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THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, by JOHN BUNYAN

Digitized by Cardinalis Etext Press, C.E.K.
Posted to Wiretap in June 1993, as pilgrim.txt.

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THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

FROM THIS WORLD
TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME

DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM
BY JOHN BUNYAN

[Transcribed by C.E.K. from an uncopyrighted 1942 edition.]

Contents

THE AUTHORS APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK

THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS
IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM

THE CONCLUSION

         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 infinitum, and eat out
The book that I already am about.

Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To shew to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what; nor did I undertake

Thereby to please my neighbour: no, not I;
I did it my own self to gratify.

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble; nor did I intend
But to divert myself in doing this
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss.

Thus, I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white.
For, having now my method by the end,
Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penned
It down: until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together,
I shewed them others, that I might see whether
They would condemn them, or them justify:
And some said, Let them live; some, Let them die;
Some said, JOHN, print it; others said, Not so;
Some said, It might do good; others said, No.

Now was I in a strait, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:
At last I thought, Since you are thus divided,
I print it will, and so the case decided.

For, thought I, some, I see, would have it done,
Though others in that channel do not run:
To prove, then, who advised for the best,
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it, thus to gratify.
I did not know but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.

For those which were not for its coming forth,
I said to them, Offend you I am loath,

Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be,
Forbear to judge till you do further see.

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone.
Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus expostulate: -- 

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

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

How does the fowler seek to catch his game
By divers means! all which one cannot name:
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell:
He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell
Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these
Will make him master of what fowls he please.

Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this,
Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss.

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

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

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

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

God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be.

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness -- that I am rude;
All things solid in show not solid be;
All things in parables despise not we;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth; yea, who so considers
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be.

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

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

May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I dare adventure ten,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit; the memory too it doth fill

With what doth our imaginations please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse;
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,
In application; but, all that I may,
Seek the advance of truth this or that way
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave
(Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so: indeed, if they abuse
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,

Which way it pleases God; for who knows how,
Better than he that taught us first to plough,
To guide our mind and pens for his design?
And he makes base things usher in divine.

3. I find that holy writ in many places
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another;
Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

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

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting prize;
It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes;
What he leaves undone, also what he does;
It also shews you how he runs and runs,
Till he unto the gate of glory comes.

It shews, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain;
Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like fools do die.

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

Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable?

Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New-Year's day to the last of December?
Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect:
It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?
Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation?
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?
Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep?
Wouldst 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 I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed,
and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain
place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and
a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the
book, and read therein; and, as he read, he wept, and trembled;
and, not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a
lamentable cry, saying, What shall I do?

In this plight, therefore, he went home and 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 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 distemper 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,

that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment;
and I find that I am not willing to do the first, nor able to do
the second.

      Christian no sooner leaves the World but meets
      Evangelist, who lovingly him greets
      With tidings of another: and doth shew
      Him how to mount to that from this below.

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

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? The man said, No. Then said the other, Do
you see yonder shining light? He said, I think I do. Then said
Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly
thereto: so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou
knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. So I saw in
my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far from
his own door, but his wife and children, perceiving it, began to

cry after him to return; but the man put his fingers in his
ears, and ran on, crying, Life! life! eternal life! So he looked
not behind him, but fled towards the middle of the plain.

The neighbours also came out to see him run; and, as he ran,
some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to
return; and, among those that did so, there were two that
resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was
Obstinate and the name of the other Pliable. Now, by this time,
the man was got a good distance from them; but, however, they
were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little
time they overtook him. Then said the man, Neighbours, wherefore
are ye come? They said, To persuade you to go back with us. But
he said, That can by no means be; you dwell, said he, in the
City of Destruction, the place also where I was born: I see it
to be so; and, dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower
than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone:
be content, good neighbours, and go along with me.

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

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

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

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that
fadeth not away, and it is laid up in heaven,

and safe there, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them
that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book.

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

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

Obst. Come, then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, and go
home without him; there is a company of these crazy-headed
coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in
their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason.

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the good Christian
says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours: my
heart inclines to go with my neighbour.

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

Chr. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, Pliable; there
are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more
glorious besides. If you believe not me, read here in this book;
and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is
confirmed by the blood of Him that made it.

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

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

Pli. Come, then, good neighbour, let us be going. Then they went
both together.

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate; I will be
no companion of such misled, fantastical fellows.

Now, I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was gone back,
Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain; and thus they
began their discourse.

Chr. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do? I am glad you are
persuaded to go along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but
felt what I have felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet
unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us the back.

Pli. Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none but us two
here, tell me now further what the things are, and how to be
enjoyed, whither we are going.

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind, than speak of
them with my tongue: but yet, since you are desirous to know, I
will read of them in my book.

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly
true?

Chr. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him that cannot lie.

Pli. Well said; what things are they?

Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and
everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit that
kingdom for ever.

Pli. Well said; and what else?

Chr. There are crowns and glory to be given us, and garments
that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven.

Pli. This is very pleasant; and what else?

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor Sorrow: for He that is
owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes.

Pli. And what company shall we have there?

Chr. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, creatures
that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. There also you shall
meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us
to that place; none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy;
every one walking in the sight of God, and standing in his
presence with acceptance for ever. In a word, there we shall see
the elders with their golden crowns, there we shall see the holy
virgins with their golden harps, there we shall see men that by
the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts,
drowned in the seas, for the love that they bear to the Lord of
the place, all well, and clothed with immortality as with a
garment.

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. But
are these things to be enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers
thereof?

Chr. 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.

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

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden
that is on my back.

Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk
they drew 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 being
grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the
burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire.

Pli. Then said Pliable; Ah! neighbour Christian, where are you
now?

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

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

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond
alone: but still he endeavoured to struggle to that side of the
slough that was still further from his own house, and next to
the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out,
because of the burden that was upon his back: but I beheld in my
dream, that a man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked
him, What he did there?

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

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

Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and
fell in.

Help. Then said he, Give me thy hand: so he gave him his hand,
and he drew him out, and set him upon sound ground, and bid him
go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, Sir,
wherefore, since over this place is the way from the City of
Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is not mended,
that poor travellers might go thither with more security? And he
said unto me, This miry slough is such a place as cannot be
mended; it is the descent whither the scum and filth that
attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore
it is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner is
awakened about his lost condition, there ariseth in his soul
many fears, and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which
all of them get together, and settle in this place. And this is
the reason of the badness of this ground.

It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain
so bad. His labourers also have, by the direction of His
Majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years
employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have
been mended: yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here have been
swallowed up at least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions
of wholesome instructions, that have at all seasons been brought
from all places of the King's dominions, and they that can tell,
say they are the best materials to make good ground of the
place; if so be, it might have been mended, but it is the Slough
of Despond still, and so will be when they have done what they
can.

True, there are, by the direction of the Law-giver, 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.

Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home
to his house again, so that his neighbours came to visit him;
and some of them called him wise man for coming back, and some
called him fool for hazarding himself with Christian: others
again did mock at his cowardliness; saying, Surely, since you
began to venture, I would not have been so base to have given
out for a few difficulties. So Pliable sat sneaking among them.
But at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned
their tales, and began to deride poor Christian behind his back.
And thus much concerning Pliable.

Now, as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he espied
one afar off, come crossing over the field to meet him; and
their hap was to meet just as they were crossing the way of each
other. The gentleman's name that met him was Mr. Worldly
Wiseman, he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great
town, and also hard by from whence Christian came. This man,
then, meeting with Christian, and having some 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.

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

Chr. A burdened manner, indeed, as ever, I think, poor creature
had! And whereas you ask me, Whither away? I tell you, Sir, I am
going to yonder wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am
informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy
burden.

World. Hast thou a wife and children?

Chr. Yes; but I am so laden with this burden that I cannot take
that pleasure in them as formerly; methinks I am as if I had
none.

World. Wilt thou hearken unto me if I give thee counsel?

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

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

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

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

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

World. 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?

Chr. Why, Sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me
than all these things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I
care not what I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet
with deliverance from my burden.

World. How camest thou by the burden at first?

Chr. By reading this book in my hand.

World. I thought so; and it is happened unto thee as to other
weak men, who, meddling with things too high for them, do
suddenly fall into thy distractions; which distractions do not
only unman men, as thine, I perceive, have done thee, but they
run them upon desperate ventures to obtain they know not what.

Chr. I know what I would obtain; it is ease for my heavy burden.

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many
dangers attend it? especially since, hadst thou but patience to
hear me, I could direct thee to the obtaining of what thou
desirest, without the dangers that

thou in this way wilt run thyself into: yea, and the remedy is
at hand. Besides, I will add, that instead of those dangers,
thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content.

Chr. Pray, Sir, open this secret to me.

World. Why, in yonder village -- the village is named Morality
-- there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very
judicious man, and a man of very good name, that has skill to
help men off with such burdens as thine are from their
shoulders: yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal of
good this way; ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that
are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as
I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is
not quite a mile from this place, and if he should not be at
home himself, he hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name
is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old
gentleman himself; there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy
burden; and if thou art not minded to go back to thy former
habitation, as, indeed, I would not wish thee, thou mayest send
for thy wife and children to thee to this village, where there
are houses now stand empty, one of which thou mayest have at
reasonable rates; provision is there also cheap and good; and
that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure,
there thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good
fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he
concluded, if this be true, which this gentleman hath said, my
wisest course is to take his advice; and with that he thus
further spoke.

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

World. Do you see yonder hill?

Chr. Yes, very well.

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

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house
for help; but, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it
seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the
wayside did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to
venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head;
wherefore there he stood still and wotted not what to do. Also
his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was in his
way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made
Christian afraid that he should be burned. Here, therefore, he
sweat and did quake for fear.

      When Christians unto carnal men give ear,
      Out of their way they go, and pay for't dear;
      For Master Worldly Wiseman can but shew
      A saint the way to bondage and to woe.

And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly
Wiseman's counsel. And with that he saw Evangelist coming to
meet him; at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame.
So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and coming up to him, he
looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus
began to reason with Christian.

Evan. What dost thou here, Christian? said he: at which words
Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood
speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, Art not
thou the man that I found crying without the walls of the City
of Destruction?

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

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

Chr. Yes, dear Sir, said Christian.

Evan. How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned aside?
for thou art now out of the way.

Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the Slough
of Despond, who persuaded me that I might, in the village before
me, find a man that would take off my burden.

Evan. What was he?

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got
me at last to yield; so I came hither; but when I beheld this
hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand
lest it should fall on my head.

Evan. What said that gentleman to you?

Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him.

Evan. And what said he then?

Chr. He asked me if I had a family? And I told him. But, said I,
I am so loaden with the burden that is on my back, that I cannot
take pleasure in them as formerly.

Evan. And what said he then?

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him
that 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 shew me a
better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the
way, Sir, that you set me in; which way, said he, will direct
you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these
burdens, so I believed him, and turned out of that way into
this,

if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. But when I came to
this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped for fear
(as I said) of danger: but I now know not what to do.

Evan. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little, that I may
shew 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. He said, moreover, Now the just shall live by faith: but
if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him. He
also did thus apply them: Thou art the man that art running into
this misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most
High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even
almost to the hazarding of thy perdition.

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, Woe is me,
for I am undone! At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by
the right hand, saying, All manner of sin and blasphemies shall
be forgiven unto men. Be not faithless, but believing. Then did
Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at
first, before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest heed to the
things that I shall tell thee of. I will now shew thee who it
was that 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 (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. And because he is of this
carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways though
right. Now there are three things in this man's counsel, that
thou must utterly abhor.

1. His turning thee out of the way. 2. His labouring to render
the cross odious to thee. And, 3. His setting thy feet in that
way that leadeth unto the administration of death.

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; and
thine own consenting thereunto: 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, the gate
to which I sent thee; for strait is the gate that leadeth unto
life, and few there be that find it. From this little
wicket-gate, and from the way thereto, hath this wicked man
turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction;
hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and abhor
thyself for hearkening to him.

Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the cross
odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it before the treasures
of Egypt. Besides the King of glory hath told thee, that he that
will save his life shall lose it; and he that cometh after me,
and hateth not his father, and mother, and wife, and children,
and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot
be my disciple. 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 bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with
her children; and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, which thou
hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she, with her
children, are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be
made free? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee
free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his burden
by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be justified by
the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man living
can be rid of his burden: therefore, Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an
alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat; and for his son Civility,
notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite and
cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this
noise, that thou hast heard of sottish men, but a design to
beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in
which I had set thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the
heavens for confirmation of what he had said: and with that
there came words and fire out of the mountain under which poor
Christian stood, that made the hair of his flesh stand up. The
words were thus pronounced: As many as are of the works of the
law are under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is every one
that continueth not in all things which are written in the book
of the law to do them.

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out
lamentably; even cursing the time in which he met with Mr.
Worldly Wiseman; still calling himself a thousand fools for
hearkening to his counsel; he also was greatly ashamed to think
that this gentle-

man's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the
prevalency with him as to cause him to forsake the right way.
This done, he applied himself again to Evangelist in words and
sense as follow:

Chr. Sir, what think you? Is there hope? May I now go back and
go up to the wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and
sent back from thence ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to
this man's counsel. But may my sin be forgiven?

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by
it thou hast committed two evils: thou hast forsaken the way
that is good, to tread in forbidden paths; yet will the man at
the gate receive thee, for he has goodwill for men; only, said
he, take heed that thou turn not aside again, lest thou perish
from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Then did
Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he
had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed. So he
went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor,
if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went
like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground,
and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got
into the way which he left, to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's
counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up to the gate.
Now, over the gate there was written, Knock, and it shall be
opened unto you.

      He that will enter in must first without
      Stand knocking at the Gate, nor need he doubt
      That is A KNOCKER, but to enter in;
      For God can love him, and forgive his sin.

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying -- 

      May I now enter here? Will he within
      Open to sorry me, though I have been
      An undeserving rebel? Then shall I
      Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high.

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good-will,
who asked who was there? and whence he came? and what he would
have?

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

Good-Will. I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with
that he opened the gate.

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull.
Then said Christian, What means that? The other told him. A
little distance from this gate, there is erected a strong
castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain; from thence, both he
and them that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to
this gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in.

Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got
in, the man of the gate asked him who directed him thither?

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

Good-Will. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut
it.

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.

Good-Will. But how is it that you came alone?

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

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

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

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

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

Good-Will. But why did he not come through?

Chr. 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, discouraged, and would not venture
further. Wherefore, getting out again on that side next to his
own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone
for him; so he went his way, and I came mine -- he after
Obstinate, and I to this gate.

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 difficulties to obtain it?

Chr. 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 persuaded
thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman.

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

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

Good-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.

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

Good-Will. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding
all that they have done before they came hither. They are in no
wise cast out; and therefore, good Christian, come a little way
with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look
before thee; dost thou see this narrow. way? THAT is the way
thou must go; it was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets,
Christ, and his apostles; and it is as straight as a rule can
make it. This is the way thou must go.

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

Good-Will. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and
they are crooked and wide. But thus thou mayest distinguish the
right from the wrong, the right only being straight and narrow.

Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him further if he
could not help him off with his burden that was upon his back;
for as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means
get it off without help.

He told him, As to thy burden, be content to bear it, until thou
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
shew him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his
friend, and he again bid him God-speed.

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

Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of
the good-man of this house to call here for 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.

Chr. 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 shew me
excellent things, such as would be a help to me in my journey.

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will shew that
which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to
light the candle, and bid Christian follow him: so he had him
into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the which when
he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person
hung 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.

Chr. Then said Christian, What meaneth this?

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand; he
can beget children, travail in birth with children, and nurse
them himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with
his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and
the law of truth writ on his lips, it is to shew thee that his
work is to know and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also
thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with men: and whereas thou
seest the world as cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over
his head, that is to shew thee that slighting and despising the
things that are present, for the love that he hath to his
Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to
have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have
shewed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture
this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou
art going, hath author-

ised to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet
with in the way; wherefore, take good heed to what I have shewed
thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest 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 Interpreter called for
a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began so
abundantly to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith
been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood
by, Bring hither the water, and sprinkle the room; the which,
when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this?

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a
man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel;
the dust is his original sin and inward corruptions, that have
defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the
Law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the
Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the first
began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the room by him
could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked
therewith; this is to shew thee, that the law, instead of
cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put
strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth
discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue.

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water,
upon which it was cleansed with pleasure;

this is to shew thee, that when the gospel comes in the sweet
and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even
as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor
with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made
clean through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the King
of glory to inhabit.

I saw, moreover, 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.

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

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

'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,' is of more
authority with them than are all the Divine testimonies of the
good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had
quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing
but rags; so will it be with all such men at the end of this
world.

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best
wisdom, and that upon many accounts. First, because he stays for
the best things. Second, and also because he will have the glory
of his, when the other has nothing but rags.

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the next
world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone.
Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience,
because he had his good things first, as Patience will have to
laugh at Passion, because he had his best things last; for first
must give place to last, because last must have his time to
come; but last gives place to nothing; for there is not another
to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first, must
needs have 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 life-time receivedst thy good things, and likewise
Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art
tormented.

Chr. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things that are
now, but to wait for things to come.

Inter. You say the truth: For the things which are seen are
temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. But
though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshly
appetite are such near neighbours one to another; and again,
because things to come, and carnal

sense, are such strangers one to another; therefore it is, that
the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that
distance is so continued between the second.

Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Christian by
the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burning
against a wall, and one standing by it, always casting much
water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and
hotter.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is
wrought in the heart; he that casts water upon it, to extinguish
and put it out, is the Devil; but in that thou seest the fire
notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the
reason of that. So he had him about to the backside of the wall,
where he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the
which he did also continually cast, but secretly, into the fire.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with
the oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the
heart: by the means of which, notwithstanding what the devil can
do, the souls of his people prove gracious still. And in that
thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the
fire, that is to teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to
see how this work of grace is maintained in the soul.

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

Then said Christian, May we go in thither?

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

      Come in, come in;
      Eternal glory thou shalt win.

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

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the
Interpreter, till I have shewed thee a little more, and

after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by the hand
again, and led him into a very dark room, where there sat a man
in an iron cage.

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes
looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he
sighed as if he would break his heart. Then said Christian, What
means this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man.

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

Chr. What wast thou once?

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

Chr. Well, but what art thou now? Man. I am now a man of
despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot
get out. Oh, now I cannot!

Chr. But how camest thou in this condition?

Man. I left off to watch and be sober. I laid the reins, upon
the neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the Word and
the goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone;
I tempted the devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked God
to anger, and he has left me: I have so hardened my heart, that
I cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for
such a man as this? Ask him, said the Interpreter. Nay, said
Christian, pray, Sir, do you.

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Is there no hope, but you must
be kept in the iron cage of despair?

Man. No, none at all.

Inter. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

Man. I have crucified him to myself afresh; I have despised his
person; I have despised his righteousness; I have counted his
blood an unholy thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of
grace. 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.

Inter. For what did you bring yourself into this condition?

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the
enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight; but
now every one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a
burning worm.

Inter. 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!

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

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful! God help me to watch
and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this
man's misery! Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?

Inter. Tarry till I shall shew thee one thing more, and then
thou shalt go on thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him

into a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed; and as he
put on his raiment he shook and trembled. Then said Christian,
Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him
tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began and
said, This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold
the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and
lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony; so
I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual
rate, upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw
also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of
heaven; they were all in flaming fire: also the heavens were in
a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, Arise, ye dead,
and come to judgment; and with that the rocks rent, the graves
opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. Some of them
were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide
themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon
the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there
was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and came from
before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as
betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar. I heard it also
proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the
cloud, Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and
cast them into the burning lake. 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. And with that I saw many catched up and
carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. I also
sought to hide myself, but I

could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his
eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind; and my conscience
did accuse me on every side. Upon this I awaked from my sleep.

Chr. But what is it that made you so afraid of this sight?

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that
I was not ready for it: but this 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, shewing indignation in his countenance.

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

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

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as
a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must
go. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address
himself to his journey. Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter
be always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way
that leads to the City. So Christian went on his way, 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 me think on them and understand
      Wherefore they shewed 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. Up this way,
therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great
difficulty, because of the load on his back.

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending, and upon
that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a
sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up
with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and
fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to
do, till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell
in, and I saw it no more.

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a 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. Now, as he stood looking and weeping,
behold three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with Peace
be unto thee. So the first said to him, Thy sins be forgiven
thee; the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with
change of raiment; the third also set a mark on his forehead,
and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bade him look
on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the Celestial
Gate. So they went their way.

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

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

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

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

Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, if
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. Awake, therefore, and come away;
be willing also, and I will help you off with your irons. He
also told them, If he that goeth about like a roaring lion comes
by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth. With that
they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple
said, 'I see no danger;' Sloth said, 'Yet a little more sleep;'
and Presumption said, 'Every fat must stand upon its own bottom;
what is the answer else that I should give thee?' And so they
lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.

Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger

should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely
offered to help them, both by awakening of them, counselling of
them, and proffering to help them off with their irons. And as
he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over
the wall on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made up
apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of
the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who
thus entered with them into discourse.

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

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

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the
beginning of the way? Know 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?

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

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

Form. and Hyp. They told him, that, as for that, he needed not
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.

Chr. But, said Christian, will your practice stand a trial at
law?

Form. and Hyp. They told him, That custom, it being of so long
a standing as above a thousand years, would, doubtless, now be
admitted as a thing legal by any impartial judge; and besides,
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?

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master: you walk by the rude
working of your fancies. You are counted thieves already, by the
Lord of the way; therefore, I doubt you will not be found true
men at the end of the way. You come in by yourselves, without
his direction; and shall go out by yourselves, without his
mercy.

To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look
to himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way
without much conference one with another, save that these two
men told Christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted
not but they should as conscientiously do them as he; therefore,
said they, we see not wherein thou 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.

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you
came not in by the door. And as for this coat that is on my
back, it was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and
that, as you say, to cover my

nakedness with. And I take it as a token of his kindness to me;
for I had nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I comfort
myself as I go: Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the
city, the Lord thereof will know me for good since I have this
coat on my back -- a coat that he gave me freely in the day that
he stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my
forehead, of which, perhaps, you have taken no notice, which one
of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed there in the day
that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover,
that I had then given me a roll, sealed, to comfort me by
reading as I go on the way; I was also bid to give it in at the
Celestial Gate, in token of my certain going in after it; all
which things, I doubt, you want, and want them because you came
not in at the gate.

To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon
each other, and laughed. Then, I saw that they went on all, save
that Christian kept before, who had no more talk but with
himself, and that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes
comfortably; also he would be often reading in the roll that one
of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed.

I beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to the foot
of the Hill Difficulty; at the bottom of which was a spring.
There were also in the same place two other ways besides that
which came straight from the gate; one turned to the left hand,
and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the
narrow way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going up
the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian now went to
the spring, and drank thereof, to refresh himself, and then
began to go up the hill, saying -- 

      The hill, though high, I covet to ascend,
      The difficulty will not me offend;
      For I perceive the way to life lies here.
      Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear;
      Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
      Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.

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

      Shall they who wrong begin yet rightly end?
      Shall they at all have safety for their friend?
      No, no; in headstrong manner they set out,
      And headlong will they fall at last, no doubt.

I looked, then, after Christian, to see him go up the hill,
where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from going
to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the
steepness of the place. Now, about the midway to the top of the
hill was a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the
refreshing of weary travellers; thither, therefore, Christian
got, where also

he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his roll out of his
bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh
to take a review of the coat or garment that was given him as he
stood by the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last
fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which
detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his
sleep, his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping,
there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, Go to the ant,
thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise. And with that
Christian started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace,
till he came to the top of the hill.

Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two
men running to meet him amain; the name of the one was Timorous,
and of the other, Mistrust; to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's
the matter? You run the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they
were going to the City of Zion, and had got up that difficult
place; but, said he, the further we go, the more danger we meet
with; wherefore we turned, and are going back again.

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in
the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not, and we could
not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently
pull us in pieces.

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid, but whither shall
I fly to be safe? If I go back to 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 for-

ward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian
went on his way. But, thinking again of what he had heard from
the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read
therein, and be comforted; but he felt, and found it not. Then
was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do; for he
wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should
have been his pass into the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he
begun to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he
bethought himself that he had slept in the arbour that is on the
side of the hill; and, falling down upon his knees, he asked
God's forgiveness for that his foolish act, and then went back
to look for his roll. But all the way he went back, who can
sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart?
Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid
himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which
was erected only for a little refreshment for his weariness.
Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side
and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find
his roll, that had been his comfort so many times in his
journey. He went thus, till he came again within sight of the
arbour where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow
the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping
into his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on bewailing his
sinful sleep, saying, 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 flesh, as to use that
rest for ease to my flesh, which the Lord of the hill hath
erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims!

How many steps have I took in vain! Thus it happened

to Israel, for their sin; they were sent back again by the way
of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow,
which I might have trod with delight, had it not been for this
sinful sleep. How far might I have been on my way by this time!
I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which I needed not
to have trod but once; yea, now also I am like to be benighted,
for the day is almost spent. O, that I had not slept!

Now, by this time he was come to the arbour again, where for a
while he sat down and wept; but at last, as Christian would have
it, looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied
his roll; the which he, with trembling and haste, catched up,
and put it into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man
was when he had gotten his roll again! for this roll was the
assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired haven.
Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for
directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and
tears betook himself again to his journey. But oh, how nimbly
now did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up,
the sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again recall
the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he again
began to condole with himself: O thou sinful sleep; how, for thy
sake, am I like to be benighted in my journey! I must walk
without the sun; darkness must cover the path of my feet; and I
must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of my
sinful sleep. Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and
Timorous told him of; how they were frighted with the sight of
the lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts
range in the night for their prey; and if they should meet with
me in the dark, how

should I shift them? How should I escape being by them torn in
pieces? Thus he went on his way. But while he was thus bewailing
his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there
was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was
Beautiful; and it stood just by the highway side.

So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward, that
if possible he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone
far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a
furlong off the porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before
him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he,
I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back
by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he
was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them, for
he thought nothing but death was before him. But the porter at
the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian
made a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is
thy strength so small? Fear not the lions, for they are chained,
and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for
discovery of those that had none. Keep in the midst of the path,
and no hurt shall come unto thee.

      Difficulty is behind, Fear is before,
      Though he's got on the hill, the lions roar;
      A Christian man is never long at ease,
      When one fright's gone, another doth him seize.

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, but
taking good heed to the directions of the porter; he heard them
roar, but they did him no harm. Then

he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before
the gate where the porter was. Then said Christian to the
porter, Sir, what house is this? And may I lodge here to-night?
The porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the
hill, and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims.
The porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was going.

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

Por. What is your name?

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was
Graceless; I came of the race of Japheth, whom God will persuade
to dwell in the tents of Shem.

Por. But how doth it happen that you come so late? The sun is
set.

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

Por. 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 tonight; so I told
him I would call for thee, who, after discourse had with him,
mayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the
house.

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

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

you of all things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage.

Chr. 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?

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

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

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

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter?

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of
which will stick by me as long as I live; especially three
things -- to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his
work of grace in the heart; how the man had sinned himself quite
out of hopes of God's mercy; and also the dream of him that
thought in his sleep the day of judgment was come.

Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream?

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought it made my heart
ache as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard it.

Piety. Was that all that you saw at the house of the
Interpreter?

Chr. No; he took me and had me where he shewed me a stately
palace, and how the people were clad in gold that were in it;
and how there came a venturous man and cut his way through the
armed men that stood in the door to keep him out, and how he was
bid to come in, and win eternal glory. Methought those things
did ravish my heart! I would have stayed at that good man's
house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had further to go.

Piety. And what saw you else in the way?

Chr. Saw! why, I went but a little further, and I saw one, as I
thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon the tree; and the very
sight of him made my burden fall off my back, (for I groaned
under a very heavy burden,) but then it fell down from off me.
It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing
before; yea, and while I stood looking up, for then I could not
forbear looking, three Shining Ones came to me. One of them
testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me of
my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the
third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me
this sealed roll. (And with that he plucked it out of his
bosom.)

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not?

Chr. The things that I have told you were the best; yet some
other matters I saw, as, namely -- I saw three men, Simple,
Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep a little out of the way, as
I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could
awake them? I also saw Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling
over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion, but they were
quickly lost, even

as I myself did tell them; but they would not believe. But above
all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, and as hard to
come by the lions' mouths, and truly if it had not been for the
good man, the porter that stands at the gate, I do not know but
that after all I might have gone back again; but now I thank God
I am here, and I thank you for receiving of me.

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

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

Chr. Yes, but with much shame and detestation -- Truly, if I had
been mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might
have had opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better
country, that is, an heavenly.

Prud. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that
then you were conversant withal?

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and
carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as
myself, were delighted; but now all those 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.

Prud. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were
vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity?

Chr. Yes, but that is seldom; but they are to me golden hours in
which such things happen to me.

Prud. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances,
at times, as if they were vanquished?

Chr. Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it;
and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also
when 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.

Prud. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount
Zion?

Chr. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did hang dead on
the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that
to this day are in me an annoyance to me; there, they say, there
is no death; and there I shall dwell with such company as I like
best. For, to tell you truth, I love him, because I was by him
eased of my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I
would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the company
that shall continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy.

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

Chr. I have a wife and four small children.

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

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

Char. But you should have talked to them, and have endeavoured
to have shewn them the danger of being behind.

Chr. So I did; and told them also of what God had shewn to me of
the destruction of our city; but I seemed to them as one that
mocked, and they believed me not.

Char. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel
to them?

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection: for you must think that
my wife and poor children were very dear unto me.

Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear of
destruction? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough
to you.

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears
in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under
the apprehension of the judgment that did hang over our heads;
but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.

Char. But what could they say for themselves, why they came not?

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my
children were given to the foolish delights of youth: so what by
one thing, and what by another, they left me to wander in this
manner alone.

Char. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by
words used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?

Chr. Indeed, I cannot commend my life; for I am conscious to
myself of many failings therein; I know also that a man by his
conversation may soon overthrow what by argument or persuasion
he doth labour to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I
can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any
unseemly action, to make them averse to going on 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.

Char. Indeed Cain hated his brother, because his own works were
evil, and his brother's righteous; and if thy wife and children
have been offended with thee for this, they thereby shew
themselves to be implacable to good, and thou hast delivered thy
soul from their blood.

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until
supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to
meat. Now the table was furnished with fat things, and with wine
that was well refined: and all their talk at the table was about
the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what he had done, and
wherefore he did what he did, and why he had builded that house.
And by what they said, I perceived that he had been a great
warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the Power of
death, but not without great danger to himself, which made me
love him the more.

For as they said, and as I believe (said Christian), he did it
with the loss of much blood; but that which put glory of grace
into all he did, was, that he did it out of pure love to his
country. And besides, there were some of them of the household
that said they had been and spoke with him since he did die on
the cross; and they have attested that they had it from his own
lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the like is
not to be found from the east to the west.

They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that
was, he had stripped himself of his glory, that he might do this
for the poor; and that they heard him say and affirm, 'that he
would not dwell in the

mountain of Zion alone.' They said, moreover, that he had made
many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born,
and their original had been the dunghill.

Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after they
had committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they
betook themselves to rest: the Pilgrim they laid in a large
upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun-rising: the
name of the chamber was Peace; where he slept till break of day
and then he awoke and sang -- 

      Where am I now? Is this the love and care
      Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims are?
      Thus to provide that I should be forgiven!
      And dwell already the next door to heaven!

So in the morning they all got up; and, after some more
discourse, they told him that he should not depart till they had
shewn him the rarities of that place. And first they had him
into the study, where they shewed him records of the greatest
antiquity; in which, as I remember my dream, they shewed 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.

They then read again, in another part of the records of the
house, where it was shewed how willing their Lord was to receive
into his favour any, even any, though they in time past had
offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also
were several other histories of many other famous things, of all
which Christian had a view; as of things both ancient and
modern; together with prophecies and predictions of things that
have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and
amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims.

The next day they took him and had him into the armoury, where
they shewed 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 shewed him some of the engines with which some of his
servants had done wonderful things. They shewed 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 shewed him the ox's goad wherewith
Shamgar slew six hundred men. They shewed him also the jaw-bone
with which Samson did such mighty feats. They shewed him,
moreover, the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of
Gath; and the sword, also,

with which their Lord will kill the Man of Sin, in the day that
he shall rise up to the prey. They shewed him, besides, many
excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This
done, they went to their rest again.

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go
forward; but they desired him to stay till the next day also;
and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, shew you the
Delectable Mountains, which, they said, would yet further add to
his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the
place where at present he was; so he consented and stayed. When
the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and
bid him look south; so he did: and behold, at a great distance,
he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with
woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with
springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then he asked
the name of the country. They said it was Immanuel's Land; and
it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the
pilgrims. And when thou comest there from thence, said they,
thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the
shepherds that live there will make appear.

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were
willing he should. But first, said they, let us go again into
the armoury. So they did; and when they came there, they
harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest,
perhaps, he should meet with assaults in the way. He being,
therefore, thus accoutred, 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.

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

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

Chr. Oh, said Christian, I know him; he is my townsman, my near
neighbour; he comes from the place where I was born. How far do
you think he may be before?

Por. He is got by this time below the hill.

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee,
and add to all thy blessings much increase, for the kindness
that thou hast shewed to me.

Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and
Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So
they went on together, reiterating their former discourses, till
they came to go down the hill. Then said Christian, As it was
difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous
going down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is, for it is a hard
matter for a man to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as
thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore, said
they, are we come out to accompany thee down the hill. So he
began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two.

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

But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard
put to it; for he had gone but a little way, before he espied a
foul fiend coming over the field to meet him; his name is
Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in
his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he
considered again that he had no armour for his back; and
therefore thought that to

turn the back to him might give him the greater advantage with
ease to pierce him with his darts. Therefore he resolved to
venture and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no more in
mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to
stand.

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous
to behold; he was clothed with scales, like a fish, (and they
are his pride,) he had wings like a dragon, feet like a bear,
and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as
the mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld
him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question
with him.

Apol. Whence come you? and whither are you bound?

Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place
of all evil, and am going to the City of Zion.

Apol. By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects, for all
that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is
it, then, that thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not
that I hope thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee
now, at one blow, to the ground.

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

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his
subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee; but since thou
complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back:
what our country will afford, I do here promise to give thee.

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

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

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

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

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

Apol. Consider, again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou
art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest
that, for the most part, his servants come to an ill end,
because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How many
of them have been put to shameful deaths! and, besides, thou
countest his service better than mine, whereas he never came yet
from the place where he is to deliver any that served him out of
their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all the world
very well knows, have I delivered, either by power,

or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and
his, though taken by them; and so I will deliver thee.

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to
try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end; and
as for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most
glorious in their account; for, for present deliverance, they do
not much expect it, for they stay for their glory, and then they
shall have it when their Prince comes in his and the glory of
the angels.

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

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

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

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out;
but the Prince whom I serve and honour is merciful, and ready to
forgive; but, besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy
country, for there I sucked them in; and I have groaned under
them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my
Prince.

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am
an enemy to this Prince; I hate his person,

his laws, and people; I am come out on purpose to withstand
thee.

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

Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of
the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter: prepare
thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt
go no further; here will I spill thy soul. And with that he
threw a flaming dart at his breast; but Christian had a shield
in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the
danger of that.

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him;
and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as
hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do
to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and
foot. This made Christian give a little back; Apollyon,
therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian again took
courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat
lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost
quite spent; for you must know that Christian, by reason of his
wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close
to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall;
and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said
Apollyon, I am sure of thee now. And with that he had almost
pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of
life; but as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of
his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man,
Chris-

tian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, and caught it,
saying, Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I fall I
shall arise; and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made
him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound.
Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, Nay, in
all these things we are more than conquerors through him that
loved us. And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's
wings, and sped him away, that Christian for a season saw him no
more.

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard
as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the
time of the fight -- he spake like a dragon; and, on the other
side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I
never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look,
till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged
sword; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward; but it was
the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.

      A more unequal match can hardly be, -- 
      Christian must fight an Angel; but you see,
      The valiant man by handling Sword and Shield,
      Doth make him, though a Dragon, quit the field.

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here give
thanks to him that delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to
him that did help me against Apollyon. And so he did, saying -- 

      Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend,
      Design'd my ruin; therefore to this end
      He sent him harness'd out: and he with rage
      That hellish was, did fiercely me engage.

      But blessed Michael helped me, and I,
      By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly.
      Therefore to him let me give lasting praise,
      And thank and bless his holy name always.

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

Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of
the Shadow of Death, and Christian must needs go through it,
because the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst of
it. Now, this valley is a very solitary place. The prophet
Jeremiah thus describes it: -- 'A wilderness, a land of deserts
and of pits, a land of drought, and of the shadow of death, a
land that no man' (but a Christian) 'passed through, and where
no man dwelt.'

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with
Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. I saw then in my
dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of the shadow
of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought
up an evil report of the good land, making haste to go back; to
whom Christian spake as follows: -- 

Chr. Whither are you going?

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

Chr. Why, what's the matter? said Christian.

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

Chr. But what have you met with? said Christian.

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death;
but that, by good hap, we looked before us, and saw the danger
before we came to it.

Chr. But what have you seen? said Christian. Men. Seen! Why, the
Valley itself, which is as dark as pitch; we also saw there the
hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we heard also in
that Valley a continual howling and yelling, as of a people
under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and
irons; and over that Valley hangs the discouraging clouds of
confusion. Death also doth always spread his wings over it. In
a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly without order.

Chr. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have
said, but that this is my way to the desired haven.

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

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, there was
on the right hand a very deep ditch; that ditch is it into which
the blind have led the blind in all ages,

and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the
left hand, there was a very dangerous quag, into which, if even
a good man falls, he can find no bottom for his foot to stand
on. Into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt
therein been smothered, had not HE that is able plucked him out.

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

      Poor man! where art thou now? thy day is night.
      Good man, be not cast down, thou yet art right,
      Thy way to heaven lies by the gates of hell;
      Cheer up, hold out, with thee it shall go well.

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

a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards
him. Also he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so
that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or
trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was
seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by him for several
miles together; and, coming to a place where he thought he heard
a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopped, and
began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a
thought to go back; then again he thought he might be half way
through the valley; he remembered also how he had already
vanquished many a danger, and that the danger of going back
might be much more than for to go forward; so he resolved to go
on. Yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer; but when
they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most
vehement voice, I will walk in the strength of the Lord God! so
they gave back, and came no further.

One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now, poor
Christian was so confounded, that he did not know his own voice;
and thus I perceived it. Just when he was come over against the
mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him,
and stept up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many
grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had
proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more to it than
anything that he met with before, even to think that he should
now blaspheme him that he loved so much before; yet, if he could
have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the
discretion either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these
blasphemies came.

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate con-

dition some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of
a man, as going before him, saying, Though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art
with me.

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

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

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

Thirdly, For that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have
company by and by. So he went on, and called to him that was
before; but he knew not what to answer; for that he also thought
himself to be alone. And by and by the day broke; then said
Christian, He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning.

Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to
return, but to see, by the light of the day, what hazards he had
gone through in the dark. So he saw more perfectly the ditch
that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other;
also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both; also
now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit,
but all afar off, (for after break of day, they came not nigh;)
yet they were discovered to him, according to that which is
written, He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and
bringeth out to light the shadow of death.

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all
the dangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared
them more before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the
light of the day made them

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

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

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

      O world of wonders! (I can say no less,)
      That I should be preserved in that distress
      That I have met with here! O blessed be
      That hand that from it hath deliver'd me!
      Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin
      Did compass me, while I this vale was in:
      Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets, did lie
      My path about, that worthless, silly I
      Might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down;
      But since I live, let JESUS wear the crown.

Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent,
which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before
them. Up there, therefore, Christian went, and looking forward,
he saw Faithful before him, upon his journey. Then said
Christian aloud, Ho! ho! So-ho! stay, and I will be your
companion! At that, Faithful looked behind him; to whom
Christian cried 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 the last was first. Then did Christian vain-gloriously
smile, because he had gotten

the start of his brother; but not taking good heed to his feet,
he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until
Faithful came up to help him.

Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on together, and
had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in
their pilgrimage; and thus Christian began: -- 

Chr. My honoured and well-beloved brother, Faithful, I am glad
that I have overtaken you; and that God has so tempered our
spirits, that we can walk as companions in this so pleasant a
path.

Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company
quite from our town; but you did get the start of me, wherefore
I was forced to come thus much of the way alone.

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

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

Chr. What! did your neighbours talk so?

Faith. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth.

Chr. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape
the danger?

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet
I do not think they did firmly believe it. For in the heat of
the discourse, I heard some of them deridingly speak of you and
of your desperate journey, (for so they called this your
pilgrimage,) but I did believe, and do still, that the end of
our city will be with fire and

brimstone from above; and therefore I have made my escape.

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable?

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came
at the Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but
he would not be known to have so done; but I am sure he was
soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt.

Chr. And what said the neighbours to him?

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in
derision, and that among all sorts of people; some do mock and
despise him; and scarce will any set him on work. He is now
seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city.

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since they also
despise the way that he forsook?

Faith. Oh, they say, hang him, he is a turncoat! he was not true
to his profession. I think God has stirred up even his enemies
to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken
the way.

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came out?

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the
other side, as one ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not
to him.

Chr. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes of that man; but
now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city; for it
is happened to him according to the true proverb, The dog is
turned to his own vomit again; and the sow that was washed, to
her wallowing in the mire.

Faith. These are my fears of him too; but who can hinder that
which will be?

Chr. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him,
and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell
me now, what you have met with in the way as you came; for I
know you have met with some things, or else it may be writ for
a wonder.

Faith. I escaped the Slough that I perceived you fell into, and
got up to the gate without that danger; only I met with one
whose name was Wanton, who had like to have done me a mischief.

Chr. It was well you escaped her net; Joseph was hard put to it
by her, and he escaped her as you did; but it had like to have
cost him his life. But what did she do to you?

Faith. You cannot think, but that you know something, what a
flattering tongue she had; she lay at me hard to turn aside with
her, promising me all manner of content.

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good
conscience.

Faith. You know what I mean; all carnal and fleshly content.

Chr. Thank God you have escaped her: The abhorred of the Lord
shall fall into her ditch.

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.

Chr. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her desires?

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing
that I had seen, which said, Her steps take hold on hell. So I
shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks.
Then she railed on me, and I went my way.

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you came?

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called Dif-

ficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was,
and whither bound. I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the
Celestial City. Then said the old man, Thou lookest like an
honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell with me for the
wages that I shall give thee? Then I asked him his name, and
where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that he
dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then what was his work,
and what the wages he would give. He told me that his work was
many delights; and his wages that I should be his heir at last.
I further asked him what house he kept, and what other servants
he had. So he told me that his house was maintained with all the
dainties in the world; and that his servants were those of his
own begetting. Then I asked if he had any children. He said that
he had but three daughters: The Lust of the Flesh, The Lust of
the Eyes, and The Pride of Life, and that I should marry them
all if I would. Then I asked how long time he would have me live
with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.

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

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

Chr. And how then?

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said,
and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house, he
would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I
would not come near the door

of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me that he would send
such a one after me, that should make my way bitter to my soul.
So I turned to go away from him; but just as I turned myself to
go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a
deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me
after himself. This made me cry, O wretched man! So I went on my
way up the hill.

Now when I had got about half-way up, I looked behind, and saw
one coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me just
about the place where the settle stands.

Chr. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me; but
being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my
bosom.

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man
overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked
me, and laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself
again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, because
of my secret inclining to Adam the First; and with that he
struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down
backward; so I 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 shew mercy; and with that he knocked me down again. He
had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by, and bid
him forbear.

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear?

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

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He

spareth none, neither knoweth he how to shew mercy to those that
transgress his law.

Faith. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he
has met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely
at home, and that