
 of the flatterers ? As is the saying of the wise man, so we 
 have found it this day, " A man that flattereth his neigh- 
 bour spreadeth a net for his feet " (Prov. xxix. 5). 
 
 Hopeful. They also gave us a note of directions about 
 the way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein 
 we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept our- 
 selves from the paths of the Destroyer. Here David was 
 wiser than we ; for, saith he, " Concerning the works of 
 men, by the word of thy lips, I have kept me from the 
 paths of the destroyer" (Ps. xvii. 4). Thus they lay 
 bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a 
 Shining One coming towards them with a whip of small 
 cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where 
 they were, he asked them whence they came, and what 
 they did there. They told him that they were poor 
 pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of their way by 
 a black man, clothed in white, who bid us, said they, 
 follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said he 
 with the whip. It is Flatterer, a false apostle that has 
 transformed himself into an angel of light (Prov. xxix. 5 ; 
 Dan. xi. 32; 2 Cor. xi. 13, 14). So he rent the net, and 
 let the men out. Then said he to them, Follow me, that 
 I may set you in vour way again. So he led them back 
 to the way which they had left to follow the Flatterer. 
 
Zbc ipiloilm's prooress iss 
 
 Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last 
 night ? They said. With the Shepherds, upon the Delec- 
 table Mountains, He asked them, then, if they had not 
 of those Shej)herds a note of direction for the way. They 
 answered. Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a 
 stand, pluck out and read your note ? They answered, 
 No. He asked them, Why ? They said, they forgot. 
 He asked, moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them 
 beware of the Flatterer. They answered. Yes, but we 
 did not imagine, said they, that this fine-spoken man had 
 been he (Horn. xvi. 18). 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to 
 lie down ; which, when they did, he chastised them sore to 
 teach them the good way wherein they should walk (Deut. 
 XXV. 2) ; and as he chastised them he said, " As many as I 
 love, I rebuke and chasten ; be zealous, therefore, and re- 
 pent" (Rev. iii. 19; 2 Chron. vi. 26, 27). This done, he 
 bid them go on their way, and take good heed to the other 
 directions of the Shepherds. So they thanked him for all 
 his kindness, and went softly along the right way, singing — 
 
 ** Come hither, you that walk ah)ns the way ; 
 See how the pilgrims fare tliat f^o astray ! 
 They catched are in an entanf^ling net, 
 'Cause they p;oo(l counsel liglitly did forget : 
 'Tis true they rescued were, but yet you see, 
 They're scourged to boot. Let this your caution be." 
 
 Now, after a while, they perceived, afar oft", one coming 
 softly and alone, all along the highway to meet them, 
 Then said Christian to his fellow. Yonder is a man with 
 his back towards Zion, and he is coming to meet us. 
 
 Hopeful. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now, 
 lest he should prove a flatterer also. So he drew nearer 
 and nearer, and at last came up unto them. His name 
 was Atheist, and he asked them whither they were going. 
 
154 Ubc pilQVinVs progress 
 
 Christian. We are going to Mount Zion. 
 
 Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 
 
 Christian. What is the meaning of your laughter ? 
 
 Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, 
 to take upon you so tedious a journey, and you are like to 
 have nothing but your travel for your pains. 
 
 Christian. Why, man, do you think we shall not be 
 received ? 
 
 Atheist. Received ! There is no such place as you 
 dream of in all this world. 
 
 Christian. But there is in the world to come. 
 
 Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country, I 
 heard as you now affirm, and from that hearing went out 
 to see, and have been seeking this city this twenty years ; 
 but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out 
 (Jer. xxii. 12 ; Eccles. x. 15). 
 
 Christian. We have both heard and believe that there 
 is such a place to be found. 
 
 Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not 
 come thus far to seek ; but finding none (and yet I should, 
 had there been such a place to be found, for I have gone 
 to seek it further than you), I am going back again, and 
 will seek to refresh myself with the things that I then cast 
 away, for hopes of that which, I now see, is not. 
 
 Christian. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow. 
 Is it true which this man hath said ? 
 
 Hopeful. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers; re- 
 member what it hath cost us once already for our hearken- 
 ing to such kind of fellows. What ! no ]\Iount Zion ? 
 Did we not see, from the Delectable Mountains, the gate 
 of the city ? Also, are we not now to walk by faith .'* Let 
 us go on, said Hopeful, lest the man with the whip over- 
 take us again (2 Cor. v. 7). 
 
 You should have taught me that lesson, which I will 
 
Z\)c iPflctlm's progress 155 
 
 round you in the ears withal : " Cease, my son, to hear the 
 instruction that causeth to err from the words of know- 
 ledge " (Prov. xix. 27). I say, my brother, cease to hear 
 him, and let us " believe to the saving of the soul " 
 (Heb. X. 39). 
 
 Christian. My brother, I did not put the question to 
 thee for that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, 
 but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the 
 honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that he 
 is blinded by the god of this world. Let thee and me go 
 on, knowing that we have belief of the truth, "and no 
 lie is of the truth" (1 John ii. 21). 
 
 Hopeful. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 
 So they turned away from the man ; and he, laughing at 
 them, went his way. 
 
 I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came 
 into a certain country, whose air naturally tended to make 
 one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And here 
 Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of sleep ; where- 
 fore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so 
 drowsy that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes ; let us lie 
 down here and take one nap. 
 
 Christian. By no means, said the other ; lest sleeping, 
 we never awake more. 
 
 Hopeful. Why, my brother? Sleep is sweet to the 
 labouring man ; we may be refreshed if we take a nap. 
 
 Christian. Do you not remember that one of the 
 Shepherds bid us beware of the Enchanted Ground ? He 
 meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping ; 
 " Therefore let us not sleep, as do others, but let us watch 
 and be sober " (1 Thess. v. 6). 
 
 Hopeful. I acknowledge myself in a fault ; and had I 
 been here alone, I had by sleeping run the danger of 
 death, I see it is true that the wise man saith, "Twq 
 
156 Zbc pilorlm'5 jproorcss 
 
 are better than one." Hitherto hath thy company been 
 my mercy, and thou shalt have a good reward for thy 
 labour (Ecdes. iv. 9). 
 
 Chkistian. Now then, said Christian, to prevent 
 drowsiness in this place, let us fall into good discourse. 
 
 Hopeful. With all my heart, said the other. 
 
 Christian. Where shall we begin ? 
 
 HoPFKUL, Where God began with us. But do you 
 begin, if you please. 
 
 Chuistian. I will sing you first this song : — 
 
 *' M'hen saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
 And hear how these two pilgrims talk together : 
 Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise. 
 Thus to keep ope their drowsy slumh'ring eyes. 
 Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well. 
 Keeps them awake, and that la spite of hell. " 
 
 Christian. Then Christian began and said, I will ask 
 you a question. How came you to think at first of so 
 doing as you do now ? 
 
 Hopeful. Do you mean, how came I at first to look 
 after the good of my soul ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, that is my meaning. 
 
 Hopeful. I continued a great while in the delight of 
 those things which were seen and sold at our fair; things 
 which I believe now, would have, had I continued in them 
 still, drowned me in perdition and destruction. 
 
 Christian. What things are they ? 
 
 Hopeful. All the treasures and riches of the world. 
 Also I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, 
 swearing, lying, unclcanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what 
 not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found at 
 last, by hearing and considering of things that are divine, 
 which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, 
 tliat was put to death for his faith and good living in 
 
TLbc DMUjrim's prooress 157 
 
 Vanity Fair, that "the end of these things is death"" 
 (Rom, vi. 21-23). And that for these things' sake 
 " Cometh the wrath of God upon the children of dis- 
 obedience '"' (Eph. V. 6). 
 
 Christian. And did you presently fall under the power 
 of this conviction ? 
 
 IIoi'EKUi,. No, I was not willing presently to know the 
 evil of sin, nor the damnation that follows upon the 
 commission of it; but endeavoured, when my mind at 
 first began to be shaken with the Word, to shut mine 
 eyes against the light thereof. 
 
 Christian. But what was the cause of your carrying of 
 it thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon 
 you.? 
 
 Hopeful. The causes were, 1. I was ignorant that this 
 was the work of God upon me. I never thought that, by 
 awakenings for sin, God at first begins the conversion of a 
 sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was 
 loth to leave it. 3. I could not tell how to part with 
 mine old companions, their presence and actions were so 
 desirable unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions 
 were upon me, were such troublesome and such heart- 
 affrighting hours, that I could not bear, no not so much 
 as the remembrance of them upon my heart. 
 
 Christian. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of 
 your trouble. 
 
 Hopeful. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind 
 again, and then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I 
 was before. 
 
 Christian. Why, what was it that brought your sins 
 to mind again ? 
 
 Hopeful. Many things ; as, 
 
 1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or, 
 
 2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 
 
158 zbc ipilcjrfnVs jprooress 
 
 3. If mine head did begin to ache ; or, 
 
 4. If I were told that some of my neighbours were 
 sick ; or, 
 
 5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or, 
 
 6. If I thought of dying myself; or, 
 
 7". If I heard that sudden death happened to others ; 
 
 8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that I 
 must quickly come to judgment. 
 
 Chuistian. And could you at any time, with ease, get 
 oft' the guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came 
 upon you ? 
 
 Hopeful. No, not I, for then they got faster hold of my 
 conscience ; and then if I did but think of going back to 
 sin (though my mind was turned against it), it would 
 be double torment to me. 
 
 Christian. And how did you do then ? 
 
 Hopeful. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life ; 
 for else, thought I, I am sure to be damned. 
 
 Christian. And did you endeavour to mend ? 
 
 Hopeful. Yes; and fled from not only my sins, but 
 sinful company too ; and betook me to religious duties, as 
 prayer, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my 
 neighbours, iS:c. These things did I, with many others, 
 too much here to relate. 
 
 Christian. And did you think yourself well then ? 
 
 Hopeful. Yes, for a while ; but at the last, my trouble 
 came tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck of 
 all my reformations. 
 
 Christian. How came that about, since you were now 
 reformed ? 
 
 Hopeful. There were several things brought it upon 
 me, es])ecially such sayings as these : " All our righteous- 
 nesses are as filthy rags '" (Isa. Ixiv. 6). " By the works of 
 the law shall no ftesh be justified '^ (Gal. ii. 16). " When 
 
ye shall have done all those things, say, We are unprofit- 
 able " (l.uke xvii. 10); with many more snch like. From 
 whence I began to reason with njyseif thus: If all my 
 righteousnesses are filthy rags; if, by the deeds of the 
 law, NO man can be justified ; and if, when we have done 
 ALL, we are yet unprofitable, then it is but a folly to think 
 of heaven by the law. I further thought thus : If a man 
 runs a hundred pounds into the shopkeeper's debt, and 
 after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch; yet, if 
 this old debt stands still in the book uncrossed, for that 
 the sho|)keeper may sue him, and cast him into prison 
 till he shall pay the debt. 
 
 CiiiiiSTiAN. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? 
 
 Hopeful. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have, by 
 my sins, run a great way into God's lK)ok, and that my 
 now reforming will not pay off that score ; therefore I 
 should think still, under all my present amendments, IJut 
 how shall I be freed from that damnation that I have 
 brought myself in danger of, by my former transgressions.? 
 
 Christian. A very good apj)Iication : but, pray, go on. 
 
 Hopeful. Another thing that hath troubled me, even 
 since my late amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into 
 the best of what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, mixing 
 itself with the best of that I do ; so that now I am forced 
 to conclude, that notwithstanding my former fond conceits 
 of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in one 
 duty to send me to hell, though my former life had been 
 faultless. 
 
 Christian. And what did you do then ? 
 
 Hopeful. Do! 1 could not tell what to do, until I brake 
 my mind to Faithful, for he and I were well accjuainted. 
 And he told me, that unless I could obtain the righteous- 
 ness of a man that never had sinned, neither mine own, 
 nor all the righteousness of the world could save me. 
 
i6o Ubc jpiloriin'5 il>rocirc53 
 
 Christian. And did you think he spake true? 
 
 HorKFrL. Hud ho told me so when I was pleased and 
 satisfied witli mine own amendment, 1 had called him fool 
 tor his pains ; but now, since I see mine own inlirmitv, 
 and the sin that cleaves to my best performance, I have 
 been forced to be of his opinion. 
 
 CuiusTiAN. But did you think, when at first he sug- 
 gested it to you, that there was such a man to be found, 
 of whom it might justly be said, that he never com- 
 mitted sin ? 
 
 lIorKFUL. I must confess the words at first sounded 
 strangely, but after a little more talk and company witli 
 him, I had full conviction about it. 
 
 CiiHisTiAN. And did vou ask him what man tliis was, 
 and how you must be justified by him ? 
 
 IIorKFi'i,. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, 
 that dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High. And 
 thus, said he, you must be justified by Him, even by trust- 
 ing to what He hath done by Himself, in the davs of His 
 flesh, and sufibred when He did hang on the tree. I asked 
 him furtJier, ho\\ that man's righteousness could be of 
 that etHcacy to justify another before God. And he told 
 me He was the mighty God, and did what He did, and 
 died tlie death also, not for Himself, but for me ; to whom 
 His doings, and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, 
 if 1 believed on Hiin (Hob. x.; Rom. iv.; Col. i.; 1 Pet. i.). 
 
 Christian. And what did you do then ? 
 
 Hopeful. I made mv objections against mv believing, 
 for that I thought He was not willing to save me. 
 
 Christian. And what stiid Faithful to you then ? 
 
 Hopeful. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said 
 it was presumption ; but he said, No, for I was invited 
 to come (Matt. xi. 28). Then he gave me a book of 
 Jesus his inditincj to encourage me tlie more freelv to 
 
TLbc lP>ilotfm'5 ipiroorcss 161 
 
 come; and he said, concerning that book, that every jot 
 and tittle thereof stood firmer than lieaven and earth 
 (Matt. xxiv. 35). Then I asked him what I must do 
 when I came; and he told me I nuist entreat upon my 
 knees, with all my heart and soul, the Father to reveal 
 Him to me (Ps. xcv. G; Dan. vi. 10; Jer. xxix. 1% V3). 
 Then I asked him further, how I must make my su])[)lica- 
 tion to Ilim. And he said, Go, and thou shalt find llini 
 upon a mercy-seat, wliere He sits all the year long, to give 
 pardon and forgiveness to them that come. I told him that 
 I knew not what to say when I came. And he bid me say 
 to this effect : God be merciful to me a sinner, and make 
 me to know and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see, that if 
 His righteousness had not been, or I have not faith in that 
 righteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord, I have heard 
 that thou art a merciful (lod, and hast ordained that thy 
 Son Jesus (>hrist should be the Saviour of the world; and 
 moreover, that thou art willing to bestow Him upon such a 
 poor sirnier as I am (and I am a sinner indeed); I^ord, take 
 therefore this op])ortunity, and magnify thy grace in the 
 salvation of my soul, through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen 
 (Exod. XXV, 22; Lev, xvi, 2; Num, vii. 89; Heb. iv. 16). 
 
 Cmkistian. And did you do as you were bidden? 
 
 Hoi'Ki'iJL. Yes ; over, and over, and over. 
 
 Christian. And did the Father reveal His Son to you? 
 
 Hoi'KKiiL. Not at the first, nor second, nor third, nor 
 fourth, nor fifth ; no, nor at the sixth tinje neither. 
 
 Christian. What did you do then ? 
 
 Hoi'EKUL. What! why, I could not tell what to do. 
 
 Christian. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying? 
 
 Hopeful. Yes; an hundred times twice told. 
 
 Christian. And what was the reason you did not? 
 
 Hopeful. I believed that that was true which had been 
 told me, to wit, that witlwut the righteousness of this 
 
 L 
 
,162 Ube pilgttm's progress 
 
 Christ, all the world could not save me; and therefore, 
 thought I with myself, if I leave off I die, and I can but 
 die at the throne of grace. And withal, this came into 
 my mind, " Though it tarry, wait for it ; because it will 
 surely come, it will not tarry" (Hab. ii. 3), So I con- 
 tinued praying until the Father showed me His Son. 
 
 Christian. And how was He revealed unto you ? 
 
 Hopeful. I did not see Him with my bodily eyes, but 
 with the eyes of my understanding (Eph. i. 18, 19) ; and 
 thus it was : One day I was very sad, I think sadder than 
 at any one time in my life, and this sadness was through 
 a fresh sight of the greatness and vileness of my sins. 
 And as I was then looking for nothing but hell, and the 
 everlasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, 
 I saw the Lord Jesus Christ look down from heaven upon 
 me, and saying, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 thou shalt be saved" (Acts xvi. 31). 
 
 But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner. 
 And He answered, "My grace is sufficient for thee" (2 Cor. 
 xii. 9). Then I said. But, Lord, what is believing? 
 And then I saw from that saying, " He that cometh to 
 me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall 
 never thirst," that believing and coming was all one ; and 
 that he that came, that is, ran out in his heart and affec- 
 tions after salvation by Christ, he indeed believed in 
 Christ (John vi. 35). Then the water stood in mine 
 eyes, and I asked further, But, Lord, may such a great 
 sinner as I am be indeed accepted of Thee, and be saved 
 by Thee ? And I heard Him say, " And him that cometh 
 to me, I will in no wise cast out" (John vi. 37). Then I 
 said, But how. Lord, must I consider of Thee in my coming 
 to Thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon Thee ? 
 Then He said, " Christ Jesus came into the world to save 
 sinners" (1 Tim. i. 15). "He is the end of the law for 
 
zrbe ipllGtim's ptooress 163 
 
 righteousness to every one that believeth"" (Rom. x. 4). 
 "He died for our sins, and rose again for our justification" 
 (Rom. iv. 25). " He loved us, and washed us from our 
 sins in his own blood " (Rev. i. 5). " He is mediator 
 betwixt God and us"" (1 Tim. ii. 5). "He ever liveth to 
 make intercession for us " (Heb. vii. 25). From all which 
 I gathered, that I must look for righteousness in His 
 person, and for satisfaction for my sins by His blood; 
 that what He did in obedience to His Father s law, and in 
 submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for Himself, 
 but for him that will accept it for his salvation, and be 
 thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes 
 full of tears, and mine affections running over with love 
 to the name, people, and ways of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Christian. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul 
 indeed ; but tell me particularly what effect this had upon 
 your spirit. 
 
 Hopeful. It made me see that all the world, notwith- 
 standing all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of 
 condemnation. It made me see that God the Father, 
 though He be just, can justly justify the coming sinner. 
 It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former 
 life, and confounded me with the sense of mine own 
 ignorance; for there never came thought into my heart 
 before now, that showed me so the beauty of Jesus Christ. 
 It made me love a holy life, and long to do something 
 for the honour and glory of the name of the Lord Jesus; 
 yea, I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of 
 blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of 
 the Lord Jesus. 
 
 I saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back and 
 saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming after. 
 Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder youngster 
 loitereth behind. 
 
164 ZEbe ipilatltn'6 progress 
 
 Christian. Ay, ay, I see him ; he careth not for our 
 company. 
 
 Hopeful. But I trow it would not have hurt him, had 
 he kept pace Avith us hitherto. 
 
 Christian. That is true ; but I warrant you, he thinketh 
 otherwise. 
 
 Hopeful. That, I think, he doth ; but, however, let us 
 tarry for him. So they did. 
 
 Then Christian said to him. Come away, man, why do 
 you stay so behind ? 
 
 Ignorance. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even 
 more a great deal than in company, unless I like it the 
 better. 
 
 Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly). Did I not 
 tell you he cared not for our company ? But, however, 
 said he, come up, and let us talk away the time in this 
 solitary place. Then directing his speech to Ignorance, 
 he said. Come, how do you ? How stands it between God 
 and your soul now ? 
 
 Ignorance. I hope well ; for I am always full of good 
 motions, that come into my mind, to comfort me as I 
 walk (Prov. xxviii. 26). 
 
 Christian. What good motions ? pray, tell us. 
 
 Ignorance. Why, I think of God and heaven. 
 
 Christian. So do the devils and damned souls. 
 
 Ignorance. But I think of them and desire them. 
 
 Christian. So do many that are never like to come 
 there. "The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath 
 nothing"" (Prov. xiii.). 
 
 Ignorance. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 
 
 Christian. That I doubt; for leaving all is a hard 
 matter : yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. 
 But why, or by what, art thou persuaded that thou hast 
 left all for God and heaven ? 
 
Ignorance. My heart tells me so. 
 
 Christian. The wise man says, " He that trusts his 
 own heart is a fool " (Prov. xxviii. 26). 
 
 Ignorance. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine 
 is a good one. 
 
 Christian. But how dost thou prove that ? 
 
 Ignorance. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 
 
 Christian. That may be through its deceitful ness; for 
 a man's heart may minister comfort to him in the hopes 
 of that thing for which he yet has no ground to hope. 
 
 Ignorance. But my heart and life agree together, and 
 therefore my hope is well grounded. 
 
 Christian. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree 
 together ? 
 
 Ignorance. My heart tells me so. 
 
 Christian. Ask my fellow if I be a thief ! Thy heart 
 tells thee so ! Except the Word of God beareth witness 
 in this matter, other testimony is of no value. 
 
 Ignorance. But is it not a good heart that hath good 
 thoughts? and is not that a good life that is according 
 to God's commandments ? 
 
 Christian. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good 
 thoughts, and that is a good life that is according to 
 God's commandments; but it is one thing, indeed, to 
 have these, and another thing only to think so. 
 
 Ignorance. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a 
 life according to God's commandments? 
 
 Christian. There are good thoughts of divers kinds; 
 some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and 
 some other things. 
 
 Ignorance. What be good thoughts respectingourselves? 
 
 Christian. Such as agree with the Word of God. 
 
 Ignorance. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree 
 with the Word of God ? 
 
166 Zbc UMliiriiu'ti ll>roovc55 
 
 Chrtstian. WIhmi we pass the same jiuiixnient upon 
 oiivst'l vos which the Woril passes. To explain myself — 
 the Word of Cuul saith of persons in a natural condition, 
 *' There is none righteous, theiv is none that doeth good" 
 (Uoni. iii.)- If saith also, that "everv imagination of the 
 heart of man is only evil, and that continually "" (Gen. vi. 5). 
 And again, " The imagination of man's heai't is evil from 
 his vouth " (Kom. viii. J2l). Now then, when we think thus 
 of ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts 
 good ones, because acccn'ding to the Word of God. 
 
 IcJNOKAXCK.. I will never believe that mv heart is thus 
 bad. 
 
 CninsriAX. Therefore thou never hadst one good thouglit 
 concerning thyself in t!iy life. Itut let me go on. As the 
 Won! passeth a judgment upon our heart, so it passeth a 
 judgment upon our ways; and when oru thoughts of our 
 hearts anil wavs agree with the juilgment which the Word 
 o-iveth of both, then are both tj;ood, because agreeing thereto. 
 
 loxouAXCK. Make out your meaning. 
 
 (^ninsriAN. Why, the Word of (lod saith that man's 
 wavs are crookeil ways; not gooil, but perverse (I's. cxxv. 
 5; Trov. ii. 15). It saith they are naturally out of the 
 good wav, that thev have not known it (Kom. iii.). Now, 
 when a man thus thinkoth of his ways; I say, when he doth 
 sensibly, and with heart-humiliation, thus think, then hath 
 he good thoughts of his own ways, because his thoughts 
 now agree with the judgment of the ^Vord of God. 
 
 Ic.xouANCE. What are good thoughts concerning God .'' 
 
 CumsTiAN. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, 
 wlien ovu* thoughts of God do agree with what the ^Vord 
 saith of Him ; and that is, when we think of His being and 
 attributes as the Word hath taught, of which I cannot 
 now discourse at large ; but to speak of Him with reference 
 to us : Then we have right thoughts of God, when we 
 
xri^c iptlovtm's lp»roorc83 lo? 
 
 think tli.it He knows us hotter than we know ourselves, 
 and can see sin in us when and where wo can see none in 
 ourselves; when we think He knows our inmost thoughts, 
 and that our heart, with all its depths, is always open 
 unto His eyes; also, when we think that all our righteous- 
 ness stinks in His nostrils, and that, therefore. He cannot 
 abide to see us stand before Him in any cordidence, even 
 in all our best j)erformances. 
 
 IcjNORANCK. Do you think that I am such a fool as to 
 think God can see no further than I? or, that I would 
 come to God in the best of my performances ? 
 
 CiiiiisTiAN. Why, how dost thou think in this matter? 
 
 Ignorance. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in 
 Christ for justificalion. 
 
 Christian. How! think thou must believe in Christ, 
 when thou secst not thy need of Him ! Thou neither 
 seest thy original nor actual infirmities; but hast such an 
 opinion of thyself, and of what thou dost, as plaiidy 
 renders thee to be one that did never see a necessity of 
 Christ's personal ri<^hteousness to justify thee before God. 
 How, then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ P 
 
 Ignorance. I believe well enough for all that. 
 
 Christian. IFow dost thou believe? 
 
 Ignorance. I believe that Christ died for sinners; ana 
 that I shall be justified before God from the curse, through 
 His gracious acceptance of my obedience to His law. Or 
 thus, Christ makes my duties, that are religious, accept- 
 able to His Father, by virtue of His merits; and so shall 
 I be justified. 
 
 CiiRisriAN. Let me give an answer to this confession of 
 thy faith. 
 
 1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith 
 is nowhere described in the Word. 
 
 2. Thou believest with a false faith ; because it taketh 
 
168 TLbc pilorim's prootess 
 
 justification from the personal righteousness of Christ, 
 and applies it to thy own. 
 
 3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, 
 but of thy actions; and of thy person for thy actions' 
 sake, which is false. 
 
 4. Therefore, this faith is deceitful, even such as will 
 leave thee under wrath, in the day of God Almighty ; for 
 true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its con- 
 dition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's 
 righteousness, which righteousness of His is not an act of 
 grace, by which He maketh, for justification, thy obedience 
 accepted with God; but His personal obedience to the law, 
 in doing and suffering for us what that required at our 
 hands; this righteousness, I say, true faith accepteth; 
 under the skirt of which, the soul being shrouded, and by 
 it presented as spotless before God, it is accepted, and 
 acquit from condemnation. 
 
 Ignorance. What ! would you have us trust to what 
 Christ, in His own person, has done without us ? This 
 conceit would loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate us 
 to live as we list; for what matter how we live, if we may 
 be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from all, 
 when we believe it ? 
 
 Christian. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, 
 so art thou ; even this thy answer demonstrateth what I 
 say. Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness 
 is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul, through the 
 faith of it, from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also 
 art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in this 
 righteousness of Christ, which is, to bow and win over the 
 heart to God in Christ, to love His name, His word, ways, 
 and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest. 
 
 Hopeful. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to 
 him from heaven. 
 
xrbe pflarlnVs iprootess 169 
 
 Ignorance. What ! you are a man for revelations ! I 
 believe that what both you, and all the rest of you, 
 say about that matter, is but the fruit of distracted 
 brains. 
 
 Hopeful. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the 
 natural apprehensions of the flesh, that He cannot by any 
 man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals 
 Him to them. 
 
 Ignorance. That is your faith, but not mine; yet mine, 
 I doubt not, is as good as yours, though I have not in my 
 head so many whimsies as you. 
 
 Christian. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought 
 not so slightly to speak of this matter; for this I will 
 boldly affirm, even as my good companion hath done, that 
 no man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation of 
 the Father (Matt. xi. 27) ; yea, and faith too, by which 
 the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be right, must be 
 wrought by the exceeding greatness of His mighty power; 
 the working of which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, 
 thou art ignorant of (1 Cor. xii. 3 ; Eph. i, 18, 19). Be 
 awakened, then, see thine own wretchedness, and fly to 
 the Lord Jesus; and by His righteousness, which is the 
 righteousness of God, for He Himself is God, thou shaltbe 
 delivered from condemnation. 
 
 Ignorance. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with 
 you. Do you go on before ; I must stay awhile behind. 
 
 Then they said : — 
 
 *' Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
 To slight good counsel, ten times given thee ? 
 And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know. 
 Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. 
 Remember, man, in time, stoop, do not fear ; 
 Good counsel taken well, saves : therefore hear : 
 But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
 The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee." 
 
170 zbc HMlorim's iproovcss 
 
 Then Christiuii adilressed thus himself to his follow : — 
 
 C'lnnsriAN. Well, come, my jJjood ll()j)eful, I perceive 
 (hat thoii ami 1 must walk hy ourselves ai;ain. 
 
 So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, 
 and Ii:;norance he came hol)l)lin<; after. Then said Christian 
 to his eomjianion. It pities me nnich for this poor man, it 
 will cerlainly s;-o ill with him at last. 
 
 lIoi'Kiui,. Alas! there are abuutlance in our town in 
 liis condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that 
 of pil<;"rims too; and if there be so mauy in our parts, 
 how mauy, Ihiuk you, nmst there be in the place where 
 lu- wMs born ? 
 
 Ciiuis-nAN. ludeed, iflie WiU'd saith, " He hath bliuded 
 their eyes, lest they should see," *S:c. Hut now we are by 
 ourselves, what do you think of such men? Have they 
 at no tiuie, thiuk you, convielions of siu, anil so conse- 
 quently fears that their slate is dan<;vrous? 
 
 IIorKKiiL. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, 
 for vou are the elder man. 
 
 Cuinsri.vN. Then I say, sometimes (as I thiuk) they 
 may; but they bein^ naturally ignorant, understand not 
 that such convictions lcn<l to llu'ir ^xxxl; anil therefore they 
 do desperately si>t>k lo slille tluMU, and presunq)tuouslv con- 
 tiniu> to Halter themselves in the way of their own hearts. 
 
 HoPKi'iM,. I do believe, as vou say, that fear lends nuich 
 to men's <jjood, and to make them rii;hl, at their beoimiing 
 to go t)u pilgrimage, 
 
 CuuisTiAN. Without, all doubt it doth, if it be right; 
 for so says the Wonl, "The fear of the Lord is the 
 beginning of wisdom" (Prov. i. 7, ix. U); Ps. cxi. 10; 
 .lob \xviii. ;.'S). 
 
 Hon 111,. How will you describe right fear? 
 
 CnuisriAN. True or right fear is discovered by thi'ee 
 Ihiuirs : — 
 
Ubc ipllorlm's iprootess i7i 
 
 1. By its rise ; it is caused by saving convictions for 
 sin. 
 
 2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for 
 salvation. 
 
 3. It begctteth and continueth in the soul a great rever- 
 ence of God, Ilis Word, and ways, keeping it tender, and 
 making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or 
 to the left, to anything that may dishonour God, break its 
 peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak 
 reproachfully. 
 
 HoPKi'UL. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. 
 Are we now almost got past the Knchanted Ground ? 
 
 Christian. Why, art thou weary of this discourse ? 
 
 IIoi'KKUL. No, verily, but that I would know where we are. 
 
 Christian. We have not now above two miles further 
 to go thereon. But let us return to our matter. Now 
 the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to 
 put them in fear are for their good, and therefore they 
 seek to stifle them. 
 
 Hopeful. How do they seek to stifle them ? 
 
 Christian. 1. 'Ihey think that those fears are wrought 
 by the devil (though indeed they are wrought of God); 
 and, thinking so, they resist them as things that directly 
 tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these 
 fears tend to the spoiling of their faith, when, alas for 
 them, poor men that they are, they have none at all ! and 
 therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. ITiey 
 presume they ought not to fear; and therefore, in despite 
 of them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see 
 that those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful 
 old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them with all 
 their might. 
 
 Hopeful. I know something of this myself; for, before 
 I knew myself, it was so with me. 
 
172 XTbc ilMkn*im'5 iprocirct^s 
 
 CmusTiAN. Well, we will leave, at thii- time, our neii2;h- 
 houT Ignomnee by himself, ami tall upon auother [)ro(it- 
 ahle question. 
 
 lIorKi ri.. With all mv heart, but you shall still beu:in. 
 
 CuuisriAX. Well then, did you not know, about ten 
 years ago, one Tom})orary in your ptirts, wlio was a forward 
 man in reliu;ion then ? 
 
 I llorKKi I.. Know him! ves, he dwelt in Ciraeeless, a 
 town about two miles otf of Honesty, and he dwelt next 
 door to one Turnbaek. 
 
 (^iKisriAN. Uis^hf, he ilwelt uniler the same roof with 
 him. Well, that man was nuieh awakened onee ; 1 believe 
 that then he had some sii;ht of his sins, and of the wai:;es 
 that were ilue Iherett). 
 
 HoPKi ri.. I am of your miml, for, mv house not beinji^ 
 above thive miles tVom him, he would oft times eome to 
 me, and that with many tears. Truly 1 pitied the man, 
 ami was not altoi^ether without hope of him; but one 
 may see, it is not every one that eries. Lord, Lord. 
 
 CuuisiiAN. lie told me onee that he was ivsolved to u^o 
 on pili:;rimai:^\ as we do now ; but all of a sudden he j^i't'w 
 aeipiainted with one Save-sclf, and then he beeame a 
 strano;er to me. 
 
 Hoi'KiuL. Now, since we ai'e talkiuij about him, let us 
 a little inipiiiv into the ivason of the sudden baekslidinix 
 of him anil sueh others. 
 
 CuuisriAN. It may lie very protltable, but do you bei^in. 
 
 HovKiri.. Well, then, theiv are in my judiiinent four 
 ivasons for it : — 
 
 1. Thoui^h the eonseiencvs of sueh men are awakemxl, 
 vet tlieir mimls are not ehauijiHl ; tlierefore, when the 
 power of i^uilt weaivth away, that whieh provoked them 
 to Ix" n^ligious ivaseth, wherefoiv they naturally turn to 
 their own eourse ai:;aiu, even as we see the dog that is 
 
sick of whal, lie Iimk cilcii, so lon;^ jis IiIh HJckncHs prcvailH, 
 h(! voMiils hikI cjisIh ii|) nil ; not, lliuL he doth Uiis of a 
 free iiiiiid (if wo inuy suy n, do^^ Iuih a tniiid), l)iil, because 
 it troublcth his Htoinafli ; Ixil, now, when his sickncHs iH 
 over, and so his stomach cased, liis desire heiiifr not at all 
 alienate iVoin his vomit, he turns him about and licks up 
 all, and ho it is tnit; which is writt(!ri, "The do;;- is turned 
 to his own vomit a,^ain " (^i IV;t(!r ii. JsJ^). Thus 1 say, 
 bein;^ hot for hiiaven, by virtue oidy of tlie Hens(! and fear 
 of the torments of IksII, as their Hense of hell, and the fear 
 of damnation, chills and cools, so their desires for h(!aven 
 and salvation cool also. So th(!n it cfmies to [)aHs, that 
 wh(!n tlniir ^uilt and fear is /^one, their desires for heaven 
 and happiness die, and they return to thciir course a^^aitj. 
 
 2. Another reason is, they have; slavish fears that do 
 overmaster them; I s[)eak now of the fears tliat they li/ive 
 of riK'n, for " the fear of man brin^eth a snare;" (I'rov. 
 xxix. ^5). So then, thou^^h tliey H(!em to be hot for 
 lieaven, so Ion;; as tin; flames of hell are about thfiir ears, 
 yet when that terror is a little ovei-, they Ix.'take them- 
 selv(!S to second thou;;hts ; nanudy, that it is ^)0(l to be 
 wise, and not to run (for they know n(»t what) tlu; hazard 
 of losin;; all, or, a,t least, of brin^in;; themselves into un- 
 avoidable and unnecessary troubk^s, and so th(!y fall in 
 with the world a;;uin. 
 
 a. The shame that attends reli;;ion lies also as a block 
 in their way ; they arc proud and hau;;hty, and religion 
 in tlieir ey(; is low and contemptible; tln^refore, wh(;n th(;y 
 have lost their sense of hell and wiatji to come, they retui-n 
 again to their former courHe. 
 
 4. (iiiilt, and to meditate; t(;rro;', are grievous to them, 
 'J'hiry lik(! not to hvx' their misery before they come into it; 
 thoiigh perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that 
 sight, might make them fly whither the righteous i\y and 
 
174 u\K pilmm'5 protn*c33 
 
 are safe. Ikit because they do, as I hinted bcforc, even 
 shun the thi)nghts of sjuilt ami terror, therefore, when 
 once they are riil of their awakenings about the terrors 
 and wrath of God, they harden their hearts gladly, and 
 choose such ways as will harden them more and more. 
 
 CniusriAN. Vou aiv pretty near the business, for the 
 bottom of all is, for want of a change in their mind and will. 
 And therefore they are but like the felon that standeth 
 before the judge, he ijuakes and trembles, and seems to 
 repent most heartily, but tlie bottom of all is the fear of 
 the halter; not that he hath any detesbition of the offence, 
 as is evident, because, let but this man have his liberty, 
 and he will be a thief, and so a rogue still, whereas, if his 
 mind was changed, he would be otherwise. 
 
 IIoi'KKi'L. Now I have showed you the reasons of their 
 going back, do you show me the manner thereof. 
 
 CumsTiAN. So I will willingly. 
 
 1. They draw oft' their thoughts, all that they may, 
 from the remembrance of God, death, and judgment to 
 come. 
 
 2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as 
 closet praver, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, 
 and the like. 
 
 a. Then they shun the company of lively and warm 
 Christians. 
 
 4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, 
 reading, godly conference, and the like. 
 
 5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the 
 coats of some of the godly ; and that devilishly, that 
 they may have a seeming colour to throw religion (for the 
 sake of some infirmity they have espied in them) behind 
 their backs. 
 
 (). Then they begin to ailhere to, and jissociate them 
 selves with, carnal, loose, and wanton men. 
 
Ubc pllorim's il>rooi'cs0 i75 
 
 7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses 
 in seci'et; and glad are they if they can see such things in 
 any that are counted honest, that they may the more 
 boldly do it through their exam[)le. 
 
 8. After this they hegit) to [)lay with little sins openly, 
 
 9. Arui then, being hardened, they show themselves as 
 they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf of 
 misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they ever- 
 lastingly perish in their own deceivings. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims 
 were got over the PinchiUited (iround, and entering into 
 the country of lieulah, whose air was very sweet and 
 pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they solaced 
 themselves thei-e for a season (Isa. Ixii. 4). Yea, here 
 they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every 
 day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice 
 of the turtle in tlie land (Can. ii. 10-12), In this conntry 
 the sun shineth night and day ; wherefore this was beyond 
 the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the 
 reach of Giant Despair, neither could they from this 
 place so much as see Doubting (.'astle. Here they were 
 within sight of the city they were going to, also liere met 
 them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land 
 the Shining Ones connnonly walked, because it was upon 
 the borders of heaven. In this land also, the contract 
 between the bride and the bridegroom was renewed ; yea, 
 here, " As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so did 
 their God rejoice over them " (Isa, Ixii. 5), Here they 
 had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place they met 
 with abundance of what thc^y liad sought for in all their 
 pilgrimage (verse 8). Here they heard voices from out 
 of the city, loud voices, saying, " Say ye to the daughter 
 of Zion, Ik'hold, thy salvaticm cometh ! IJehold, his 
 reward is with him!" (verse 11). Here all the inhabi- 
 
176 TLlyc nMkU'tin't^ ll>roorct55 
 
 tants of tho oountrv c.-vIUhI IIumh, "Tlu' holy people, The 
 i\HkHMUiHl of the l.onl. St>viuht out," \-o. (verse 1'2). 
 
 Now, ;is thev waikril in this laml, they hail more 
 rejoieiuij than in })arts more remote from the kinjxdom ti> 
 which llu'v were boinul ; and drawiuix m\-ir to the eity, 
 they h.'ul vet a moiv perfect view thereof. It was builded 
 of pearls and precious stones, also the street thereof was 
 paveil with s^oKl ; so that bv reasi>n o\' the natural ijjlory 
 of the city, and the relleetion of the sunbeams upon it, 
 Christian with desire fell sick; Hopeful also had a fit or 
 two o[' the same ilisease. Whereft>re, here they lay by it 
 awhile, crvini^ out, because of their pan^fs, " If ye Wud my 
 belovcil, tell hini that I am sick of love" (Can. v. S). 
 
 Hut, being a little strenixthened, and better able to 
 bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and came 
 vet nearer and nearer, where were orchanls, vineyanls, 
 ami gardens, and their gales openeil into the highway. 
 Now, as they came up to these places, behold the gardener 
 stxH>d in the wav. to whom the Pilgrims said. Whose 
 giH>dly vineyards antl gardens are these ? He answered, 
 Thev are^ the King's, and are^ planteil here for his own 
 delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the 
 ganlener had them into the vineyanls, and bid thcni 
 refresh themselves with the dainties (Dent, xxiii. 524). 
 He also showed them there the King's walks, and the 
 arbours where he ilelighttxl to be ; and here thoy ttirried 
 and slept. 
 
 Now 1 behelil in my dream, that they talked more in 
 their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their 
 journey; and being in a nuise thereabout, the ganlener 
 said even to me. Wherefore nuisest thou at the matter.'' 
 It is the nature^ of the fruit of the grajvs of these vine- 
 yards to go down so sweetly as to cause tlie lips of tlieni 
 that are asleep to speak. 
 
So I saw l,li)iL wlicn Ihcy awoke llicy nddrcsscil llicin- 
 sclvGs to go up to IIk; <*'l.y; '>"••. '^^ I said, tlio rcHt'ction 
 of the sun upon the city (for "llic oily vvms |)imh' jrold," 
 Jlc'V. xxi. 18) was so exlrcnicly j^loiions, Ihal. lliey could 
 not, as yet, witli open face behold it, but through an in- 
 strument made for that purpose (2 Cor. iii. IH). So I saw, 
 thai as I went on, there met them two men, in raiment 
 that shone Hke ^old ; also their faces shone as the light. 
 
 'I'hese men asked tlu; Pilgrims whence tlieycame; and 
 tiu'y told them, 'I'lx'y also asked them where tliey had 
 lodgeil, wliat difllculties and dangers, what comforts and 
 pleasures (,lu!y liad met in the way; and tiiey told them. 
 Then said the men that met them. You have but twodilli- 
 cuities more to meet with, and then you are in the city. 
 
 ('hristian then, and his companion, asked t\u\ men to go 
 along with them; so they told them tliey would. Hut, 
 said tliey, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I 
 saw in my dream that they went on together, until they 
 came in sight of th(! gate. 
 
 Now, I fiuther saw, that betwixt them and the gate 
 was a river, but there was no bridge; to go over: the river 
 was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this riv(!r, the 
 Pilgrims were rmicli stuimed ; but the men that went with 
 them said. You must go through, or you catniot come at 
 th(! gate. 
 
 The Pilgrims then began to iiupiin; if then; was »io 
 other way to the gate; to which they answered, V^es ; but 
 there hath not any, save two, to wit, J'iUoch and Pilijah, 
 l)een permitted to tread that path, since the foutidalion 
 of the world, nor shall, until Ihe last trumpet shall sound 
 (1 Cor. XV. 51, 52). Tlu! Pilgrims then, especially Chris- 
 tian, began to despond ill I heir minds, and looked this wny 
 and that, but no way could be foiuid by them ()v which they 
 might escape the river. 'I'lien they asked the men if the 
 
 M 
 
178 Ubc ipilgrtm's proorcss 
 
 waters were all of a depth. They said, No ; yet they could 
 not help them in that case ; for, said they, you shall find it 
 deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place. 
 
 They then addressed themselves to the water ; and enter- 
 ing, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good 
 friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters ; the billows 
 go over my head, all his waves go over me ! Selah. 
 
 Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother, I 
 feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, 
 Ah ! my friend, " the sorrows of death have compassed me 
 about;" I shall not see the land that flows with milk and 
 honey ; and with that a great darkness and horror fell 
 upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also 
 here he in great measure lost his senses, so that he could 
 neither remember, nor orderly talk of any of those sweet 
 refreshments that he had met with in the way of his 
 pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended 
 to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart fears 
 that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance 
 in at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, 
 he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that 
 he had connnitted, both since and before he began to be 
 a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with 
 appai-itions of hobgoblins and evil spirits, for ever and 
 anon he would intimate so much by words. Hopeful, 
 therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head 
 above water ; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, 
 and then, ere awhile, he would rise up again half dead. 
 Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, saying. 
 Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive 
 us ; but Christian would answer. It is you, it is you they 
 wait for ; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you. 
 And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother! 
 said he, surely if I was right He would now arise to help 
 
me; but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, 
 and hath left uie. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you 
 have quite forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked, 
 ** There are no bands in their death, but their strength is 
 firm. They are not in trouble as other men, neither are 
 tluy plagued like other men" (Ps. Ixxiii. 4, 5). These 
 troubles and distresses that you go through in these 
 waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you ; but are 
 sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which 
 heretofore you have received of His goodness, and live upon 
 Him in your distresses. 
 
 Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a 
 muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added this word, 
 Be of good cheer. Jesus Christ irtaketh thee whole ; and 
 with that (Christian brake out with a loud voice. Oh ! I 
 see Him again, and He tells me, " When thou passest 
 through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through the 
 rivers, they shall not overflow thee" (Isa. xliii. 2). Then 
 they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as 
 still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian 
 therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it 
 followed that the rest of the river was but shallow. Thus 
 they got over. Now, upon the bank of the river, on the 
 other side, they saw the two Shining Men again, who there 
 waited for them ; wherefore, being come out of the river, 
 they saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits, sent 
 forth to minister for those that shall be heirs uf salvation. 
 Thus they went along towards the gate. 
 
 Now, now look how the holy pilgrims ride, 
 Clouds !ire their (^h.-iriots, Aiij^tds are their (Juide : 
 Who would iu»t here for Him all hazards run. 
 That thus provides for His when this worhl's done. 
 
 Now you must note that the city stood upon a n)ighty 
 hill, but the Pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because 
 
180 Ubc iptiloi'im'5 jprocircss 
 
 they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; 
 also, tlu>y had loft their mortal oarmeuts behind them in 
 the river, for thou<i;h they went in with them, they came 
 out without them. They, therefore, went up here with 
 much ai^ility and speed, thou i^h the foundation upon which 
 the city was framed was hij^her than the clouds. They 
 therefore went up throuL>;h the rei;-ions of the air, sweetly 
 talking as they went, beino- comlbrtetl, because they safely 
 got over the river, and had such glorious companions to 
 attenil them. 
 
 The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the 
 glory of the place ; who told them that the beauty and 
 glory of it was inexpressible. There, saiil they, is the 
 " Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable 
 company of angels, and the spirits of just men made 
 perfect " (Ileb. xii. '2!2-f24). You are gi>ing now, said they, 
 to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of 
 life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thercof ; and when 
 vou come there, vou shall have white robes given you, and 
 your walk and talk shall be every tlay with the King, even 
 all the days of eternity (Rev. ii. 7, iii. 4, xxii. 5). There 
 vou. shall not see again such things as you saw when you 
 were in the K)wer region upon the eai'th, to wit, sorrow, 
 sickness, affliction, and death, ^ for the former things are 
 passed away." You are now going to Abraham, to Isaac, 
 and Jacob, and to the prophets — men that (lod hath taken 
 away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon 
 their beds, each one walking in his righteousness (Isa. Ivii. 
 1, J2, Ixv. 17). The men then asked. What must we do 
 in the holy place ? To whom it wjxs answered, You must 
 there receive the comforts of all your toil, and have joy 
 for all vour sorrow ; you nuist reap what you have sown, 
 even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and suUerings 
 for the King by the way (Cial. vi. 7). In that place you 
 
TTbc pilorim's iproocess isi 
 
 must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight 
 and vision of the Holy One, for "there you shall see him 
 as he is" (1 John iii. ^l). There also you shall serve lliiii 
 continually with praise, with shouting, and thanksgiving, 
 whom y<>" desired to serve in the world, though with nuich 
 difliculty, hecause of the iiidrmity of your Hesh. 'i'here 
 your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears 
 with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There 
 you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone thither 
 before you ; and there you shall with joy receive, even 
 every one that follows into the holy place after you. There 
 also shall you be clothed with glory and n)ajesty, and put 
 into an e(juij)age (it to ride out with the King of Glory. 
 When He shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, 
 as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with Ilim ; 
 and when He shall sit upon the throtjc of judgment you 
 shall sit by Him ; yea, and when He shall pass sentence 
 upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or 
 men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because 
 they were His and your enemies (1 Thess. iv. 1'3-17; Jude 
 14 ; Dan. vii. 9, 10 ; 1 Cor. vi. 2, ii). Also, when He shall 
 again return to the city, you shall go too, with sound of 
 trumpet, and be ever with Him. 
 
 Now while they were thus drawing towards the gate, 
 behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet 
 them ; to whom it was said, by the other two Shining 
 Ones, These are the men that have loved our Lord when 
 they were in the world, and that have left all for His holy 
 name ; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have 
 brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they 
 may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. 
 U'hen the heaverdy host gave a great shout, saying, 
 "Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage 
 supper of the I^amb" (Rev. xix. 9). There came out 
 
1S2 Ubc l|>iloviin*5 II>rO(nvi53 
 
 also at this tinio \o u\vv\ Ihoin, sovovmI of the Kins2;"'s 
 tnmipi'lcMs, I'lothod in white ami shiiiino; raiment, who, 
 with nieloilious noises, nntl U)ucl, niaile even the heavens 
 to echo with their souiuh These trumpeters sahited 
 Christian and his fellow with tiMi thousaiul weleomes 
 from the world; and this they tlid with shouling and 
 sound of truni})et. 
 
 This done, they eompasseil them round on every side; 
 some went before, some behiml, and some on the right 
 hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through 
 the upper regions), eontinually sounding as they went, 
 with melodious noise, in notes on higii : so that the very 
 sight was tt) them that eould behold it, as if heaven itself 
 was come down to meet them. Thus, therefore, they 
 walked on ti>gether; and as thev walked, ever and anon 
 these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by 
 mixing their nnisic with looks and gestures, still signify 
 to Christian and his brt)ther how welcome thev were into 
 their company, and with what gladness they came to meet 
 them ; and now wcmc these two men, as it were, in heaven, 
 before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight 
 of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. 
 Here also they had the city itself in view, and they 
 thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to 
 welcome them thereto. Ihit above all, the warm and 
 joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling 
 there, with such companv, and that f\)r ever and ever. 
 Oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious jt)v be ex- 
 pressed ! Anil thus thev came up to the gate. 
 
 Now, when thev were come up to the gate, there was 
 written over it in letters of goltl, "Blessed are thev that 
 do his connnandments, that thev mav have right to the 
 tree of life, and mav enter in through the gates into the 
 city " (Rev. xxii. l-i). 
 
Then 1 saw in my (Iro.un, lliat. []\v. Shining Moti bid 
 them call at Uie gate; the which, wlieii they did, some 
 looked from above over the gate;, to wit, Miioch, Moses, and 
 Elijah, «Sic., to whoin it was said. These pilgrims are eonie 
 from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear 
 to the King of this {)lace ; and then the pilg-rims gave in 
 unto them each man his certi(icat(!, which they had re- 
 ceived in the begiruiing; those, therefore!, were carried in 
 to the King, who, when lie had read them, said, Where 
 are the tnen P 'I'o whom it was answered, They are stand- 
 ing without the gate. TIk; King then (^onnnandcd to open 
 the gate, "That the righteous nation," said he, "which 
 keepcth the truth, nmy enter in" (Isa. xxvi. ^). 
 
 Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at 
 the gate: and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, 
 and they had raiment put on that shone like gold, 'i'lujre 
 was also that met tluim wilh harps and crowns, and gave 
 them to them — the harj)s to |)raise withal, and the crowns 
 in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream that 
 all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that 
 it was said uid.o them, " I'-ntkh vk into tiik jov ok 
 YOUii Loiiu." I also heard the men themselves, that 
 they sang with a loud voice, saying, " Ui.kssinc, and 
 iioN'oini, AND (;i,()i(v, AND rowKK, HI'. iiN'i'o IIiM 'I'liA'i' smKru 
 
 IJI'OM 'IIIK IIIKONi:, AND IIN'I'O 'l'lll>; LaMII, KOll KVKIl AND 
 KVKIt"(KeV. V. 1,'}). 
 
 Now, just as the gates were opeiu-d to let in the unwi, I 
 looked in after them, and behold, IIk; City shone like the 
 sun; the strc^ets also were; pav(!(l with gold, and in them 
 walked many m<!n, with crowns on their heads, palms in 
 their hands, and golden har[)s to sing praises withal. 
 
 Tliere w(!re also of them that had wings, and tliey 
 answered one another without intermission, saying, " Holy, 
 holy, holy is the Lord" (Rev. iv. 8). And after that they 
 
IS4 z\K ilMUivim'i? iproovcss 
 
 shut iij) llu- ii;«lc's; uliirh, wlioii I had seen, I wished my- 
 self ivnioii*^ theiM. 
 
 Now while I was o-azinu; upon all these ihiiis;s, I turned 
 uiv iii>M(l li) look baek, and saw Ii;tn)raiiee eonie up to the 
 livi'V side; but he soon <>ot over, and that without half 
 ih.il (lillieuUy whieh the other two men met with. For 
 it ha|)peu(>il that there was then in that place, one Vain- 
 hopi*, a ferryman, that with his boat heljH'd him over; so 
 he, as the other I saw, diil aseeiul thi' hill, to come up to 
 the ^ate, only he eame alone; neither did any man meet 
 him with the least eneoin'a!;'emeid. When he was eome 
 up to thej^ate, he looked up to the writing- that was above, 
 and then beoan to knt)ek, suj)posiniv that cntranee should 
 have been (piiekly administered to him ; but he was asked 
 by the men that looked over tlu> lop of the ,i^ate, \\'henee 
 ennie yi)u ? and what would you have? He ansvveivd, I 
 have eat and drank in the presence of the Kiiij^, anil he 
 lias taught in our stivets. Then thev askeil him for his 
 cert ilieate, that they might go in and show it to the King; 
 so he fumble<l in his bosom for one, and found iu)ne. 
 'I'htMi sail! thev. Have you none? \)u[ the man answered 
 t\i'ver a wt)rd. So they told th.e King, l)ut he wduM not 
 come down [o see him, l>ut commamled the two Shining 
 Ones that conducted ('hrisli.-in ami lloi)eful to the City, to 
 i^o out and take Ignorance, and l>ind him hand and foot, 
 anil have him awav. 'Then Ihi'V look him uj>, and carried 
 him through the air, to thi> door that 1 saw in the siile t)f 
 Ihe hill, ami put him in there. Then I saw thai there was 
 a way to hell, evi>n from the gates of heaven, as well as 
 from the (Mlv of Destruction! So 1 awoke, and behold 
 it was a ilrcam. 
 
^be ipiloilm's iprootcss iss 
 
 THE CONCLUSION 
 
 Now, Rkadeh, I have told my dream to thee; 
 See if thou canst interi)ret it to me. 
 Or to thys(;lf, or neij^hbour ; l)ut take heed 
 Of misinter{)retinf^; for that, instead 
 Of doin^ J^'ood, will but thyself abuse : 
 By misinterpretiiii^, evil ensues. 
 
 Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme. 
 In playing with the outside of my dream : 
 Nor let my figure or similitude 
 Put thee into a laughter or a feud. 
 Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee, 
 Do thou the substance of my matter see. 
 
 Put by the curtains, look within my veil, 
 Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail. 
 There, if thou seekest them, such things to find. 
 As will be helpful to an honest mind. 
 
 What of my dross thou fmdest there, be bold 
 To throw away, but yet preserve the gold ; 
 What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? — 
 None throws away the ai)ple for the core. 
 But if thou shalt c;ist all away as vain, 
 I know not but 'twill make me dream again. 
 
 END OF THE FIllST PART. 
 
TIIK 
 
 PTLGUIM'S IMIOORKSS 
 
 KHOM 
 
 THIS WOJILI) TO THAT WHICH IS TO COMK 
 
 TUB SECOND J'AHT 
 
THE AUTIIOU'S WAY 
 
 OK SKNI)IN(i I'OinU Ills 
 
 SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM 
 
 Go now, my little book, to every place 
 
 Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face. 
 
 Call at their door. If any say. Who's there ? 
 
 Then answer thou Cmkistiana is here. 
 
 If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, 
 
 With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how. 
 
 Tell who they are, also from whence they came ; 
 
 Perhaps they know them by their looks, or name. 
 
 But if they should not, ask them yet again 
 
 If formerly they did not entertain 
 
 One Christian, a Pilgrim.^ If they say 
 
 'J'hey did ; and were delighted in his way : 
 
 Then let them know, that those related were 
 
 Unto him ; yea, his wife and children are. 
 
 Tell them, that they have left their house and home, 
 Are turned Pilgrims, seek a world to come ; 
 Tiiat they have met with liardships in the way. 
 That they do meet with troubles night and day ; 
 That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils. 
 Have also overcome a many evils. 
 Yea, tell them also of the next, who have. 
 Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave 
 
 18« 
 
190 XTbc autbor'5 Mav? of 
 
 Defenders of that way, and lunv the}- still 
 Refuse this world to do their Father's will. 
 
 Go, tell them also of those dainty things 
 That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. 
 Let them acquainted be, too. how they are 
 Beloved of their King, under His care : 
 What goodly mansions for them He provides, 
 Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides. 
 How brave a calm they will enjoy at last. 
 Who to their Lord, and by His ways hold fast. 
 
 Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
 Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace 
 Thee, and thy fellows, with such cheer and fare 
 As show will they of Pilgrims lovers are. 
 
 OBJECTION I. 
 
 But how, if they Avill not believe of me 
 That I am truly thine ; 'cause some there be 
 That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, 
 Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
 Anil by that means have wrought themselves into 
 The hands and houses of I know not who .'' 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit 
 My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ; 
 Yea others, half my name and title too 
 Have stitched to their book, to make them do ; 
 But yet they, by their features, do declare 
 Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 
 
 If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way 
 Before them all, is, to say out thy say, 
 In thine own native language, which no man 
 Now useth. nor with ease dissemble can. 
 
SenMno jfortb bis Seconb part loi 
 
 If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
 Thinking that you, like gipsies, go about 
 In naughty wise, the country to defile. 
 Or that you seek good people to beguile 
 With things unwarrantable ; send for me. 
 And I will testify you Ph^grims be. 
 Yea, I will testify that only you 
 My Pilgrims are ; and that alone will do. 
 
 OBJECTION 11. 
 
 But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him. 
 Of those that wish him damned, life and limb. 
 What sliall I do, when 1 at such a door 
 For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ? 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Fright not thyself, my book, for such bugbears 
 Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
 My Pilgrim's book has travcH'd sea and land. 
 Yet could I never come to understand 
 That it was slighted, or turn'd out of door 
 By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 
 
 In France and Flanders, where men kill each other. 
 My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend, a brother. 
 
 In Holland too, 'tis said, as I am told. 
 My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. 
 
 Highlanders and wild Irish can agree 
 My Pilgrim should familiar with them be. 
 
 'Tis in New England under such advance. 
 Receives there so much loving countenance, 
 As to be trimm'd, new clothed, and deck'd with gems. 
 That it may show its features and its limbs. 
 Yet more ; so comely doth my Pilgrim walk, 
 That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 
 
i()2 Zbc Butbor's Mav> of 
 
 If you {Ir.iw marer home, it will appear, 
 My Pilgrim knows no i>roiin(l of shame or fear; 
 City aiul coinitry will him entertain 
 With, Welcome, Pilgrim ; yea, they can't refrain 
 From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by. 
 Or shows his head in any company. 
 
 Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love. 
 Esteem it much, yea, value it above 
 Things of a greater bulk : yea, with delight. 
 Say, My lark's leg is better than a kite. 
 
 Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too. 
 Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show. 
 Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts. 
 My Pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts 
 His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains. 
 As yielils them prodt ilouble to their pains 
 Of reading ; yea, 1 think, 1 may be bold 
 To say, some prize him far above their gold. 
 
 The very chililren that do walk the street. 
 If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet, 
 Salute him will, will wish him well, and say. 
 He is the only stripling of the day. 
 
 They that have never seen him, yet admire 
 What they have heard of him, anil much desire 
 To have his company, and hear him tell 
 Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 
 
 Yea, sojne who did not love him at the first. 
 But eallM him fool and noddy, say they must. 
 Now they have seen and heard him, him commend. 
 And to those whom they love they do him send. 
 
 Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be 
 Afraid to show thy head ; none can hurt thee. 
 That wish but well to him that went before, 
 'Cause thou com'st after with a second store 
 Of things as good, as rich, as profitable. 
 For young, for old, for stagg'ring, and for stable. 
 
Sen^dio jfortb bis Second ipart 193 
 
 OBJECTION Iir. 
 
 But some tliere be th;it say, He laughs too loud ; 
 And some do say. His huad is in a cloud. 
 Some say. His words and stories are so dark. 
 They know not how, by them, to find his mark. 
 
 One may, I think, say. Both his laughs and cries 
 May well be guess'd at by his watery eyes. 
 Some things are of that nature, as to make 
 One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. 
 When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep. 
 He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 
 
 Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head. 
 That doth but show how wisdom's covered 
 With its own mantles, and to stir the mind 
 To a search after what it fain would find. 
 Things that seem to be hid in words obscure. 
 Do but the godly mind the more allure 
 To study what those sayings should contain. 
 That sj)eak to us in such a cloudy strain. 
 
 1 also know a dark similitude 
 Will on the fancy more itself intrude. 
 And will stick faster in the heart and head. 
 Than things from similes not borrowed. 
 
 Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement 
 Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent 
 To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place 
 To thee, thy pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 
 
 Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd. 
 Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd ; 
 What CniusTiAN left lock'd up, and went his way. 
 Sweet CnmsTiANA opens with her key. 
 
 N 
 
194 Z\K Hutbor'3 Mav? of 
 
 OBJECTION IV. 
 
 But some love not the method of your first ; 
 Romance they count it, throvv't away as dust. 
 If 1 should meet with such, what should I say ? 
 Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay? 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 My Christiana, if with such thou meet, 
 By all means, in all loving-wise, them greet; 
 Render them not reviling for revile ; 
 But if they frown, 1 prithee on them smile ; 
 Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report. 
 Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. 
 
 Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some 
 Love not their friends, nor their own house or home 
 Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, 
 More than they love a cuckoo, or an owl. 
 Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, 
 And seek those who to find thee will rejoice ; 
 By no means strive, but in humble-wise 
 Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 
 
 Go, then, my little book, and show to all 
 That entertain, and bid thee welcome, shall, 
 Wh.it thou shalt keep close, shut up from the rest. 
 And wish what thou slialt show them may be blest 
 To them for gooil, may make them choose to be 
 Pilgrims better by far than thee or me. 
 
 Cio, then, I say, tell all men who thou art; 
 Say, I am Christiana, and my part 
 Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
 It is for men to take a pilgrims lot 
 
 Go also, tell them who and what they be. 
 That now do go on pilgrimage with thee ; 
 Say, Here's my neighbour, Mercy, she is one 
 
SenMno fovtb bis Second part wr> 
 
 That has lon<r time with ine a Pilgrim gone. 
 
 Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn 
 
 'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern. 
 
 Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
 
 The world which is to come, in any wise. 
 
 When little tripping maidens follow (iod. 
 
 And leave old doting sinners to His rod ; 
 
 'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried, 
 
 Hosannah ! to whom old ones did deride. 
 
 Next, tell them of old Honest, whom you found 
 
 With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrim's ground. 
 
 Yea, tell them how jjlain-hearted this man was. 
 
 How after his good I.ord he bare his cross; 
 
 Perhaps with some grey head this may prevail 
 
 With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 
 Tell them also, how Master Fearing went 
 
 On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
 
 In solitariness, with fears and cries ; 
 
 And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. 
 
 He was a good man, though much down in spirit, 
 
 He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 
 
 Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also. 
 Who, not before, but still behind would go. 
 Show them also, how he had like been slain. 
 And how one Great-heart did his life regain. 
 This man was true of heart, though weak in grace. 
 One might true godliness read in his face. 
 Then tell them of Master lleady-to-halt, 
 A man with crutches, but much without fault ; 
 Tell them how Master Feeble-mind ami he 
 Did love, and in opinions nmch agree. 
 And let all know, though weakness was their chance. 
 Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 
 
 Forget not Master Valiant-for-tlie-truth, 
 That man of courage, though a very youth. 
 Tell every one his spirit was so stout. 
 
196 Ube autbor's ma^, S,c.' 
 
 No man could ever make him face about ; 
 And how Great-heart and he could not forbear. 
 But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair. 
 
 Overlook not Master Despondency, 
 Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie 
 Under such mantles, as may make them look 
 (With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
 They softly went, but sure, and at the end 
 Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. 
 When thou hast told the world of all these things 
 Then turn about, my book, and touch these strings 
 Which, if but touch'd, will such music make. 
 They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 
 
 These riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast 
 Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest 
 Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
 For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 
 
 Now may this little book a blessing be 
 To those who love this little book and me. 
 And may its buyer have no cause to say. 
 His money is but lost or thrown away ; 
 Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit. 
 As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit ; 
 And may it persuade some that go astray, 
 To turn their feet and heart to the right way. 
 
 Is the hearty prayer of 
 
 The Author, 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
THE 
 
 PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 
 
 IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 
 THE SECOND PART 
 
 Courteous Companions, 
 OOME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of 
 ^ Christian the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey 
 towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, and 
 ])rofi table to you. I told you then, also, what I saw con- 
 cerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they 
 were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch that he 
 was forced to go on his progress without them ; for he 
 durst not run the danger of that destruction which he 
 feared would come by staying with them in the City of 
 Destruction. Wherefore, as I then showed you, he left 
 them and departed. 
 
 Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of 
 business, that I have been much hindered and kept back 
 from my wonted travels into those parts [from] whence he 
 went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to 
 make further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I 
 might give you an account of them. But having had 
 some concerns that way of late, I went down again thither- 
 ward. Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood, 
 abou' a mile off the place, as I slept I dreamed again. 
 
 \97 
 
198 Z\)c ipiIoi1in'5 proorcss 
 
 And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentlemsui 
 came by where I lay ; and because he was to go some part 
 of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up and 
 went with him. So iis we walked, and as travellers usually 
 do, I wjvsas if we fell into discourse, and our talk happened 
 to be about Christian and his travels ; for thus I began 
 with the old man : — 
 
 Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on 
 the left hand of our way ? 
 
 Then stiid JMr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It is 
 tlie City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed 
 with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people. 
 
 I thought that was that city, quoth I ; I went once 
 myself through that town, and, therefore, know that tliis 
 report you give of it is true. 
 
 SAGAcrrv. Too true ; I wish I could speak truth in 
 speaking better of them that dwell therein. 
 
 Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well- 
 meaning man ; and so one that takes pleasure to hear and 
 tell of that whi<;;h is good. Pray, did you never hear what 
 happened to a man some time ago in this town, whose 
 name was Christian, that went on pilgrimage up towards 
 tlie higher regions. 
 
 SAGACvrv. Hear of him ? Ay, and I also heard of the 
 molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, 
 frights, and fears that he met with and had in his journey; 
 besides, I nmst tell you, all our country rings of liim. 
 There are but few houses that have heard of him and his 
 doings but have sought after and got the recorels of his 
 pilgrimage; yea, I think I may say that his hazardous 
 journey has got a many well-w ishers to his ways ; for 
 tliough, when he was here, he was fool in every man's 
 mouth, yet, now he is gone, he is highly couunended of 
 all. For, it is said, he lives bravely where he is; vea. 
 
many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards, 
 yet have their mouths water at his f^ains. 
 
 They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything 
 that is true, that he livcth well where he is ; for he now 
 lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has 
 without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed there- 
 with. But, pray, what talk have the people about hitn ? 
 
 Sagacity. Talk! the people talk strangely about hini; 
 some say that he now walks in white (Rev. iii. 4, vi. 11); 
 that he has a chain of gold about his neck ; that he has 
 a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others 
 say that the Shining Ones, that sometimes showed them- 
 selves to him in his journey, are become his companions, 
 and that he is as familiar wiLh them in the place where 
 he is, as here one neighbour is with another. Besides, it 
 is confidently affirmed, concerning him, that the King of 
 the place where he is has bestowed upon him already a 
 very rich and pleasant dwelling at court (Zech. iii. 7); 
 and that he every day eateth (Luke xiv. 15), and drinketh, 
 and walketh, and talketh with him ; and rcceiveth of the 
 smiles and favours of him that is Judge of all there. 
 Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the 
 Lord of that country, will shortly come into these parts, 
 and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his 
 neighbours set so little by him, and had him so much in 
 derision, when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim 
 (Jude 14, 15). For, they say, that now he is so in the 
 affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much 
 concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Chris- 
 tian, when he became a pilgrim, that He will look upon 
 all as if done unto Himself; and no marvel, for it was for 
 the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he 
 did (Luke x. 16). 
 
 I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on it ; I am glad for the 
 
200 Zbc UMIcirim's ip»roorcs5 
 
 poor man's sake, for that he now has rest from his hibour 
 (Rev. xiv. Il3); and for thiit he now reapeth the benefit of 
 his teai-s with joy (Ps. cxxvi. 5, ()) ; and for that he has 
 t^ot bevond the ^innshot of his enemies, and is out of the 
 reach of them that hate him. I also am glad, for that a 
 rumour of these things is noised abroad in this country ; 
 who can tell but that it may work some good etfect on 
 some that are left behind ? IJiit, pray sir, while it is fresh 
 in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and cliildren? 
 Poor hearts ! I wonder in my mind what they do. 
 
 SAGAcrrY. Who ! Chiistiana anil her sons ? They are 
 like to do as well as did Christian himself; for though 
 thev all played the fool at the first, and would by no 
 means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of 
 Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully 
 w ilh them ; so they have packed up, and are also gone 
 after him. 
 
 Better and better, quoth I. But what ! wife and chil- 
 dren, and all ? 
 
 Sagac iTV. It is true ; 1 can give you an account of the 
 matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was 
 thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. 
 
 Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a truth ? 
 
 Sagacuty. You need not fear to attirm it ; I mean that 
 they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman 
 and her four boys. And being (we are, as I perceive) 
 iroino- some considerable wav together, I will give vou an 
 account of the whole of the matter. 
 
 This Christiana (for that was her name from the day 
 that she with her children betook themselves to a pilgrim's 
 life), after her husband was gone over the river, and she 
 could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work 
 in her mind. First, for that she hail lost her husband, 
 and for that the loving bond of that i-elation was utterly 
 
Zbc flMlorim'0 iDroflress 201 
 
 broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, 
 nature can do jio less but entertain the living with many 
 a heavy cogitation in the renieml)rance of the Iohh of 
 loving njlatioiis. 'I'his, tlicrefore, of her liusband (Jid cost 
 her many a tear. IJut this was not ail ; for Clnistiana 
 did also be^in to consider with herself, whether her un- 
 becoming behaviour towards her hiisbjiiid was not one 
 cause that she saw him no rriore ; and tliat in such sort 
 he was taken away frotn her. And upon this, came into 
 Jicr rrn'nd by swarms, all her unkind, urmatural, and un- 
 godly carriages to her dear frierid ; which also clogged 
 her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, 
 moreover, much broken with calling to n'mcmln-ancj; the 
 restless groans, brinisli tears, and self-lKimoanings of her 
 husband, and how she did harden her heart against all 
 his entreaties, and loving jxtrsuasions, of her and her sons, 
 to go with him ; yea, th(.'t(? was not anything that ('hris- 
 tian either said to her or did before her all the; while that 
 his burden did hang on his hack, but it rcturnc-d upon h(;r 
 like a Hash of ligliLniiig, and rent the caul of ln;r h(;art in 
 sunder. 8[)ecially that bitter outcry of his, " What shall 
 I do to be saved P " did ring in her ears most dolefully. 
 
 Then said she to her childnMi, Sons, we are all undone. 
 I have sinned away your father, and he is gone ; he would 
 have had us with him, but I would not go mysi.lf. I also 
 have hindered you of life. With that the boys fell all 
 into tears, and cried out to go after their father. Oh, said 
 Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him, 
 then had it fared well with us, beyond what it is like to 
 do now; for though I formerly foolishly imagined, con- 
 cerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded 
 of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun 
 with melancholy humours; yet now it will not out of my 
 mind, but that they sprang from another cause, to wit. 
 
202 Z\K ptlcirljn'!? Iproorcss 
 
 for that the Light of Life was iiivon him (James i. 23-25), 
 bv the help of which, as I pcrceivetl, he has escaped tlie 
 snares of death. Then they all wept again, and cried 
 out, "O woe worth the day ! " 
 
 The next night Cliristiana had a dream ; and, behold 
 she saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, 
 in which were recorded the sinn of her ways (Luke xviii. 
 IJJ); and the times, as she thought, looked very black 
 upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, " Lord, 
 have mercy upon me a sinner!" and the little children 
 heanl her. 
 
 After this she thought she saw two very ill-favoured 
 ones standing bv her bedside, and saving. What shall we 
 do with this woman ? for she cries out for mercv waking 
 and sleeping ; if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we 
 shall lose her as we have lost her husband, ^^'^heref^)re, 
 we nuist, by one way or other, seek to take her off from 
 the thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the world 
 cannot help it but she will become a pilgrim. 
 
 Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was 
 upon her ; but after a while she fell to sleeping again. 
 And then she tliought she saw Christian her husband in a 
 })lace of bliss, among many immortals, with a harp in his 
 hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat 
 on a throne, with a rainbow about his head. She saw 
 also as if he bowed his head, with his face to the paved 
 work that was under the Prince"'s feet, saying, I heartily 
 thank my Lord and King, for bringing of me into this 
 place. Then shouted a company of them that stood 
 round about, and harped with their harj)s ; but no man 
 living could tell what they said, but Christian and his 
 companions. 
 
 Next morning, when she was up, had pi'ayed to God, 
 and tiilked with her children a while, one knocked hai'd 
 
Ube ipila rim's iprooress 203 
 
 at the door, to whom she spake out, saying, If thou 
 comest in God's name, come in. So he said. Amen, and 
 opened the door, and saluted her with " Peace be to this 
 house."" The which, when he had done, he said, Chris- 
 tiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come ? Then she 
 blushed and trembled, also her heart began to wax warm 
 with desires to know whence he came, and what was his 
 errand to her. So he said unto her. My name is Secret ; 
 I dwell with those that are high. It is talked of, where 
 I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go thither; also, 
 there is a report, that thou art aware of the evil thou 
 hast formerly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy 
 heart against his way, and in keeping of these thy babes 
 in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has 
 sent me to tell thee, that He is a God ready to forgive, 
 and that He taketh delight to multiply to pardon offences. 
 He also would have thee know, that He inviteth thee to 
 come into His presence, to His table, and that He will feed 
 thee with the fat of His house, and with the heritage of 
 Jacob thy father. 
 
 There is Christian thy husband (that was), with legions 
 more, his companions, ever beholding that lace that doth 
 minister life to beholders ; and they will all be glad when 
 they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father^ 
 threshold. 
 
 Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and 
 bowing her head to the ground, this Visitor proceeded, 
 and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which 
 I have brought from thy husband's King. So she took 
 it, and opened it, but it smelt after the manner of the 
 best perfume (Cant. i. 3) ; also it was written in letters 
 of gold. The contents of the letter was. That the King 
 would have her do as did Christian her husband ; for that 
 was the way to come to His city, and to dwell in His 
 
204 Ube UMIorftn's prooress 
 
 presence with joy for ever. At this the good woman was 
 quite overcome; so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, will 
 you carry me and my children with you, that we also 
 may go and worship this King? 
 
 Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before 
 the sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did he that 
 went before thee, enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I 
 advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband. Go to 
 the wicket-gate yonder, over the plain, for that stands in 
 the head of the way up which thou must go, and I wish 
 thee all good speed. Also I advise that thou put this 
 letter in thy bosom; that thou read therein to thyself, 
 and to thy children, until you have got it by rote of 
 heart; for it is one of thy songs, that thou must sing 
 while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage (Ps. cxix. 
 54); also this thou must deliver in at the farther gate. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he 
 told me this story, did himself seem to be greatly affected 
 therewith. He, moreover, proceeded and said. So Chris- 
 tiana called her sons together, and began thus to address 
 herself unto them : My sons, I have, as you may perceive, 
 been of late under much exercise in my soul, about the 
 death of your father; not for that I doubt at all of his 
 happiness, for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have 
 been also much affected with the thoughts of mine own 
 state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature miser- 
 able. My carriages, also, to your father in his distress, 
 is a great load to my conscience ; for I hardened both my 
 own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with 
 him on pilgrimage. 
 
 The thoughts of these things would now kill me out- 
 right, but that for a dream which I had last night, and 
 but for the encouragement that this stranger has given 
 me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up and 
 
Zbc BMIorim's iproaress 205 
 
 begone to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, 
 that we may see your father, and be with hini and his 
 companions in peace, according to the laws of that land. 
 
 Then did her children burst out into tears for joy, that 
 the heart of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor 
 bade them farewell ; and they began to prepare to set out 
 for their journey. 
 
 But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the 
 women, that were Christiana's neighbours, came up to her 
 house, and knocked at her door. To whom she said as 
 before, If you come in God's name, come in. At this the 
 women were stunned ; for this kind of language they used 
 not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips of Chris- 
 tiana. Yet they came in : but, behold, they found the 
 good woman a-preparing to be gone from her house. 
 
 So they began and said, Neighbour, pray what is your 
 meaning bj this ? 
 
 Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, 
 whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a 
 journey. (This Timorous was daughter to him that met 
 Christian upon the Hill Difficulty, and would have had 
 him go back for fear of the lions.) 
 
 Timorous. For what journey, I pray you ? 
 
 Christiana. Even to go after my good husband. And 
 with that she fell a-weeping. 
 
 Timorous. I hope not so, good neighbour; pray, for 
 your poor children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away 
 yourself. 
 
 Christiana. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not 
 one of them is willing to stay behind. 
 
 Timorous. I wonder, in my very heart, what or who has 
 brought you into this mind. 
 
 Christiana. O neighbour, knew you but as much as I 
 do, I doubt not but that you would go with me. 
 
206 Ube BMIorim's progress 
 
 Timorous. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got 
 that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that 
 tempteth thee to go, nobody knows where ? 
 
 Christiana. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely 
 afflicted since my husband's departure from me ; but 
 especially since he went over the river. But that which 
 troubleth me most, is my churlish carriages to him when 
 he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was 
 then ; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I 
 was a-dreaming last night that I saw him. Oh that my 
 soul was with him ! He dwelleth in the presence of the 
 King of the country ; he sits and eats with Him at His 
 table ; he has become a companion of immortals (1 Cor. 
 V. 1-4) ; and has a house now given him to dwell in, to 
 which the best palaces on earth, if compared, seem to me 
 but as a dunghill. The Prince of the place has also sent 
 for me, with promise of entertainment if I shall come to 
 Him ; His messenger was here even now, and has brought 
 me a letter which invites me to come. And with that she 
 plucked out her letter, and read it, and said to them, 
 What now will ye say to this ? 
 
 Timorous. Oh, the madness that has possessed thee and 
 thy husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! 
 You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet 
 with, even, in a manner, at the first step that he took on 
 his way, as our neighbour Obstinate can yet testify, for he 
 went along with him; yea, and Pliable too, until they, 
 like wise men, were afraid to go any farther. We also 
 heard, over and above, how he met with the lions, 
 Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. 
 Nor is the danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be 
 forgotten by thee ; for if he, though a man, was so hard 
 put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor woman, do .'' 
 Consider, also, that these four sweet babes are thy 
 
XLbc ipilarim's {progress 207 
 
 children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, though 
 thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, yet, for 
 the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home. 
 
 But Christiana said unto her. Tempt me not, my neigh- 
 bour. I have now a price put into my hand to get gain, 
 and I should be a fool of the greatest size, if I should have 
 no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that 
 you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet 
 with in the way, they are so far off' from being to me a 
 discouragement, that they show I am in the right. " The 
 bitter must come before the sweet,'"* and that also will 
 make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore, since you came 
 not to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray you to 
 be gone, and not disquiet me further. 
 
 Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow, 
 Come, neighbour Mercy, let us leave her in her own hands, 
 since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy 
 was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her 
 neighbour, and that for a twofold reason. First, her 
 bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said within her- 
 self. If my neighbour will needs be gone, I will go a little 
 way with her and help her. Secondly, her bowels yearned 
 over her own soul, for what Christiana had said had taken 
 some hold upon her mind. Wherefore she said within 
 herself again, I will yet have more talk with this Chris- 
 tiana, and if I find truth and life in what she shall say, 
 myself with my heart shall also go with her. Wherefore 
 Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbour Timorous. 
 
 Mercy. Neighbour, I did, indeed, come with you to see 
 Christiana this morning ; and since she is, as you see, a- 
 taking of her last farewell of her country, I think to walk, 
 this sunshine morning, a little way with her, to help her 
 on her way. But she told her not of the second reason, 
 but kept that to herself. 
 
'208 Ubc BMladm's iproaress 
 
 Timorous. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling 
 too, but take heed in time, and be wise. While we are 
 out of danger, we are out ; but when we are in, we are in. 
 So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana 
 betook herself to her journey. But when Timorous was 
 got home to her house, she sends for some of her neigh- 
 bours, to wit, Mrs. Bafs-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. 
 Light-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. So when they were 
 come to her house, she falls to telling of the story of 
 Christiana, and of her intended journey. And thus she 
 began her tale. 
 
 Timorous. Neighbours, having had little to do this 
 morning, I went to give Christiana a visit ; and when I 
 came at the door, I knocked, as you know it is our custom. 
 And she answered. If you come in God's name, come in. 
 So in I went, thinking all was well. But when I came in, 
 I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and 
 also her children. So I asked her what was her meaning 
 by that. And she told me, in short, that she was now of 
 a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She 
 told me also a dream that she had, and how the King of 
 the country where her husband was had sent her an in- 
 viting letter to come thither. 
 
 Then said Mrs. Know-nothing. And what ! do you 
 think she will go ? 
 
 Timorous. Ay, go she will, whatever come on't; and 
 methinks I know it by this ; for that which was my great 
 argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the 
 troubles she was like to meet with in the way), is one great 
 argument with her to put her forward on her journey. 
 For she told me in so many words, " The bitter goes before 
 the sweet." Yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes 
 the sweet the sweeter. 
 
 Mrs. Bat's-eyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman ! 
 
Ubc piloriin'5 jprootess 209 
 
 said she; will she not take warning by her husband^s afflic- 
 tions ? For my part, I see, if he was here again, he would 
 rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so many 
 hazards for nothing. 
 
 Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with 
 such fantastical fools from the town ! A good riddance, 
 for my part, I say, of her. Should she stay where she 
 dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly 
 by her.? for she will either be dumpish or unneighbourly, 
 or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide ; where- 
 fore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure. 
 Let her go, and let better come in her room. It was never 
 a good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it. 
 
 Then Mrs. Light-mind added as followeth : Come, 
 put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madame 
 Wanton''s where we were as merry as the maids. For who 
 do you think should be there, but I and Mrs. Love-the- 
 Flesh, and three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. 
 Filth, and some others. So there we had music and 
 dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. 
 And, I daresay, my lady herself is an admirably well-bred 
 gentlewoman, and Mr, Lechery is as pretty a fellow. 
 
 By this time, Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy 
 went along with her. So as they went, her children being 
 there also, Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, 
 said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favour that 
 thou shouldest set foot out of doors with me to accompany 
 me a little in my way. 
 
 Mercy. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young). 
 If I thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I 
 would never go near the town any more. 
 
 Christiana. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy 
 lot with me; I well know what will be the end of our 
 pilgrimage. My husband is where he would not but be 
 
 o 
 
210 Zbc pilgrim's prooress 
 
 for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be 
 rejected though thou goest but upon my invitation. The 
 King who hath sent for me and my children is one that 
 delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, 
 and thou shalt go along with me as my servant ; yet we 
 will have all things in common betwixt thee and me ; only, 
 go along with me. 
 
 Mercy. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall 
 be entertained ? Had I this hope but from one that can 
 tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go, being 
 helped by Him that can help, though the way was never 
 so tedious. 
 
 Christiana. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what 
 thou shalt do. Go with me to the wicket-gate, and there 
 I will further inquire for thee ; and if there thou shalt not 
 meet with encouragement, I will be content that thou 
 shalt return to thy place. I also will pay thee for thy 
 kindness which thou showest to me and my children, in 
 thy accompanying us in our way, as thou dost. 
 
 Mercy. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall 
 follow ; and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall, 
 even as the King of Heaven shall have His heart upon me. 
 
 Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only that she 
 had a companion, but also for that she had prevailed with 
 this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation. So 
 they went on together, and Mercy began to weep. Then 
 said Christiana, Wherefore weepeth my sister so ? 
 
 Mercy. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall 
 but rightly consider, what a state and condition my poor 
 relations are in that yet remain in our sinful town ? and 
 that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because 
 they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to 
 come. 
 
 Christiana. Bowels becometh pilgrims ; and thou dost 
 
Zbc pflarim's prooress 211 
 
 for thy friends as my good Christian did for me when he 
 left me ; he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard 
 him ; but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears, and 
 put them into His bottle ; and now both I and thou, and 
 these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of 
 them. I hope, Mercy, these tears of thine will not be lost ; 
 for the truth hath said, that " They that sow in tears shall 
 reap in joy," in singing. And " he that goeth forth and 
 weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again 
 with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him " (Ps. cxxvi. 
 5,6). 
 
 Then said Mercy — 
 
 ** Let the most Blessed be my guide. 
 If 't be His blessed will ; 
 Unto His gate, into His fold. 
 Up to His holy hill. 
 
 And let Him never suffer me 
 
 To swerve or turn aside 
 From His free grace, and holy ways, 
 
 Whate'er shall me betide. 
 
 And let Him gather them of mine. 
 
 That I have left behind ; 
 Lord, make them pray they may be Thine, 
 
 With all their heart and mind." 
 
 Now my old friend proceeded and said : But when 
 Christiana came up to the Slough of Despond, she began 
 to be at a stand ; for, said she, this is the place in which 
 my dear husband had like to have been smothered with 
 mud. She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the com- 
 mand of the King to make this place for pilgrims good, 
 yet it was rather worse than formerly. So I asked if that 
 was true. Yes, said the old gentleman, too true ; for that 
 many there be that pretend to be the King's labourers, and 
 that say they are for mending the King's highway, that 
 
212 XTbe BMlorim's iprooress 
 
 bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead 
 of mending. Here, Christiana, therefore, with her boys, 
 did make a stand ; but said Mercy, Come, let us venture, 
 only let us be wary. Then they looked well to the steps, 
 and made a shift to get staggeringly over. 
 
 Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not 
 once nor twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but 
 they thought they heard words that said unto them, 
 " Blessed is she that believed : for there shall be a perform- 
 ance of those things which were told her from the Lord" 
 (Luke i. 45). 
 
 Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Christiana, 
 Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at 
 the wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond 
 would discourage me. 
 
 Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know 
 mine; and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil 
 before we come at our journey's end. 
 
 For can it be imagined, that the people that design to 
 attain such excellent glories as we do, and that are so 
 envied that happiness as we are, but that we shall meet 
 with what feai's and scares, with what troubles and afflic- 
 tions they can possibly assault us with, that hate us ? 
 
 And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream 
 by myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana and 
 Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to the gate ; to 
 which, when they were come they betook themselves to a 
 short debate about how they must manage their calling 
 at the gate, and what should be said to him that did 
 open to them. So it was concluded, since Christiana was 
 the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that 
 she should speak to him that did open, for the rest. So 
 Christiana began to knock ; and, as her poor husband 
 did, she knocked, and knocked again. But instead of 
 
Ube iptlarlm's progress 213 
 
 any that answered, they all thought that they heard as if 
 a dog came barking upon them ; a dog, and a great one 
 too, and this made the women and children afraid : nor 
 durst they, for a while, to knock any more, for fear the 
 mastiff should fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were 
 greatly tumbled up and down in their minds, and knew 
 not what to do ; knock they durst not, for fear of the 
 dog ; go back they durst not, for fear the Keeper of that 
 gate should espy them as they so went, and should be 
 offended with them ; at last they thought of knocking 
 again, and knocked more vehemently than they did at the 
 first. Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is there ? 
 So the dog left off to bark, and he opened unto them. 
 
 Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said. Let not 
 our Lord be offended with his handmaidens, for that we 
 have knocked at his princely gate. Then said the Keeper, 
 Whence come ye, and what is that you would have ? 
 
 Christiana answered. We are come from whence Christian 
 did come, and upon the same errand as he ; to wit, to be, 
 if it shall please you, graciously admitted by this gate 
 into the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I 
 answer, my Lord, in the next place, that I am Christiana, 
 once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above. 
 
 With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, 
 What ! is she become now a pilgrim, that, but a while 
 ago, abhorred that life ? Then she bowed her head, and 
 said. Yes, and so are these my sweet babes also. 
 
 Then he took her by the hand, and let her in, and said 
 also, " Suffer the little children to come unto me ; " and 
 with that he shut up the gate. This done, he called to a 
 trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to entertain 
 Christiana with shouting and sound of trumpet for joy. 
 So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with his 
 melodious notes (Luke xv. 7). 
 
214 Ube BMlovim's il>rooresd 
 
 Now, all this while poor Mercy did stand without, 
 trembling and crying, for fear that she was rejected. But 
 when Christiana had gotten admittance for herself and 
 her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 
 
 CnuisTiANA. And she said, My Lord, I have a com- 
 panion of mine that stands yet without, that is come 
 hither upon the same account as myself; one that is much 
 dejected in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, 
 without sending for; whereas I was sent to by my hus- 
 band's King to come. 
 
 Now, jVIercy began to be very impatient, for each minute 
 was as long to her as an hour ; wherefore she prevented 
 Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking 
 at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud, that 
 she made Christiana to start. Then said the Keeper of the 
 o-ate. Who is there ? and said Christiana, It is my friend. 
 
 So he opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was 
 fallen down without, in a swoon, for she fainted, and was 
 afraid that no gate would be opened to her. 
 
 Then he took her by the hand, and said. Damsel, I bid 
 thee arise. 
 
 O sir, said she, I am faint ; there is scarce life left in 
 me. But he answered, That one once said, " When my 
 soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord ; and my 
 prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy temple" 
 (Jonah ii. 7). Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell 
 me wherefore thou art come. 
 
 jMercy. I am come for that unto which I was never 
 invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the 
 King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I 
 presume. 
 
 Keeper. Did she desire thee to come with her to this 
 place ? 
 
 Mercy. Yes ; and, as my Lord sees, I am come. And, 
 
Xlbe ipilGtim's jptrooress 215 
 
 if there is any grace or forgiveness of sins to spare, I be- 
 seech that I, thy poor handmaid, may be partaker thereof. 
 
 Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently 
 in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on me, by 
 what means soever they come unto me. Then said he to 
 those that stood by, Fetch something, and give it to 
 Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her fainting. So they 
 fetched her a bundle of myrrh ; and a while after, she 
 was revived. 
 
 And now was Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, 
 received of the I^ord at the head of the way, and spoke 
 kindly unto by him. Then said they yet further unto 
 him. We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord his 
 pardon, and further information what we must do. 
 
 I grant pardon, said he, by word and deed : by word, in 
 the promise of forgiveness ; by deed, in the way I obtained 
 it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss (Cant. i. 2) ; 
 and the other as it shall be revealed (John xx. 20). 
 
 Now, I saw in my dream, that he spake many good 
 words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladded. 
 He also had them up to the top of the gate, and showed 
 them by what deed they were saved ; and told them 
 withal. That that sight they would have again, as they 
 went along in the way, to their comfort. 
 
 So he left them a while in a summer parlour below, 
 where they entered into talk by themselves; and thus 
 Christiana began : O Lord ! how glad am I that we are 
 got in hither. 
 
 Meiu;y. So you well may ; but I of all have cause to 
 leap for joy. 
 
 Christiana. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate 
 (because I had knocked, and none did answer) that all our 
 labour had been lost, especially when that ugly cur made 
 such a heavy barking against us. 
 
216 Ube pilorim's iprooress 
 
 Mercy. But my worst fear was after I saw that you 
 was taken into his favour, and that I was left behind. 
 Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, "Two 
 women shall be grinding together ; the one shall be taken 
 and the other left" (Matt. xxiv. 41). I had much ado to 
 forbear crying out. Undone ! undone ! 
 
 And afraid I was to knock any more ; but when I 
 looked up to what was written over the gate, I took 
 courage. I also thought that I must either knock again, 
 or die ; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my spirit 
 now struggled betwixt life and death. 
 
 Christiana. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am 
 sure your knocks were so earnest that the very sound of 
 them made me start; I thought I never heard such 
 knocking in all my life ; I thought you would have come 
 in by violent hands, or have taken the kingdom by storm 
 (Matt. xi. 12). 
 
 Mercy. Alas ! to be in my case, who that so was could 
 but have done so ? You saw that the door was shut upon 
 me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who, 
 I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, that would not have 
 knocked with all their might .^ But, pray, what said my 
 Lord to my rudeness ? Was he not angry with me ? 
 
 Christiana. When he heard your lumbering noise, he 
 gave a wonderful innocent smile ; I believe what you did 
 pleased him well enough, for he showed no sign to the 
 contrary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such 
 a dog; had I known that before, I fear I should not have 
 had heart enough to have ventured myself in this manner. 
 But now we are in, we are in ; and I am glad with all my 
 heart. 
 
 Mercy. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes 
 down, why he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard ; I hope 
 he will not take it amiss. 
 
a, 
 
 u 
 
 •-2 
 
Ubc piloilm'5 proarcss 217 
 
 Ay, do, said the children, and persuade him to hang 
 him, for we are afraid he will bite us when we go hence. 
 
 So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy fell 
 to the ground on her face before him, and worshipped, and 
 said, Let my Lord accept of the sacrifice of praise which I 
 now offer unto him with the calves of my lips. 
 
 So he said unto her, " Peace be to thee, stand up." But 
 she continued upon her face, and said, " Righteous art 
 thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee : yet let me talk 
 with thee of thy judgments" (Jer. xii. 1). Wherefore 
 dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, at the sight 
 of which such women and children as we are ready to fly 
 from thy gate for fear ? 
 
 He answered and said, That dog has another owner, he 
 also is kept close in another man''s ground, only my 
 pilgrims hear his barking ; he belongs to the castle which 
 you see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls 
 of this place. He has frightened many an honest pilgrim 
 from worse to better by the great voice of his roaring. 
 Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep him of any 
 goodwill to me or mine, but with intent to keep the 
 pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may be afraid 
 to knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he 
 has broken out, and has worried some that I loved ; but 
 I take all at present patiently. I also give my pilgrims 
 timely help, so they are not delivered up to his power, to 
 do to them what his doggish nature would prompt him 
 to. But what ! my purchased one, I trow, hadst thou 
 known never so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have 
 been afraid of a dog. 
 
 The beggars that go from door to door will, rather 
 than they will lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of 
 the bawling, barking, and biting too, of a dog ; and shall 
 a dog — a dog in another man's yard, a dog whose barking 
 
SIR Ubc pilorinrj? !l>roorc'3? 
 
 1 turn {o \\\c prolil »)t' pili>riins — koop t\\\\ lVi>m i-(Minn<x 
 to uu'P 1 ili"livfr llu>m lVt>in tho lions, lljoir (l;irliiii;- from 
 tJu' nowrr ot llu' ili>i;". 
 
 Mkiuv. 't'luMi sjiitl MtMvv, 1 loiili^ss my ii^noraiuv; I 
 snako wli.-il I umlrrslooil not ; I ju-know U\l;;i' lli.'U llu>u 
 ilitsl all things wi'll. 
 
 Ciuiisri ANA. Thru Christ i.'uiM hi>i;;in to talk o\' thoir 
 journoy, ami [o inipiiro Mtti'r thi" \\m\. So 1u> totl IhiMn, 
 anil washtnl thi>ir t'i'i>l, aiul si>t th«Mn in tlu« wmv o( his 
 stoj>s, aivi>rilini;- ms hi> h;ul ihvilt \\ith hcv hnshaml hot\>ro. 
 So I saw in mv dnvun, that Ihoy walkml on in their wa}', 
 anil hail tho weathiM- mmv ronU"ortahli< to tluni. 
 
 ThiMi Christiana l>»>;;an to sini;-, sayini;- — 
 
 " lUossM lu' tlio il.ty liiJit 1 Ix^Jni 
 A j>ilj;ritn lur to 1h> ; 
 Ami l>losso«t Jtlsi) bo that inim 
 I'hat tiioioto inovod luo. 
 
 "I'is truo, twiis loiitf 010 1 liojjau 
 
 To sook to livo for ovor : 
 Itat now I vm\ f«st as ! run ; 
 
 "Hs l>ottor l«to tlum no\or. 
 
 Oiw tojus to joy, owv tVius to faitti, 
 
 Aro toniotl !»s wo soo, 
 Ttitit our hojiinniujt", «s ono saitt), 
 
 Shinvs wliat our oixt "ill bo." 
 
 Now thcivwas, on the olhor siilo o\' tho wall that fcucod 
 ii\ tho wav up whirh Christiana ami hor i-ompanions woro 
 to j^o, a i^anliMi, ami that ganlon bi>lons^\l to him whose 
 was that harkino; ilos:^ of w hon» miM>tion was mailo hetore. 
 Ami siMue of tho tVnil tivos that urow in that oarilon shot 
 thoir branolios mor the wall ; ami Iviuo- molU>w, thoy that 
 foiuul thom iliil i^athor thom up, ami oft oat oi' thorn to 
 thoir hurt, So Christiaaia's boys, as boys aiv apt to ilo, 
 
h<'\i\fr picuwd willi l.lic l.ncH, iitid willi tin; friiil, flial did 
 Imii^ Uktcoii, did plash lliciii, »iiid Ix'^/iM 1,<) «!(il.. 'I'licir 
 iiiol.iicr did uIho <-iiidc tliciii lor ho doiti^, bill hIjII Ui<- lioyH 
 went, on. 
 
 Well, Miid islif, my hoiih, yoii l,niiiH^r(rHH, for l.luil, IViiil, 
 Ih non*; of ours ; hoi, hIk; did not. know I liut, llx'y did hcloii^ 
 t,o I.Im' enemy ; I will w/irr/inl, yon, if hlic li/id, hIh- would 
 hfivc hfcn iciuly !.<» die for I'ciir. Unl, llnit, p/iswd, find 
 llicy wenl. on llicir wny. Now, by l.liul, lli<'y were /^on»; 
 about l,wo bow hliof.H from Uie pidcc l.bul. Id, l,li(;m int.o 
 t,lu; way, lli'-y «:Hpicd I, wo very ill favoured otien eominj^ 
 down apaee to meel, IIkjiii. Willi llwil, ( !lnisl,ia,na and 
 JVIei'ey^ lier friend, coventd IJiemwIveH willi Uieir veiln, and 
 HO kej)!, on l.lieir j«)urney; Ibe cliildren aJso w^-nl, on 
 befor*' ; MO lliat, al, last tlw-y met toKcllier. 'I'lMn tlK-y 
 Ifjat came; down to meet tliem, came juht up t(» the women, 
 ax if tfiey would errd)rae(; Ibem ; but ( Ibristi-in/i, said, Sl/mfj 
 back, or i^o pea(<jd)ly by, as you :,liould. Vet tlicse two, 
 an men tliai, are deaf, re^^arded not ( !liristia,na'>t wohIm, 
 but Ixr^an to lay bands upon tliem. At tbat (brihtiana, 
 waxitif^ very wrotli, spurned at tliem with lier f<(t. Mi-rv.y 
 hImo, aH well as hIh; could, did wliat she could to Hliif'l 
 Ibein. (^brihtiana a/^ain saJd to tliem, .Sl,and Ixwrk, and 
 begone; for we bavr- no iiMiiiey to low;, bein/^ pilgriniH an 
 you m-u, and sucb, too, /i,s live upon tlie r;barity of our 
 frietidH. 
 
 Ii.r.-KAVoi iiiij. Tben said f>ne of Ijic two of the men, 
 wo iiinUc no assault iipoji ycjii for money, but a,r(; come 
 out to tell you, tbat if you will but grant on<' nmall refjuest 
 wliicli we sli-ill ank, we will iriake worrion of you for o.vo.r. 
 
 (^iiHis'/iANA. Now Cfirihtiana, imagining wbattbey Mbould 
 mean, mad<* ariHwei' /ijniin. We will ncitlicr lieur, fi(<r regard, 
 nor yi(!ld to wfiat you shall ask. We a.ie in banb!, cannot 
 stay; our busiiicHs is a ljusin<'Sh of life /mid death. So, 
 
2«o Zbc ptlovtm'i? prooi'css 
 
 ii^ain, slit* ami lu>i- cDinpanions made a fresh essay to go 
 past them; but they lelteil them in their way. 
 
 Ii.i.-i'AvoLiiiKi). Ami they said, We intend uo hurt to 
 your lives; it is another thinji^ we would have. 
 
 C'niusTiANA. Ah, tiuoth Christiana, you would have us 
 bcxlv and soul, for 1 know it is for that you are eome ; hut 
 we will ilie rather upon the spot than sutler ourselves to 
 be brt)uj;-ht into sueh snares as shall ha/aril our well-beino; 
 hereafter. And with that thev both shriekeil out, and 
 erieil, Alunler! nnn-der ! anil si> put themselves umler 
 those laws that are proviileil ior the proteetion of women 
 (l)enl. xxii. J2;J '^'7). Hut the \neu still made theirapproaeh 
 npi>n them, with ilesjij^n ti> prevail a^Minst them. They, 
 therefore, eried out aii;ain. 
 
 Now, thev beinii", '^^ I said, not far from the pite in at 
 whieh thev eame, their voiee was heard from where thev 
 were, thither; wherefore some of the house eame out, and 
 knowiui;" that it was Christiana's ti>ni;ue, thev made haste 
 to her relief. Hut bv that thev were j^ot within siii'ht of 
 them, the women were in a very j^reat seuflle, the eluKlren 
 also stood eiyini;; bv. Then did he that eame in for their 
 relief eall out to the rutlians, saving:;. What is that thing 
 that you do .-^ ^Vould you make mv Lorifs people to 
 transgress? He also attempted to take them, but they 
 did make their eseaj)e over the wall, into the ganlen of 
 the man to whom the great dog belonged; so the dog 
 beeame their proteetor. This Reliever then eame up to the 
 women, and asked them how thev did. So thev answered, 
 AVe thank thy Trinee, pretty well; only we have been 
 somewhat atfrighted ; we thank thee also, for that thou 
 camest in to our helj), for otherwise we had been over- 
 come. 
 
 Uki.ikvkk. So after a few more words, this Reliever 
 said as followeth : 1 marvelled nuich when vou were enter- 
 
TL\)c Ipdcirim's proorcss 221 
 
 tained at the gate above, being [as] ye knew, that ye 
 were but weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord 
 there for a conductor; then might you have avoidetl these 
 troubles and dangers, for he would have granted you one. 
 
 CuiusTiANA. Alas! said (Christiana, we were so taken 
 Avith our present blessing, that dangers to come were 
 forgotten by us; l)esidcs, who could have thought, th.it 
 so near the King\s palace, there should have lurked such 
 naughty ones? Indeed, it had been well for us, had we 
 asked our Loi'd for one; but, since our Lord knew it 
 would be for our profit, I wonder he sent not one along 
 with us ! 
 
 lli'.MKVKii. It is not always necessary to grant things 
 not asked for, lest, by so doing, they become of little 
 esteem; i)ut when the want of a thing is felt, it then 
 comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that estimate 
 that properly is its due, and so, coiisecjuently, will be 
 thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, 
 you would not neither so have bewailed that oversight of 
 yours, in not asking for one, as now you have occasion to 
 do. So all things work for good, and tend to make 
 you wary. 
 
 Cuiiis'jiANA. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and 
 confess our folly, and ask one? 
 
 Rkmkvkk. Your (confession of your folly I will present 
 him with. To go back again you need not; for in all 
 places where you shall come, you will find no want at all; 
 for in every of my Lord's lodgings which he has prepared 
 for the reception of his pilgrims, there is sudicierit to 
 furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. IJut, as I 
 said, " He will be inquired of by them, to do it for them " 
 (Ezek. xxxvi. 37). And it is a poor thing that is not 
 worth asking for. When he had thus said, he went back 
 to his place, and the pilgrims went on their way. 
 
S89 Z\K ilMIorlm't? Il>roorc£^t^ 
 
 Mi'iu'V. 'riii'ii snid Mercy, wIimI (I Middt'M blank islicrc! 
 I iiuult* Jit-coiiiit \\r \uu\ MOW lu'cii pu.sl nil (Imiil!;('I\ iiiui 
 lluil \\«' sln)iilil McviT M('(> sorrow inort'. 
 
 ( 'iiiiisi'iANA. 'I'liv iiiiHKcncv, iiiy sisliT, said ( 'lirisi iaiia 
 to Mcicy, may «'\ciis(> I her miii-li ; bill as |"or luc, my I'aiill 
 is HO much llic ^rcalcr, lor Ilia I, I saw lliis (lHii<;'('r before I 
 <-aiiu' «)iil <»r I lie doors, and yel did nol |iro\ide lor il 
 win-re provision inii;lil lia\i' been bad. 1 am I liereltn(> 
 miicli lo be blamed. 
 
 Mkiicy. 'riieii said Mercy, How knew yoii this belore 
 you came iVom bome P I'ray open lo me Ibis riddle. 
 
 ("iiitisri.WA. Wby, 1 will lell you. Melore I sel fool out 
 ofdoors, tnie iiiybl, as I lay in iiiv bed, 1 bad a ib'eam about 
 Ibis; for, metb»)iiu;bl. 1 saw lwt» men, /is like tbese us i>ver 
 Ibe \\»»rld lliey could look,sland al my bi'cPs reel, plol lin^ 
 bow lli(>y miii'bl pr«>vent my salvalion. I will lid! you 
 Ibeir very words. Tbey s.'iid (il was wIumi 1 was in my 
 troubles), Wbat siiall wi- do wilb Ibis woman F lV)r she 
 crii's oul, wakiiijy; iind sleepins;-, I'oi* rori^iveiii'ss. If sbe bo 
 snden-d lo ^o on as sbe begins, we sliall lose ber as we 
 bavc" lost her husband. This, you kiu)w, iiii!;bt have made 
 me lake heed, and have provided when j)rovisioii niii;lit 
 have been bad. 
 
 Mi'.m'V. Well, said INb-rcv, as l)v this iu>oli'cl we have 
 nil «)i'casion minislered niilo us, lo l)ebolil our own imper- 
 fet-litnis; st) our Lord has lakiMi oi-i-asion lber(>by lo make 
 m.'inilesl I lu> riiluvs of bis i;r/uv ; l\)r be, as W(> .se(>, has 
 rolK)W(Hl us wilb un.asked kiudiu'ss, and lias delivi-rtul us 
 from Ibeir bauds Ib.al wim'i> slroui^er liiau wi>, of his meix; 
 };ood ple.Msure. 
 
 'riuis, now when I bey bad lalk(>d awav a lillle mori> time, 
 tb<'v tlri>w nii;b lo a bouse wbii-b s!ot)d in Ibe way, which 
 hoiis*' was bnill for tiu> relief of piljM'ims ; as vou will liiui 
 more fully relaled in Ibe l"'irsl Pari oi' Ibese Ueconis of the 
 
>&.ti&.!.';^««iii<',iiPiiiiiilli!i..tliN:'.ll';L :Hiilillllllllililiilllii)..ll . Iil'.lii< .ir illUtll illiiill^l|UI'lliui 
 
 i 
 
 'I'hc Man with tlic Muckrake - Prif^e 222. 
 
 Pilf'rhn^i Prfiyrrtt. 
 
Pilgrim^s Progress. So they drew on towards the house 
 (the House of the Interpreter), and when they came to 
 the door, they heard a great talk in the house. They 
 then gave ear, and heard, as they thought, Christiana 
 mentioned by name. For you must know that there 
 went along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's 
 going on pilgrimage. And this thing was the more 
 pleasing to them, because they had heard that she was 
 Christian's wife, that woman who was some time ago so 
 unwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage. Thus, there- 
 fore, they stood still, and heard the good people within 
 commending her, who, they little thought, stood at the 
 door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done at the 
 gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came to 
 the door a young damsel, named Innocent, and opened 
 the door, and looked, and behold two women were there. 
 
 Damsel. Then said the damsel to them. With whom 
 would you speak in this place ? 
 
 Christiana. Christiana answered, We understand that 
 this is a privileged place for those that are become pilgrims, 
 and we now at this door are such ; wherefore we pray that 
 we may be partakers of that for which we at this time are 
 come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and we 
 are loth to-night to go any farther. 
 
 Damsel. Pray, what may I call your name, that I may 
 tell it to my Lord within .'' 
 
 Christiana. My name is Christiana; I was the wife 
 of that pilgiim that some years ago did travel this way, 
 and these be his four children. This maiden also is my 
 companion, and is going on pilgrimage too. 
 
 In'nocent. Then ran Innocent in (for that was her 
 name), and said to those within. Can you think who is at 
 the door ? There is Christiana and her children, and her 
 companion, all waiting for entertainment here. Then 
 
S24 tlbe pflarim's iprooresa 
 
 they leaped for joy, and went and told their Master. So 
 he came to the door, and looking upon her he said, Art 
 thou that Christiana whom Christian, the good man, left, 
 behind him, when he betook himself to a pilgrim's life ? 
 
 Christiana. 1 am that woman that was so hard-hearted 
 as to slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go 
 on in his journey alone, and these are his four children ; 
 but now I also am come, for I am convinced that no way 
 is right but this. 
 
 Interpreter. Then is fulfilled that which also is written^ 
 of the man that said to his son, " Go, work to-day in my 
 vineyard. He answered and said, I will not : but after- 
 ward he repented and went " (Matt. xxi. 29). 
 
 Christiana. Then said Christiana, So be it. Amen. 
 God make it a true saying upon me, and grant that I 
 may be found at the last of Him in peace, without spot, 
 and blameless ! 
 
 Interpreter. But why standest thou thus at the door ? 
 Come in, thou daughter of Abraham. We were talking 
 of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before, how 
 thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ; 
 come, maiden, come in. So he had them all into the 
 house. 
 
 So, when they were within, they were bidden sit down 
 and rest them ; the which when they had done, those that 
 attended upon the pilgrims in the house, came into the room 
 to see them. And one smiled, and another smiled, and they 
 all smiled, for joy that Christiana was become a pilgrim. 
 They also looked upon the boys. They stroked them over 
 the faces with the hand, in token of their kind reception 
 of them. They also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid 
 all welcome into their Masters house. 
 
 After a while, because supper was not ready, the Inter- 
 preter took them into his significant rooms, and showed 
 
XTbe pUorfin's prooress 225 
 
 them what Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen some 
 time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in the cage, 
 the man and his dream, the man that cut his way through 
 his enemies, and the picture of the biggest of them all, to- 
 gether with the rest of those things that were then so pro- 
 fitable to Christian. 
 
 This done, and after these things had been somewhat 
 digested by Christiana and her company, the Interpreter 
 takes them apart again, and has them first into a room 
 where was a man that could look no way but downwards, 
 with a muck-rake in his hand. There stood also one over 
 his head, with a celestial crown in his hand, and proffered 
 him that crown for his muck-i'ake ; but the man did neither 
 look up, nor regard, but raked to himself the straws, the 
 small sticks, and dust of the floor. 
 
 Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know 
 somewhat the meaning of this ; for this is a figure of a 
 man of this world, is it not, good sir .? 
 
 Interpreter. Thou hast said the right, said he, and his 
 muck-rake doth show his carnal mind. And whereas thou 
 seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks, and 
 the dust of the floor, than to what He says that calls to 
 him from above with the celestial crown in His hand, it is 
 to show that heaven is but as a fable to some, and that 
 things here are counted the only things substantial. Now, 
 whereas it was also showed thee, that the man could look 
 no way but downwards, it is to let thee know that earthly 
 things, when they are with power upon men's minds, quite 
 carry their hearts away from God. 
 
 Christiana. Then said Christiana, Oh, deliver me from 
 this muck-rake ! 
 
 Interpreter. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain 
 by till it is almost rusty. " Give me not riches " (Prov. 
 XXX. 8) is scarce the prayer of one often thousand. Straws, 
 
 p 
 
2s6 xrbe DMlorim's prooress 
 
 and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things now 
 looked after. 
 
 With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, It is, 
 alas ! too true. 
 
 When the Interpreter had shown them this, he has them 
 into the very best room in the house ; a very brave room 
 it was. So he bid them look round about, and see if they 
 could find anything profitable there. Then they looked 
 round and rountl ; for there was nothing there to be seen but 
 a very gi'eat spider on the wall : and that they overlooked. 
 
 Mercy. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing ; but Chris- 
 tiana held her peace. 
 
 Interpreter. But, said the Interpreter, look again ; and 
 she therefore looked again, and said. Here is not anvthinsr 
 but an ugly spider, who hangs by her hands upon the wall. 
 Then said he. Is there but one spider in all this spacious 
 room ? Then the water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she 
 was a woman quick of apprehension ; and she said, Yea, 
 Lord, there is here more than one. Yea, and spiders whose 
 venom is far more destructive than that which is in her. 
 The Interpreter then looked pleasantly upon her, and said. 
 Thou hast said the truth. This made Mercy blush, and 
 the boys to cover their faces, for they all began now to 
 understand the riddle. 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again. "The spider taketh hold 
 with her hands (a^i you see), and is in kings' palaces" (Prov. 
 XXX. 28). And wherefore is this recorded, but to show you, 
 that how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet you 
 may, by the hand of faith, lay hold of, and dwell in the 
 best room that belongs to the King's house above ! 
 
 Chuistiaxa. I thought, said Christiana, of something of 
 this, but I could not imagine it all. I thought that we 
 were like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, 
 in what fine room soever we were ; but that by this spider, 
 
Ubc iIMlarlm'9 progress 227 
 
 this venomous and ill-favored creature, we were to learn 
 how to act feith, that came not into my mind. And yet 
 she has taken hold with her hands, as I see, and dwells in 
 the best room in the house. God has made nothing in vain. 
 
 Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood 
 in their eyes ; yet they looked one upon another, and also 
 bowed before the Interpreter. 
 
 He had them then into another room, where was a hen 
 and chickens, and bid them observe a while. So one of 
 the chickens went to the trough to drink, and every time 
 she drank she lifted up her head and her eyes toward 
 heaven. See, said he, what this little chick doth, and 
 learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, 
 by receiving them with looking up. Yet again, said he, 
 observe and look ; so they gave heed and perceived that 
 the hen did walk in a four - fold method toward her 
 chickens. 1. She had a common call, and that she hath 
 all day long. 2. She had a special call, and that she had 
 but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note. And 4. 
 She had an outcry. * 
 
 Now, said he, compare this hen to your King, and these 
 chickens to his obedient ones. For, answerable to her, 
 himself has his methods, which he walketh in toward his 
 people ; by his connnon call, he gives nothing ; by his 
 special call, he always has something to give, he has also 
 a brooding voice for them that are under his wing; and he 
 has an outcry to give the alarm when he seeth the enemy 
 come. I chose, my darlings, to lead you into the room 
 where such things are, because you are women, and they 
 are easy for you. 
 
 And, Sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some 
 
 more. So he had them into the slaughter-house, where 
 
 was a butcher killing of a sheep ; and behold the sheep 
 
 was quiet, and took her death patiently. Then said 
 
 *Matt. xxiii. 37. 
 
228 Ube iptlorlm's iproorcss 
 
 the Interpreter, You must learn of this sheep to suffer, 
 and to put up wrongs without nuuMuurings and complaints. 
 Behold how quietly she taketh her death, and without 
 ohjccting, she suffereth her skin to be pulled over her ears. 
 Your King doth call you His sheep. 
 
 After this, he led them into his garden, where was great 
 variety of flowers ; and he said. Do you see all these ? So 
 Christiana said. Yes. Then said he again, Behold the 
 flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, and colour, and 
 smell, and virtue ; and some are better than some : also 
 where the gardener hath set them, there they stand, and 
 tpiarrel not with one another. 
 
 Again, he had them into his field, which he had sowed 
 with wheat and corn ; but when they beheld, the tops of 
 all were cut off*, only the straw remained ; he said again, 
 This ground was dunged, and ploughed, and sowed ; but 
 what shall we do with the crop ? Then said Christiana, 
 Burn some, and make muck of the rest. Then said the 
 Interpreter again, Fruit, you see, is that thing you look 
 for, and for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and 
 to be trodden under foot of men : beware that in this you 
 condemn not yourselves. 
 
 Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied 
 a little robin with a great spider in his mouth ; so the 
 Interpreter said, I^ook here. So they looked, and Mercy 
 wondered ; but Christiana said, What a disparagement is it 
 to such a little pretty bird as the robin-redbreast is, he 
 being also a bird above many, that loveth to maintain 
 a kind of sociableness with man ; I had thought they had 
 lived upon crumbs of bread, or upon other such harmless 
 matter. I like him worse than I did. 
 
 The Interpreter then replied. This robin is an emblem, 
 very apt to set forth some professors by ; for to sight, 
 they are, as this robin, pretty of note, colour, and carriage. 
 
Ubc BMIgrfm's lp>rooress 229 
 
 They seem also to have a very great love for professors 
 that are sincere ; and above all other, to desire to sociate 
 with them, and to be in their company, as if they could 
 live upon the good man''s crumbs. They pretend also, 
 that therefore it is that they frequent the house of the 
 godly and the appointments of the Lord ; but, when they 
 are by themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble 
 up spiders, they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and 
 swallow down sin like water. 
 
 So, when they were come again into the house, because 
 supper as yet was not ready, Christiana again desired that 
 the Interpreter would either show or tell of some other 
 things that are profitable. 
 
 Then the Interpreter began, and said, The fatter the sow 
 is, the more she desires the mire ; the fatter the ox is, the 
 more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and the more 
 healthy the lusty man is, the more prone he is unto evil. 
 
 There is a desire in women to go neat and fine, and it 
 is a comely thing to be adorned with that that in God's 
 sight is of great price. 
 
 It is easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a 
 whole year together. So it is easier for one to begin to 
 profess well, than to hold out as he should to the end. 
 
 Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly cast 
 that overboard that is of the smallest value in the vessel ; 
 but who will throw the best out first.? None but he that 
 feareth not God. 
 
 One leak will sink a ship; and one sin will destroy a 
 sinner. 
 
 He that forgets his friend, is ungrateful unto him ; but 
 he that forgets his Saviour, is unmerciful to himself. 
 
 He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness hereafter, 
 is like him that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn 
 with wheat or barley. 
 
2S0 Zbc ipilonm't? proiircss 
 
 If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to 
 him, and make it always his company keeper. 
 
 AVhispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is 
 in the world. 
 
 If the world, which Crod sets light by, is counted a 
 thing of that worth w ith men ; what is heaven, which 
 Gcxl commendeth ? 
 
 If the life that is attendeii with so many troubles is so 
 lotli to be let go bv us, what is the life above ? 
 
 Evervbixly w ill cry up the goodness of men ; but w ho is 
 there that is, as he should, affected with the gootlnessof Gixl? 
 
 \Ve seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and leave ; so 
 there is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than 
 the whole world has need of. 
 
 When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out 
 into his gjinleu again, and hatl them to a ti"ee, whose 
 inside was all i-otten and gone, and vet it grew and had 
 leaves. Then Siiid Mercy, AVhat means this ? Tliis tree, 
 Siiid he, whose outside is fair, and whose inside is rotten, 
 it is to which many may be compaivil that are in the 
 ganlen of God ; who with their mouths speak high in 
 Ix^hiUf of God, but indeed will do notliing for him ; whose 
 leaves are ftvir, but their heart gocxi for nothing but to 1x3 
 tinder for the devil's tindei'-box. 
 
 Now sup}>er was ready, the table spread, and all things 
 set on the boaai ; so they s;it dow n and did eat, when 
 one had given thanks. And the Interpreter did usually 
 entertain tliose that lodgoti with him, w ith music at meals; 
 so the minstre'ls playeii. There was also one that did 
 sing, and a veiy tine voice he had. His song was this : — 
 
 ** The Lord is only my support, 
 Auil Ho that doth me teed ; 
 How CAU 1 theu waut anything 
 MTierieof 1 stand in need .'' " 
 
The Butcher and the Sheep — P'Jg'' 2jO. 
 
 Pilgrim', Pr,f;rn: 
 
XTbc IIMlovlni'3 iproorcss sm 
 
 When the soiiii^ and music was iMidcd, llio InU'vpivtcr 
 asked Christiana what it was that at lirst did move her 
 to betake herself to a pilfj^rinTs Mfe. Christiana answered, 
 First, The loss of my husband came into my mind, at 
 which I was heartily «;rieved ; but all that wjus but natural 
 affection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pil- 
 grimage of my husband into my mind, and also how like 
 a churl I had carried it to him as to that. So guilt took 
 hold of my mind, and would have drawn me into the 
 pond; but that o})portunely I had a dream of the well- 
 being of my husbanil, and a letter sent me by the King 
 of that country where my husband dwells, to come to 
 him. The dreau) arid the letter together so wrought 
 upon my mind, that they forced me to this way. 
 
 iNTKRi'RF.rKR. Hut met you with no opposition before 
 you set out of doors ? 
 
 Christiana. Yes, a neighbour of mine, one Mrs. 
 Timorous (she was akin to him that would have per- 
 suaded my husband to go back, for fear of the lions). 
 She all to befooled me for, as she called it, my intended 
 desperate adventure ; she also urged what she could to 
 dishearten me to it ; the hardship and troubles that my 
 husband met with in the way: but all this I got over 
 pretty well. ]Jut a dream that I had of two ill-looking 
 ones, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry 
 in my journey, that hath troubled me nnicli; yea, it still 
 runs in my mind, and makes me afraid of every one that 
 I meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, and 
 to turn me out of the way. Yea, T may tell my Lord, 
 though I would not have everybody know it, that between 
 this and the gate by which we got into the way, we were 
 both so sorely assaulted that we were made to cry out, 
 Murder! and the two that made this assault upon us were 
 like the two that I saw in my dream. 
 
232 XTbe ipilorim's proatess 
 
 Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good ; thy 
 latter end shall greatly increase. So he addressed himself 
 to Mercy, and said unto her, And what moved thee to 
 come hither, sweet heart ? 
 
 Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while con- 
 tinued silent. 
 
 Interpreter. Then said he, Be not afraid, only believe, 
 and speak thy mind. 
 
 Mercy. So she began, and said, Truly, sir, my want of 
 experience is that which makes me covet to be in silence, 
 and that also that fills me with fears of coming short at 
 last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams as my friend 
 Christiana can ; nor know I what it is to mourn for my 
 refusing of the counsel of those that were good relations. 
 
 Interpreter. What was it, then, dear heart, that hath 
 prevailed with thee to do as thou hast done ? 
 
 Mercy. Why, when our friend here was packing up to 
 be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally 
 to see her; so we knocked at the door and went in. 
 When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we 
 asked what was her meaning. She said, she was sent for 
 to go to her husband; and then she up and told us how 
 she had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, 
 among immortals, wearing a crown, playing upon a harp, 
 eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing 
 praises to Him for bringing him thither, &c. Now, me- 
 thought, while she was telling these things unto us, my heart 
 burned within me ; and I said in my heart, If this be true 
 I will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my 
 nativity, and will, if I may, go along with Christiana. 
 
 So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and 
 if she would let me go with her ; for I saw now that there 
 was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any longer 
 in our town. But yet I came away with a heavy heart. 
 
not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that 
 so many of my relations were left behind. 
 
 And I am come, with all the desire of my heart, and 
 will go, if I may, with Christiana, unto her husband, and 
 his King, 
 
 Interpreter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast 
 given credit to the truth. Thou art a Ruth, who did, for 
 the love she bare to Naomi, and to the Lord her God, 
 leave father and mother, and the land of her nativity, to 
 come out, and go with a people that she knew not hereto- 
 fore. " The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward 
 be given thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose 
 wings thou art come to trust" (Ruth ii. 12). 
 
 Now supper was ended, and preparation was made for 
 bed ; the women were laid singly alone, and the boys 
 by themselves. Now when Mercy was in bed, she could 
 not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at 
 last, were removed further from her than ever they were 
 before. So she lay blessing and praising God, who had 
 had such favour for her. 
 
 In the morning they rose with the sun, and prepared 
 themselves for their departure ; but the Interpreter would 
 have them tarry awhile ; for, said he, you must orderly go 
 from hence. Then said he to the damsel that first opened 
 unto them, Take them and have them into the garden to 
 the bath, and there wash them, and make them clean from 
 the soil which they have gathered by travelling. Then 
 Innocent the damsel took them, and had them into the 
 garden, and brought them to the bath ; so she told them 
 that there they must wash and be clean, for so her master 
 would have the women to do that called at his house, as 
 they were going on pilgrimage. They then went in and 
 washed, yea, they and the boys and all; and they came 
 out of that bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much 
 
234 trbe pilorim's iproorcss 
 
 enlivened and strengthened in their joints. So when they 
 came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they went 
 out to the washing. 
 
 When they were returned out of the garden from the 
 bath, the Interpreter took them, and looked upon them, 
 and said unto them, Fair as the moon. Then he called 
 for the seal, wherewith they used to be sealed that were 
 washed in his bath. So the seal was brought, and he set 
 his mark upon them, that they might be known in the 
 places whither they were yet to go. Now the seal was the 
 contents and sum of the passover which the children of 
 Israel did eat when they came out from the land of Egypt, 
 and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal greatly 
 added to their beauty, for it was an ornament to their 
 faces. It also added to their gravity, and made their 
 countenances more like them of angels (Exod. xiii. 8-10). 
 
 Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that 
 waited upon these women. Go into the vestry and fetch 
 out garments for these people ; so she went and fetched 
 out white raiment, and laid down before him ; so he 
 commanded them to put it on. " It was line linen, white 
 and clean." When the women were thus adorned, they 
 seemed to be a terror one to the other; for that they 
 could not see that glory each one on herself which they 
 could see in each other. Now, therefore, they began to 
 esteem each other better than themselves. " For you are 
 fairer than I am,'''' said one ; and, " You are more comely 
 than I am," said another. The children also stood amazed 
 to see into what fashion they were brought. 
 
 The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, 
 one Great-heart, and bid him take sword and helmet and 
 shield ; and take these my ilaughtei-s, said he, and conduct 
 them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they 
 will rest next. So he took his weapons and went before 
 
tlbe ilMlorim'3 iprooress 235 
 
 them ; and the Iivtcrprctor said, God speed. Those, also, 
 that belonged to the family, sent them away with many a 
 good wish. So they went on their way and sang — 
 
 *'This place has been our second stage : 
 Here we liave heard and seen 
 Those good things that, from age to age 
 To others hid have been. 
 
 The dung-hill raker, spider, hen. 
 
 The chicken, too, to me 
 Hath taught a lesson ; let me thea 
 
 Conformed to it be. 
 
 The butcher, garden, and the field. 
 
 The robin and his bait. 
 Also tlie rotten tree doth yield 
 
 Me argument of weight ; 
 
 To move me for to watch and pray. 
 
 To strive to l)e sincere ; 
 To take my cross up day by day. 
 
 And serve the Lord with fear." 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and Great- 
 heart went before them : so they went and came to the 
 place where Christian's burden fell off' his back, and 
 tumbled into a sepulchre. Here, then, they made a 
 pause ; and here also they blessed God. Now, said Chris- 
 tiana, it comes to my mind, what was said to us at the 
 gate, to wit, that we should have pardon by word and 
 deed : by word, that is, by the promise ; l)y deed, to wit, 
 in the way it was obtained. What the j)romise is, of 
 that I know something ; but what it is to have pardon by 
 deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr. Great-heart, 
 I suppose you know ; wherefore, if you please, let us hear 
 you discourse thereof. 
 
 Great-heart. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon 
 
286 XTbe ipflgrim's progress 
 
 obtained by some one, for another that hath need thereof: 
 not by the person pardoned, but in the way, saith another, 
 in which I have obtained it. So then, to speak to the 
 question more at large, the pardon that you and Mercy 
 and these boys have attained, was obtained by another, to 
 wit, by him that let you in at the gate; and he hath 
 obtained it in this double way. He has performed 
 righteousness to cover you, and spilt blood to wash you in. 
 
 Christiana. But if he parts with his righteousness to 
 us, what will he have for himself ? 
 
 Great-heakt. He has more righteousness than you have 
 need of, or than he needeth himself. 
 
 Christiana. Pray make that appear. 
 
 Great-heart. With all my heart ; but first I must pre- 
 mise, that he of whom we are now about to speak is one 
 that has not his fellow. He has two natures in one person, 
 plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto 
 each of these natures a righteousness belongeth, and each 
 righteousness is essential to that nature ; so that one may 
 as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to separate its 
 justice or righteousness from it. Of these righteousnesses, 
 therefore, we are not made partakers, so as that they, or 
 any of them, should be put upon us that we might be 
 made just, and live thereby. Besides these, there is a 
 righteousness which this Person has, as these two natures 
 are joined in one : and this is not the righteousness of the 
 Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood ; nor the 
 righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from 
 the Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth in the 
 union of both natures, and may probably be called, the 
 righteousness that is essential to his being prepared of 
 God to the capacity of the mediatory office which he was 
 to be entrusted with. If he parts with his first righteous- 
 ness, he parts with his Godhead ; if he parts with his 
 
Zbc pilortm's iprooress 237 
 
 second righteousness, he parts with the purity of his man- 
 hood ; if he parts with tliis third, he parts with that per- 
 fection that capacitates him to the office of mediation. 
 He has, therefore, another righteousness, which standeth 
 in p©i-formance, or obedience to a revealed will ; and that 
 is it that he puts upon sinners, and that by which their 
 sins are covered. Wherefore he saith, " As by one man's 
 disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience 
 of one shall many be made righteous" (Romans v. 19). 
 
 Christiana. But are the other righteousnesses of no use 
 to us ? 
 
 Great-heart. Yes ; for though they are essential to his 
 natures and office, and so cannot be communicated unto 
 another, yet it is by virtue of them, that the righteous- 
 ness that justifies is, for that purpose, efficacious. The 
 righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his obedience; 
 the righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to his 
 obedience to justify; and the righteousness that standeth 
 in the union of these two natures to his office, giveth 
 authority to that righteousness to do the work for which 
 it is ordained. 
 
 So then, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, 
 has no need for, for he is God without it; here is a 
 righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make 
 him so, for he is perfect man without it ; again, here is a 
 righteousness that Christ, as God -man, has no need of, for 
 he is perfectly so without it. Here, then, is a righteous- 
 ness that Christ, as God, as man, as God -man, has no 
 need of, with reference to himself, and therefore he can 
 spare it; a justifying righteousness, that he for himself 
 wanteth not, and therefore he giveth it away ; hence it is 
 called " the gift of righteousness " (Romans v. 17). This 
 righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made him- 
 self under the law, must be given away ; for the law doth 
 
2S8 XTbc nMlortm's jprocivcss 
 
 not only bind him that is under it "to do justly."" but to 
 use charity. Wherefore he must, he ought, by the Law, 
 if he hath two coats, to give one to him that hath none. 
 Now, our Lord, indeed, hath two coats, one for himself, 
 and one to spare; wherefore he freely bestows one upon 
 those that have none. And thus, Christiana, and INIercy, 
 and the rest of you that are here, doth your pardon come 
 by deed, or by the work of another man. Your J^ord 
 Christ is he that has worked, and has given away what he 
 wrought for to the next poor beggar he meets. 
 
 But, again, in order to pardon by deed, there must 
 something be paid to God as a price, as well as something 
 prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to 
 the just curse of a righteous law ; now, from this curse we 
 must be justified by way of redemption, a price being paid 
 for the harms we have done (Romans iv. ^M) ; and this is 
 by the blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your 
 place and stead, and died your death for your transgi'essions 
 (Gal. iii. 13). Thus has he ransomed you from your trans- 
 gressions by blood, and covered your polluted and deformed 
 souls with righteousness. For the sake of which, God 
 passeth by yoUi Jiiwi will not hurt you when He comes to 
 judge the world. 
 
 Christiana. This is brave. Now, I see there was some- 
 thing to be learned by our being pardoned by word and 
 deed. Good INIercy, let us labour to keep this in mind ; 
 and, my children, do you remember it also. But, sir, was 
 not this it that made my good Christian's burden fall from 
 otf his shoulder, and that made hin^ give three leaps for joy .'^ 
 
 Great-heart. Yes, it was the belief of this, that cut 
 those strings that could not be cut by other means; and 
 it was to give him a proof of the virtue of this, that he 
 was suffered to carry his burden to the cross. 
 
 Christiana. I thought so; for though my heart was 
 
Zbc ipllGrtm's Hbrogress 239 
 
 lightful and joyous before, yet it is ten times more light- 
 some and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I 
 have felt, though I have felt but little as yet, that if the 
 most burdened man in the world was here, and did see and 
 believe as I now do, it would make his heart the more 
 merry and blithe. 
 
 Great-heart. There is not only comfort, and the ease 
 of a burden brought to us, by the sight and consideration 
 of these, but an endeared affection begot in us by it ; for 
 who can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes, 
 not only by promise, but thus, but be affected by the way 
 and means of his redemption, and so with the man that 
 hath wrought it for him ? 
 
 Christiana. True; methinks it makes my heart bleed 
 to think that he should bleed for me. Oh, thou loving 
 One. Oh, thou blessed One ! Thou deservest to have me; 
 thou hast bought me; thou deservest to have me all; thou 
 hast paid for me ten thousand times more than I am 
 worth ! No marvel that this made the water stand in my 
 husband"'s eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on; 
 I am persuaded he wished me with him ; but vile wretch 
 that I was, I let him come all alone. Oh, Mercy, that 
 thy father and mother were here; yea, and Mrs. Timorous 
 also; nay, I wish now with all my heart, that here was 
 Madame Wanton too. Surely, surely their hearts would 
 be affected ; nor could the fear of the one, nor the power- 
 ful lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home again, 
 and to refuse to become good pilgrims. 
 
 Great-heart. You speak now in the warmth of your 
 affections. Will it, think you, be always thus with you .'' 
 Besides, this is not communicated to every one that did 
 see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that 
 saw the blood run from His heart to the ground, and yet 
 were so far off this, that, instead of lamenting, they laughed 
 
240 Ube BMIatfm's progress 
 
 at Him ; and, instead of becoming His disciples, did harden 
 their hearts against Him. So that all that you have, my 
 daughters, you have by a peculiar impression made by a 
 divine contemplating upon what I have spoken to you. 
 Remember that it was told you, that the hen, by her 
 common call, gives no meat to her chickens. This you 
 have, therefore, by a special grace. 
 
 Now, I saw still in my dream, that they went on until 
 they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and 
 Presumption, lay and slept in, when Christian went by on 
 pilgrimage ; and behold, they were hanged up in irons, a 
 little way off on the other side. 
 
 Mercy. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide 
 and conductor, What are those three men ? and for what 
 are they hanged there ? 
 
 Great-heart. These three men were men of very bad 
 qualities. They had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, 
 and whosoever they could, they hindered. They were for 
 sloth and folly themselves, and whoever they could persuade 
 with they made so too ; and, withal, taught them to pre- 
 sume that they should do well at last. They were asleep 
 when Christian went by ; and now you go by they are 
 hanged. 
 
 Behold here how the slothful are a sign 
 
 Hunj? up, 'cause holy ways they did decline. 
 
 See here too how the child doth play the man. 
 
 And weak grow strong, when Great-heart leads the van. 
 
 Mercy. But could they persuade any to be of their 
 opinion ? 
 
 Great-heart. Yes ; they turned several out of the way. 
 There was Slow-pace, that they persuaded to do as they. 
 They also prevailed with one Short- wind, with one No- 
 heart, with one Linger-after-lust, and with one Sleepy- 
 head, and with a young woman, her name was Dull, to turn 
 
Ube pflorlm's progress 241 
 
 out of the way and become as they. Besides, they brought 
 up an ill report of your Lord, persuading others that He 
 was a taskmaster. They also brought up an evil report of 
 the good land, saying it was not half so good as some pre- 
 tend it was. They also began to vilify His servants, and 
 to count the very best of them meddlesome, troublesome 
 busybodies. Further they could call the bread of God 
 husks ; the comforts of His children, fancies ; the travel 
 and labour of pilgrims things to no purpose. 
 
 Christiana. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they 
 shall never be bewailed by me. They have bat what they 
 deserve ; and I think it is well that they hang so near the 
 highway, that others may see and take warning. But had 
 it not been well if their crimes had been engraven on some 
 plate of iron or brass, and left here, even where they did 
 their mischief, for a caution to other bad men ? 
 
 Great-heart. So it is, as you well may perceive, if you 
 will go a little to the wall. 
 
 Mercy. No, no ; let them hang, and their names rot, 
 and their crimes live for ever against them. I think it a 
 high favour that they were hanged before we came hither ; 
 who knows else what they might have done to such poor 
 women as we are ? Then she turned it into a song, saying — 
 
 " Now then, you three, hang there, and be a sign 
 To all that shall against the truth combine. 
 And let him that comes after fear this end. 
 If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
 And thou, my soul, of all such men beware. 
 That unto holiness opposers are." 
 
 Thus they went on, till they came at the foot of the Hill 
 Difficulty, where, again, their good friend, Mr. Great-heart, 
 took an occasion to tell them of what happened there when 
 Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the 
 spring. Lo, said he, this is the spring that Christian 
 
242 Ube UMlotim's lOrogress 
 
 drank of, before he went up this hill ; and then it was 
 clear and good, but now it is dirty with the feet of some 
 that are not desirous that pilgrims here should quench 
 their thrist (Ezek. xxxiv. 18). Thereat, Mercy said. And 
 why so envious, trow ? But, said their guide, it will do, if 
 taken up, and put into a vessel that is sweet and good ; 
 for then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the water 
 will come out by itself more clear. Thus, therefore, 
 Christiana and her companions were compelled to do. 
 They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot, and so 
 let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then- 
 they drank thereof. 
 
 Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the 
 foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost them- 
 selves. And, said he, these are dangerous paths. Two 
 were here cast away when Christian came by ; and although, 
 as you see, these ways are since stopped up with chains, 
 posts, and a ditch, yet there are that will choose to adven- 
 ture here, rather than take the pains to go up this hill. 
 
 Christiana. " The way of transgressors is hard " (Prov. 
 xiii. 15). It is a wonder that they can get into those ways 
 without danger of breaking their necks. 
 
 Great-heart. They will venture. Yea, if at any time 
 any of the king''s servants do happen to see them, and do 
 call unto them, and tell them that they are in the wrong 
 ways, and do bid them beware the danger, then they will 
 railingly return them answer, and say, " As for the word 
 that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the Lord, 
 we will not hearken unto thee ; but we will certainly do 
 whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our own mouth,'" &c. 
 (Jer. xliv. 16, 17). Nay, if you look a little farther, you 
 shall see that these ways are made cautionary enough, not 
 only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but also by being 
 hedged up, yet they will choose to go there. 
 
Christiana. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; 
 up-hill way is unpleasant to therii. So it is fulfilled unto 
 them as it is written, " The way of the slothful man is as 
 an hedge of thorns "" (Prov. xv. 19). Yea, they will rather 
 choose to walk upon a snare, than to go up this hill, and 
 the rest of this Avay to the city. 
 
 Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and 
 up the hill they went; but before they got to the top, 
 Christiana began to pant ; and said, I dare say this is a 
 breathing hill. No marvel if they that love their ease more 
 than their souls, choose to themselves a smoother way. 
 Then said Mercy, I must sit down ; also the least of the 
 children began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart, sit 
 not down here, for a little above is the Prince's arbour. 
 Then took he the little boy by the hand, and led him up 
 thereto. 
 
 When they were come to the arbour, they were very 
 willing to sit down, for they were all in a pelting heat. 
 Then said Mercy, How sweet is rest to them that labour ! 
 (Matt. xi. 28). And how good is the Prince of pilgrims to 
 provide such resting-places for them ! Of this arbour I 
 have heard much ; but I never saw it before. But here let 
 us beware of sleeping ; for, as I have heard, for that it cost 
 poor Christian dear. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones, Come, my 
 pretty boys, how do you do ? What think you now of 
 going on pilgrimage ? Sir, said the least, I was almost beat 
 out of heart ; but I thank you for lending me a hand at 
 my need. And I remember now what my mother hath 
 told me, namely, that the way to heaven is as up a ladder, 
 and the way to hell is as down a- hill. But I had rather go 
 up the ladder to life, than down the hill to death. 
 
 Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, To go down the 
 hill is easy. But James said (for that was his name). The 
 
244 xtbe pilovim's iproatess 
 
 da.y is coming when, in my opinion, going down hill will 
 be the hardest of all. 'Tis a good boy, said his IVIaster, 
 thou hast given her a right answer. Then Mercy smiled ; 
 but the little boy did blush. 
 
 Chuistiaxa. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, 
 a little to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here to rest 
 your legs ? For I have here a piece of pomegranate, which 
 Mr. Interpreter put in my hand, just when I came out of 
 his doors. He gave me also a piece of a honeycomb, and 
 a little bottle of spirits. I thought he gave you something, 
 said Mercy, because he called you aside. Yes ; so he did, 
 said the other. But, said Christiana, it shall still be, as 
 I said it should, when at first we came from home, thou 
 shalt be a sharer in all the good that I have, because thou 
 so willingly didst become my companion. Then she gave 
 to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. 
 And, said Christiana to Mr. Great-heart, Sir, will you do 
 as we ? But he answered. You are going on pilgrimage, 
 and presently I shall return. Much good may what you 
 have do to you. At home I eat the same every day. 
 Now, when they had eaten and drank, and had chatted 
 a little longer, their guide said to them, The day wears 
 away, if you think good, let us prepare to be going. So 
 they got up to go, and the little boys went before. But 
 Christiana forgot to take her bottle of spirits with her ; 
 so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. Then said 
 INIercy, I think this is a losing place. Here Christian lost 
 his roll ; and here Christiana left her bottle behind her. 
 Sir, what is the cause of this .'' So their guide made answer, 
 and said. The cause is sleep or forgetfulness. Some sleep 
 when they should keep awake; and some forget when 
 they should remember; and this is the very cause why, 
 often at the resting-places, some pilgrims, in some things, 
 come oft' losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember 
 
Zbc pilorim's progress 245' 
 
 what they have already received under their greatest 
 enjoyments, but for want of doing so, ofttimes their re- 
 joicing ends in tears, and their sunshine in a cloud. Wit- 
 ness the story of Christian at this place. 
 
 When they were come to the place where Mistrust and 
 Timorous met Christian to persuade him to go back for 
 fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and 
 before it, towards the road, a broad plate, with a copy 
 of verses written thereon, and underneath, the reason of 
 raising up of that stage in that place, rendered. The 
 verses were these : — 
 
 ** Let him who sees this stage take heed 
 Unto his heart and tongue ; 
 Lest if lie do not, here he speed. 
 As some have long agone." 
 
 The words underneath the verses were : " This stage 
 was built to punish such upon, who, through Timorous- 
 ness or Mistrust, shall be afraid to go farther on pilgrim- 
 age; also, on this stage, both Mistrust and Timorous 
 were burned through the tongue with a hot iron, for 
 endeavouring to hinder Christian in his journey." 
 
 Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of 
 the Beloved, " What shall be given unto thee ? or what 
 shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue ? Sharp arrows 
 of the mighty, with coals of juniper" (Ps. cxx. 3, 4). 
 
 So they went on, till they came within sight of the 
 lions. Now Mr. Great-heart was a strong man, so he 
 was not afraid of a lion ; but yet when they were come 
 up to the place where the lions were, the boys that went 
 before were glad to cringe behind, for they were afraid 
 of the lions ; so they stepped back, and went behind. 
 At this their guide smiled, and said. How now, my 
 boys, do you love to go before, when no danger doth 
 
246 Z\K pilcirim'5 jproorcss 
 
 approach, and love to come behind so soon as the lions 
 
 appear ? 
 
 Now, as they went up, ]Mr. Great-heart drew his sword, 
 with intent to make a way for the pilgrims, in spite of the 
 lions. Then there appeared one that, it seems, had taken 
 upon him to back the lions ; and he said to the Pilgrims' 
 guide, What is the cause of your coming hither? Now 
 the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because 
 of his slaying of pilgrims, and he was of the race of the 
 giants. 
 
 GuKAT-HEAr.T. Thcu said the Pilgrims'* guide, These 
 women and children are going on pilgrimage ; and this is 
 the way they must go, and go it they shall, in spite of thee 
 and the lions. 
 
 Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go there- 
 in. I am come forth to withstand them, and to that end 
 will back the lions. 
 
 Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, 
 and of the grim carriage of him that did back them, this 
 way had of late lain much unoccupied, and was almost all 
 grown over with grass. 
 
 Chkistiaxa. Then said Christiana, Though the highways 
 have been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers 
 have been made in time past to walk thi-ough by-paths, it 
 must not be so now I am risen. Now, " I am risen a mother 
 in Israel " (Judges v. 6, T). 
 
 Grim. Then he swore by the lions but it should; and 
 therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have 
 passage there. 
 
 Grkat-heart. But their guide made first his approach 
 unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him with his swoi"d, that 
 he forced him to a retreat. 
 
 Grim. Then said he that attempted to back tlie lions, 
 Will you slay me upon mine own ground.'' 
 
trbe pilorlm's procjvess 247 
 
 Great-heaut. It is the King's highway that we are in, 
 and in His way it is that thou hast placed thy Hons ; but 
 these women and these children, though weak, shall hold on 
 their way in spite of thy lions. And with that he gave him 
 again a downright blow, and brought him upon his knees. 
 With this blow he also broke his helmet, and with the next 
 he cut off an arm. Then did the giant roar so hideously, 
 that his voice frighted the women, and yet they were glad 
 to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the lions 
 were chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. 
 Wherefore, when old Grim, that intended to back them, 
 was dead, Mr. Great-heart said to the Pilgrims, " Come 
 now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from 
 the lions." They therefore went on, but the women trembled 
 as they passed by them ; the boys also looked as if they 
 would die, but they all got by without further hurt. 
 
 Now then they were within sight of the Porter's Lodge, 
 and they soon came up unto it ; but they made the more 
 haste after this to go thither, because it is dangerous travel- 
 ling there in the night. So when they were come to the 
 gate, the guide knocked, and the Porter cried, Who is 
 there ? But as soon as the guide had said, It is I, he knew 
 his voice, and came down (for the guide had oft before that 
 come thither, as a conductor of pilgrims). When he was 
 come down, he opened the gate, and seeing the guide stand- 
 ing just before it (for he saw not the women, for they were 
 behind him), he said unto him, How now, Mr. Great-heart, 
 what is your business here so late to-night ? I have brought, 
 said he, some pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's com- 
 mandment, they must lodge ; I had been here some time 
 ago, had I not been opposed by the giant that did use to 
 back the lions ; but I, after a long and tedious combat with 
 him, have cut him off, and have brought the pilgrims hither 
 in safety. 
 
248 ZTbe pilgrim's f»roGves5 
 
 Porter. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ? 
 
 Great-heart. No, I will return to my Lord to-night. 
 
 Christiana. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you 
 should leave us in our pilgrimage, you have been so faithful 
 and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutly for us, you 
 have been so hearty in counselling of us, that I shall never 
 forget your favour towards us. 
 
 Mercy. Then said Mercy, O that we might have thy com- 
 pany to our journey's end ! How can such poor women as 
 we hold out in a way so full of troubles as this way is, with- 
 out a friend and defender ? 
 
 James. Then said James, the youngest of the boys. Pray, 
 sir, be persuaded to go with us, and help us, because we are 
 so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is. 
 
 Great-heart. I am at my Lord's commandment ; if he 
 shall allot me to be your guide quite through, I will will- 
 ingly wait upon you. But here you failed at first ; for, 
 when he bid me come thus far with you, then you should 
 have begged me of him to have gone quite through with 
 you, and he would have granted your request. However, 
 at present, I must withdraw; and so, good Christiana, 
 Mercy, and my brave children, Adieu. 
 
 Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her 
 country, and of her kindred ; and she said, I came from 
 the City of Destruction ; I am a widow woman, and my 
 husband is dead; his name was Christian, the Pilgrim. 
 How ! said the Porter, was he your husband ? Yes, said 
 she, and these are his children ; and this, pointing to 
 Mercy, is one of my townswomen. Then the Porter rang 
 his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came to 
 the door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble- 
 mind ; and to her the Porter said. Go tell it within, that 
 Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are 
 come hither on pilgrimage. She went in, therefore, and 
 
told it. But O what noise for gladness was there with- 
 in, when the damsel did but drop that word out of her 
 mouth ! 
 
 So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana 
 stood still at the door. Then some of the most grave 
 said unto her. Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife of 
 that good man ; come in, thou blessed woman ; come in, 
 with all that are with thee. So she went in, and they 
 followed her that were her children and her companions. 
 Now when they were g^ne in, they were had into a very 
 large room, where they were bidden to sit down ; so they 
 sat down, and the chief of the house was called to see and 
 welcome the guests. Then they came in, and understand- 
 ing who they were, did salute each other with a kiss, and 
 said. Welcome, ye vessels of the grace of God ; welcome 
 to us your friends. 
 
 Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the 
 pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made 
 faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible lions, 
 therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to 
 go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh your- 
 selves first with a morsel of meat ; for they had prepared 
 for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging 
 thereto (Exod. xii. 21-28 ; John i. 29) ; for the Porter had 
 heard before of their coming, and had told it to them 
 within. So when they had supped, and ended their prayer 
 with a psalm, they desired they might go to rest. But 
 let us, said Christiana, if we may be so bold as to choose, 
 be in that chamber that was my husband's when he was 
 here ; so they had them up thither, and they lay all in a 
 room. When they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy 
 entered into discourse about things that were convenient. 
 
 Christiana. Little did I think once, that when my 
 husband went on pilgrimage, I should ever have followed. 
 
250 Z\)c lpiloviin'5 IproorciJS 
 
 Meiu Y. And you as little thought of hnng in his bed, 
 and in ln:> ohanil>er to rest, as you do now. 
 
 CiiKisiiAXA. And much less did I ever think of seeing 
 his facv with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the 
 King with him, and yet now I believe I shall. 
 
 jNIkucy. Hai-k ! Don't you hetu* a noise ? 
 
 Christiana. Yes ; it is, as I believe, a noise of music, 
 for jov that we t\re heiv. 
 
 Mkkcy. Wonderful ! music in the house, music in the 
 heart, aud music also in heaven, for joy that we are here ! 
 
 Thus thev talked awhile, and then betook themselves to 
 sleep. So, in the morning, when these were awake, Clms- 
 tiana sjud to Meivy : — 
 
 Chkistiaxa. "What was the matter that you did laugh 
 in vour sleep to-night ? I suppose you was in a dream. 
 
 ^If.koy. So I was, and a sweet di"eam it was ; but are 
 you suiv 1 laugheti ? 
 
 CuiusTiANA. Yes ; you laugheti heartily ; but, prithee, 
 Meny, tell me thy di-eaui. 
 
 Mvkoy. I was a-divaming that I sat all alone in a 
 solitaiT place, and was bemoaning of the hiu-diiess of my 
 heart. Now, I had not sat there lontj, but methoucjht 
 manv weiv gathered about me, to see me, and to hear 
 what it was that I scvid. So they hejirkened, and I went 
 on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At tliis, some 
 of them laughed at me, some calkxl me fool, ami some 
 iK'gan to thrust me about. AVith that, methought I looked 
 up, mid Siiw one coming with wings towards me. So he 
 came din.vtlv to me, and scud, Mercy, what aileth thee ? 
 Now. when he had heard me make my complaint, he said, 
 ** Peaiv be to thee." He also >vijied mine eyes with his 
 handkoivhief, tmd clad me in silver tind gold. He put a 
 chain about mv neck. ;uid earrings in mine ears, and a 
 beautiful crown ujxm my head ^^Ezek. xvi. 8-ll\ Then 
 
Zhc ilMlorim's iprooress 251 
 
 he took me by the hand, and said, Mercy, come after me. 
 So he went up, and I followed, till we came at a f^olden 
 gate. Then he knocked ; and when they within had 
 opened, the man went in, and I followed him up to a 
 throne, upon which One sat, and he said to me. Welcome, 
 daughter. The place looked bright and twinkling, like 
 the stars, or rather like tlie sun; and I thought that I saw 
 your husband there. So I awoke from my dream. ]iut 
 did I laugh ? 
 
 CiiiiisTiANA. Laugh ! ay, and well you might, to see 
 yourself so well. For you must give me leave to tell 
 you, that I believe it was a good dream ; and that, as you 
 have begun to find the first part true, so you shall find 
 the second at last. " God sj)eaketh once, yea, twice, yet 
 man perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the 
 night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings 
 upon th(,' })ed " (Job xxxiii. 14, 15). We need not, wherj 
 a-bed, lie awake to talk with God. He can visit us while 
 we sleep, and cause us then to hear His voice. Our heart 
 ofttimes wakes when we sleep; and God can speak to 
 that, either by words, l)y proverbs, by signs and simili- 
 tudes, as well as if one was awake. 
 
 Mkiicy. Well, I am glad of my dream ; for I hope, ere 
 long, to see it fulfilled, to the making me laugh again. 
 
 Christiana. I think it is now high time to rise, and to 
 know what we nmst do. 
 
 Mkucy. Pray, if they invite us to stay awhile, let us 
 willingly accept of the proffer. I am the willinger to stay 
 awhile here, to grow better ac({uainted with these maids. 
 Methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very comely 
 and sober countenances. 
 
 Christiana. We shall see what they will do. So when 
 they were up and ready, they came down, and they asked 
 one another of their rest, and if it was comfortable or not. 
 
252 Zbc pHotfm's iprogress 
 
 IVIeucy. Very good, Siiid Mercy ; it was one of the best 
 nighfs lodgings tliat ever I had in my life. 
 
 Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded 
 to stay here awhile, you shall have what the house will 
 afford. 
 
 Charity. Ay, and that with a very good will, said 
 Charitv. So thev consented and stayed there about a 
 month or above, and became very profitable one to another. 
 And because Prudence would see how Christiana had 
 brought up her children, she asked leave of her to cate- 
 chise them. So she gave her free consent. Then she 
 began at the youngest, whose name was James. 
 
 Pui'DEXCE. And she said. Come, James, canst thou tell 
 me who made thee .'' 
 
 James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 PuiDEXcE. Good boy. And canst thou tell me who 
 saves thee ? 
 
 James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 Pridexce. Good boy still. But how doth God the 
 Father save thee ? 
 
 James. By His grace. 
 
 Prudence. How doth God the Son save thee ? 
 
 James. By His righteousness, death, and blood, and life. 
 
 Pridexce. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save 
 thee ? 
 
 Jamks. Bv His illumination, by His renovation, and by 
 His preservation. 
 
 Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be com- 
 mended for thus bringing up your children. I suppose 
 I need not ask the rest these questions, since the youngest 
 of them can answer them so well. I will therefore now 
 apply myself to the next youngest. 
 
Prudence. Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name 
 was Joseph), will you let me catechise you ? 
 
 Joseph. With all my heart. 
 
 Prudence. What is man ? 
 
 Joseph. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my 
 brother said. 
 
 Prudence. What is supposed by this word " saved " ? 
 
 Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into a 
 state of captivity and misery. 
 
 Prudence. What is supposed by his being saved by the 
 Trinity ? 
 
 Joseph. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant, that 
 none can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and that 
 God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him indeed 
 out of this miserable state. 
 
 Prudence. What is God's design in saving of poor men ? 
 
 Joseph. The glorifying of His name, of His grace and 
 justice, &c., and the everlasting happiness of His creature. 
 
 Prudence. Who are they that must be saved ? 
 
 Joseph. Those that accept of His salvation. 
 
 Prudence. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother has taught 
 thee well, and thou hast hearkened to what she hath said 
 unto thee. 
 
 1'hen said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest 
 but one. 
 
 Prudence. Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should 
 catechise you also ? 
 
 Samuel. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 
 
 Prudence. What is heaven ? 
 
 Samuel. A place and state most blessed, because God 
 dwelleth there. 
 
 Prudence. What is hell ? 
 
 Samuel. A place and state most woeful, because it is 
 the dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death. 
 
254 cbc piKjnm;? provjrc53 
 
 PKrTESTK- Why wcmldest thou go to heaven ? 
 
 Samuel. That I mav see God, and serve Him wfthoat 
 wt^rine?? ; that I may see Christ, and love Him everlast- 
 inii-v ; that I may have that fulness of the Holy Spirit in 
 me that I can by do means here enjoy. 
 
 PsrPKXCE. A very good boy also, and CMae that has 
 learned well. 
 
 Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whoee name 
 was Matthew ; and she said to him. Come. Matthew, shall 
 I also catechise you ? 
 
 Matthew. With a very good will. 
 
 Pkcdexce. I ask, then, if there was ever anything that 
 had a being antecedent to. or before God t 
 
 Matthew. No, for God is eternal ; nor is thae anything 
 excepting hims^*, that had a being until the banning 
 of the first day. ** For in six days the Lord made faeaTen 
 and earth, the sea, and all that in them is.** 
 
 PKmKXCE. liVhat do you think of the Bible ? 
 
 Matthew. It is the holy Word of God. 
 
 Pkupence. Is there noUung writtoi therein but what 
 Tou understand ? 
 
 Matthew. Yes ; a great deaL 
 
 Pecpexce. What do you do when yoa meet witii sadi 
 peaces therein that you do not understand ? 
 
 Matthew. I think God is wis»- than L I pray also 
 that He will please to let me know all tiberon that He 
 knows will be fbar my good. 
 
 PsmExcE- How believe yoa as toochii:^ the resnrrec- 
 ticn of the dead? 
 
 Matthew. I bdJere they shall rise, the same that was 
 buried: the same in nature, though not in corraptioo. 
 And I belieTe this upon a doaUe account : First, becaifie 
 God has prom^ed it; secoodlT, becanse He is able to 
 pes'fenn it. 
 
XLbc ipilorim's prociress 255 
 
 Then said Prudence to the boys, You must still hearken 
 to your mother, for she can learn you more. You must 
 also diligently give ear to what good talk you shall hear 
 from others ; for, for your sakes do they speak good things. 
 Observe, also, and that with carefulness, what the heavens 
 and the earth do teach you ; but especially be much in 
 the meditation of that Book that was the cause of your 
 father's becoming a pilgrim. I, for my part, my children, 
 will teach you what I can while you are here, and shall be 
 glad if you wall ask me questions that tend to godly 
 edifying. 
 
 Now, by that these Pilgrims had been at this place a 
 week, jVIercy had a visitor that pretended some good-will 
 unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk, a man of some 
 breeding, and that pretended to religion ; but a man that 
 stuck very close to the world. So he came once or twice, or 
 more, to Mercy, and offered love unto her. Now Mercy was 
 of a fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring. 
 
 Her mind also was, to be always busying of herself in 
 doing; for Avhen she had nothing to do for herself, she 
 would be making of hose and garments for others, and 
 would bestow them upon them that had need. And Mr, 
 Brisk, not knowing where or how she disposed of what 
 she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that he found 
 her never idle. I will warrant her a good housewife, 
 quoth he to himself. 
 
 ]Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that 
 were of the house, and inquired of them concerning him, 
 for they did know him better than she. So they told 
 her, that he was a very busy young man, and one that 
 pretended to religion ; but was, as they feared, a stranger 
 to the power of that which was good. 
 
 Nay then, said IVIercy, I will look no more on him ; for 
 I purpose never to have a clog to my soul. 
 
^30 Zbc IMlontn'i? proorcr'? 
 
 IVudence theii replitxl that then? neeiioii no great 
 matter of liisivunigvment to Ix" given to him. her cv>n- 
 tinuing i^o sis she had Ix^gun to do tor the jxx>r, would 
 quieklv i\x>l his eoiirai»t\ 
 
 So the next time he txMnes, he finds her Jit her old work, 
 a-niaking of things for the jxx^r. Then said he. What ! 
 always at it? Yes, said she, either for uivself or for 
 others. And what i^nst thou e.^rn a d.^y ? quoth he. I 
 do these tilings, said she, " that I nusv be rich in gvxxi 
 works, laving up in store a good foundation against the 
 time to come, that 1 may lay hold on eternal life** 
 (1 'Hm. vi. IT-lOV Why. prithee, what dt^t thou with 
 them? Clothe the nakevi, sjiid she. With that his 
 cv^untenance fell. So he forlx^re to ixnne at her again; 
 .Slid when he w.s* asketi the reasv^n why, he said, that 
 Merev was a pretty l.-iss, but troubkxi with ill eonditions. 
 
 When he had left her. Prudence said. Did I not tell 
 tluv, that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee.= yei», he 
 will raise up iui ill rejx>rt of thee; for, notwithstanding 
 his pretencv to religion, .and his seeming love to Mercy, 
 vet Merv.\v {U\d he aiv of temjx^rs so ditiereiit, that I 
 Ix'lieve they will never ev>me together. 
 
 Mkkoy. I might have h.ad huslv-iuds .-ifore now, though 
 1 sjvake not of it to .any ; but they were such as did not 
 like my cvwditions, though never did any of them find 
 feult with my jvrson. So they and I could not .agree. 
 
 l\5rnK\\K. Mercy in our d.ays is little set by, any 
 further th.ai\ .as to its n.aine ; the prncti^v, which is set 
 forth by thy cvvnditions, thei^ are but few that can abide, 
 
 Mksoy. Well, said Meivy, if nobixly will ha\Te me, I 
 will die a m.aid, or my conditions sh.all be to me as a 
 husband ; for 1 caiinot change my nature ; ai\d to have 
 one tKat lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to 
 admit of ,as lon^r .as I livv. 1 h,ad a sister named Bountiful, 
 
Mercy at Her Work 
 
 l'"K'' 2^i). 
 
 Pilgrim's Progrrii 
 
Ube ipilarim's progress 257 
 
 that was married to one of these churls ; but he and she 
 could never agree ; but because my sister was resolved to 
 do as she had begun, that is, to show kindness to the poor, 
 therefore her husband first cried her down at the cross, 
 and then turned her out of his doors. 
 
 Prudence. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you. 
 
 Mercy. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he 
 the world is now full ; but I am for none of them all. 
 
 Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, 
 and his sickness was sore upon him, for he was much 
 pained in his bowels, so that he was with it, at times, 
 pulled as it were both ends together. There dwelt also 
 not far from thence, one Mr. Skill, an ancient and well- 
 approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and they 
 sent for him, and he came. When he was entered the 
 room, and had a little observed the boy, he concluded 
 that he was sick of the gripes. Then he said to his mother. 
 What diet has Matthew of late fed upon ? Diet ! said 
 Christiana, nothing but that which is wholesome. The 
 physician answered, This boy has been tampering with 
 something that lies in his maw undigested, and that will 
 not away without means. And I tell you, he must be 
 purged, or else he will die. 
 
 Samuel. Then said Samuel, Mother, mother, what was 
 that which my brother did gather up and eat, so soon as 
 we were come from the gate that is at the head of this 
 way ? You know that there was an orchard on the left 
 hand, on the other side of the wall, and some of the trees 
 hung over the wall, and my brother did plash and did eat. 
 
 Christiana. True, my child, said Christiana he did take 
 thereof, and did eat ; naughty boy as he was, I did chide 
 him, and yet he would eat thereof. 
 
 Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not 
 wholesome food ; and that food, to wit, that fruit, is even 
 
 B 
 
95S Zbc piUirim*? procirc53 
 
 the nu\«5t hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's 
 oix'hATvl. 1 do marvel that none did warn you of it; many 
 have ditxl thenx^f. 
 
 C'tiKis^riANA. Then Christiana began to cry; and she said, 
 O naughty boy! and O oaivlesj! mother I What shall I 
 do for my son ? 
 
 Skux. Come, do not be tix> nnioh dejei'tevi ; the boy may 
 do well again, but he must purge and vomit. 
 
 Christiana. l*ray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with 
 him. whatever it ix>sts. 
 
 Skill Nv^y, 1 hoj^)e I shall be reasonable. So he made 
 him a purge, but it was too weak ; it was said, it was made 
 of the bhxxl of a gvvit, the ashes of a heifer, and with sv.nne 
 of the jui^-e of hyssv^^p, iSce. i^Heb. x. 1-4). When Mr. 
 Skill had seen tKat that purge was too weak, he made him 
 one to the purjx>se; it was made ex ciinte et sam^uhie 
 Chr'tjftl (John vi. 54—57; Heb. ix. 14), (You know 
 physicians give strange meiliciues to their patients,) And 
 it was made up into pills, with a prvnnise or two, and a 
 prv>jx>rtionable quantity oi salt (Mai-k ix. 4l^\ Now I e 
 was to take them three at a time fasting, in half a quarter 
 of a pint of the teal's of i-epentai\i.v. When this j^K>tion was 
 prt^jviiwi, and brvnight to the boy, he was kvith to take it, 
 thou^ torn with the gripes as if be should be pulled in 
 pieties. Come, cv>me, said the physician, you must take 
 it. It goes against my stomach, said the boy (Zeeh. xii. 
 10). 1 must have you take it, said his mother. I shall 
 vomit it up again, said the K\v. Pray, sir, said Christiana, 
 to Mr. Skill, how dix^ it taste ? It has no ill taste, said 
 the diX'tor; aixi with that she touched one of the pills 
 with the tip of her tongue. Oh, Matthew, said she, this 
 potion is sweeter than honey. If thc>u lovest thy mother, 
 if thou lovest thy brv>thers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou 
 lovest thv life, take it. So with much ado, after a short 
 
xri3c ipiUniin'iJ ilM\\n*css sr.}) 
 
 pravor for \hc hli-ssini;- of (u)tl iipDii it, ho look it, aiul it. 
 Mrt)iiolit kiiullv with liim. It, cuisihI luni to pmijr, it. 
 causotl him lo sleep atul rest tjuietly; it put him into a 
 line heat and bi'eathiiiiij sweat, ami did quite rid him o\' 
 his i>;ripes. St) in little tim(> he ij^t>t up, and walki>d about 
 with a stall", ami would j^jt) from room to room, and talk 
 with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, and 
 how he was healinl. 
 
 So when thi> hoy was healed, Christ iai\a askeil Mr. Skill, 
 sayinj:^, Sir, what will eontent you for your pains and eare 
 to and of my ehild ? And he said. You must pav the 
 Master of the Collect' t)f Physieiaiis, ai-eording tt) rules 
 made in that case and provicied (Ileh. \iii. 11-lG). 
 
 (^luisTiANA. l)ut, sir, said she, what is this pill i^ood 
 for else ? 
 
 Skim., It is an uiu'versal pill; it is «j;ood ai>;aiust all the 
 diseases that rili;rims are iiu-iilent to; and when it is well 
 prepared, it will keep t;cHHl, time out of mind. 
 
 C'huisti ANA. Pray, sir, make nu' up twelve boxes of them; 
 for if I can i^-et these, I will never take other physic. 
 
 Sku.l. These pills are i;"ood to prevent diseases, as well 
 as to cuixj when one is siik. Yea, I liare say it, and stand 
 to it, that if a uuiu will but use this phvsic as he slu)uld, 
 it will make him liv(> for ever (.Ft)hu vi. 50). Hul, oood 
 Christiana, thou must ^ive these pills no other way but 
 as I have prescribed ; for, if you do, they will do no s^ood. 
 So he o-ave unto Christiana physic for hers(>lf, ami her 
 boys, and for Mercy ; ami bid Matthew take heed how lie 
 ate any more green {)lums, and kissed them, and went 
 his way. 
 
 It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, that 
 if at any time they would, they should ask lier some ques- 
 tions that might be profitable, and she would say some- 
 thing to them. 
 
9^0 UDc pilortm'5 iproorcsa 
 
 Maitukw. Then Matthew, who had betui sick, asked 
 her, \Vhv for the most part, physic slioakl be bitter to 
 our jwlntes ? 
 
 Pkiokxce. To show how unwelcome the Woni of God, 
 and the etlects theivof, are to a c.^irnal heart. 
 
 M.viTHKW. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and 
 cause that we vomit ? 
 
 rKiDKNCK. To show that the Word, when it works 
 eftectuallv, cleanst^th the heart and mind. For look, what 
 the one doth to the bt>dy, the other doth to the soul. 
 
 MArniF.w. AVhat should we learn by seeing the flame 
 of our tire gt> upwanls ? and by seeing the beams and 
 sweet influences of the sun strike downwaixls.'^ 
 
 Pki'dknck. By the going up of the Hre we are taught to 
 ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires; and by the 
 sun's sending his heat, Ixwms, and sweet influences dowu- 
 waixis, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, though 
 high, reacheth dow n w ith His grace and love to us below. 
 
 MArruF.w. Where have the clouds their water? 
 
 Pkidknok. Out of the sea. 
 
 ^lArrHKw, What may we learn frtnu that ? 
 
 IhiinivNCE. That ministers should fetch their doctrine 
 from God. 
 
 AlArrnv.w. ^Vhy do they empty themselves upon the 
 earth ? 
 
 l*KrDKXCE. To show that ministers should give out what 
 thov know of God to the world. 
 
 MArrub-.w. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun.'' 
 
 l^ti'DENCK. To show that the covenant of Gtjd's grace is 
 contirmed to us in Chi^ist. 
 
 Maithkw. Why do the springs come from the sea to us, 
 thivugh the earth ? 
 
 PRrnF>,\-K. To show that the grace of God comes to us 
 thiough the body ot' Christ, 
 
Ubc ipikniiu's iproorcss 2()i 
 
 MArriiKw. Why do some of the sprin>i;s rise out of tlio 
 tops of high hills ? 
 
 PurnnNC'E. To sliow that the spirit of grace shall s])ring 
 up in some that are groat ami mighty, tis well as in many 
 that are poor ami low. 
 
 INlArrir-.w. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle- 
 wick ? 
 
 Prudkxck. To show that luiless grace cloth kindle upon 
 the heart there will be no true light of life in us. 
 
 Maitukw. Why is the wick and tallow, and all, spent 
 to maintain the light of the candle? 
 
 PuuDKXCK. To show that body and soul, ami all, should 
 be at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain, in 
 good condition, that grace of Goil that is in us. 
 
 MArruEw. Why dotli the pelican pierce her own breast 
 with her bill ? 
 
 Pki'dknck. To nourish her young ones with her blood, 
 and therel)y to show that Christ the blessed so loveth His 
 young. His people, as to save them from death by His 
 blood. 
 
 MvrruKw. What may one learn by hearing the cock 
 ci*ow ? 
 
 Viivm-.scv.. I.earn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's 
 repentance. The cock's crowing shows also that day is 
 coming on ; let then the crowing of the cock put thee in 
 mind of that last and terrible dav of judgment. 
 
 Now, about this time, their month was out ; wherefore 
 they signified to those of the house that it was convenient 
 for them to U[) and be going. Then said Josejih to his 
 mother. It is convenient that you forget not to send to the 
 house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him to grant that Mr. 
 Great-heart sliould be sent unto us, that he may be our 
 coniluctor the rest of our way. Good boy, said she, I had 
 almost forgot. So she drew up a petition, and prayed 
 
8(88 Zbc pilcirim*5 proijrc?? 
 
 Mr. \\'atoht\il, the Porter, to send it bv some fit man, to 
 her p-hkI triend Mr. Intorpivter ; who, when it wa*; come, 
 ajul he had seen the eontent^i of the petition, said to the 
 messenger. Go tell them that I will send him. 
 
 ^Vhen the tamily, where Christiana was, Siiw that they 
 had a purpose to go forwai\l, they called the whole house 
 together, to gixn? thanks to their King for sending of them 
 such pi-oHtable guests as these. Which done, they sc\id to 
 Christiiuia, And shall we not show thee something, accorxl- 
 ing as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which thou 
 mavest meditate when thou art ujxm the way .' So they 
 took Christiana, her childi-en, and Meivy. into the closet, 
 and showed them one of the apples that Eve did eat of, and 
 that she also did give to her husb^ind, and that for the 
 eating of which they lx>th were turned out of Paradise, and 
 asked her what slie thought that was ? Then Cliristiana 
 said. It is fot-xl or poison, I know not which. So they 
 openeii the matter to her, and she held up her hands and 
 wondeivil (Gt.n). iii. 6 ; Rom. vii. :^4). 
 
 Then thev had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's 
 ladder. Now at that time thert were some angels ascend- 
 ing upon it. So Cliristiana looked, and looked, to see the 
 aiiii^'ls go up ; and so did the rest of the company. Then 
 tliev were g«.>ing into another place, to show them some- 
 thing else ; but James said to his mother. Pray bid them 
 stav her^ a little longer, for this is a curious sight. So they 
 turned ag:\in, and stoo<.i feeding their eyes with so pleasant 
 a pros^xvt (^Gen. xxviii. 1^2 ; John i. 51). After tliis, they 
 had them into a place where did hang up a golden anchor, 
 so thev bid Christiana take it down ; for, said they, you 
 shall ha^•e it with you. for it is of absolute necessity that 
 you should, that you may lay hold of that witliiu the veil, 
 and stand stedfast, in case you should meet with turbulent 
 weather; so thev were glad thereof (Heb. vi. 19). Tlieu 
 
they took them, and had them to the mount upon which 
 Abraham our father had offered up Isaac his son, and 
 showed them the altar, the wood, the fire, and the knife, 
 for they remain to be seen to this very day (Gen. xxii. 9)- 
 When they had seen it, they held up their hands and 
 blessed themselves, and said. Oh, what a man for love to 
 his Master, and for denial to himself, was Abraham ! After 
 they had showed them all these tliinf^s, Prudence took them 
 into the dining-room, where stood a pair of excellent 
 virginals ; so she played upon them, and turned what she 
 had showed them into this excellent song, saying — 
 
 ** Eve's apple we have showed you, 
 
 Of that he you aware ; 
 You have seen Jacoh's ladder, too. 
 
 Upon which angels are. 
 An aru^hor you received have. 
 
 But let not these suffice. 
 Until, with Abr'am, you have gave 
 
 Your best a sacrifice." 
 
 Now, about this time, one knocked at the door ; so the 
 Porter opened, and behold Mr. Great-heart was there ; 
 but when he was come in, what joy was there ! For it 
 came now fresh again into their minds, how but a while 
 ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-man the giant, and had 
 delivered them from the lions. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, 
 My Lord hath sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also 
 some parched corn, together with a couple of pomegranates ; 
 he has also sent the boys some figs and raisins, to refresh 
 you in your way. 
 
 Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and 
 Prudence and Piety went along with them. ^Vhen they 
 came at the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if any of 
 late went by ? He said, No ; only one some time since. 
 
264. Ube pflgrlm*0 proorcss 
 
 who also told me, that of late there had been a great 
 robbery coniniitted on the King''s highway, as you go; 
 but, he said, the thieves are taken, and will shortly be 
 tried for their lives. Then Christiana and Mercy were 
 afraid ; but Matthew said. Mother, fear nothing, as long 
 as Mr. Great-heart is to go with us, and to be our 
 conductor. 
 
 Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, T am much 
 obliged to you for all the kindnesses that you have showed 
 me since I came hither ; and also for that you have been 
 so loving and kind to my children ; I know not how to 
 gratify your kindness. Wherefore, pray, as a token of my 
 respects to you, accept of this small mite ; so she put a 
 gold angel in his hiuid, and he made her a low obeisance, 
 and said, Let thy garments be always white, and let thy 
 head want no ointment. Let Mercy live, and not die, 
 and let not her works be few. And to the boys he said. 
 Do you fly youthful lusts, and follow after godliness with 
 them that are grave and wise ; so shall you put gladness 
 into your mother''s heart, and obtain praise of all that 
 are sober-minded. So they thanked the Porter, and de- 
 parted. 
 
 Now I saw in my dream, that they went forward until 
 they wei-e come to the brow of the hill, where Piety, be- 
 thinking herself, cried out, Alas ! I have forgot what I 
 intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions; 
 1 will go back and fetch it. So she ran and fetched it. 
 While she was gone, Clu'istiana thought she heard in a 
 grove, a little way off, on the right hand, a most curious, 
 melodious note, with words much like these — 
 
 "Throujj^li all my life thy favour is 
 IS(t fniiikly sliowM to me, 
 That in tiiy Jiouse for evermore 
 Mv dwelling-place shall be." 
 
And, listening still, she thought she heard another 
 answer it, saying — 
 
 " For why ? The Lord our God is good. 
 His mercy is for ever sure. 
 His truth fit all times firmly stood, 
 And shall from af^o to a^e endure." 
 
 So Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made 
 those curious notes .'' They are, said she, our country birds ; 
 they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at the spring, 
 when the flowers a[)pear, and the sun shines warm, and 
 then you may hear them all day long (Cant. ii. 11, 12). 
 I often, said she, go out to hear them ; we also ofttinies 
 keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company 
 for us when we are melancholy ; also they make the woods, 
 and groves, and solitary places, places desirous to be in. 
 
 By this time l*iety was come again; so she said to Chris- 
 tiana, Look here, I have brought thee a scheme of all those 
 things that thou hast seen at our house, upon which thou 
 mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call 
 those things again to remembrance for thy edification 
 and comfort. 
 
 Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley of 
 Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was slippery; 
 but they were very careful, so they got down pretty well. 
 When they were down in the valley, Piety said to Chris- 
 tiana, This is the place where Christian your husband met 
 with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they had that 
 dreadful light that they had; I know you cannot but have 
 heard thereof. But be of good courage ; as long as you 
 have here Mr. Great-heart to be your guide and conductor, 
 we hope you will fare the better. So when these two had 
 committed the I'ilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, 
 he went forward, and they went after. 
 
266 trbe iptlgrfm's iproQress 
 
 Great-heart. Then said Mr. Great-heart, We need not 
 to be so afraid of this valley, for here is nothing to hurt 
 us, unless we procure it to ourselves. It is true. Christian 
 did here meet with Apollyon, with whom he also had a 
 sore combat; but that fray was the fruit of those slips 
 that he got in his going down the hill ; for they that get 
 slips there, must look for combats here. And hence it is 
 that this valley has got so hard a name ; for the common 
 people, when they hear that some frightful thing has be- 
 fallen such a one in such a place, are of an opinion, that 
 that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit ; 
 when, alas ! it is for the fruit of their doing, that such 
 things do befall them there. 
 
 This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place 
 as any the crow flies over; and I am persuaded, if we could 
 hit upon it, we might find somewhere hereabouts, some- 
 thing that might give us an account why Christian was so 
 hardly beset in this place. 
 
 Then James said to his mother, Lo, yowder stands a 
 pillar, and it looks as if some^ing was written thereon ; 
 let us go and see what it is. So they went, and found 
 there written, "Let Christianas slips, before he came hither, 
 and the battles that he met with in this place, be a warn- 
 ing to those that come after."" Lo, said their guide, did 
 not I tell you that there was something hereabouts that 
 would give intimation of the reason why Christian was 
 so hard beset in this place ? Then turning himself to 
 Christiana, he said. No disparagement to Christian, more 
 than to many others, whose hap and lot his was ; for it is 
 easier going up than down this hill, and that can be said 
 but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we 
 will leave the good man, he is at rest, he also had a brave 
 victory over his enemy; let Him grant that dwelleth above, 
 that we fare no worse, when we come to be tried, than he. 
 
Zbc pilarim's proatess 267 
 
 But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. 
 It is the best and most useful piece of ground in all those 
 parts. It is fat ground, and, as you see, consisteth much 
 in meadows; and if a man was to come here in the summer- 
 time, as we do now, if he knew not anything before there- 
 of, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, 
 he might see that that would be delightful to him. Behold 
 how green this valley is, also how beautified with lilies 
 (Cant. ii. 1). I have also known many labouring men that 
 have got good estates in this Valley of Humiliation ("for 
 God resisteth the proud, but gives more, more grace unto 
 the humble," James iv. 6 ; 1 Peter v. 5) ; for indeed it is 
 a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls. 
 Some also have wished that the next way to their Father's 
 house were here, that they might be troubled no more 
 with either hills or mountains to go over ; but the way is 
 the w^ay, and there is an end. 
 
 Now, as they were going along, and talking, they espied 
 a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very 
 mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favoured counte- 
 nance; and as he sat by himself, he sang. Hark, said Mr. 
 Great-heart, to what the shepherd's boy saith. So they 
 hearkened, and he said — 
 
 '' He that is down needs fear no fall ; 
 
 He that is low, no pride ; 
 He that is humble, ever shall 
 
 Have God to be his guide. (Phil. iv. 12, 13.) 
 I am content with what I have. 
 
 Little be it, or much : 
 And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 
 
 Because thou savest such. 
 Fulness to such, a burden is, 
 
 That go on pilgrimage ; 
 Here little, and hereafter bliss. 
 
 Is best from age to age." (Heb. xiiL 6.) 
 
26*8 Ube ipflarfm'B iprootess 
 
 Then said the guide, Do you hear him ? I will dare to 
 say, that this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of 
 that herb called hearfs-ease in his bosom, than he that 
 is clad in silk and velvet ; but we will proceed in our 
 discourse. 
 
 In this Valley our Lord formerly had His country-house ; 
 He loved much to be here; He loved also to walk these 
 meadows, for He found the air was pleasant. Besides, here 
 a man shall be free froni the noise, and from the hurryings 
 of this life. All states are full of noise and confusion, 
 only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary 
 place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in 
 his contemplation, as in other places he is apt to be. This 
 is a valley that nobody walks in, but those that love a 
 pilgrim"'s life. And though Christian had the hard hap 
 to meet here with Apollyon, and to enter with him a brisk 
 encounter, yet I must tell you, that in former times men 
 have met with angels here, have found pearls here, and 
 have in this place found the words of life (Hos. xii. 4, 5). 
 
 Did I say, our Lord had here in former days His country- 
 house, and that He loved here to walk ! I will add, in 
 this place, and to the people that live, and trace these 
 grounds, he has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid 
 them at certain seasons, for their maintenance by the way, 
 and for their further encouragement to go on in their 
 pilgrimage (Matt. xi. 29). 
 
 Samuel. Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. 
 Great-heart, Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father 
 and Apollyon had their battle ; but whereabout was the 
 fight ? for I perceive this valley is large. 
 
 Great-tie ART. Your father had that battle with Apol- 
 lyon at a place yonder before us, in a narrow passage, just 
 beyond Forgetful Green. And indeed, that place is the 
 most dangerous place in all these parts. For if at any 
 
XLhc ]pilorim'5 jprootess 269 
 
 time the pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they 
 forget what favours they have received, and how unworthy 
 they are of them. This is the place also, where others 
 have been hard put to it ; but more of the place when we 
 are come to it; for I persuade myself, that to this day 
 there remains either some sign of the battle, or some 
 monument to testify that such a battle there was fought. 
 
 Mercy. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this 
 valley as I have been anywhere else in all our journey; 
 the place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in 
 such places where there is no rattling with coaches, nor 
 rumbling with wheels ; methinks, here one may, without 
 much molestation, be thinking what he is, whence he 
 came, what he has done, and \o what the King has called 
 him ; here one may think, and break at heart, and melt 
 in one's spirit, until one"'s eyes become like " the fishpools 
 of Heshbon " (Cant. vii. 4). They that go rightly through 
 this Valley of Baca, make it a well ; the rain that God 
 sends down from heaven upon them that are here, also 
 filleth the pools (Ps. Ixxxiv. 6, 7). This valley is that 
 from whence also the King will give to His their vineyards 
 (Hos. ii. 15) ; and they that go through it shall sing, as 
 Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon. 
 
 Great-heart. It is true, said their guide, I have gone 
 through this valley many a time, and never was better 
 than when here. 
 
 I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and 
 they have confessed the same. " To this man will I look " 
 (saith the King), ^^ even to him that is poor, and of a 
 contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word '' (Isa. Ixvi. 2). 
 
 Now they were come to the place where the afore-men- 
 tioned battle was fought. Then said the guide to Chris- 
 tiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place, on this 
 ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon 
 
270 ube pilgrim's iprocress 
 
 against him. And look, did not I tell you ? Here is 
 some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this 
 day ; behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen 
 upon the place, some of the shivers of Apollyon^'s broken 
 darts ; see also how they did beat the ground with their 
 feet as they fought, to make good their places against 
 each other ; how also, with their by-blows, they did split 
 the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian did here play 
 the man, and showed himself as stout, as could, had he 
 been there, even Hercules himself. When Apollyon was 
 beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called 
 the Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall 
 come anon. 
 
 Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which is en- 
 graven this battle, and Christian's victory, to his fame 
 throughout all ages. So, because it stood just on the 
 wayside before them, they stepped to it and read the 
 writing, \Vhich word for word was this — 
 
 ** Hard by, here ^'"as a battle fought. 
 
 Most strange, and yet most true ; 
 Christian and Apollyon sought 
 
 Each other to subdue. 
 The man so bravely play'd the mail) 
 
 He made the fiend to fly ; 
 Of which a monument I sUiud, 
 
 The same to testify." 
 
 When they had passed by this place, tney came upon 
 the borders of the Shadow of Death ; and this valley was 
 longer than the other; a place, also, most strangely 
 haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify ; but 
 these women and children went the better through it be- 
 cause they had daylight, and because ISlr. Great-heart was 
 their conductor. 
 
 When they were entered upon this valley, they thought 
 
TTbe ipilarfm's jproaress 271 
 
 that they heard a groaning, as of dead men [men in the 
 agonies of death], a very great groaning. They thought, 
 also, they did hear words of lamentation spoken, as of 
 some in extreme torment. These things made the boys 
 to quake, the women also looked pale and wan ; but their 
 guide bid them be of good comfort. 
 
 So they went on a little farther, and they thought that 
 they felt the ground begin to shake under them, as if 
 some hollow place was there ; they heard also a kind of 
 a hissing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet appeared. 
 Then said the boys, Are we not yet at the end of this 
 doleful place.? But the guide also bid them be of good 
 courage, and look well to their feet, lest haply, said he, 
 you be taken in some snare. 
 
 Now James began to be sick, but I think the cause 
 thereof was fear ; so his mother gave him some of that 
 glass of spirits that she had given her at the Interpreter's 
 house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had prepared, 
 and the boy began to revive. Thus they went on till 
 they came to about the middle of the valley, and then 
 Chi-istiana said, Methinks I see something yonder upon 
 the road before us, a thing of such a shape such as I have 
 not seen. Then said Joseph, Mother, what is it.^* An 
 ugly thing, child ; an ugly thing, said she. But, mother, 
 what is it like ? said he. It is like I cannot tell what, 
 said she. And now it was but a little way off; then said 
 she. It is nigh. 
 
 Well, well, said Mr. Great-heart, Let them that are 
 most afraid, keep close to me. So the fiend came on, and 
 the conductor met it ; but when it was just come to him, 
 it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered they 
 what had been said some time ago, " Resist the devil, and 
 he will flee from you " (James iv. 7). 
 
 They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed ; but 
 
272 Ube pU(jnin's iproaress 
 
 they had not gone far, before Mercy, looking behind her, 
 saw, as she thought, something most like a Hon, and it 
 came a great padding pace after ; and it had a hollow 
 voice of roaring ; and at every roar that it gave, it made 
 all the valley echo, and their hearts to ache, save the 
 heart of him that was their guide. So it came up ; and 
 Mr, Great-heart went behind, and put the Pilgrims all 
 before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great- 
 heart addressed himself to give him battle. But when he 
 saw that it was determined that resistance should be made, 
 he also drew back, and came no farther (1 Peter v. 8, 9). 
 Then they went on again, and their conductor did go 
 before them, till they came at a place where was cast up 
 a pit the whole breadth of the way; and, before they 
 could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and dark- 
 ness fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then 
 said the Pilgrims, Alas ! now what shall we do ? But 
 their guide made answer. Fear not, stand still, and see 
 what an end will be put to this also. So they stayed 
 there, because their path was marred. They then also 
 thought that they did hear more apparently the noise 
 and rushing of the enemies ; the fire, also, and the smoke 
 of the pit, was much easier to be discerned. Then said 
 Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what my poor husband 
 went through ; I have heard much of this place, but I 
 never was here before now. Poor man, he went here all 
 alone in the night; he had night almost quite through 
 the way ; also, these fiends were busy about him, as if 
 they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoke 
 of it, but none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of 
 Death should mean, until they come in it themselves. 
 "The heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger 
 intermeddleth not with its joy." To be here is a fearful 
 thing. 
 
trbe BMlgrlm's prooress 273 
 
 Geeat-heart. This is like doing business in great waters, 
 or like going down into the deep ; this is hke being in 
 the heart of the sea, and Hke going down to the bottoms 
 of the mountains ; now it seems as if the earth, with its 
 bars, were about us for ever. But let them that walk in 
 darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, 
 and stay upon their God (Isa. 1. 10). For my part, as I 
 have told you already, I have gone often through this 
 valley, and have been much harder put to it than now I 
 am, and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for 
 that I am not mine own saviour ; but I trust we shall 
 have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to 
 Him that can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke 
 not only these, but all the Satans in hell. 
 
 So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and de- 
 liverance, for there was now no let in their way ; no, not 
 there, where but now they were stopped with a pit. Yet 
 they were not got through the valley ; so they went on 
 still, and behold gi'eat stinks and loathsome smells, to the 
 gi-eat annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, 
 There is not such pleasant being here as at the gate, or at 
 the Interpreter's, or at the house where we lay last. 
 
 Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go 
 through here as it is to abide here always; and for aught 
 I know, one reason why we must go this way to the house 
 prepared for us is, that our home might be made the 
 sweeter to us. 
 
 Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide, thou hast now 
 spoke like a man. Why, if ever I get out here again, 
 said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way 
 better than ever I did in all my life. Then said the guide. 
 We shall be out by-and-by. 
 
 So on they went, and Joseph said. Cannot we see to the 
 end of this valley as yet .'' Then said the guide, Look to 
 
274 Zbc pflctinfs progress 
 
 your feet, for you shall presently be among the snares. 
 So they looked to their feet, and went on ; but they were 
 troubled much with the snares. Now, when they were 
 come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the 
 ditch, on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. 
 Then said the guide, That is one Heedless, that was agoing 
 this way ; he has lain there a great while. There was one 
 Take-heed with him, when he was taken and slain ; but 
 he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how many 
 are killed hereabout, and yet men are so foolishly ven- 
 turous, as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come 
 without a guide. Poor Christian ! it was a wonder that 
 he here escaped ; but he was beloved of his God : also, he 
 had a good heart of his own, or else he could never have 
 done it. Now they drew towards the end of the way; 
 and just there where Christian had seen the cave when he 
 went by, out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul 
 did use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistiy ; and he 
 called Great-heart by his name, and said unto him. How 
 many times have you been forbidden to do these things ? 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, What things ? What things ! 
 quoth the giant ; you know what things ; but I will put 
 an end to your trade. But prav, said Mr. Great-heart, 
 before we fall to it, let us undei'stand wherefore we must 
 fight. Now the women and children stood trembling, and 
 knew not what to do. Quoth the giant. You rob the 
 country, and rob it with the worst of thefts. These are 
 but generals, said Mr. Great-heart; come to particulars, 
 man. 
 
 Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft of a 
 kidnapper; thou gatherest up women and children, and 
 carriest them into a strange country, to the weakening of 
 my master's kingdom. But now Great-heart replied, I 
 am a servant of the God of heaven ; my business is to 
 
XTbe pUotfm'5 progress 275 
 
 persuade sinners to repentance ; I am commanded to do 
 my endeavour to turn men, women, and children, " from 
 darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God;"" 
 and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall 
 to it as soon as thou wilt. 
 
 Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to 
 meet him ; and as he went, he drew his sword, but the 
 giant had a club. So without more ado, they fell to it, 
 and at the first blow the giant struck Mr. Great-heart 
 down upon one of his knees ; with that the women and 
 children cried out : so Mr. Great-heart recovering himself, 
 laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant a 
 wound in his arm ; thus he fought for the space of an hour, 
 to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the 
 giant^s nostrils, as the heat doth out of a boiling caldron. 
 
 Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr. Great-heart 
 betook him to prayer; also the women and children did 
 nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle 
 did last. 
 
 When they had rested them, and taken breath, they 
 both fell to it again, and Mr, Great-heart, with a full 
 blow, fetched the giant down to the ground. Nay, hold, 
 and let me recover, quoth he ; so Mr. Great-heart fairly 
 let him get up. So to it they went again, and the giant 
 missed but little of all-to-breaking Mr. Great-heart ""s skull 
 with his club, 
 
 Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat 
 of his spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib ; with 
 that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club 
 no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow, and 
 smote the head of the giant from his shoulders. Then the 
 women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart also 
 praised God, for the deliverance He had wrought. 
 
 When this was done, they among them erected a pillar, 
 
276 U\)c BMlarim's iprogress 
 
 and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote under- 
 neath in letters, that passengers might read — 
 
 " He that did wear this head, was one 
 
 That pilgrims did misuse ; 
 He stopp'd their way, he spared noue^ 
 
 But did them all abuse ; 
 Until that I, Great-heart, arose, 
 
 The pilgrims' guide to be ; 
 Until that I did him oppose. 
 
 That was their enemy." 
 
 Now I saw that they went to the ascent that was a little 
 way off, cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims (that was 
 the place from whence Christian had the first sight of 
 Faithful his brother ; ) wherefore here they sat down, and 
 rested ; they also here did eat and drink, and make merry, 
 for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous 
 an enemy. As they sat thus, and did eat, Christiana 
 asked the guide if he had caught no hurt in the battle. 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart, No, save a little on my flesh ; 
 yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment, 
 that it is at present a proof of my love to my Master and 
 you, and shall be a means, by grace, to increase my reward 
 at last (2 Cor. iv.). 
 
 Christiana. But was you not afraid, good sir, when 
 you saw him come out with his club ? 
 
 Great-heart. It is my duty, said he, to distrust my 
 own ability, that I may have reliance on Him that is 
 stronger than all. 
 
 Christiana. But what did you think when he fetched 
 you down to the ground at the first blow ? 
 
 Great-heart. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my 
 Master himself was served, and yet He it was that con- 
 quered at the last. 
 
 Matthew. When you all have thought what you please, 
 
Ube UMIorfm's prooress 277 
 
 I think God has been wonderful good unto us, both in 
 bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us out 
 of the hand of this enemy ; for my part, I see no reason 
 why we should distrust our God any more, since he has 
 now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony 
 of His love as this. 
 
 Then they got up and went forward. Now a little 
 before them stood an oak ; and under it, when they came 
 to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep; they knew 
 that he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and his staff, and 
 his girdle. 
 
 So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him, and the 
 old gentleman, as he lift up his eyes, cried out, What's 
 the matter ? Who are you ? and what is your business 
 here ? 
 
 Great-heart. Come, man, be not so hot, here are none 
 but friends ; yet the old man gets up, and stands upon 
 his guard, and will know of them what they were. Then 
 said the guide. My name is Great-heart ; I am the guide of 
 these pilgrims, which are going to the Celestial Country. 
 
 Honest. Then said Mr. Honest, I cry you mercy; I 
 feared that you had been of the company of those that 
 some time ago did rob Little-Faith of his money; but 
 now I look better about me, I perceive you are honester 
 people. 
 
 Great-heart. Why, what would or could you have 
 done, to have helped yourself, if we indeed had been of 
 that company ? 
 
 Honest. Done ! why, I would have fought as long as 
 breath had been in me ; and had I so done, I am sur;; 
 you could never have given me the worse on it ; for a 
 Christian can never be overcome, unless he should yield of 
 himself. 
 
 Great-heart. Well said, father Honest, quoth the 
 
278 Zhc ipilGi'inrs jprogr'^ss 
 
 guide ; for by this I know thou art a cock of the right 
 kind, for thou hast said the truth. 
 
 Honest. And by this, also, I know that thou knowest 
 what true pilgrimage is ; for all others do think that we 
 are the soonest overcome of any. 
 
 Great-heart. Well, now we are so happily met, pray 
 let me crave your name, and the name of the place you 
 came from. 
 
 HoxEST. My name I cannot ; but I came from the 
 town of Stupidity ; it lieth about four degrees beyond the 
 City of Destruction. 
 
 Great-heart. Oh ! are you that countryman, then ? I 
 deem I have half a guess of you ; your name is Old Honesty, 
 is it not ? So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not 
 Honesty, in the abstract, but Honest is my name ; and I 
 wish that my nature shall agree to what I am called. 
 
 Honest. But, sir, said the old gentleman, how could you 
 guess that I am such a man, since I came from such a 
 place ? 
 
 Great-heart. I had heard of you before, by my Master ; 
 for He knows all things that are done on the earth ; but I 
 have often wondered that any should come from your 
 place, for your town is worse than is the City of Destruction 
 itself. 
 
 Honest. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are 
 more cold and senseless ; but was a man in a mountain of 
 ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness will arise upon him, 
 his frozen heart shall feel a thaw ; and thus it hath been 
 with me. 
 
 Great-heart. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it ; 
 for I know the thing is true. 
 
 Then the old gentleman saluted all the Pilgrims with a 
 holy kiss of charity ; and asked them of their names, and 
 how they had fared since they set out on their pilgrimage. 
 
Ube ipilodin's iprogress 279 
 
 Christiana. Then said Christiana, My name, I suppose, 
 you have heard of; good Christian was my husband, and 
 these four were his children. But can you think how the 
 old gentleman was taken, when she told him who she was ! 
 He skipped, he smiled, and blessed them with a thousand 
 good wishes, saying : — 
 
 Honest. I have heard much of your husband, and of his 
 travels and wars, which he underwent in his days. Be it 
 spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband rings 
 over all these parts of the world : his faith, his courage, his 
 enduring, and his sincerity under all, has made his name 
 famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked them 
 of their names, which they told him. And then said he 
 unto them : Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, 
 not in vice, but in virtue (Matt. x. 3). Samuel, said he, be 
 thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer 
 (Ps. xcix. 6). Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in 
 Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flies from temptation 
 (Gen. xxxix.). And James, be thou like James the Just, 
 and like James the brother of our Lord (Acts i. 13, 14). 
 Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her 
 town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and 
 with her sons. At that the old honest man said, Mercy is 
 thy name ; by mercy shalt thou be sustained, and carried 
 through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy 
 way, till thou shalt come thither, where thou shalt look the 
 Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort. 
 
 All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very much 
 pleased, and smiled upon his companion. 
 
 Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the 
 old gentleman, if he did not know one Mr. Fearing, that 
 came on pilgrimage out of his parts ? 
 
 Honest. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that 
 had the root of the matter in him ; but he was one of the 
 
280 Zbc ipilovim's proovcss 
 
 most troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my 
 days. 
 
 Grkat-heart. I perceive you knew him ; for you have 
 trivcn a very right character of him. 
 
 Honest. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his ; I 
 was with him most an end ; when he first began to think 
 of what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him. 
 
 Gkeat-iikart. I was his guide from my Master's house 
 to the gates of the Celestial City. 
 
 Honest. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 
 
 GuEAT-UEAUT. I did SO, but I could very well boar it; 
 for men of my calling are oftentimes entrusted with the 
 conduct of such as he was. 
 
 Honest. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and 
 how he managed himself under your conduct. 
 
 Great-heart. Why, he was always afraid that he should 
 come short of whither he had a desire to go. Everything 
 fi-i£rhtened him that he heard anybodv speak of, that had 
 but the least appearance of opposition in it. I hear that 
 he lav roaring at the Slough of Despond for about a month 
 toirether; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over 
 before him, ventui-e, though they, many of them, offered 
 to lend him their hand. He would not go back again 
 neither. The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he 
 came not to it ; and yet was dejected at every difficulty, 
 and stumbled at every straw that anybody cast in his way. 
 Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great 
 while, as I have told you, one sunshine morning, I do not 
 know how, he ventured, and so got over ; but when he was 
 over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a Slough 
 of Despond in his mind ; a slough that he carried every- 
 where with him, or else he could never have been as he 
 was. So he came up to the gate, you know what I mean, 
 that stands at the head of this way; and there also he 
 
Ubc HMlotlm's proorcss 28 1 
 
 stood a good while, before he would adventure to knock. 
 When the gate was opened, he woukl give back, and give 
 place to others, and say that he was not worthy. For, for 
 all he got before some to the gate, yet many of them went 
 in before him. There the poor man would stand shaking 
 and shrinking. I daresay it would have pitied one's heart 
 to have seen him ; nor would he go back again. At last, 
 he took the hammer that hanged on the gate in his haiul, 
 and gave a small rap or two ; then one opened to him, but 
 he shrank back as before. lie that opened stepped out 
 after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what wantest 
 thou ? With that he fell down to the ground. He that 
 spoke to him wondered to see him so faint. So he said to 
 him, Peace be to thee ; up, for I have set open the door 
 to thee. Come in, for thou art blessed. With that he 
 got up, and went in trembling; and when he was in, he 
 was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been 
 entertained there a while, as you know how the manner is, 
 he was bid go on his way, and also told the way he should 
 take. So he came till he came to our house. But as he 
 behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my master the 
 Interpreter''s door. lie lay thereabout in the cold a good 
 while, before he would adventure to call ; yet he would not 
 go back, and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, 
 he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my master, to 
 receive him, and grant him the comfort of his house, and 
 also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because 
 he was himself so chicken-hearted a man; and yet, for all 
 that, he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay uj) and 
 down thereabouts, till, poor man ! he was almost starved. 
 Yea, so great was his dejectioii, that though he saw severa' 
 others, for knocking, get in, yet he was afraid to venture. 
 At last I think I looked out of the window, and perceiv- 
 ing a man to be up and down about the door, I went out 
 
282 trbe BMlorim's jproovess 
 
 to him, and asked what he was ; but, j)oor man ! the 
 water stood in his eyes ; so I perceived what he wanted. 
 I went, therefore, in and told it in the house, and we 
 showed the thing to our Lord. So He sent me out again, 
 to entreat him to come in : hut, I daresay, I had hard work 
 to do it. At last he came in ; and I will say that for my 
 Lord, he carried it wonderfully lovingly to him. There 
 were but few good bits at the table, but some of it was 
 laid upon his trencher. Then he })resented the note, and 
 my Lord looked thereon, and said his desire should be 
 granted. So, when he had been there a good while, he 
 seemed to get some heart, and to be a little more comfort- 
 able ; for my Master, you must know, is one of very tender 
 bowels, especially to them that are afraid ; wherefore He 
 carried it so towards him as might tend most to his 
 encouragement. Well, when he had had a sight of the 
 things of the place, and was ready to take his journey to 
 go to the city, my Lord, as He did to Ciu'istian before, 
 gave him a bottle of spirits, and some comfortable things 
 to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him ; 
 but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh 
 aloud. 
 
 When we were come to where the three fellows were 
 hanged, he said that he doubted that that would be his end 
 also. Only he seemed glad when he saw the Cross and the 
 Sepulchre. There, I confess, he desired to stay a little to 
 look, and beseemed, for a while after, to be a little cheery. 
 When we came at the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at 
 that, nor did he much fear the lions; for you must know 
 that his trouble was not about such things as those ; his 
 fear was about his acceptance at last. 
 
 I got him in at the House Beautiful, I think, before he 
 was willing. Also, when he was in, I brought himacquainted 
 with the damsels that were of the place; but he was ashamed 
 
XTbe BMlorim's ll^roores0 sss 
 
 to make himself much for company. He desired much to 
 be alone, yet he always loved good talk, and often would 
 get behind the screen to hear it. He also loved much to 
 see ancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. 
 He told me afterwards that he loved to be in those two 
 houses from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and 
 that of the Interpreter, but that he durst not be so bold 
 to ask. 
 
 When we went also from the House Beautiful, down the 
 hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well 
 as ever I saw man in my life ; for he cared not how mean 
 he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, I think, there 
 was a kind of a sympathy betwixt that valley and him ; for 
 I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than when he 
 was in that valley. 
 
 Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss 
 the very flowers that grew in this valley (Lam. iii. 27-29). 
 He would now be up every morning by break of day, tracing 
 and walking to and fro in this valley. 
 
 But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of 
 the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have lost my man; 
 not for that he had any inclination to go back ; that he 
 always abhorred ; but he was ready to die for fear. Oh ! 
 the hobgoblins will have me ! the hobgoblins will have me ! 
 cried he, and I could not beat him out on it. He made such 
 a noise and such an outcry here, that, had they but heard 
 him, it was enough to encourage them to come and fall 
 upon us. 
 
 But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was 
 as quiet while he went through it, as ever I knew it before 
 or since. I suppose these enemies here had now a s})ecial 
 check from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until 
 Mr. Fearing was passed over it. 
 
 It would be too tedious to tell you of all. We will, there- 
 
284 Ubc BMlovim's proorcss 
 
 fore, only mention a passage or two more. When he was 
 come at Vanity Fair, I thought he would have fought with 
 all the men at the fair. I feared there we should both have 
 been knocked on the head, so hot was he against their 
 fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was also very 
 wakeful. But when he was come at the river, where was 
 no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, 
 he said, he should be drowned for ever, and so never see 
 that face with comfort that he had come so many miles to 
 behold. 
 
 And here, also, I took notice of what was very remark- 
 able ; the water of that river was lower at this time than 
 ever I saw it in all my life. So he went over at last, not much 
 above wet-shod. When he was going up to the gate, Mr. 
 Great-heart began to take his leave of him, and to wish him 
 a good reception above. So he said, I shall, I shall. Then 
 parted we asunder, and I saw him no more. 
 
 Honest. Then, it seems, he was well at last. 
 
 Great-heart. Yes, yes; I never had doubt about him; 
 he was a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept 
 very low, and that made his life so burdensome to himself, 
 and so troublesome to others (Ps. Ixxxviii.). He was, above 
 many, tender of sin. He was so afraid of doing injuries to 
 others, that he often would deny himself of that which was 
 lawful, because he would not oiFend (Rom. xiv. 21 ; 1 Cor. 
 viii. 13). 
 
 Honest. But what should be the reason that such a 
 good man should be all his days so much in the dark ? 
 
 Great-heart. Thei'e are two sorts of reasons for it : 
 One is, the wise God will have it so ; some must pipe and 
 some must weep (Matt. xi. 16-18). Now Mr. Fearing 
 was one that played upon this bass ; he and his fellows 
 sound the sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than the 
 notes of other music are; though, indeed, some say the 
 
ZTbe BMIorim's iprogress 285 
 
 bass is the ground of music. And, for my part, I care 
 not at all for that profession that begins not in heaviness 
 of mind. The first string that the musician usually touches 
 is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune. God also 
 plays upon this string first, when he sets the soul in tune for 
 himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing, 
 he could play upon no other music but this, till towards 
 his latter end. 
 
 I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the ripen- 
 ing of the wits of young readers ; and because, in the 
 book of the revelation, the saved are compared to a com- 
 pany of musicians that play upon their trumpets and 
 harps, and sing their songs before the throne (Rev. viii. 
 % xiv. % 3). 
 
 Honest. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by 
 what relation you have given of him ; difficulties, lions, 
 or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all. It was only sin, 
 death, and hell that was to him a terror, because he had 
 some doubts about his interest in that celestial country. 
 
 Great-heart. You say right. Those were the things 
 that were his troublers, and they, as you have well observed, 
 arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, not from 
 weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a pilgrim's 
 life. I dare believe that, as the proverb is, "he could 
 have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his way ; " but the 
 things with which he was oppressed, no man ever yet could 
 shake off with ease. 
 
 Christiana. Then said Christiana, this relation of Mr. 
 Fearing has done me good. I thought nobody had been 
 like me ; but I see there was some semblance betwixt this 
 good man and I ; only we differed in two things : his 
 troubles were so great, they brake out ; but mine I kept 
 within. His, also, lay so hard upon him, they made him 
 that he could not knock at the houses provided for enter- 
 
286 Ube ijMlarim's progress 
 
 tainment; but my trouble was always such as made me 
 knock the louder. 
 
 Mercy, If I might also speak my heart, I must say, 
 that something of him has also dwelt in me ; for I have 
 ever been more afraid of the lake, and the loss of a place 
 in Paradise, than I have been of the loss of other things. 
 Oh, thought I, may I have the happiness to have a habita- 
 tion there, it is enough, though I part with all the world 
 to win it ! 
 
 Matthew. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing 
 that made me think that I was far from having that within 
 me that accompanies salvation ; but if it was so with such 
 a good man as he, why may it not also go well with me ? 
 
 James. No fears, no grace, said James. Though there 
 is not always grace where there is the fear of hell, yet, 
 to be sure, there is no grace where there is no fear of 
 God. 
 
 Great-heart. Well said, James, thou hast hit the 
 mark ; for the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ; 
 and, to be sure, they that want the beginning have neither 
 middle nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse 
 of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell. 
 
 Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 
 
 Thy God, and wast afraid 
 Of doing anything, while here. 
 
 That would have thee betray 'd. 
 And didst thou fear the lake and pit? 
 
 Would others did so too ! 
 For, as for them that want thy wit, 
 
 They do themselves undo. 
 
 Now I saw that they still went on in their talk; for 
 after Mr. Great-heart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, 
 Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but his name 
 was Mr. Self-will. He pretended himself to be a pilgrim, 
 
said Mr. Honest ; but I persuade myself he never came in 
 at the gate that stands at the head of the way. 
 
 Great-heart. Had you ever any talk with him about it .'' 
 
 Honest. Yes, more than once or twice; but he would 
 always be like himself, self-willed. He neither cared for 
 man, nor argument, nor yet example; what his mind 
 prompted him to do, that he would do, and nothing else 
 could he be got to. 
 
 Great-heart. Pray, what principles did he hold ? for I 
 suppose you can tell. 
 
 Honest. He held, that a man might follow the vices as 
 well as the virtues of the pilgrims; and that if he did 
 both, he should be certainly saved. 
 
 Great-heart. How ! if he had said. It is possible for 
 the best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of 
 the virtues of pilgrims, he could not much have been 
 blamed ; for indeed we are exempted from no vice abso- 
 lutely, but on condition that we watch and strive. But 
 this, I perceive, is not the thing ; but if I understand you 
 right, your meaning is, that he was of that opinion, that 
 it was allowable so to be. 
 
 Honest. Ay, ay, so I mean ; and so he believed and 
 practised. 
 
 Great-heart. But what ground had he for his so saying.? 
 
 Honest. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his 
 warrant. 
 
 Great-heart. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a 
 few particulars. 
 
 Honest. So I will. He said. To have to do with other 
 men"'s wives had been practised by David, God's beloved ; 
 and therefore he could do it. He said. To have more 
 women than one, was a thing that Solomon practised ; 
 and therefore he could do it. He said. That Sarah and 
 the godly midwives of Egypt lied, and so did save Rahab; 
 
288 Ube HMIarim's prooress 
 
 and therefore he could do it. He said, That the disciples 
 went at the bidding of their Master, and took away the 
 owner's ass ; and therefore he could do so too. He said, 
 That Jacob got the inheritance of his father in the way of 
 guile and dissimulation ; and therefore he could do so too. 
 
 Great-heart. Highly base, indeed ! And you are sure 
 he was of this opinion ? 
 
 Honest. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture 
 for it, bring argument for it, &c. 
 
 Great-heart. An opinion that is not fit to be with 
 any allowance in the world. 
 
 Honest. You must understand me rightly. He did 
 not say that any man might do this ; but that those that 
 had the virtues of those that did such things, might also 
 do the same. 
 
 Great-heart. But Avhat more false than such a con- 
 clusion ? for this is as much as to say, that because good 
 men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had 
 allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind ; or if, because 
 a child by the blast of the wind, or for that it stumbled 
 at a stone, fell down, and defiled itself in mire, therefore 
 he might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. 
 Who could have thought that any one could so far have 
 been blinded by the power of lust ? But what is written 
 must be true : They " stumble at the word, being dis- 
 obedient; whereunto also they were appointed" (1 Peter 
 ii. 8). 
 
 His supposing that such may have the godly men*'s 
 virtues, who addict themselves to their vices, is also a 
 delusion as strong as the other. It is just as if the dog 
 should say, I have, or may have, the qualities of the child, 
 because I lick up its stinking excrements. To eat up the 
 sin of God's people, is no sign of one that is possessed with 
 their virtues (Hos. iv. 8). Nor can I believe, that one 
 
Marriage of Mercy and Matthew — Page 2gi~ 
 
 Pilgrim's Prof_,n> 
 
Ubc pilGdm's ip»roares0 289 
 
 that is of this opinion can at present have faith or love in 
 him. But I know you have made strong objections against 
 him ; prithee, what can he say for himself? 
 
 Honest. Why, he says, To do this by way of opinion, 
 seems abundance more honest than to do it, and yet hold 
 contrary to it in opinion. 
 
 Great-heart, A very wicked answer ; for though to let 
 loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against 
 such things, is bad ; yet, to sin, and plead a toleration so 
 to do, is worse. The one stumbles beholders accidentally, 
 the other pleads them into the snare. 
 
 Honest. There are many of this man's mind, that have 
 not this man's mouth : and that make going on pilgrimage 
 of so little esteem as it is. 
 
 Great-heart. You have said the truth, and it is to be 
 lamented ; but he that feareth the King of Paradise, shall 
 come out of them all. 
 
 Christiana. There are strange opinions in the world ; I 
 know one that said. It was time enough to repent when 
 they come to die. 
 
 Great-heart. Such are not overwise. That man would 
 have been loth, might he have had a week to run twenty 
 miles in for his life, to have deferred that journey to the 
 last hour of that week. 
 
 Honest. You say right ; and yet the generality of them, 
 that count themselves pilgrims, do indeed do thus. I am, 
 as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this 
 road many a day ; and I have taken notice of many 
 things. 
 
 I have seen some that have set out as if they would 
 drive all the world afore them, who yet have, in a few 
 days, died as they in the wilderness, and so never got 
 sight of the promised land. 
 
 I have seen some that have promised nothing at first 
 
 T 
 
290 ZTbe BMlarim^s progress 
 
 setting out to be pilgrims, and that one would have 
 thought could not have lived a day, that have yet proved 
 very good pilgrims. 
 
 I have seen some who have run hastily forward, that 
 again have, after a little time, run as fast just back again. 
 
 I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pil- 
 grim's life at first, that, after a while, have spoken as much 
 against it. 
 
 I have heard some, when they first set out for Paradise, 
 say positively there is such a place ; who, when they have 
 been almost there, have come back again, and said there 
 is none. 
 
 I have heard some vaunt what they would do, in case 
 they should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, 
 fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all. 
 
 Now, as they were thus in their way, there came one 
 running to meet them, and said, Gentlemen, and you of 
 the weaker sort, if you love life, shift for yourselves, for 
 the robbers are before you. 
 
 Great-heart. Then said Mr. Great-heart, They be the 
 three that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said 
 he, we are ready for them ; so they went on their way. 
 Now they looked at every turning, when thev should have 
 met with the villains; but whether they heard of Mr. 
 Great-heart, or whether they had some other game, they 
 came not up to the pilgrims. 
 
 Christiana then wished for an inn for herself and her 
 children, because they were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, 
 There is one a little before us, where a very honourable 
 disciple, one Gaius, dwells (Rom. xvi. 23). So they all 
 concluded to turn in thither, and the rather, because the 
 old gentleman gave him so good a report. So when they 
 came to the door, they went in, not knocking, for folks 
 use not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called 
 
Ubc ipiloilm's proaress 291 
 
 for the master of the house, and he came to them. So 
 they asked if they might lie there that night, 
 
 Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if ye be true men, for my house 
 is for none but pilgrims. Then was Christiana, Mercy, 
 and the boys, the more glad, for that the Innkeeper was 
 a lover of pilgrims. So they called for rooms, and he 
 showed them one for Christiana and her children, and 
 Mercy, and another for Mr. Great-heart and the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 Great-heart. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Good Gaius, 
 what hast thou for supper ? for these pilgrims have come 
 far to-day, and are weary. 
 
 Gaius. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently 
 go out to seek food ; but such as we have, you shall be 
 welcome to, if that will content. 
 
 Great-heart. We will be content with what thou hast 
 in the house ; forasmuch as I have proved thee, thou art 
 never destitute of that which is convenient. 
 
 Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name 
 was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready supper for so 
 many pilgrims. This done, he comes up again, saying. 
 Come, my good friends, you are welcome to me, and I am 
 glad that I have a house to entertain you; and while 
 supper is making ready, if you please, let us entertain 
 one another with some good discourse. So they all said, 
 Content. 
 
 Gaius. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged matron.? 
 and whose daughter is this young damsel ? 
 
 Great-heart. The woman is the wife of one Christian, 
 a pilgrim of former times; and these are his four children. 
 The maid is one of her acquaintance ; one that she hath 
 persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take 
 all after their father, and covet to tread in his steps ; yea, 
 if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim hath 
 
Ui«. or anv j^int of his foot, it miuistt^reth joy to tk^ 
 hearts, aiui thev c\>vet to lie or ttvad i;i the same. 
 
 Ct AU >5, 'HYcn said Gains. Is this Ohristiaii's >> ift' r aiui 
 are tht^^ Ohristia»\*s chiMren ? 1 knew your hushaini's 
 father, w^a, alsv> his father^ father. Many haw Kvn ^^xxi 
 of this stoek; their aiKvstors dwelt tirst at AutivX'h ^^Acts 
 xi. !!J([>V Christiait's projjenitor* (I supjx>se \x>w have heani 
 \\>ur hnslvuHi talk of theni> were very w orthy uhmi. They 
 haw, aKnv aiiv tlwt 1 know, showevl themselw^s nnn^ of 
 great virtue and ciHir^jje, for the l^^ni of the l^l^ims. His 
 wHvs, aixi them that lovtxi Him. I haw heanl of many of 
 your husK-uivi's relations, that have stxxxi all trials for the 
 sake of the truth. Stepheiu that >»'as mw of the first of 
 the tamily frvnn whence your h\ ' " ^rauj:. w^< kmvkixl 
 on the head with stomas ^^ Acts \ .^V .lanu^ another 
 
 i^ this getK^ration, was slain with the eilge of the swxvrd 
 (Acts xii. !iJ\ To sav nothing of Paul aini Peter, UK'n 
 .anoientlv of the family frv^m whexuv yvHir hiishaiui ^-an>e, 
 tht^re was Igt^atius, who w~as c*st tv» the lions; Romanus, 
 w hvvie tlosh WHS cut bv pieces fK>m his Kuh^j ; atni Poly- 
 ^"ar^\ that pl.\wxl tl>e m.ai\ in the tirv. There was he that 
 was Ivangeil up it\ a basket in the sim, for the w^isps to eat; 
 and he w ho thev put into a s*ck, aixl cast him into the s*s* 
 to W dK»wneii. It wvHiki be utterly imjx^bW tv» count up 
 all of that familv that ha\>? sufleiwi injuries aixl death, for 
 the low v>f a pilgriut's life. Nv>r can I but be glad tc» sve 
 that thv husbiuxi has left behiixl him four such boys as 
 these. I hv^^X" thev will bear up their father's nau>e, and 
 tiv^iil ii\ their father's stej>s, .aixl cvnne to their father^s eaxi. 
 
 GKKAr-HKAKT. lixloed. Sir, they aiv likely huls; they 
 soem to ch«.x>s»e heartily their father's w>ay. 
 
 Ga\i~s, That is it tKnt 1 said; wheivfoce Oiristiaitls 
 familv is like still to sj^read .^briwl u^xw the face of the 
 gnxiud, aixJ yvt tv> be nuuHNPOus upon the fa«> of the earth; 
 
XTbe pilaviin'5 proovess 293 
 
 wherefore let Christiana look out some damsels for her 
 sons, to whom they may be betrothed, &c., that the name 
 of their father and the house of his progenitors may never 
 be forgotten in the world. 
 
 HoxEST. It is pity this family should fall and be extinct. 
 
 Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may ; but 
 let Christiana take my advice, and that is the way to 
 uphold it. 
 
 And, Christiana, said this Innkeeper, I am glad to see 
 thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely couple. 
 And may I advise, take Mercy into a nearer relation to 
 thee ; if she will, let her be given to IMatthew, thy eldest 
 son; it is the way to preserve you a posterity in the earth. 
 So this match was concluded, and in process of time they 
 were married ; but more of that hereafter. 
 
 Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on the 
 behalf of women, to take away their reproach. For as 
 death and the curse came into the world by a woman (Gen. 
 iii.), so also did life and health : " God sent forth His Son, 
 made of a woman " (Gal. iv. 4). Yea, to show how much 
 those that came after did abhor the act of the mother, this 
 sex, in the Old Testament, coveted children, if happily this 
 or that woman might be the mother of the Saviour of the 
 world. 
 
 I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women 
 rejoiced in Him before either man or angel (Luke ii.). I 
 read not, that ever any man did give unto Christ so much 
 as one groat ; but the women followed Him and ministered 
 to Him of their substance (Luke viii. 2, 3). It was a 
 woman that washed His feet with tears, and a woman that 
 anointed His body to the burial (Luke vii. 37, 50; John 
 xi. 2, xii. 3). They were women that wept, when He was 
 going to the cross, and women that followed Him from the 
 cross, and that sat by His sepulchre, when He was buried 
 
294 ^be pllorim's prooress 
 
 (Luke xxiii. 27; Matt, xxvii. 55, 56, 61). They were 
 women that were first with Him at His resurrection-morn ; 
 and women that brought tidings first to His disciples, that 
 He was risen from the dead (Luke xxiv. 22, 23). Women, 
 therefore, are highly favoured, and show by these things 
 that they are sharers with us in the grace of life. 
 
 Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost 
 ready, and sent one to lay the cloth, the trenchers, and to 
 set the salt and bread in order. 
 
 Then said Matthew, the sight of this cloth, and of this 
 forerunner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appe- 
 tite to my food than I had before. 
 
 Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee, in this 
 life, beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the supper 
 of the Great King in His kingdom ; for all preaching, 
 books, and ordinances here, are but as the laying of the 
 trenchers, and as setting of salt upon the board, when 
 compared with the feast that our Lord will make for us 
 when we come to His house. 
 
 So supper came up ; and first, a heave-shoulder and a 
 wave-breast (Lev. vii. 32-34, x. 14, 15), were set on the 
 table before them, to show that they must begin their 
 meal with prayer and praise to God (Ps. xxv. 1 ; Heb. 
 xiii. 15). The heave-shoulder David lifted his heart up 
 to God with ; and with the wave-breast, where his heart 
 lay, with that he used to lean upon his harp when he 
 played. These two dishes were very fresh and good, and 
 they all eat heartily well thereof. 
 
 The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, red as 
 blood (Deut. xxxii. 14). So Gaius said to them. Drink 
 freely; this is the juice of the true vine, that makes glad 
 the heart of God and man (Judges ix. 13 ; John xv. 1). 
 So they drank and were merry. 
 
 The next was a dish of milk well crumbed ; but Gaius 
 
Ube ilMlarfm'3 progress 295 
 
 said, Let the boys have that, that they may grow thereby 
 (1 Peter ii. 1, 2). 
 
 Then ti ey brought up in course a dish of butter and 
 honey. 1 len said Gains, Eat freely of this ; for this is 
 good to cheer up, and strengthen your judgments and 
 understandi igs. This was our Lord"'s dish when He was a 
 child ; " Butter and honey shall He eat, that He may know 
 to refuse the evil and choose the good "" (Isa. vii. 15). 
 
 Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they 
 were very good-tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, May 
 we eat apples, since they were such, by and with which 
 the serpent beguiled our first mother .? 
 
 Then said Gains — 
 
 "Apples were they with which we were beguiled; 
 Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled. 
 Apples forbid, if eat, corrupt the blood ; 
 To eat such, when commanded, does us good. 
 Drink of His flagons, then, thou church. His dove. 
 And eat His apples, who are sick of love." 
 
 Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I a 
 while since was sick with eating of fruit. 
 
 Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not 
 what our Lord has tolerated. 
 
 While they were thus talking, they were presented with 
 another dish, and it was a dish of nuts (Cant. vi. 11). 
 Then said some at the table. Nuts spoil tender teeth, 
 especially the teeth of children ; which when Gaius heard, 
 he said — 
 
 " Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters). 
 Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters. 
 Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat ; 
 They here are brought for you to crack and eat." 
 
 Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long 
 
296 dbe ipilorim's proarcss 
 
 time, talking of many things. Then said the old gentle- 
 man, My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, 
 if you please, do you open this riddle : — 
 
 " A man there was, thouj^h some did count hin mad. 
 The more he cast away, the more he had." 
 
 Then they all gave good heed, wonderin'^" what good 
 Gaius would say ; so he sat still awhile, and then thus 
 replied : — 
 
 " He that bestow his goods upon the poor, 
 Shall have as much again, and ten times more." 
 
 Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think you 
 could have found it out. 
 
 Oh ! said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a 
 great while ; nothing teaches like experience ; I have 
 learned of my Lord to be kind : and have found by ex- 
 perience, that I have gained thereby. "There is that 
 soattereth, and yet increaseth ; and there is that with- 
 holdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty"" 
 (Prov. xi. 24). " There is that maketh himself rich, yet 
 hath nothing ; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath 
 great riches" (Prov. xiii. 7). 
 
 Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and 
 said, Mother, this is a very good man's house, let us stay 
 here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be married 
 here to Mercy before we go any farther. 
 
 The which Gaius the host overhearing, said. With a 
 very good will, my child. 
 
 So they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy 
 was given to Matthew to wife. 
 
 While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, would 
 be making coats and garments to give to the poor, by which 
 she brought up a very good report upon the pilgrims. 
 
Ubc pilorfm's prooress 297 
 
 But to return again to our story. After supper the 
 lads desired a bed ; for that they were weary with travel- 
 ling : then Gaius called to show them their chamber ; 
 but, said Mercy, I will have them to bed. So she had 
 them to bed, and they slept well ; but the rest sat up all 
 night; for Gaius and they were such suitable company, 
 that they could not tell how to part. Then after much 
 talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old Mr. 
 Honest, he that put forth the riddle to Gaius, began to 
 nod. Then said Great- heart, What, sir, you begin to be 
 drowsy ; come, rub up ; now here is a riddle for you. 
 Then said Mr. Honest, Let us hear it. 
 
 Then said Mr. Great-heart — 
 
 " He that will kill, must first be overcomej 
 Who live abroad would, first must die at home." 
 
 Ha ! said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one, hard to expound, 
 and harder to practise. But come, landlord, said he, I 
 will, if you please, leave my part to you ; do you expound 
 it, and I will hear what you say. 
 
 No, said Gaius, it was put to you, and it is expected 
 that you should answer it. 
 
 Then said the old gentleman — 
 
 ** He first by grace must conquer'd be, 
 That sin would mortify ; 
 And who, that lives, would convince me. 
 Unto himself must die." 
 
 It is right, said Gaius ; good doctrine and experience 
 teaches this. For, first, until grace displays itself, and 
 overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether without 
 heart to oppose sin ; besides, if sin is Satan''s cords, by 
 which the soul lies bound, how should it make resistance, 
 before it is loosed from that infirmity ? 
 
298 Ube UMIotfm's iprooress 
 
 Secondly, nor will any, that knows either reason or grace, 
 believe that such a man can be a living monument of grace 
 that is a slave to his own corruptions. 
 
 And now it comes in my mind, I w ill tell you a story 
 worth the hearing. There were two men that went on 
 pilgrimage : the one began when he was young, the other 
 when he was old. The young man had strong coiTuptions 
 to grapple with; the old man's were decayed with the 
 decays of nature. The young man trod his steps as 
 even as did the old one, and was every way as light as he. 
 Who now, or which of them, had their graces shining 
 clearest, since both seemed to be alike ? 
 
 Honest. The young man''s, doubtless. For that which 
 heads it against the greatest opposition, gives best demon- 
 stration that it is strongest ; especially when it also holdeth 
 pace with that that meets not with half so much ; as, to be 
 sure, old age does not. 
 
 Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed 
 themselves with this mistake, namely, taking the decays 
 of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and 
 so have been apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, old 
 men that are gracious, are best able to give advice 
 to them that are young, because they have seen most 
 of the emptiness of things. But yet, for an old and a 
 young [man] to set out both together, the young one 
 has the advantage of the fairest discovery of a work 
 of grace within him, though the old man's corruptions 
 are naturally the weakest. 
 
 Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now, when the 
 family was up, Christiana bid her son James that he should 
 read a chapter ; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When 
 he had done, Mr. Honest asked. Why it was said that the 
 Saviour is said to come " out of a dry ground *" ; and also, 
 that "'He had no form or comeliness in Him"".'' 
 
Ube ipiloi'tm's prooress 299 
 
 Great-heart. Then said Mr. Great-heart, to the first, I 
 answer, Because the Church of the Jews, of which Christ 
 came, had then lost ahnost all the sap and spirit of religion. 
 To the second, I say, The words are spoken in the person 
 of the unbelievers, who, because they want that eye that 
 can see into our Prince"'s heart, therefore they judge of Him 
 by the meanness of His outside. Just like those that know 
 not that precious stones are covered over with a homely 
 crust ; who, when they have found one, because they know 
 not what they have found, cast it again away, as men do a 
 common stone. 
 
 Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I know, 
 Mr. Great-heart is good at his weapons, if you please, after 
 we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk into the fields, to 
 see if we can do any good. About a mile from hence, there 
 is one Slay-good, a giant that does much annoy the King's 
 highway in these parts ; and I know whereabout his haunt 
 is. He is master of a number of thieves. It would be well 
 if we could clear these parts of him. 
 
 So they consented, and went, Mr. Great-heart with his 
 sword, helmet, and shield, and the rest with spears and 
 staves. 
 
 When they came to the place where he was, they found 
 him with one Feeble-mind in his hands, whom his servants 
 had brought unto him, having taken him in the way. Now 
 the giant was rifling him, with a purpose, after that, to pick 
 his bones, for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters. 
 
 Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends 
 at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded 
 what they wanted. 
 
 Great-heart. We want thee ; for we are come to 
 revenge the quarrel of the many that thou hast slain 
 of the pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them out of the 
 King's highway; wherefore, come out of thy cave. So 
 
300 TLbc pi\Qtim*B progress 
 
 he armed himself and came out; and to a battle they 
 went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood still 
 to take wind. 
 
 Slay-good. Then said the giant. Why are you here on 
 my ground ? 
 
 Great-heart. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I 
 also told thee before. So they went to it again, and the 
 giant made Mr. Great-heart give back ; but he came up 
 again, and, in the greatness of his mind, he let fly with 
 such stoutness at the giant's head and sides, that he made 
 him let his weapon fall out of his hand ; so he smote him, 
 and slew him, and cut off his head, and brought it away to 
 the inn. He also took Feeble-mind, the pilgrim, and 
 brought him with him to his lodgings. When they were 
 come home, they showed his head to the family, and then 
 set it up, as they had done others before, for a terror to 
 those that shall attempt to do as he hereafter. 
 
 Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he fell into his 
 hands ? 
 
 Feeble-mind. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly 
 man, as you see ; and, because death did usually once a-day 
 knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at 
 home ; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have 
 travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, where I and 
 my father were born. I am a man of no strength at all of 
 body, nor yet of mind ; but would, if I could, though I can 
 but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I 
 came at the gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord 
 of that place did entertain me freely ; neither objected he 
 against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind ; but 
 gave me such things that were necessary for my journey, 
 and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the house 
 of the Interpreter, I received much kindness there; and 
 because the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for rae, I 
 
Ube ipilavliu's iprooress soi 
 
 was carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have 
 found much reHef from pilgrims, though none were willing 
 to go so softly as I am forced to do ; yet still, as they came 
 on, they bid me be of good cheer, and said that it was the 
 will of their Lord that comfort should be given to the 
 feeble-minded, and so went on their own pace (1 Thess. v. 
 14). When I was come up to Assault Lane, then this giant 
 met with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter; but, 
 alas ! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial. 
 So he came up and took me. I conceited he should not 
 kill me. Also, when he had got me into his den, since I 
 went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out 
 alive again ; for I have heard, that not any pilgrim that is 
 taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heart-whole 
 towards his Master, is, by the laws of Providence, to die by 
 the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed 
 to be sure I am ; but I am, as you see, escaped with life ; for 
 the which I thank my King as author, and you as the means. 
 Other brunts I also look for ; but this I have resolved on, 
 to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to 
 creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank Him 
 that loves me, I am fixed. My way is before me, my mind 
 is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you 
 see, but of a feeble mind. 
 
 Honest. Then said old Mr. Honest, Have you not, some 
 time ago, been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim? 
 
 Feeble-mind. Acquainted with him ! Yes ; he came 
 from the town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees to 
 the northward of the City of Destruction, and as many off 
 of where I was born : yet we were well acquainted, for, 
 indeed, he was my uncle, my father's brother. He and I 
 have been much of a temper. He was a little shorter than 
 I, but yet we were much of a complexion. 
 
 Honest. I perceive you know him ; and I am apt to 
 
S02 zbc pflcirfm'0 procircss 
 
 believe also that you were related one to another ; for you 
 have his whitely look, a cast like his with your eye, and 
 your speech is much alike. 
 
 Feeble-mixd. IMost have said so that have known us 
 both ; and besides, what I have read in him, I have, for 
 the most part, found in myself. 
 
 Gaius. Come, sir, said good Gains, be of good cheer, 
 you are welcome to me, and to my house, and what thou 
 hast a mind to, call for freely ; and what thou wouldest 
 have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready 
 mind. 
 
 Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, This is unexpected favour, 
 and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. Did 
 Giant Slay -good intend me this favour when he stopped 
 me, and resolved to let me go no farther .'* Did he intend, 
 that after he had rifled my pockets, I should go to Gaius, 
 mine host .'' Yet so it is. 
 
 Now, just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in 
 talk, there comes one running, and called at the door, and 
 told that, about a mile and a half off, there was one ^Ir. 
 Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where he 
 was with a thunderbolt. 
 
 Feebi^-mixd. Alas ! said Mr. Feeble-mind, is he slain ? 
 He overtook me some days before I came so far as hither, 
 and would be mv conipanv-keeper. He also was with me 
 when Slay-good, the giant, took me ; but he was nimble 
 of his heels, and escaped. But, it seems, he escaped to 
 die, and I was took to live. 
 
 AVhat, one would think, doth seek to slay outright, 
 
 Ofttinies delivers from the siiddest plight. 
 
 That very providence, whose face is death. 
 
 Doth ofttinies to the lowly life bequeath. 
 
 I taken was, he did escape and flee ; 
 
 Hands cross'd, gives death to him. and life to me. 
 
Now, about this time, Matthew and Mercy were married. 
 Also Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's 
 brother, to wife ; after which time they yet stayed above 
 ten days at Gaius''s house, spending their time, and the 
 seasons, Hke as pilgrims used to do. 
 
 When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, 
 and they did eat and drink, and were merry. Now the 
 hour was come that they must be gone; wherefore Mr. 
 Great-heart called for a reckoning ; but Gaius told him, 
 that at his house it was not the custom for pilgrims to 
 pay for their entertainment. He boarded them by the 
 year, but looked for his pay from the good Samaritan, 
 who had promised him, at his return, whatsoever charge 
 he was at with them, faithfully to repay him (Luke x. 
 34, 35). Then said Mr. Great-heart to him — 
 
 Great-heart. " Beloved, thou dost faithfully whatso- 
 ever thou dost to the brethren, and to strangers ; which 
 have borne witness of thy charity before the church; 
 whom if thou (yet) bring forward on their journey after a 
 godly sort, thou shalt do well " (3 John 5, 6). 
 
 Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and of his children, 
 and particularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him 
 something to drink by the way. 
 
 Now Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were going out of the 
 door, made as if he intended to linger ; the which when 
 Mr. Great-heart espied, he said, Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, 
 pray do you go along with us, I will be your conductor, 
 and you shall fare as the rest. 
 
 Feeble-mind. Alas ! I want a suitable companion ; you 
 are all lusty and strong ; but I, as you see, am weak ; I 
 choose, therefore, rather to come behind, lest, by reason 
 of my many infirmities, I should be both a burden to 
 myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak and 
 feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that 
 
304 trt»c piltirfm'? |>rcorc?3 
 
 which others can bear. I shall like no laughing ; I shall 
 like no c^iv attire ; I shall like no unprofitable questions. 
 Nav, 1 am so weak a uuui, as to be otiendevl with that 
 which others have liberty to do. I do not yet know all 
 the truth. I axn a very ignorant Christian man; some- 
 times if I hear some rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me, 
 because I camiot do so too. It is w ith me, as it is with 
 a weak man among the strong, or as with a sick man 
 among the healthv, or a<; a lamp despised (*' He that is 
 readv to slip with hh feet, is as & lamp despised in the 
 thought of him that is at ease" [Job xii. 5\ so that I 
 know not what to do. 
 
 GRiiAT-HE-\Kr. But, brother, said Mr. Great-heart, I 
 have it in commission to "comfort the feeble-minded," and 
 to "support the weak " (1 Thess. v. 14). You must needs 
 ffo alont» with us ; we will wait for vou ; we will lend vou 
 our help (Rom. xiv. 1); we will deny ourselves of some 
 things, both opinionative and practical, for your sake 
 (1 Cor. viii.), we will not enter into doubtful disputatious 
 before vou ; we will be made all things to you. rather than 
 you shall be left behind (1 Cor. ix. !i^\ 
 
 Now all this while they were at Gaius's ih.ior ; and be- 
 hold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, Mr. 
 Ready-to-halt came by, with his crutches in his hand (Ps, 
 xxxviii. 17) ; and he also was going on pilgrimage. 
 
 Feeble-mind. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, Man, 
 How earnest thou hither ? I w as but just now complain- 
 ing, that I had not a suitable companion, but thou art 
 accorviing to mv wish. Welcome, wekvme, good Mr. 
 Ready-to-halt, I hojie thee and I may be some help. 
 
 RiL\PY-TO-HALT. I shall be glad of thy company, said 
 the other; and good Mr. Feeble-mind, rather than we will 
 part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one 
 of mv crutches. 
 
Z\)c llMUjnm'5 iproorcss so5 
 
 Ff.eble-mixd. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy 
 goodwill, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. How- 
 beit, I think, when occasion is, it mav help me against a dog. 
 
 Ready-to-halt. If either myself or my crutches can do 
 thee a pleasure, we are both at thv command, good Mr. 
 Feeble-mind. 
 
 Thus therefore they went on ; Mr. Great-heart and ]Mr. 
 Honest went before, Christiana and her children went 
 next, and ^Ir. Feeble-mind and Mr. Readv-to-halt came 
 behind with his crutches. Then said Mr. Honest — 
 
 HoxEST. Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us 
 some profitable things of some that have gone on pilgrim- 
 age before us. 
 
 Gkeat-heart. AVith a good will. I suppose vou have 
 heard how Christian of old did meet with Apollvou in the 
 Valley of Humiliation ; and also what hard work he had, 
 to go through the \'alley of the Shadow of Death. Also 
 I think you cannot but have heard how Faithful was put 
 to it with ^ladame Wanton, with Adam the First, with 
 one Discontent, and Shame, four as deceitful villains as a 
 man can meet with upon the road. 
 
 HoxEST. Yes, I have heard of all this; but indeed, 
 good Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame ; he was 
 an unwearied one. 
 
 Gkeat-heart. Ay ; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of 
 all men had the wrong name. 
 
 Honest. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and 
 Faithful met Talkative? That same was also a notable one. 
 
 Great-heart. He was a confident fool, yet many follow 
 his ways. 
 
 Honest. He had liked to have beguiled Faithful, 
 
 Great-heart. Ay, but Christian put him into a way 
 quickly to find him out. Thus they went on till they 
 came at the place where Evangelist met with Christian 
 
306 Zbc ipilQrfm's proGress 
 
 and Faithful, and prophesied to them of what should 
 befall them at Vanity Fair. 
 
 Great-heart. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did 
 Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, v/ho pro- 
 phesied to them of what troubles they should meet with 
 at Vanity Fair. 
 
 Honest. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter 
 that then he did read unto them. 
 
 Great-heart. It was so ; but he gave them encourage- 
 ment withal. But what do we talk of them ? They were 
 a couple of lion-like men ; they had set their faces like 
 flint. Don''t you remember how undaunted they were 
 when they stood before the judge ? 
 
 Honest. Well, Faithful bravely suffered. 
 
 Great-heart. So he did, and as brave things came on 
 it : for Hopeful and some others, as the story relates it, 
 were converted by his death. 
 
 Honest. VV^ell, but pray go on ; for you are well ac- 
 quainted with things. 
 
 Great-heart. Above all that Christian met with after 
 he had passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the 
 arch one. 
 
 Honest. By-ends ! what was he ? 
 
 Great-heart. A very arch fellow; a downright hypo- 
 crite. One that would be religious which way ever the 
 world went; but so cunning that he would be sure neither 
 to lose nor suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for 
 every fresh occasion ; and his wife was as good at it as 
 he. He would turn and change from opinion to opinion ; 
 yea, and plead for so doing too. But, so far as I could 
 learn, he came to an ill end with his by-ends ; nor did I 
 ever hear that any of his children m ere ever of any esteem 
 with any that truly feared God. 
 
 Now, by this time, they were come within sight of the 
 
tlbe BMlotim's procireBS so? 
 
 town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So, when 
 they saw that they were so near the town, they consulted 
 with one another, how they should pass through the town ; 
 and some said one thing, and some another. At last Mr. 
 Great-heart said, I have, as you may understand, often 
 been a conductor of pilgrims through this town ; now I 
 am acquainted with one Mr. Mnason, a Cyprusian by 
 nation, an old disciple, at whose house we may lodge 
 (Acts xxi. 16). If you think good, said he, we will turn 
 in there. 
 
 Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ; 
 Content, said Mr. Feeble-mind ; and so they said all. 
 Now, you must think, it was even-tide by that they got 
 to the outside of the town ; but Mr. Great-heart knew 
 the way to the old man's house. So thither they came ; 
 and he called at the door, and the old man within knew his 
 tongue so soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened, and they 
 all came in. Then said Mnason their host, How far have 
 ye come to-day ? so they said, from the house of Gaius 
 our friend. I promise you, said he, you have gone a good 
 stitch, you may well be a weary ; sit down. So they sat 
 down. 
 
 Great-heart. Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, 
 sirs ? I dare say you are welcome to my friend. 
 
 Mnason. I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you welcome, 
 and, whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what 
 we can to get it for you. 
 
 Honest. Our great want, a while since, was harbour and 
 good company, and now I hope we have both. 
 
 Mnason. For harbour, you see what it is ; but for good 
 company, that will appear in the trial. 
 
 Great-heart. Well, said Mr. Great-heart, will you 
 have the pilgrims up into their lodging.'* 
 
 Mnason. I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to 
 
308 Ube pfloritiVs jptrooress 
 
 their respective places ; and also show ed them a very fair 
 dining-room, where they might be, and sup together, until 
 time was come to go to rest. 
 
 Now, when they were set in their places, and were a 
 little cheery after their journey, Mr. Honest asked his 
 landlord, if there were any store of good people in the 
 town ? 
 
 Mnason. We have a few, for indeed they are but a few, 
 when compared with them on the other side. 
 
 Honest. But how shall we do to see some of them ? for 
 the sight of good men to them that are going on pilgrimage, 
 is like to the appearing of the moon and the stars to them 
 that are sailing upon the seas. 
 
 Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his 
 daughter Grace came up ; so he said unto her, Grace, go 
 you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. 
 Love-saint, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I 
 have a friend or two at my house that have a mind this 
 evening to see them. 
 
 So Grace went to call them, and they came ; and, after 
 salutation made, they sat down together at the table. 
 
 Then said Mr. Mnason, their landlord. My neigh- 
 bours, I have, as you see, a company of strangers come 
 to my house; they are pilgrims; they come from afar, 
 and are going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, 
 do you think this is ? pointing with his finger to Chris- 
 tiana ; it is Christiana, the wife of Christian, that famous 
 pilgrim, who, with Faithful his brother, were so shame- 
 fully handled in our town. At that they stood amazed, 
 saying. We little thought to see Christiana, when Grace 
 came to call us ; wherefore this is a very comfortable 
 surprise. Then they asked her of her welfare, and if 
 these young men were her husband's sons ? And when 
 she had told them they were, they said, The King 
 
whom you love and serve, make you as your father, and 
 bring you where he is in peace ! 
 
 Honest. Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat down) 
 asked Mr. Contrite and the rest, in what posture their town 
 was at present ? 
 
 Contrite. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair- 
 time. It is hard keeping our hearts and spirits in any good 
 order, when we are in a cumbered condition. He that lives 
 in such a place as this is, and that has to do with such as 
 we have, has need of an item, to caution him to take heed, 
 every moment of the day. 
 
 Honest. But how are your neighbours for quietness ? 
 
 Contrite. They are much more moderate now than for- 
 merly. You know how Christian and Faithful were used 
 at our town ; but of late, I say, they have been far more 
 moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth with load 
 upon them till now ; for since they burned him, they have 
 been ashamed to burn any more. In those days we were 
 afraid to walk the streets, but now we can show our heads. 
 Then the name of a professor was odious ; now, especially 
 in some parts of our town (for you know our town is large) 
 religion is counted honourable. 
 
 Then said Mr. Contrite to them. Pray how fareth it with 
 you in your pilgi-image ? How stands the country affected 
 towards you ? 
 
 Honest. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring 
 men ; sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul, some- 
 times up hill, sometimes down hill ; we are seldom at a 
 certainty; the wind is not always on our backs, nor is 
 every one a friend that we meet with in the way. We 
 have met with some notable rubs already ; and what 
 are yet behind, we know not; but for the most part, 
 we find it true, that has been talked of, of old, A good 
 man must suffer trouble. 
 
310 Zbc ipilorim's iProQress 
 
 Contrite. You talk of rubs ; what rubs have you met 
 
 withal ? 
 
 HoxEST. Nay, ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide, for he can 
 give the best account of that. 
 
 GuEAT-HEAUT. We havc been beset three or four times 
 ali-eady. First, Christiana and her children were beset with 
 two ruffians, that they feared would a took away their lives. 
 AVe were beset with Giant Bloody-man, Giant Maul, and 
 Giant Slay-good. Indeed we did rather beset the last, than 
 were beset of him. And thus it was : After we had been 
 some time at the house of " Gains, mine host, and of the 
 whole church "" (Rom. xvi. 23), we were minded upon a time 
 to take our weapons with us, and so go see if we could light 
 upon any of those that were enemies to pilgrims (for we 
 heard that there was a notableone thereabouts). Now Gains 
 knew his haunt better than I, because he dwelt thereabout; 
 so we looked, and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth 
 of his cave ; then we were glad, and plucked up our spirits. 
 So we approached up to his den, and lo, when we came there, 
 he had dragged, by mere force, into his net, this poor man, 
 jNIr. Feeble-mind, and was about to bring him to his end. 
 But when he saw us, supposing, as we thought, he had had 
 another prev, he left the poor man in his hole, and came out. 
 So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about him; but 
 in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, and his 
 head cut off, and set up by the way-side, for a terror to such 
 as should after practise such ungodliness. That I tell you 
 the truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as 
 a lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion. 
 
 Feeble-:mixd. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, I found this 
 true, to my cost and comfort ; to my cost, when he 
 threatened to pick my bones every moment ; and to my 
 comfort, when I saw I^Ir. Great-heart and his friends, with 
 their weapons, approach so near for my deliverance. 
 
Ubc ipilorlm's progress sn 
 
 Holy-man. Then said Mr. Holy-man, There are two 
 things that they have need to be possessed with, that go 
 on pilgrimage : courage, and an unspotted life. If they 
 have not courage, they can never hold on their way ; and 
 if their lives be loose, they will make the very name of a 
 pilgrim stink. 
 
 Love-saint. Then said Mr. Love-saint, I hope this 
 caution is not needful amongst you. But truly, there 
 are many that go upon the road, that rather declare 
 themselves strangers to pilgrimage, than strangers and 
 pilgrims in the earth. 
 
 Dare-not-lie. Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, It is true, 
 they neither have the pilgrim"'s weed, nor the pi]grim''s 
 courage ; they go not uprightly, but all awry with their 
 feet ; one shoe goes inward, another outward, and their 
 hosen out behind ; there a rag, and there a rent, to the 
 disparagement of their Lord. 
 
 Penitent. These things, said Mr. Penitent, they ought 
 to be troubled for; nor are the pilgrims like to have that 
 grace put upon them and their pilgrim"'s progress as they 
 desire, until the way is cleared of such spots and blemishes. 
 
 Thus they sat talking and spending the time, until 
 supper was set upon the table ; unto which they went and 
 refreshed their weary bodies ; so they went to rest. Now 
 they stayed in this fair a great while, at the house of this 
 Mr. Mnason, who, in process of time, gave his daughter 
 Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his 
 daughter Martha to Joseph. 
 
 The time, as I said, that they lay here, was long (for it 
 was not now as in former times). Wherefore the pilgrims 
 gi'ew acquainted with many of the good people of the 
 town, and did them what service they could. Mercy, as 
 she was wont, laboured much for the poor; wherefore 
 their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was there an 
 
312 XTbe iPilGvim's progress 
 
 ornament to her profession. And, to say the truth for 
 Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all of a very good 
 nature, and did much good in their place. They were 
 also all of them very fruitful ; so that Christian's name, 
 as was said before, was like to live in the world. 
 
 While they lay here, there came a monster out of the 
 ■woods, and slew many of the people of the town. It 
 would also carry away their children, and teach them to 
 suck its whelps. Now no man in the town durst so much 
 as face this monster ; but all men fled when they heard of 
 the noise of his coming. 
 
 The monster was like unto no one beast upon the earth : 
 its body was like a dragon, and it had seven heads and 
 ten horns (Rev. xvii. 3). It made great havoc of children, 
 and yet it was governed by a woman. This monster pro- 
 pounded conditions to men, and such men as loved their 
 lives more than their souls accepted of those conditions. 
 So they came under. 
 
 Now this Mr. Great-heart, together with these that 
 came to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered 
 into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps 
 they might deliver the people of this town from the paws 
 and mouth of this so devouring a serpent. 
 
 Then did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, 
 Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their weapons, 
 go forth to meet him. Now the monster, at first, was 
 very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with great 
 disdain ; but they so belaboured him, being sturdy men 
 at arms, that they made him make a retreat ; so they came 
 home to Mr. Mnason's house again. 
 
 The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons 
 to come out in, and to make his attempts upon the children 
 of the people of the town; also these seasons did these 
 valiant worthies watch him in, and did still continually 
 
XTbe lpflorim'5 Iprooress sis 
 
 assault him ; insomuch that in process of time he became 
 not only wounded, but lame ; also he has not made that 
 havoc of the townsmen's children, as formerly he has done. 
 And it is verily believed by some, that this beast will die 
 of his wounds. 
 
 This, therefore, made Mr. Great-heart and his fellows of 
 great fame in this town ; so that many of the people that 
 wanted their taste of things, yet had a reverend esteem 
 and respect for them. Upon this account therefore it 
 was, that these pilgrims got not much hurt here. True, 
 there were some of the baser sort, that could see no more 
 than a mole, nor understand more than a beast ; these had 
 no reverence for these men, nor took they notice of their 
 valour or adventures. 
 
 Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on 
 their way, wherefore they prepared for their journey. 
 They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ; 
 they had some time set apart, therein to commit each 
 other to the protection of their Prince. There were 
 again, that brought them of such things as they had, 
 that were fit for the weak and the strong, for the women 
 and the men, and so laded them with such things as 
 were necessary (Acts xxviii. 10). 
 
 Then they set forward on their way ; and their friends 
 accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again 
 committed each other to the protection of their King, and 
 parted. 
 
 They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims'' company 
 went on, and Mr. Great-heart went before them. Now 
 the women and children being weakly, they were forced 
 to go as they could bear ; by this means Mr. Ready-to 
 halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had more to sympathise with 
 their condition. 
 
 When they were gone from the townsmen, and when 
 
314 Zbc BMIcjriiu's jprocress 
 
 their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to 
 the place where Faithful was put to death : there therefore 
 they made a stand, and thanked Him that had enabled 
 him to bear his cross so well ; and the rather because they 
 now found that they had a benefit by such a manly suffer- 
 ing as his was. 
 
 They went on, therefore, after this, a good way farther, 
 talking of Christian and Faithful ; and how Hopeful joined 
 himself to Christian after that Faithful Avas dead. 
 
 Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the 
 silver mine was, which tookDemas off from his pilgrimage, 
 and into which, as some think. By-ends fell and perished ; 
 wherefore they considered that. But when they were 
 come to the old monument that stood over against the 
 Hill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt that stood also 
 within view of Sodom and its stinking lake; they mar- 
 velled, as did Christian before, that men of that knowledge 
 and ripeness of wit, as thev were, should be so blinded as to 
 turn aside here. Only they considered again, that nature 
 is not affected with the harms that others have met with, 
 especially if that thing upon which they look, has an 
 attracting virtue upon the foolish eye. 
 
 I saw now that they went on, till they came at the river 
 that was on this side of the Delectable ^Mountains. To 
 the river where the fine trees grow on both sides ; and 
 whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against surfeits, 
 where the meadows are green all the year long, and where 
 they might lie down safely (Ps. xxiii.). 
 
 By this river side, in the meadow, there were cotes and 
 folds for sheep, a house built for the nourishing and bring- 
 ing up of those lambs, the babes of those women that go 
 on pilgrimage (Heb. v. 2). Also there was here one that 
 was entrusted with them, who could have compassion, and 
 that could gather these lambs with His arm, and carry 
 
TTbe ilMloilm's prootess sis 
 
 them in His bosom, and that could gently lead those that 
 were with young (Isa. xl. 11). Now to the care of this 
 MAN, Christiana admonished her four daughters to commit 
 their little ones, that by these waters they might be housed, 
 harboured, succoured, and nourished, and that none of 
 them might be lacking in time to come. This Man, if 
 any of them go astray, or be lost. He will bring them 
 again : He will also bind up that which was broken, and 
 will strengthen them that are sick (Ezek. xxxiv. 11-16). 
 Here they will never want meat, and drink, and clothing ; 
 here they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; for this 
 Man will die before one of those committed to His trust 
 shall be lost (Jer. xxiii. 4). Besides, here they shall be 
 sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall be 
 taught to walk in right paths, and that you know is a 
 favour of no small account. Also here, as you see, are 
 delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety 
 of trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit ; fruit not like 
 that that Matthew ate of, that fell over the wall out of 
 Beelzebub's garden; but fruit that procureth health 
 where there is none, and that continueth and increaseth 
 it where it is. 
 
 So they were content to commit their little ones to Him ; 
 and that which was also an encouragement to them so to 
 do, was, for that all this was to be at the charge of the 
 King, and so was as an hospital for young children and 
 orphans. 
 
 Now they went on ; and when they were come to By- 
 path Meadow, to the stile over which Christian went with 
 his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant Despair, 
 and put into Doubting Castle ; they sat down and con- 
 sulted what was best to be done ; to wit, now they were 
 so strong, and had got such a man as Mr. Great-heart 
 for their conductor, whether they had not best to make 
 
316 Ubc iptUn*iin'5 iprooi'css 
 
 an attempt upon the Giant, demolish his castle, and. if 
 there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at liberty, before 
 they w ent any farther. So one s^iid one thing, and another 
 siiid the contrary. One questioneti if it was lawful to go 
 npon unconsecrated ground ; another said they might, 
 providetl their end w;is good ; but Mr. Great-heart said. 
 Though that assertion ottered last cannot be univei*sally 
 true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome 
 evil, to fight the good light of faith ; and, I pray, with 
 whom should I tight this good fight, if not with Giant 
 Despair? I will, therefore, attempt the taking away of 
 his life, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. Then 
 said he. Who will go with me ? Then s^^id old Honest, 
 I will. And so will we too. said Christiana's four sons. 
 Matthew, Sanuiel, James, and Joseph ; for they were young 
 men and strong (1 John iii. 13, 14). So they left the 
 women in the road, and with them Mr. Feeble-mind and 
 Mr. Rcadv-to-halt with his crutches, to be their guard, 
 until they came back ; for in that place, though Giant 
 Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a little 
 child might lead them (Isa. xi. 6). 
 
 So INIr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young 
 men went to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant 
 Despair. When they come at the castle-gate, they knocked 
 for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the old giant 
 comes to the gate, and Diffidence, his wife, follows. Then 
 said he. Who and w hat is he that is so hardy, as after this 
 manner to molest the Giant Des^iair.'^ Mr. Great-heart 
 replied, It is I, Great-heart, one of the King of the Celestial 
 Country's conductors of pilgrims to their place; and I 
 demand of thee that thou open thy gates for my entrance. 
 Prepire thvself also to fight, for I am come to take awjiy 
 thy head, and to demolish Doubting Castle. 
 
 Now Giant Despair, because he \mis a giant, tliought 
 
XTbe ilMlciinin's iproorcss sii 
 
 no man could overcome him ; and, again, thought he, since 
 heretofore I have made a concjuest of angels, shall Great- 
 heart make me afraid ? So he harnessed hiuiself, and went 
 out. He had a cap of steel upon his head, a breast-plate 
 of fire girded to him, and he came out in iron shoes, w ith 
 a great club in his hand. Then these six men made up 
 to him, and beset him behind and before. Also when 
 Diffidence, the giantess, came up to help him, old Mr. 
 Honest cut her down at one blow. Then they fought 
 for their lives, and Giant Despair was brought down to 
 the ground, but was very loath to die. He struggled 
 hard, and had, as they say, as many lives as a cat ; but 
 Great-heart was his death, for he left him not till he had 
 severed his head from his shoulders. 
 
 Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, that you 
 know might with ease be done, since Giant Despair was 
 dead. They were seven days in destroying of that ; and 
 in it of pilgrims they fouud one Mr. Despondency, almost 
 starved to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter ; these 
 two they saved alive. But it would have made you a- 
 wondered to have seen the dead bodies that lay here and 
 there in the castle-yard, and how full of dead men's bones 
 the dungeon was. 
 
 When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had per- 
 formed this exploit, they took Mr. Despondency, and his 
 daughter Much-afraid, into their protection ; for they 
 were honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubt- 
 ing Castle, to that tyrant Giant Despair. They, therefore, 
 I say, took with them the head of the giant, for his body 
 they had buried under a heap of stones, and down to the 
 road and to their companions they came, and showed them 
 what they had done. Now when Feeble-miiul and Ileady- 
 to-halt saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, 
 they were very jocund and merry. Now Christiana, if 
 
81S Ubc ll>ilonm'5 B>i\\n*c65 
 
 need was, could pl:iv upon tlio viol, and her daui^hter 
 Meivv upon the lute; so since they were so nierrv dis- 
 posed, she played them a lesson, and Ready-to-halt would 
 dance. So he took Despondency's daughter, named 
 INIuch-afraid. bv the hand, and to dancing they went in 
 the road. True, he could not dantv without one crutch 
 in his hand ; but, I promise you, lie footed it well. Also 
 the girl was to be commended, for she answered the 
 nuisic handsomely. 
 
 As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not much to 
 him ; he was for feeding rather than dancing, for that 
 he was almost starveil. So Christiana gave him some 
 of her bottle of spirits, for present relief, and then 
 pivpaveii him something to eat ; and. in a little time, 
 the old gentleman came to hiuiself, and began to be 
 finely revived. 
 
 Now I stiw in mv dream, vhen all tlicse things were 
 finished, Mr. Grcat-heart took the head of Giant Despair, 
 and set it upon a pole by the highway side, right over 
 against the piilar that Christian eivcted for a caution to 
 piliXrims that came after, to take heed of entering into his 
 grounds. 
 
 Tliousrh Ponhtinsr Ca:?tle be demolished, 
 And tlie iiiant IVsj^air h:\tli lost his head, 
 Sin can rebuild tlie castle, make 't remain. 
 And make Pespair the liiaiit live airain. 
 
 Then he writ under it. upon a marble stone, these verses 
 following : — 
 
 "Tills the head of him. whose name only 
 In former time^i did jiilizrims terrify. 
 His ea,>!tle"s down : and IMttidenoe. his wife, 
 Brave Master Great-heart has InM-ett of life. 
 Despondenov. his dautrhter Mueli-afraid. 
 Great-heart for them also tlie man has play'd ; 
 
xrbe jpiladrn's prooress 319 
 
 Who hereof doubts^ if he'll but cast his eye 
 Up hither, may his scruples satisfy : 
 This head also, when doubtiiiff cripples dance. 
 Doth show from fears they have deliverance." 
 
 When these men had thus bravely showed themselves 
 against Doubting Castle, and hat! slain Giant Despair, they 
 went forward ; and went on till they came to the Delect- 
 able Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed 
 themselves with the varieties of the place. They also 
 acquainted themselves with the Shepherds there, who 
 welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto 
 the Delectable Mountains. 
 
 Now the Shepherds, seeing so great a train follow Mr. 
 Great-heart, for with him they were well acquainted, they 
 said unto him. Good Sir, you have got a goodly company 
 here. Pray, where did you find all these ? 
 
 Then Mr. Great-heart replied — 
 
 ** First, here is Christiana and lier train, 
 Her sons, and her sons' wives, who like the wain 
 Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer. 
 From sin to grace, else they had not been here. 
 Next, here's old Honest, come on pilgrimage. 
 Ready-to-halt, too, who, I dare engage. 
 True hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind, 
 Who willing was not to be left behind ; 
 Despondency, good man, is coming after. 
 And so also is Much-afraid bis daughter. 
 May we have entertainment here, or must 
 We farther go.'' Let's know whereon to trust." 
 
 Then said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable com- 
 pany. You are welcome to us, for we have comfort for 
 the feeble as for the strong. Our Prince has an eye to 
 what is done to the least of these ; therefore infirmity 
 must not be a block to our entertainment (Matt. xxv. 40). 
 
320 XLbc ipilocinVs iprc>arc66 
 
 So they had them to the palace door, and then said unto 
 them, Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind ; Come in, Mr. Ready-to- 
 halt ; Come in, Mr. Despondency, and Mrs. Much-afraid, 
 his daughter. These, Mr. Great-heart, said the Shepherds 
 to the guide, we call in by name, for that they are most 
 subject to draw back ; but as for you, and the rest that 
 are strong, we leave you to your wonted liberty. Then 
 said Mr. Great-heart, This day I see that grace doth 
 shine in your faces, and that you are my Lord''s shep- 
 herds indeed ; for that you have not pushed these dis- 
 eased neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather 
 strewed their way into the palace with flowers, as you 
 should (Ezek. xxxiv. 21). 
 
 So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart 
 and the rest did follow. When they were also set down, 
 the Shepherds said to those of the weaker sort. What is 
 it that you would have ? for, said they, all things must 
 be managed here to the supporting of the weak, as well 
 as the warning of the unruly. 
 
 So they made them a feast of things easy of digestion, 
 and that were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing ; 
 the which, when they had received, they went to their 
 rest, each one respectively unto his proper place. When 
 morning was come, because the mountains were high, and 
 the day clear, and because it was the custom of the 
 Shepherds to show to the pilgrims, before their departure, 
 some rarities ; therefore, after they were ready, and had 
 refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out into 
 the fields, and showed them first what they had showed 
 to Christian before. 
 
 Then they had them to some new places. The first 
 was to Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a 
 man at a distance, that tumbled the hills about with 
 words. Then they asked the Shepherds what that should 
 
trbe ilMloHm's prooreas ssi 
 
 mean ? So they told them, that that man was the son of 
 one Great-grace, of whom you read in the First Part of 
 the Records of the Pilgrim's Progress. And he is set 
 there to teach pilgrims how to believe down, or to tumble 
 out of their way, what difficulties they shall meet with, 
 by faith (Mark xi. 23, 24). Then said Mr. Great-heart, 
 I know him. He is a man above many. 
 
 Then they had them to another place, called Mount 
 Innocent ; and there they saw a man clothed all in white, 
 and two men. Prejudice and Ill-will, continually casting 
 dirt upon him. Now, behold, the dirt, whatsoever they 
 cast at him, would in little time fall off again, and his 
 garments would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast 
 thereat. 
 
 Then said the pilgrims, What means this ? The Shep- 
 herds answered. This man is named Godly-man, and this 
 garment is to show the innocency of his life. Now, those 
 that throw dirt at him, are such as hate his well-doing; 
 but, as you see, the dirt will not stick upon his clothes, so 
 it shall be with him that liveth truly innocently in the 
 world. Whoever they be that would make such men 
 dirty, they labour all in vain; for God, by that a little 
 time is spent, will cause that their innocence shall break 
 forth as the light, and their righteousness as the noon- 
 day. 
 
 Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, 
 where they showed them a man that had a bundle of 
 cloth lying before him, out of which he cut coats and 
 garments for the poor that stood about him ; yet his 
 bundle or roll of cloth was never the less. 
 
 Then said they, What should this be ? This is, said 
 the Shepherds, to show you, that he that has a heart to 
 give of his labour to the poor, shall never want where- 
 withal. He that watereth shall be watered himself. And 
 
322 Xlbe ipUorim's iprooress 
 
 the cake that the widow gave to the prophet did not cause 
 that she had ever the less in her barrel. 
 
 They had them also to a place wliere they saw one Fool, 
 and one Want-wit, washing of an Ethiopian, with intention 
 to make him white ; but the more they washed him the 
 blacker he was. They then asked the Shepherds what that 
 should mean. So they told them, saying. Thus shall it be 
 with the vile person. All means used to get such a one a 
 good name shall, in conclusion, tend but to make him 
 more abominable. Thus it was with the Pharisees, and 
 so shall it be with all hypocrites. 
 
 Then said IVIercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana, 
 her mother. Mother, I would, if it might be, see the hole in 
 the hill, or that commonly called the by-way to hell. So 
 her mother brake her mind to the Shepherds. Then they 
 went to the door. It was in the side of a hill, and they 
 opened it, and bid Mercy hearken a while. So she hearkened, 
 and heard one saying. Cursed be my father, for holding of 
 my feet back from the way of peace and life ! and another 
 said, O that I had been torn in pieces, before I had, to 
 save my life, lost my soul ! and another said, If I were to 
 live again, how would I deny myself, rather than come to 
 this place ! Then there was as if the very earth had 
 groaned and quaked under the feet of this young woman 
 for fear. So she looked white, and came trembling away, 
 saving, Blessed be he and she that are delivered from this 
 place. 
 
 Now when the Shepherds had shown them all these things, 
 then they had them back to the palace, and entertained 
 them with what the house would afford. But Mercy, being 
 a young and breeding woman, longed for something that 
 she saw there, but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in- 
 law then asked her what she ailed ; for she looked as one 
 not well. Then said Mercy, there is a looking-glass hangs 
 
XLbc pilonm'3 prooress 323 
 
 up in the dining-room, oft' which I cannot take my mind : 
 if, therefore, I have it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then 
 said her mother, I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, 
 and they will not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed 
 that these men should know that I longed. Nay, my 
 daughter, said she, it is no shame but a virtue, to long for 
 such a thing as that. So Mei'cy said. Then, mother, if 
 you please, ask the Shepherds if they are willing to sell it. 
 
 Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present 
 a man, one way, with his own features exactly (Jas. i. 23); 
 and, turn it but another way, and it should show one the 
 very face and similitude of the Prince of Pilgrims Him- 
 self (1 Cor. xiii. 12). Yea, I have talked with them that 
 can tell, and they have said that they have seen the very 
 crown of thorns upon His head, by looking in that glass ; 
 they have therein also seen the holes in His hands, in His 
 feet, and His side (2 Cor. iii. 18). Yea, such an excellency 
 is there in that glass, that it will show Him to one where 
 they have a mind to see Him ; whether living or dead ; 
 whether in earth or heaven ; whether in a state of humilia- 
 tion, or in His exaltation ; whether coming to suffer, or 
 coming to reign. 
 
 Christiana, therefore, went to the Shepherds apart — 
 now the names of the Shepherds are Knowledge, Experi- 
 ence, Watchful, and Sincere — and said unto them. There 
 is one of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think 
 doth long for something that she hath seen in this 
 house ; and she thinks she shall miscarry, if she sliall by 
 you be denied. 
 
 ExPEEiENCE. Call her, call her ; she shall assuredly have 
 what we can help her to. So they called her, and said to 
 her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldst have ? Then 
 she blushed, and said. The great glass that hangs up in the 
 dining-room. So Sincere ran and fetched it, and, with a 
 
324 Ube pilarim's iprooress 
 
 joyful consent, it was given her. Then she bowed her head, 
 and gave thanks, and said. By this I know that I have 
 obtained favour in your eyes. 
 
 They also gave to the other young women such things 
 as they desired, and to their husbands great commenda- 
 tions, for that they had joined with Mr. Great-heart, to 
 the slaying of Giant Despair, and the demolishing of 
 Doubting Castle. 
 
 About Christiana's neck the Shepherds put a bracelet, 
 and so they did about the necks of her four daughters ; 
 also they put ear-rings in their ears, and jewels on their 
 foreheads. 
 
 When they were minded to go hence, they let them go 
 in peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions 
 which before were given to Christian and his companion. 
 The reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be 
 their guide, who was one that was well acquainted with 
 things, and so could give them their cautions more 
 seasonably ; to wit, even then when the danger was nigh 
 the approaching. 
 
 What cautions Christian and his companion had re- 
 ceived of the Shepherds, they had also lost, by that the 
 time was come that they had need to put them in practice. 
 Wherefore, here was the advantage that this company 
 had over the other. 
 
 From hence they went on singing, and they said — 
 
 *' Behold, how fitly are the stages set 
 For their relief that pilgrims are become ! 
 And how they us receive without one let. 
 That makes tlie other life our mark and home ! 
 
 What novelties they have to us they give, 
 That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live; 
 They do upon us, too, such things bestow. 
 That show we pilgrims are, where'er we go." 
 
Zbc iptlorim's progress 325 
 
 When they were gone from the Shepherds, they quickly 
 came to the place where Christian met with one Turn- 
 away, that dwelt in the town of Apostacy. Wherefore 
 of him Mr. Great-heart, their guide, did now put them 
 in mind, saying, This is the place where Christian met 
 with one Turn-away, who carried with him the character 
 of his rebellion at his back. And this I have to say 
 concerning this man ; he would hearken to no counsel, 
 but, once falling, persuasion could not stop him. 
 
 When he came to the place where the Cross and the 
 Sepulchre were, he did meet with one that did bid him 
 look there, but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, 
 and said, he was resolved to go back to his own town. 
 Before he came to the gate, he met with Evangelist, who 
 offered to lay hands on him, to turn him into the way 
 again. But this Turn-away resisted him, and having 
 done much despite unto him, he got away over the wall, 
 and so escaped his hand (Heb. x. 26-29). 
 
 Then they went on ; and just at the place where Little- 
 faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his 
 sword drawn, and his face all bloody. Then said Mr. 
 Great-heart, What art thou ? The man made answer, 
 saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am 
 a pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, as 
 I was in my way, there were three men did beset me, and 
 propounded unto me these three things : 1. Whether 
 I would become one of them. 2. Or so back from whence 
 I came. 3. Or die upon the place. To the first I 
 answered, I had been a true man a long season, and 
 therefore it could not be expected that I now should cast 
 in my lot with thieves (Prov. i. lO-l-i). Then they de- 
 manded what I would say to the second. So I told them 
 that the place from whence I came, had I not found 
 incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at all ; but 
 
326 Ube ipilGiim's progress 
 
 finding it altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofit- 
 able for me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked 
 me what I said to the third. And I told them. My life 
 cost more dear far, than that I should lightly give it 
 away. Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put 
 things to my choice ; wherefore, at your peril be it if you 
 meddle. Then these three, to wit, Wild-head, Incon- 
 siderate, and Pragmatic, drew upon me, and I also drew 
 upon them. 
 
 So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of 
 above three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, 
 some of the marks of their valour, and have also carried 
 away with them some of mine. They are but just now 
 gone. I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your 
 horse dash, and so they betook them to flight. 
 
 Geeat-heart. But here was great odds, three against 
 one. 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. It is true; but little or more are 
 nothing to him that has the truth on his side. " Though 
 an host should encamp against me," said one, " my heart 
 shall not fear ; though war should rise against me, in this 
 will I be confident" (Ps. xxvii. 3). Besides, saith he, I 
 have read in some records, that one man has fought an 
 army. And how many did Samson slay with the jaw-bone 
 of an ass (Judg. xv. 15, 16). 
 
 Great-heart. Then said the guide. Why did you 
 not cry out, that some might have come in for your 
 succour .P 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. So I did, to my King, who, I knew, 
 could hear, and afford invisible help, and that was sufficient 
 for me. 
 
 Great-heart. Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant- 
 for-truth, Thou hast worthily behaved thyself. Let me 
 see thy sword. So he showed it him. When he had 
 
taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while, he said, 
 Ha ! it is a right Jerusalem blade (Isa. ii. 3). 
 
 Vauant-for-truth. It is so. Let a man have one of 
 these blades, with a hand to wield it and skill to use it, 
 and he may venture upon an angel with it. He need not 
 fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its 
 edges will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and 
 soul and spirit, and all (Eph. vi. 12-17 ; Heb. iv. 12). 
 
 Great-heart. But you fought a great while ; I wonder 
 you was not weary. 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. I fought till my sword did cleave 
 to my hand ; and when they were joined together, as if a 
 sword grew out of my arm, and when the blood ran 
 through my fingers, then I fought with most courage 
 (2 Sam. xxiii. 10). 
 
 Great-heart. Thou hast done well. Thou hast "re- 
 sisted unto blood, striving against sin." Thou shalt 
 abide by us, come in and go out with us, for we are thy 
 companions. 
 
 Then they took him, and washed his wounds, and gave 
 him of what they had to refresh him ; and so they went 
 on together. Now, as they went on, because Mr. Great- 
 heart was delighted in him, for he loved one greatly that 
 he found to be a man of his hands, and because there 
 were with his company them that were feeble and weak, 
 therefore he questioned with him about many things ; as, 
 first, what countryman he was ? 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. I am of Dark-land ; for there I was 
 born, and there my father and mother are still. 
 
 Great-heart. Dark-land, said the guide; doth not that 
 lie upon the same coast with the City of Destruction .'' 
 
 Valiant-for-truth, Yes, it doth. Now that which 
 caused me to come on pilgrimage was this : we had one 
 Mr. Tell-true came into our parts, and he told it about 
 
328 XTbe UMlorim's iproorcss 
 
 what Christian had clone, that went from the City of 
 Destruction ; namely, how he had forsaken his wife and 
 children, and had hetaken himself to a pilgrim's life. It 
 was also confidently reported, how he had killed a serpent 
 that did come out to resist him in his journey, and 
 how he got through to whither he intended. It was also 
 told, what welcome he had at all his Lord"'s lodgings, 
 especially when he came to the gates of the Celestial 
 (^ity ; for there, said the man, he was received, with 
 sound of trumpet, hy a company of Shining Ones. He 
 told it also, how all the bells in the city did ring for 
 joy at his reception, and what golden garments he was 
 clothed with, with many other things that now I shall 
 forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story 
 of Christian and his travels, that my heart fell into a 
 burning haste to be gone after him, nor could father or 
 mother stay me ! So I got from them, and come thus far 
 on my way. 
 
 Great-heart, You came in at the gate, did you not ? 
 
 Vamant-for-tkuth. Yes, yes; for the same man also 
 told us that all would be nothing, if we did not begin 
 to enter this way at the gate. 
 
 Great-heart. Look you, said the guide to Christiana, 
 the pilgrimage of your husband, and what he has gotten 
 thereby, is spread abroad far and near. 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. Why, is this Christian"'s wife ? 
 
 Great-heart. Yes, that it is; and these are also her 
 four sons. 
 
 Valiant- FOR-TR(JTH. What! and going on pilgrimage too? 
 
 Great-heart. Yes, verily; they are following after. 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. It gladdens me at heart. Good 
 man ! how joyful w ill he be when he shall see them that 
 would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the 
 gates into the city. 
 
Great-heart, Without doubt it will be a comfort to 
 him ; for, next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will 
 be a joy to meet there his wife and children. 
 
 Valiaxt-for-truth. But, now you are upon that, pray 
 let me hear your opinion about it. Some make a ques- 
 tion. Whether we shall know one another when we are there. 
 
 Great-heart. Do they think they shall know themselves 
 then, or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in that 
 bliss ? and if they think they shall know and do these, why 
 not know others, and rejoice in their welfare also ? 
 
 Again, since relations are our second self, though that 
 state will be dissolved there; yet why may it not be 
 rationally concluded, that we shall be more glad to see 
 them there, than to see they are wanting ? 
 
 Valiaxt-for-truth. Well, I perceive whereabouts you 
 are as to this. Have you any more things to ask me 
 about my beginning to come on pilgrimage ? 
 
 Great-heart. Yes. Was your father and mother will- 
 ing that you should become a pilgrim .'' 
 
 Valiaxt-for-truth. Oh no ! They used all means im- 
 aginable to persuade me to stay at home. 
 
 Great-heart. What could they say against it ? 
 
 Valiaxt-for-truth. They said it was an idle life ; and 
 if I myself were not inclined to sloth and laziness, I 
 would never countenance a pilgrim^s condition. 
 
 Great-heart. And what did they say else? 
 
 Valiaxt-for-truth. Why, they told me that it was a 
 dangerous way ; yea, the most dangerous way in the world, 
 said they, is that which the pilgrims go. 
 
 Great HEART. Did they show wherein this way is so 
 dangerous ? 
 
 Valiaxt-for-truth. Yes ; and that in many particulars. 
 
 Great-heart. Name some of them. 
 
 Valiaxt-for-truth. They told me of the Slough of 
 
S30 Zbc pilovim's iproorcss 
 
 Despond, where Christian was well-nigh smothered. They 
 told nie that there were archers standing ready in Beelze- 
 bub's Castle to shoot them that should knock at the wicket- 
 gate for entrance. They told me also of the wood, and 
 dark mountains ; of the Hill Difficulty ; of the lions ; and 
 also of the three giants, Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. 
 They said, moi'eover, that there was a foul fiend haunted 
 the Valley of Humiliation, and that Christian was by him 
 almost bereft of life. Besides, said they, you must go over 
 the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins 
 are ; where the light is darkness ; where the way is full of 
 snares, pits, traps, and gins. They told me also of Giant 
 Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the 
 pilgrims met with there. Further, they said I must go 
 over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous. And 
 that, after all this, I should find a river, over which I 
 should find no bridge, and that that river did lie betwixt 
 me and the Celestial Country. 
 
 Great-heart. And was this all .'* 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. No. They also told me that this 
 way was full of deceivers, and of persons that laid in wait 
 there, to turn good men out of the path. 
 
 Great-heart. But how did they make that out.'* 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. They told me that IVIr. Worldly- 
 wiseman did there lie in wait to deceive. They also said, 
 that there was Formality and Hypocrisy continually on 
 the road. They said, also, that By-ends, Talkative, or 
 Demas would go near to gather me up ; that the Flatterer 
 would catch me in his net; or that, with green-headed 
 Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate, from 
 whence he always was sent back to the hole that was in 
 the side of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell. 
 
 Great-heart. I promise you this was enough to dis- 
 courage; but did they make an end here.'' 
 
Zbc pllorim's prooress ssi 
 
 Valiant-foe-truth. No; stay. They told me also of 
 many that had tried that way of old, and that had gone a 
 great way therein, to see if they could find something of 
 the glory there, that so many had so much talked of from 
 time to time ; and how they came back again, and befooled 
 themselves for setting a foot ouL of doors in that path, 
 to the satisfaction of all the country. And they named 
 several that did so ; as Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust 
 and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with several 
 more, who, they said, had some of them gone far, to 
 see if they could find ; but not one of them found so 
 much advantage by going as amounted to the weight 
 of a feather. 
 
 Great-hkart. Said they anything more to discourage 
 you? 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. Yes. They told me of one Mr. 
 Fearing, who was a pilgrim ; and how he found this way 
 so solitary, that he never had a comfortable hour therein. 
 Also, that Mr. Despondency had like to have been starved 
 therein ; yea, and also, which I had almost forgot, that 
 Christian himself, about whom there has been such a noise, 
 after all his ventures for a celestial crown, was certainly 
 drowned in the Black River, and never went foot farther, 
 however it was smothered- up. 
 
 Great-heart. And did none of these things discourage 
 you? 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. No ; they seemed bi't as so many 
 nothings to me. 
 
 Great-heart. How came that about ? 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell- 
 true had said, and that carried me beyond them all. 
 
 Great-heart. Then this was your victory, even your 
 faith. 
 
 Valiant- for-teuth. It was so. I believed, and therefore 
 
332 TLbc lpfl^rfm'5 proaress 
 
 came out, got into the way, fought all that set themselves 
 against me, and, by believing, am come to this place. 
 
 Who would true valour see, 
 
 Let him come hither ; 
 One here will constant be. 
 
 Come wind, come weather. 
 There's no discouragement 
 Shall make him once relent 
 His first avow'd intent 
 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 Who so beset him round 
 
 With dismal stories, 
 Do but themselves confound,— 
 
 His strength the more is ; 
 No lion can him fright. 
 He'll with a giant fight ; 
 But he will have a right 
 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 
 
 Can daunt his spirit ; 
 He knows he at the end 
 
 Shall life inherit. 
 Til en fancies fly away, 
 He'll fear not what men say, 
 He'll labour night and day 
 
 To be a pilgrim. 
 
 By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, 
 where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy ; and 
 that place was all grown over with briars and thorns, ex- 
 cepting here and there, where was an Enchanted Arbour, 
 upon which, if a man sits, or in which, if a man sleeps, it 
 is a question, say some, whether ever he shall rise or wake 
 again in this world. Over this forest, therefore, they went, 
 both one and the other, and Mr. Great-heart went before, 
 for that he was the guide ; and Mr. Valiant-for-truth, he 
 
XTbe pilorim's iprooress sss 
 
 came behind, being there a guard, for fear, lest peradven- 
 ture some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall 
 upon their rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, 
 each man with his sword drawn in his hand, for they knew 
 it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another 
 as well as they could ; Feeble-mind, Mr. Great-heart com- 
 manded, should come up after him, and Mr. Despondency 
 was under the eye of Mr. Valiant. 
 
 Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and dark- 
 ness fell upon them all, so that they could scarce, for a 
 great while, see the one the other ; wherefore they were 
 forced, for some time, to feel for one another by words; 
 for they walked not by sight. 
 
 But any one must think that here was but sorry going 
 for the best of them all ; but how much worse for the 
 women and children, who both of feet and heart were but 
 tender. Yet so it was, that through the encouraging 
 words of he that led in the front, and of him that brought 
 them up behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag 
 along. 
 
 The way also was here very wearisome, through dirt and 
 slabbiness. Nor was there on all this ground so much as 
 one inn or victualling-house, therein to refresh the feebler 
 sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and puffing, and 
 sighing. While one tumbleth over a bush, another sticks 
 fast in the dirt ; and the children, some of them, lost their 
 shoes in the mire. While one cries out, I am down ; and 
 another. Ho ! where are you ? and a third, The bushes 
 have got such fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away 
 from them. 
 
 Then they come at an arbour, warm, and promising 
 much refreshing to the pilgrims ; for it was finely wrought 
 above head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches 
 and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, whereon the 
 
334> Ubc pilorim's proctcss 
 
 weary might lean. This, you must think, all things con- 
 sidered, was tempting; for the pilgrims already began to 
 be foiled with the badness of the way ; but there was not 
 one of them that made so much as a motion to stop there. 
 Yea, for aught I could perceive, they continually gave so 
 good heed to the advice of their guide, and he did so 
 faithfully tell them of dangers, and of the nature of 
 dangers, when they were at them, that usually, when they 
 were nearest to them, they did most pluck up their spirits, 
 and hearten one another to deny the flesh. This arbour 
 was called The Slothful's Friend, on purpose to allure, if 
 it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their 
 rest when weary. 
 
 I saw them in my dream, that they went on in this their 
 solitary ground, till they came to a place at which a man 
 is apt to lose his way. Now, though when it was light, 
 their guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways 
 that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand ; 
 but he had in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or 
 from the Celestial City ; wherefore he struck a light, for 
 he never goes, also, without his tinder-box, and takes 
 a view of his book or map, which bids him be careful, 
 in that place, to turn to the right-hand way. And had he 
 not here been careful to look in his map, they had all, in 
 probability, been smothered in the mud; for just a little 
 before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way, too, 
 was a pit, none knows how deep, full of nothing but mud, 
 there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in. 
 
 Then thought I with myself, who that goeth on pilgrim- 
 age, but would have one of these maps about him, that he 
 may look when he is at a stand, which is the way he 
 must take. 
 
 They went on, then, in this Enchanted Ground, till they 
 came to where there was another arbour, and it was built 
 
by the highway-side. And in that arbour there lay two 
 men, whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These 
 two went thus far on pilgrimage ; but here, being wearied 
 with their journey, they sat down to rest themselves, and 
 so fell fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they 
 stood still, and shook their heads ; for they knew that the 
 sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what 
 to do, whether to go on and leave them in their sleep, or 
 to step to them, and try to awake them. So they con- 
 cluded to go to them, and awake them ; that is, if they 
 could ; but with this caution, namely, to take heed that 
 themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered 
 benefit of that arbour. 
 
 So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each 
 by his name, for the guide, it seems, did know them ; but 
 there was no voice nor answer. Then the guide did shake 
 them, and do what he could to disturb them. Then said 
 one of them, I will pay you when I take my money. At 
 which the guide shook his head. I will fight so long as I 
 can hold my sword in my hand, said the other. At that 
 one of the children laughed. 
 
 Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this.? 
 The guide said, they talk in their sleep. If you strike 
 them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, they 
 will answer you after this fashion ; or, as one of them said 
 in old time, when the waves of the sea did beat upon him, 
 and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, " When shall 
 I awake ? I will seek it yet again " (Prov. xxiii. 34, 35). 
 You know, when men talk in their sleep, they say any- 
 thing, but their words are not governed either by faith or 
 reason. There is an incoherency in their words now, as 
 there was before, betwixt their going on pilgrimage, and 
 sitting down here. This, then, is the mischief of it, when 
 heedless ones go on pilgrimage, it is twenty to one but 
 
336 XTbe llMlorfm's prooress 
 
 they are served thus ; for this Enchanted Ground is one 
 of the hist refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has. Where- 
 fore it is, as you see, placed almost at the end of the way, 
 and so it standeth against us with the more advantage. 
 For when, thinks the enemy, will these fools be so desirous 
 to sit down, as when they are weary ? and when so Hke to 
 be weary, as when almost at their journey's end ? There- 
 fore it is, I say, that the Enchanted Ground is placed so 
 nigh to the Land Beulah, and so near the end of their 
 race. Wherefore, let pilgrims look to themselves, lest it 
 happen to them as it has done to these, that, as you see, 
 are fallen asleep, and none can wake them. 
 
 Then the pilgrims desired, with trembling, to go for- 
 ward ; only they prayed their guide to strike a light, that 
 they might go the rest of their way by the help of the 
 light of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they went by 
 the help of that through the rest of this way, though the 
 darkness was very great (2 Peter i. 19). 
 
 But the children began to be sorely weary ; and they 
 cried out unto him that loveth pilgrims, to make their 
 way more comfortable. So by that they had gone a little 
 farther, a wind arose, that drove away the fog ; so the air 
 became more clear. 
 
 Yet they were not off, by much, of the Enchanted 
 Ground, only now they could see one another better, 
 and the way wherein they should walk. 
 
 Now, when they were almost at the end of this gi'ound, 
 they perceived that, a little before them, was a solemn 
 noise of one that was much concerned. So they went on 
 and looked before them ; and behold they saw, as they 
 thought, a man upon his knees, with hands and eyes lift 
 up, and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that 
 was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell what he 
 said. So they went softly till he had done. When he 
 
Ube pilgrim's iprooress S37 
 
 had done, he got up, and began to run towards the 
 Celestial City. Then Mr, Great-heart called after him, 
 saying, Soho ! friend, let us have your company, if you go, 
 as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City. So the man 
 stopped, and they came up to him. But as soon as Mr. 
 Honest saw him, he said, I know this man. Then said 
 Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Prithee, who is it ? It is one, said 
 he, who comes from whereabouts I dwelt. His name is 
 Stand-fast ; he is certainly a right good pilgrim. 
 
 So they came up one to another ; and presently Stand- 
 fast said to old Honest, Ho ! father Honest, are you 
 there ? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are there. 
 Right glad am I, said Mr. Stand-fast, that I have found 
 you on this road. And as glad am I, said the other, 
 that I espied you upon your knees. Then Mr. Stand-fast 
 blushed, and said. But why, did you see me.'' Yes, that 
 I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was glad at 
 the sight. Why, what did you think ? said Stand-fast. 
 Think ! said old Honest, what should I think ? I thought 
 we had an honest man upon the road, and therefore should 
 have his company by-and-by. If you thought not amiss, 
 said Stand-fast, how happy am I ; but if I be not as I 
 should, I alone must bear it. That is true, said the 
 other ; but your fear doth further confirm me, that 
 things are right betwixt the Prince of Pilgrims and your 
 soul ; for, saith He, " Blessed is the man that feareth 
 always." 
 
 Valiant-for-truth. Well, but brother, I pray thee tell 
 us what was it that was the cause of thy being upon 
 thy knees even now ? Was it for that some special 
 mercies laid obligations upon thee, or how ? 
 
 Stand-fast. Why, we are, as you see, upon the En- 
 chanted Ground; and as I was coming along, I was mus- 
 ing with myself of what a dangerous road the road in 
 
 y 
 
338 Ube pflarim's iprooress 
 
 this place was, and how many that had come even thus far 
 on pilgrimage had here been stopped and been destroyed. 
 I thought also of the manner of the death with which 
 this place destroyeth men. Those that die here die of no 
 violent distemper. The death which such die is not 
 grievous to them ; for he that goeth away in a sleep, 
 begins that journey with desire and pleasure; yea, such 
 acquiesce in the will of that disease. 
 
 Honest. Then Mr. Honest, interrupting of him, said, 
 Did you see the two men asleep in the arbour ? 
 
 Stand-fast. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold 
 there ; and, for aught I know, there they will lie till they 
 rot (Prov. X. 7). But let me go on in my tale. As I 
 was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant 
 attire, but old, who presented herself unto me, and offered 
 me three things ; to wit, her body, her purse, and her 
 bed. Now, the truth is, I was both a-weary and sleepy ; 
 I am also as poor as an owlet, and that, perhaps, the 
 witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once and twice, but 
 she put by my repulses, and smiled. Then I began to be 
 angry ; but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she 
 made offers again, and said. If I would be ruled by her, 
 she would make me great and happy ; for, said she, I am 
 the mistress of the world, and men are made happy by 
 me. Then I asked her name, and she told me it was 
 Madame Bubble. This set me further from her : but she 
 still followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, 
 as you saw, to my knees; and with hands lift up, and 
 cries, I prayed to Him that had said He would help. So, 
 just as you came up, the gentlewoman went her way. 
 Then I continued to give thanks for this my great deliver- 
 ance ; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather 
 sought to make stop of me in my journey. 
 
 Honest. Without doubt her designs were bad. But 
 
stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have seen 
 her, or have read some story of her. 
 
 Stand-fast. Perhaps you have done both. 
 
 Honest. Madame Bubble ! is she not a tall, comely 
 dame, something of a swarthy complexion .'' 
 
 Stand-fast. Right, you hit it, she is just such a one. 
 
 Honest. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give 
 you a smile at the end of a sentence ? 
 
 Stand-fast. You fall right upon it again, for these are 
 her very actions. 
 
 Honest. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side ; 
 and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if 
 that was her heart's delight ? 
 
 Stand-fast. It is just so; had she stood by all this 
 while, you could not more amply have set her forth before 
 me, nor have better described her features. 
 
 Honest. Then he that drew her picture was a good 
 limner, and he that wrote of her said true. 
 
 Great-heart. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue 
 of her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Whoever 
 doth lay their head down in her lap, had as good lay it 
 down upon that block over which the axe doth hang; 
 and whoever lay their eyes upon her beauty, are counted 
 the enemies of God (James iv. 4; 1 John ii. 15). This 
 is she that maintaineth in their splendour all those that 
 are the enemies of pilgrims. Yea, this is she that hath 
 bought off' many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is a 
 great gossipper; she is always, both she and her daughters, 
 at one pilgrim's heels or another, now commending and 
 then preferring the excellencies of this life. She is a bold 
 and impudent slut; she will talk with any man. She 
 always laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn ; but highly com- 
 mends the rich. If there be one cunning to get money in 
 a place, she will speak well of him from house to house ; 
 
340 ZTbe ipilgrim's iproaress 
 
 she loveth banqueting and feasting mainly well ; she is 
 always at one full table or another. She has given it out 
 in some places, that she is a goddess, and therefore some 
 do worship her. She has her times and open places of 
 cheating; and she will say and avow it, that none can 
 show a good comparable to hers. She promiseth to dwell 
 with children"'s children, if they will but love and make 
 much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold like 
 dust, in some places, and to some persons. She loves 
 to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie in the 
 bosoms of men. She is never weary of commending 
 her commodities, and she loves them most that think 
 best of her. She will promise to some crowns and king- 
 doms, if they will but take her advice; yet many hath 
 she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times more 
 to hell. 
 
 Stand-fast. Oh, said Stand-fast, what a mercy is it that 
 I did resist ; for whither might she have drawn me ! 
 
 Gkeat-heart. Whither ! nay, none but God knows 
 whither. But, in general, to be sure, she would have 
 drawn thee into " many foolish and hurtful lusts, which 
 drown men in destruction and perdition " (1 Tim. vi. 9). ' 
 
 It was she that set Absalom against his father, and 
 Jeroboam against his master. It was she that persuaded 
 Judas to sell his Lord, and that prevailed with Demas to 
 forsake the godly pilgrim's life; none can tell of the 
 mischief that she doth. She makes variance betwixt 
 rulers and subjects, betwixt parents and children, betwixt 
 neighbour and neighbour, betwixt a man and his wife, 
 betwixt a man and himself, betwixt the flesh and the 
 heart. 
 
 Wherefore, good Master Stand-fast, be as your name is, 
 and " when you have done all, stand." 
 
 At this discourse there was, among the pilgrims, a 
 
Ube BMlgrim's progress 34i 
 
 mixture of joy and trembling; but at length they brake 
 out, and sang — 
 
 *' What danger is the pilgrim in ! 
 How many are his foes ! 
 How many ways there are to sin 
 No living mortal knows. 
 
 Some of the ditch shy are, yet can 
 
 Lie tumbling in the mire ; 
 Some, though they shun the frying-pan. 
 
 Do leap into the fire." 
 
 After this, I beheld until they were come unto the Land 
 of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. Here, 
 because they were weary, they betook themselves a while 
 to rest ; and, because this country was common for pilgrims, 
 and because the orchards and vineyards that were here 
 belonged to the King of the Celestial Country, therefore 
 they were licensed to make bold with any of His things. 
 But a little while soon refreshed them here ; for the bells 
 did so ring, and the trumpets continually sound so melo- 
 diously, that they could not sleep; and yet they received as 
 much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep ever so 
 soundly. Here also ail the noise of them that walked in 
 the streets was. More pilgrims are come to town. And 
 another would answer, saying, And so many went over 
 the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day. 
 They would cry again, There is now a legion of Shining 
 Ones just come to town, by which we know that there are 
 more pilgrims upon the road ; for here they come to wait 
 for them, and to comfort them after all their sorrow. 
 Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro; but 
 how were their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and 
 their eyes delighted with celestial visions ! In this land 
 they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelled 
 
S42 Ube ipilarim'6 iprooress 
 
 nothing, tasted nothing, that was offensive to their stomach 
 or mind ; only when they tasted of the water of the river 
 over which they were to go, they thought that tasted a 
 little bitterish to the palate, but it proved sweeter when 
 it was down. 
 
 In this place there was a record kept of the names of 
 them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all 
 the famous acts that they had done. It was here also 
 much discoursed how the river to some had had its Sow- 
 ings, and what ebbings it has had while others have gone 
 over. It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has 
 overflowed its banks for others. 
 
 In this place the children of the town would go into the 
 King"'s gardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and 
 bring them to them with much affection. Here also grew 
 camphire, with spikenard, and saffron, calamus, and 
 cinnamon, with all its trees of frankincense, myrrh, and 
 aloes, with all chief spices. With these the pilgrim''s 
 chambers were perfumed, while they stayed here ; and with 
 these were their bodies anointed, to prepare them to go 
 over the river when the time appointed was come. 
 
 Now, while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, 
 there was a noise in the town that there was a post come 
 from the Celestial City, with matter of great importance 
 to one Christiana, the wife of Christian the Pilgrim. So 
 inquiry was made for her, and the house was found out 
 where she was ; so the post presented her with a letter, 
 the contents whereof were, " Hail, good woman ! I bring 
 thee tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and ex- 
 pecteth that thou shouldest stand in His presence, in 
 clothes of immortality, within these ten days." 
 
 AVhen he had read this letter to her, he gave her there- 
 with a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was 
 come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was 
 
XTbe {pilgrim's prootess S43 
 
 an arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily into 
 her heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with 
 her, that at the time appointed she must be gone. 
 
 When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that 
 she was the first of this company that was to go over, she 
 called for Mr. Great-heart, her guide, and told him how 
 matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the 
 news, and could have been glad had the post come for him. 
 Then she bid that he should give advice how all things 
 should be prepared for her journey. So he told her, say- 
 ing, thus and thus it must be ; and we that survive will 
 accompany you to the river side. 
 
 Then she called for her children, and gave them her 
 blessing, and told them, that she yet read with comfort 
 the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to 
 see them with her there, and that they had kept their 
 garments so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to the poor 
 that little she had, and commanded her sons and her 
 daughters to be ready against the messenger should come 
 for them. 
 
 When she had spoken these words to her guide and to 
 her children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said 
 unto him. Sir, you have in all places showed yourself true- 
 hearted; "be faithful unto death," and my King will give 
 you " a crown of life."" I would also entreat you to have 
 an eye to my children ; and if at any time you see them 
 faint, speak comfortably to them. For my daughters, my 
 sons' wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the 
 promise upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr. 
 Stand-fast a ring. 
 
 Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, 
 " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." Then 
 said he, I wish you a fair day when you set out for Mount 
 Zion, and shall be glad to see that you go over the river 
 
844 U\K iptlovtin'Li il>rocivcs3 
 
 dry-shod. Hut slio aiiHwered, Conic wet, come dry, I loiifjr 
 to be ^oiie ; for, however the weather is in my jouniey, I 
 shall have time enough when I come there to sit down and 
 rest me and dry me. 
 
 Then came in that good man Mr. Jteady-to-halt to see 
 her. So sht^ saiil to him, Thy travel hither lias been with 
 didiculty; but that will make thy rest the sweeter, ilut 
 walch and be ready ; for at an hour when you think not, 
 the messenger may come. 
 
 After him came in Mr. l)es|)on(lency, and his daughter 
 Much -afraid, to whom she said. You ought with thankful- 
 ness for ever to remend)er your deliverance from the hands 
 of (Jiard Despair, and out of Doubling Caslle. 'I'lu' ed'ect 
 of that mercy is, that you are brought with safety hither, 
 lie ye watchful, and cast away fear; "be sober, and hope 
 to the end." 
 
 Then she said to Mr. feeble mind, Thou w.ist delivered 
 fi-<»m the nioiilh of (JinnI Slay good, Ihal Ihou mightest 
 live in the light of lh(> living for ever, and see thy Kiug 
 with com fori ; oidv I advise thi'e lo rej)enl llu'e of thine 
 aptness lo fear and doiibl of His goodness, before He sends 
 for ihee; Icsl Ihou shonldesi, when lie comc's, be forced to 
 stand before Him, for Ihal ImuH, with blushing. 
 
 Now I he (lav drew on thai Christiana nuist be gone. So 
 the road was full of jx'ople lo see her lake her journey. 
 Ihil, behold, all the b.inks beyond the river were full of 
 liorses and chariots, which weri' come down from al)ove to 
 accompany her lo the city gale. So she came forlh, and 
 entered the rivt>r, with a beckon of farewell to those that 
 followed her to the river side. The last words that she 
 was heard to say here W(>re, 1 come. Lord, to hv with Thee, 
 and bless Thee. 
 
 So her children and friends returned to their place, for 
 that those thul wait(>d for Christiana had carried her out 
 
TLbc ipilodm's iprooress 345 
 
 of their sight. So she went and called, and entered in at 
 the gate with all the ceremonies of joy that her husband 
 Christian had done before her. 
 
 At her departure her children wept ; but Mr. Great-heart 
 and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and 
 harp for joy. So all departed to their respective places. 
 
 In process of time there came a post to the town again, 
 and his business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he 
 inquired him out, and said to him, I am come to thee in 
 the name of Him whom thou hast loved and followed, 
 though upon crutches ; and my message is to tell thee, that 
 He expects thee at His table to sup with Him, in His 
 kingdom, the next day after Easter; wherefore prepare 
 thyself for this journey. 
 
 Then he also gave him a token that he was a true 
 messenger, saying, I have broken thy golden bowl, and 
 loosed thy silver cord (Ec. xii. 6). 
 
 After this Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow- 
 pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God 
 shall surely visit you also. So he desia-ed Mr. Valiant to 
 make his will ; and because he had nothing to bequeath to 
 them that should survive him but his crutches and his good 
 wishes, therefore thus he said, These crutches I bequeath to 
 my son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred warm 
 wishes that he may prove better than I have done. 
 
 Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his conduct and 
 kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When 
 he came at the brink of the river, he said, Now I shall have 
 no more need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots 
 and horses for me to ride on. The last words he was heard 
 to say was. Welcome life ! So he went his way. 
 
 After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him, 
 that the post sounded his horn at his chamber-door. Then 
 he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee 
 
346 XEbc ipilorim's proorcss 
 
 that thy Master hatli need of thee ; and that, in very little 
 time, thou must behold His face in bri<;htness. And take 
 this as a token of the truth of my message, " Those that 
 lookout of the windows shall be darkened ""^ (Ec. xii. 3). 
 
 Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told 
 them what errand had been brought unto him, and what 
 token he had received of the truth of the message. Then 
 he said. Since I have nothing to becjueath to any, to what 
 purpose should I make a will ? As for my feeble mind, 
 that I will leave behind me, for that, I have no need of 
 that in the place whither I go. Nor is it worth bestow- 
 ing upon the poorest pilgrim ; wherefore, when I am 
 gone, I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury it in 
 a dunghill. This done, and the day being come in which 
 he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His 
 last words were, Hold out, faith and patience. So he 
 went over to the other side. 
 
 When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Des- 
 pondency was sent for ; for a post was come, and brought 
 this message to him : Trembling man, these are to sunmion 
 thee to be ready with thy King by the next Lord's day, to 
 shout for joy for thy deliverance from all thy doubtings. 
 
 And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take 
 this for a proof; so he gave him the grasshop])er to be a 
 burden unto him (Ec. xii. 5). Now, Mr. Despondency''s 
 daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when she 
 hcanl what was done, that she would go with her father. 
 Then Mr. Despondency said to his friends. Myself and my 
 daughter, you know what we have been, and how trouble- 
 somely we have behaved ourselves in every company. My 
 will and my daughter's is, that our desponds and slavish 
 fears be by no man ever received, from the day of our 
 departure, for ever ; for I know that after my death they 
 Avill offer themselves to others. For, to be plain with 
 
Ubc pilouim's proarcss 347 
 
 you, they are ghosts the which we entertained when we 
 first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them off 
 after; and they will walk about and seek entertainment 
 of the pilgrims; but, for our sakes, shut ye the doors 
 upon them. 
 
 When the time was come for them to depart, they went 
 to the brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Des- 
 pondency were. Farewell night, welcome day. His daughter 
 went through the river singing, but none could understand 
 what she said. 
 
 Then it came to pass, a while after, that there was a 
 post in the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he 
 came to his house where he was, and delivered to his hand 
 these lines : Thou art commanded to be ready against this 
 day seven-night, to present thyself before thy Lord, at His 
 Father''s house. And for a token that my message is 
 true, " All thy daughters of music shall be brought low "" 
 (Ec. xii. 4). Then Mr. Honest called for his friends, and 
 said unto them, I die, but shall make no will. As for 
 my honesty, it shall go with me ; let him that comes after 
 be told of this. When the day that he was to be gone 
 was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. 
 Now the river at that time overflowed the banks in some 
 places ; but Mr. Honest in his life-time had spoken to 
 one Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also 
 did, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The 
 last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns. So he left 
 the world. 
 
 After this it was noised abroad, that Mr. Valiant-for- 
 truth was taken with a summons by the same post as the 
 other ; and had this for a token that the summons was true, 
 " That his pitcher was broken at the fountain " (Ec. xii. 6). 
 When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told 
 them of it. Then, said he, I am going to mv Father's; 
 
348 XLbc BMloilm'9 iproorcss 
 
 and though with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now I 
 do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to 
 arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall 
 succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill 
 to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with 
 me, to be a witness for me, that I have fought His battles 
 who now will be my rewarder. When the day that he 
 must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the 
 river side, into which as he went he said, "Death, where 
 is thy sting ? " And as he went down deeper, he said, 
 " Grave, w here is thy victory ? " So he passed over, and 
 all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. 
 
 Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast — 
 this Mr. Stand-fast was he that the rest of the pilgrims 
 found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground — for the 
 post brought it him open in his hands. The contents 
 whereof were, that he nuist pre})are for a change of life, 
 for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from 
 Him any longer. At this Mr. Stand-fast was put into a 
 muse. Nay, said the messenger, you need not doubt the 
 truth of my message, for here is a token of the truth there- 
 of: "Thy wheel is broken at the cistern" (Ec. xii. 6). 
 Then he called unto him Mr. Great-heart, who was their 
 guide, and said unto him. Sir, although it was not my hap 
 to be much in your good company in the days of my pil- 
 grimage ; yet, since the time I knew you, you have been 
 profitable to me. When I came from home, I left behind 
 me a wife and five small children ; let me entreat you, at 
 your return (for I know that you will go and return to your 
 Master"'s house, in hopes that you may yet be a conductor 
 to more of the holy pilgrims) that you send to my family, 
 and let them be acquainted with all that hath or shall ha})pen 
 unto me. Tell them, moreover, of my ha})})y arrival to this 
 place, and of the present [and] late blessed condition tlui'. 
 
I fim in. Tell them also of Christian, and Christiana his 
 Aviie, and how she and her children came after her husband. 
 Tell them also of what a happy end she made, and whither 
 she has gone. I have little or nothing to send to my family, 
 except it be prayers and tears for them ; of which it will 
 sufKce if thou acquaint them, if peradventure they may 
 prevail. 
 
 When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and 
 the time being come for him to haste him away, he also went 
 down to the river. Now there was a great calm at that time 
 in the river ; wherefore Mr. Stand-fast, when he was about 
 half-way in, stood a while, and talked to his companions 
 that had waited upon him thither ; and he said. This river 
 has been a terror to many ; yea, the thoughts of it also have 
 often frightened me. Now, methinks, I stand easy, my foot 
 is fixed upon that upon which the feet of the priests that 
 bare the ark of the covenant stood, while Israel went over 
 this Jordan (Jos, iii. 17). The waters, indeed, are to the 
 palate bitter, and to the stomach cold ; yet the thoughts 
 of what I am going to, and of the conduct that waits for 
 me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. 
 
 I see myself now at the end of my journey, my toilsome 
 days are ended. I am going now to see that head that was 
 crowned with thorns, and that face that was spit upon 
 for me. 
 
 I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith ; but now I go 
 where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose 
 company I delight myself. 
 
 I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I 
 have seen the print of His shoe in the earth, there I have 
 coveted to set my foot too. 
 
 His name has been to me as a civet-box; yea, sweeter 
 than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most sweet; 
 and His countenance I have moredesired than they that have 
 
350 Ubc BMlorim's iproorcss 
 
 most desired the light of the sun. His word I did use to 
 gather for my food, and for antidotes against my faintings, 
 *' He has held me, and hath kept me from mine iniquities; 
 yea, my steps hath He strengthened in His way."" 
 
 Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance 
 changed, his strong man bowed under him ; and after he had 
 said, Take me, for I come unto Thee, he ceased to be seen 
 of them. 
 
 But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled 
 with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with 
 singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome 
 the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in 
 at the beautiful gate of the city. 
 
 As for Christian's children, the four boys that Christiana 
 brought with her, with their wives and children, I did not 
 stay where I was till they were gone over. Also, since I 
 came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and 
 so would be for the increase of the church in that place 
 where they were, for a time. 
 
 Shall it be my lot to go that way again, I may give 
 those that desire it an account of what I here am silent 
 about. Meantime, I bid my reader AdieUo 
 
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