Part 2

Wherein is set forth the manner of the setting out of Christian's wife and children; their dangerous journey, and safe arrival at the desired country.

I have used similitudes (Hosea 12:10).

THE AUTHOR'S WAY

OF SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM

Go, now, my little Book, to every place where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face: Call at their door: if any say, Who's there? Then answer you, Christiana is here. If they bid you come in, then enter you, with all your boys; and then, as you know how, tell who they are, also from where they came; perhaps they'll know them by their looks, or name: but if they should not, ask them yet again, if formerly they did not entertain one Christian, a Pilgrim? If they say they did, and were delighted in his way; then let them know that these related were to him; indeed, his wife and children are.

Tell them, that they have left their house and home; are turned Pilgrims; seek a world to come; that they have met with hardships in the way; that they do meet with troubles night and day; that they have trod on serpents; fought with devils; have also overcome a many evils. Indeed, tell them also of the next who have, of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave defenders of that way; and how they still refuse this world to do their Father's will. Go tell them also of those dainty things that pilgrimage to the Pilgrim brings. Let them acquainted be, too, how they are beloved of their King, under his care; what goodly mansions he for them provides; though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides, how brave a calm they will enjoy at last, who to their Lord, and by his ways hold fast.

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace you, as they did my firstling; and will grace you and your fellows with such cheer and fare, as show well, they of Pilgrims lovers are.

Objection 1 But how if they will not believe of me that I am truly yours? Because some there be that counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, seek, by disguise, to seem the very same; and by that means have wrought themselves into the hands and houses of I know not who.

Answer It is true, some have, of late, to counterfeit my Pilgrim, to their own my title set; indeed, others half my name, and title too, have stitched to their books, to make them do. But yet they, by their features, do declare themselves not mine to be, whoever they are.

If such you meet with, then your only way before them all, is, to say out your say in your own native language, which no man now uses, nor with ease dissemble can.

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, thinking that you, like gypsies, go about, in naughty wise the country to defile; or that you seek good people to beguile with things unwarrantable; send for me, and I will testify you pilgrims be; indeed, I will testify that only you my Pilgrims are, and that alone will do.

Objection 2 But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him of those who wish him damned life and limb. What shall I do, when I at such a door for Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?

Answer Frighten not yourself, my Book, for such bugbears are nothing else but groundless fears. My Pilgrim's book has traveled sea and land, yet could I never come to understand that it was slighted or turned out of door by any Kingdom, were they rich or poor. In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, my Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother.

In Holland, too, it is said, as I am told, my Pilgrim is with some, worth more than gold. Highlanders and wild Irish can agree my Pilgrim should familiar with them be.

It is in New England under such advance, receives there so much loving countenance, as to be trimmed, newly clothed, and decked with gems, that it might show its features, and its limbs. Yet more: so comely does my Pilgrim walk, that of him thousands daily sing and talk.

If you draw nearer home, it will appear my Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear: City and country will him entertain, with Welcome, Pilgrim; indeed, they can't refrain from smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, or shows his head in any company.

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, esteem it much, indeed, value it above things of greater bulk; indeed, with delight say, my lark's leg is better than a kite. Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, do not small kindness to my Pilgrim show; their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts, my Pilgrim has; because he to them imparts his pretty riddles in such wholesome strains, as yield them profit double to their pains of reading; indeed, I think I may be bold to say some prize him far above their gold. The very children that do walk the street, if they do but my holy Pilgrim meet, salute him will; will wish him well, and say, he is the only stripling of the day.

They that have never seen him, yet admire what they have heard of him, and much desire to have his company, and hear him tell those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.

Indeed, some that did not love him at first, but called him fool and noddy, say they must, now they have seen and heard him, him commend and to those whom they love they do him send.

Therefore, my Second Part, you need not be afraid to show your head: none can hurt you, that wish but well to him that went before; because you come after with a second store of things as good, as rich, as profitable, for young, for old, for staggering, and for stable.

Objection 3 But some there be that say, He laughs too loud and some do say, His Head is in a cloud. Some say, His words and stories are so dark, they know not how, by them, to find his mark.

Answer One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries may well be guessed at by his watery eyes. Some things are of that nature, as to make one's fancy chuckle, while his heart does ache: when Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, he did at the same time both kiss and weep.

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head; that does but show his wisdom's covered with its own mantles — and to stir the mind to search well after what it fain would find, things that seem to be hid in words obscure do but the godly mind the more allure to study what those sayings should contain, that speak to us in such a cloudy strain. I also know a dark similitude will on the curious fancy more intrude, and will stick faster in the heart and head, than things from similes not borrowed.

Therefore, my Book, let no discouragement Hinder your travels. Behold, you are sent To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place To you, your pilgrims, and your words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left concealed, You, my brave second Pilgrim, hast revealed; What Christian left locked up, and went his way, Sweet Christiana opens with her key.

Objection 4 But some love not the method of your first: Romance they count it; throw it away as dust. If I should meet with such, what should I say? Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?

Answer: My Christiana, if with such you meet, By all means, in all loving wise them greet; Render them not reviling for revile, But, if they frown, I pray you on them smile: Perhaps ‘tis nature, or some ill report, Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and some Love not their friends, nor their own house or home; Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, And seek those who to find you will rejoice; By no means strive, but, in most humble wise, Present you to them in your Pilgrim’s guise.

Go then, my little Book, and show to all That entertain and bid you welcome shall, What you shall keep close shut up from the rest; And wish what you shall show them may be blessed To them for good, and make them choose to be Pilgrims, by better far than you or me. Go, then, I say, tell all men who you are: Say, I am Christiana; and my part Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what It is for men to take a Pilgrim’s lot.

Go, also, tell them who and what they be That now do go on pilgrimage with you; Say, Here’s my neighbor Mercy: she is one That has long time with me a pilgrim gone: Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn Between idle ones and pilgrims to discern. Indeed, let young damsels learn of her to prize The world which is to come, in any wise. When little tripping maidens follow God, And leave old doting sinners to his rod, It is like those days wherein the young ones cried Hosanna! when the old ones did deride.

Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found With his white hairs treading the Pilgrim’s ground; Indeed, tell them how plain-hearted this man was; How after his good Lord he bore the cross. Perhaps with some gray head, this may prevail With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail.

Tell them also, how Master Fearing went On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent In solitariness, with fears and cries; And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. He was a good man, though much down in spirit; He is a good man, and does life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, Who not before, but still behind would go. Show them also, how he had like been slain, And how one Great-Heart did his life regain. This man was true of heart; though weak in grace, One might true godliness read in his face.

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-Halt, A man with crutches, but much without fault. Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he Did love, and in opinion much agree. And let all know, though weakness was their chance, Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-Truth, That man of courage, though a very youth: Tell every one his spirit was so stout, No man could ever make him face about; And how Great-Heart and he could not forbear, But pull down Doubting-Castle, slay Despair!

Overlook not Master Despondency, Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie Under such mantles, as may make them look (With some) as if their God had them forsook. They softly went, but sure; and, at the end, Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. When you have told the world of all these things, Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings; Which, if but touched, will such music make, They’ll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.

Those riddles that lie couched within your breast, Freely propound, expound; and for the rest Of your mysterious lines, let them remain For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain.

Now may this little Book a blessing be To those who love this little Book and me; And may its buyer have no cause to say, His money is but lost or thrown away. Indeed, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit As may with each good Pilgrim’s fancy suit; And may it some persuade, that go astray, To turn their feet and heart to the right way,

Is the hearty prayer of The Author, John Bunyan.

courteous companions,

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

Now it has so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been much hindered and kept back from my usual travels into those parts from where he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after those whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But having had some concerns that way of late, I went down again in that direction. Now, having taken up my lodging in a wood about a mile off the place, as I slept, I dreamed again.

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by where I lay; and, because he was to go some part of the way that I was traveling, I thought I got up and went with him. So, as we walked, and as travelers usually do, I was as if we fell into a discourse; and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels; for thus I began with the old man:

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lies on the left hand of our way?

Then said Mister Sagacity, (for that was his name,) It is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.

I thought that was that city, said I; I went once myself through that town; and therefore know that this report you give of it is true.

Mister Sagacity: Too true! I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell in it.

Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man, and so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what happened to a man some time ago of this town, (whose name was Christian,) that went on a pilgrimage up towards the higher regions?

Mr. Sagacity: Hear of him! Aye, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears, that he met with and had on his journey. Besides, I must tell you, all our country rings of him; there are but few houses that have heard of him and his doings, but have sought after and got the records of his pilgrimage; indeed, I think I may say that his hazardous journey has got many well-wishers to his ways; for, though when he was here he was fool in every man's mouth, yet now he is gone he is highly commended of all. For it is said he lives bravely where he is: indeed, many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains.

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think any thing that is true, that he lives well where he is; for he now lives at, and in the fountain of life, and has what he has without labor and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed with it. But, pray what talk have the people about him?

Mr. Sagacity: Talk! the people talk strangely about him: some say that he now walks in white (Revelation 3:4); that he has a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head: others say, that the shining ones, who sometimes showed themselves to him in his journey, are become his companions, and that he is as familiar with them where he is, as here one neighbor is with another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court, and that he every day eats and drinks, and walks and talks with him, and receives of the smiles and favors of him that is Judge of all there (Zechariah 3:7; Luke 14:14-15). Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbors set so little by him, and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim (Jude 14-15).

For they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian when he became a pilgrim, that he will look upon all as if done to himself (Luke 10:16); and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did.

I dare say, quoth I; I am glad of it; I am glad for the poor man's sake, for that now he has rest from his labor, and for that he now reaps the benefit of his tears with joy; and for that he has got beyond the gun-shot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him (Revelation 14:13; Psalm 126:5-6). I also am glad for that a rumor of these things is noised abroad in this country; who can tell but that it may work some good effect on some that are left behind? But pray, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts! I wonder in my mind what they do.

Mr. Sagacity: Who? Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as well as Christian did himself; for though they all played the fool at first, and would by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them: so they have packed up, and are also gone after him.

Better and better, quoth I: but, what! wife and children, and all?

Mr. Sagacity: It is true: I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair.

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a truth.

Mr. Sagacity: You need not fear to affirm it: I mean, that they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her four boys. And being we are, as I perceive, going some considerable way together, I will give you an account of the whole matter.

This Christiana, (for that was her name from the day that she with her children betook themselves to a pilgrim's life,) after her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken between them. For you know, said he to me, nature can do no less but entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation, in the remembrance of the loss of loving relations. This, therefore, of her husband did cost her many a tear. But this was not all; for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming behavior towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriage to her dear friend; which also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, briny tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties and loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with him; indeed, there was not any thing that Christian either said to her, or did before her, all the while that his burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her heart in sunder; especially that bitter outcry of his, "What shall I do to be saved?" did ring in her ears most dolefully.

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned away your father, and he is gone: he would have had us with him, but I would not go myself: I also have hindered you of life. With that the boys fell into tears, and cried out to go after their father. Oh, said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him! Then had it fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do now. For, though I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humors; yet now it will not out of my mind, but that they sprang from another cause; to wit, for that the light of life was given him (James 1:23-25; John 8:12); by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the snares of death (Proverbs 14:27). Then they all wept again, and cried out, Oh, woe worth the day!

The next night Christiana had a dream; and, behold, she saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her ways; and the crimes, as she thought looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, “Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner!” (Luke 18:13); and the little children heard her.

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

Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was upon her: but after a while she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw Christian, her husband, in a place of bliss among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat on a throne with a rainbow about his head. She saw also, as if he bowed his head with his face to the paved work that was under his Prince’s feet, saying, “I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing me into this place.” Then shouted a company of them that stood round about, and harped with their harps; but no man living could tell what they said but Christian and his companions.

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard at the door; to whom she spoke out, saying, “If you come in God’s name, come in.” So he said, “Amen;” and opened the door, and saluted her with, “Peace be to this house.” The which when he had done, he said, “Christiana, do you know why I am come?” Then she blushed and trembled; also her heart began to grow warm with desires to know from where he came, and what was his errand to her. So he said to her, “My name is Secret; I dwell with those that are on high. It is talked of where I dwell as if you had a desire to go there: also there is a report that you are aware of the evil you have formerly done to your husband, in hardening of your heart against his way, and in keeping of these babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell you, that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he takes delight to multiply the pardon of offenses. He also would have you to know, that he invites you to come into his presence, to his table, and that he will feed you with the fat of his house, and with the heritage of Jacob your father.

“There is Christian, your husband that was, with legions more, his companions, ever beholding that face that does minister life to beholders; and they will all be glad when they shall hear the sound of your feet step over your Father’s threshold.”

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowed her head to the ground. This visitor proceeded, and said, “Christiana, here is also a letter for you, which I have brought from your husband’s King.” So she took it, and opened it, but it smelled after the manner of the best perfume (Song of Solomon 1:3). Also it was written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter were these, That the King would have her to do as did Christian her husband; for that was the way to come to his city, and to dwell in his presence with joy for ever. At this the good woman was quite overcome; so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, will you carry me and my children with you, that we also may go and worship the King?

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. You must through troubles, as did he that went before you, enter this Celestial City. Therefore I advise you to do as did Christian your husband: go to the Wicket-gate yonder, over the plain, for that stands at the head of the way up which you must go; and I wish you all good speed. Also I advise that you put this letter in your bosom, that you read therein to yourself and to your children until you have got it by heart; for it is one of the songs that you must sing while you are in this house of your pilgrimage (Psalm 119:54); also this you must deliver in at the further gate.

Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he told me the story, did himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He moreover proceeded, and said, So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to address herself to them: “My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late under much exercise in my soul about the death of your father: not for that I doubt at all of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have also been much affected with the thoughts of my own state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriage also to your father in his distress is a great load to my conscience; for I hardened both my own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage.

The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but that for a dream which I had last night, and but that for the encouragement which this stranger has given me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up, and be gone to the gate that leads to the Celestial country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his companions in peace, according to the laws of that land.

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

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

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

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

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

Timorous: For what journey, I pray you?

Christiana: Even to go after my good husband. And with that she fell a weeping.

Timorous: I hope not so, good neighbor; pray, for your poor children’s sake, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.

Christiana: No, my children shall go with me; not one of them is willing to stay behind.

Timorous: I wonder in my very heart what or who has brought you into this mind!

Christiana: O neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would go along with me.

Timorous: Please tell me, what new knowledge have you got, that so works your mind from your friends, and that tempts you to go nobody knows where?

Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my husband’s departure from me; but especially since he went over the river. But that which troubles me most is, my churlish carriage to him when he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was then; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I was dreaming last night that I saw him. O that my soul was with him! He dwells in the presence of the King of the country; he sits and eats with him at his table; he is become a companion of immortals, and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the best palace on earth, if compared, seems to me but a dunghill (2 Corinthians 5:1-4). The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promise of entertainment, if I shall come to him; his messenger was here even now, and has brought me a letter, which invites me to come. And with that she plucked out her letter, and read it, and said to them, What now will you say to this?

Timorous: Oh, the madness that has possessed you and your husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure what your husband did meet with, even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate can yet testify, for he went along with him; indeed, and Pliable too, until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and above, how he met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor is the danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by you. For if he, though a man, was so hard put to it, what can you, being but a poor woman, do? Consider also, that these four sweet babes are your children, your flesh and your bones. Therefore, though you should be so rash as to cast away yourself, yet, for the sake of the fruit of your body, keep you at home.

But Christiana said to her, Tempt me not, my neighbor: I have now a price put into my hands to get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles which I am like to meet with in the way, they are so far from being to me a discouragement, that they show I am in the right. The bitter must come before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Therefore, since you came not to my house in God’s name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me further.

Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, Come, neighbor Mercy, let us leave her in her own hands, since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neighbor; and that for a twofold reason. 1. Her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said within herself, if my neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her, and help her. 2. Her bowels yearned over her own soul; for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her mind. Therefore she said within herself again, I will yet have more talk with this Christiana; and, if I find truth and life in what she shall say, I myself with my heart shall also go with her. Therefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous:

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

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

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

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

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

Timorous: Aye, go she will, whatever comes on’t; and methinks I know it by this; for that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home, (to wit, the troubles she was like to meet with on the way,) is one great argument with her to put her forward on her journey. For she told me in so many words, The bitter goes before the sweet; indeed, and forasmuch as it does, it makes the sweet the sweeter.

Mrs. Bat’s-Eyes: Oh, this blind and foolish woman! said she; and will she not take warning by her husband’s afflictions? For my part, I see, if he were here again, he would rest himself content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.

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

Then Mrs. Light-Mind added as followeth: Come, put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madam Wanton’s, where we were as merry as the maids. For who do you think should be there but I and Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and three or four more, with Mrs. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others: so there we had music and dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say, my lady herself is an admirable well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow.

The First Stage

By this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with her: so as they went, her children being there also, Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favor, that you should set forth out of doors with me to accompany me a little in the way.

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

Christiana: Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in your lot with me: I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage: my husband is where he would not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shall you be rejected, though you go but upon my invitation. The King, who has sent for me and my children, is one that delights in mercy. Besides, if you will, I will hire you, and you shall go along with me as my servant. Yet we will have all things in common between you and me: only go along with me.

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

Christiana: Well, loving Mercy, I will tell you what you shall do: go with me to the Wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for you; and if there you shall not meet with encouragement, I will be content that you return to your place: I will also pay you for your kindness which you show to me and my children, in the accompanying of us in the way that you do.

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

Christiana then was glad at heart, not only that she had a companion, but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation. So they went on together, and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Why does my sister weep so?

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

Christiana: Pity becomes pilgrims; and you do weep for your friends, as my good Christian did for me when he left me: he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him; but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears, and put them into his bottle; and now both I and you, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, that these tears of yours will not be lost; for the truth has said, that “those that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” And “he who goes forth and weeps, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” (Psalms 126:5-6).

Then said Mercy,

“Let the Most Blessed be my guide, If it be his blessed will, To his gate, into his fold, Up to his holy hill.

And let him never suffer me To swerve, or turn aside From his free-grace and holy ways, Whatever shall me betide.

And let him gather them of mine That I have left behind; Lord, make them pray they may be yours, With all their heart and mind.”

Now my old friend proceeded, and said, But when Christiana came to the Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand; For, said she, this is the place in which my dear husband had like to have been smothered with mud. She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the command of the King to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse than formerly. So I asked if that was true. Yes, said the old gentleman, too true; for many there be that pretend to be the King's laborers, and that say they are for mending the King's highways, who bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana therefore, with her boys, did make a stand. But said Mercy, Come, let us venture; only let us be wary. Then they looked well to their steps, and made a shift to get staggering over.

Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once or twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words that said to them, "Blessed is she that believes; for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord." (Luke 1:45).

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

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know mine; and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come to our journey's end. For can it be imagined that the people who design to attain such excellent glories as we do, and who are so envied that happiness as we are, but that we shall meet with what fears and snares, with what troubles and afflictions they can possibly assault us with that hate us?

And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by myself. Therefore, methought I saw Christiana, and Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to the gate: to which, when they were come, they betook themselves to a short debate about how they must manage their calling at the gate, and what should be said to him that did open to them: so it was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that she should speak to him that did open, for the rest. So Christiana began to knock, and as her poor husband did, she knocked and knocked again. But instead of any that answered, they all thought they heard as if a dog came barking upon them; a dog, and a great one too; and this made the women and children afraid. Nor durst they for a while to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their minds, and knew not what to do: knock they durst not, for fear of the dog; go back they durst not, for fear the keeper of that gate should espy them as they so went, and should be offended with them; at last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more vehemently than they did at first. Then said the keeper of the gate, Who is there? So the dog left off to bark, and he opened to them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each minute was as long to her as an hour; therefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud that she made Christiana to start. Then said the keeper of the gate, Who is there? And Christiana said, It is my friend.

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

Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid you arise.

Oh, sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life left in me. But he answered, that one once said, "When my soul fainted within me I remembered the Lord: and my prayer came to you, into your holy temple." (Jonah 2:7). Fear not, but stand upon your feet, and tell me why you are come.

Mercy: I am come for that to which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her. Therefore I fear I presume.

Keep: Did she desire you to come with her to this place?

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

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

And now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, received of the Lord at the head of the way, and spoken kindly to by him. Then said they yet further to him, We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord his pardon, and further information what we must do.

I grant pardon, said he, by word and deed; by word in the promise of forgiveness, by deed in the way I obtained it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss, and the other as it shall be revealed (Song of Solomon 1:2; John 20:20).

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

So he left them awhile in a summer parlor below, where they entered into talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began. O how glad am I that we are got in here.

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

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

Mercy: But my worst fear was after I saw that you was taken into his favor, and that I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, “Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left” (Matthew 24:41). I had much ado to forbear crying out, Undone! And afraid I was to knock any more; but when I looked up to what was written over the gate, I took courage. I also thought that I must either knock again, or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my spirit now struggled between life and death.

Christiana: Can you not tell how you knocked? I am sure your knocks were so earnest that the very sound of them made me start; I thought I never heard such knocking in all my life; I thought you would come in by a violent hand, or take the kingdom by storm (Matthew 11:12).

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

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

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

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

So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy fell to the ground on her face before him, and worshiped, and said, “Let my Lord accept the sacrifice of praise which I now offer to him with the calves of my lips.”

So he said to her, Peace be to you; stand up. But she continued upon her face, and said, “Righteous are you, O Lord, when I plead with you; yet let me talk with you of your judgments” (Jeremiah 12:1). Why do you keep so cruel a dog in your yard, at the sight of which such women and children as we are ready to fly from your gate for fear?

He answered and said, That dog has another owner; he also is kept close in another man’s ground, only my pilgrims hear his barking; he belongs to the castle which you see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls of this place. He has frightened many an honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed, he that owns him does not keep him out of any good-will to me or mine, but with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may be afraid to come and knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken out, and has worried some that I loved; but I take all at present patiently. I also give my pilgrims timely help, so that they are not delivered to his power, to do with them what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But what, my purchased one, I believe, had you known never so much beforehand, you would not have been afraid of a dog. The beggars that go from door to door, will, rather than lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of the bawling, barking, and biting too of a dog; and shall a dog, a dog in another man’s yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any from coming to me? I deliver them from the lions, and my darling from the power of the dog (Psalm 22:21-22).

Mercy: Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance; I spoke what I understood not; I acknowledge that you do all things well.

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

The Second Stage

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

Then Christiana began to sing, saying,

Blessed be the day that I began A pilgrim for to be; And blessed also be the man Who moved me to it.

'Tis true, it was long before I began To seek to live for ever; But now I run fast as I can: 'Tis better late than never.

Our tears to joy, our fears to faith, Are turned, as we see; Thus our beginning (as one says) Shows what our end will be.

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

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

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

Christiana: Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made answer again, We will neither hear, nor regard, nor yield to what you shall ask. We are in haste, and cannot stay; our business is a business of life and death. So again she and her companion made a fresh essay to go past them; but they letted them in their way.

Ill-Favored Ones: And they said, We intend no hurt to your lives; it is another thing we would have.

Christiana: Aye, quoth Christiana, you would have us body and soul, for I know it is for that you are come; but we will die rather upon the spot, than to suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares as shall hazard our well-being hereafter. And with that they both shrieked out, and cried, Murder! murder! and so put themselves under those laws that are provided for the protection of women (Deuteronomy 22:25-27). But the men still made their approach upon them, with design to prevail against them. They therefore cried out again.

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

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

Christiana: Alas! said Christiana, we were so taken with our present blessing, that dangers to come were forgotten by us. Besides, who could have thought, that so near the King's palace there could have lurked such naughty ones? Indeed, it had been well for us had we asked our Lord for one; but since our Lord knew it would be for our profit, I wonder he sent not one along with us.

Reliever: It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest by so doing they become of little esteem; but when the want of a thing is felt, it then comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that estimate that properly is its due, and so consequently will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would not either so have bewailed that oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and tend to make you more wary.

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

Reliever: Your confession of your folly I will present him with. To go back again, you need not, for in all places where you shall come, you will find no want at all; for in every one of my Lord's lodgings, which he has prepared for the reception of his pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatever. But, as I said, He will be inquired of by them, to do it for them (Ezekiel 36:37). And it is a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went on their way.

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

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

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

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

Mercy: Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an occasion ministered to us to behold our own imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion thereby to make manifest the riches of his grace; for he, as we see, has followed us with unasked kindness, and has delivered us from their hands that were stronger than we, of his mere good pleasure.

Thus now, when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near to a house which stood in the way, which house was built for the relief of pilgrims, as you will find more fully related in the first part of these records of the Pilgrim's Progress. So they drew on towards the house, (the house of the Interpreter;) and when they came to the door, they heard a great talk in the house. Then they gave ear, and heard, as they thought, Christiana mentioned by name; for you must know that there went along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's going on pilgrimage. And this was the most pleasing to them, because they had heard that she was Christian's wife, that woman who was some time ago so unwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they stood still, and heard the good people within commending her who they little thought stood at the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done at the gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came to the door a young damsel, and opened the door, and looked, and behold, two women were there.

The Damsel: Then said the damsel to them, With whom would you speak in this place?

Christiana: Christiana answered, We understand that this is a privileged place for those that are become pilgrims, and we now at this door are such: therefore we pray that we may be partakers of that for which we at this time are come; for the day, as you see, is very far spent, and we are loath tonight to go any further.

The Damsel: Pray, what may I call your name, that I may tell it to my Lord within.

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

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

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

Interpreter: Then is fulfilled that which is written of the man that said to his son, "Go work today in my vineyard; and he said to his father, I will not: but afterwards repented and went." (Matthew 21:29).

Christiana: Then said Christiana, So be it: Amen. God made it a true saying upon me, and grant that I may be found at the last of him in peace, without spot, and blameless.

Interpreter: But why do you stand thus at the door? Come in, you daughter of Abraham; we were talking of you but now, for tidings have come to us before how you are become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in; come, maiden, come in. So he had them all into the house.

So when they were within, they were bidden to sit down and rest them; the which when they had done, those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house came into the room to see them. And one smiled, and another smiled, and they all smiled for joy that Christiana was become a pilgrim: They also looked upon the boys; they stroked them over their faces with the hand, in token of their kind reception of them: they also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their Master's house.

After a while, because supper was not ready, the Interpreter took them into his Significant Rooms, and showed them what Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen some time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in the cage, the man and his dream, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of the biggest of them all, together with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to Christian.

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

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

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

Christiana: Then said Christiana, O deliver me from this muck-rake. (Proverbs 30:8).

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

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

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

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

Interpreter: But, said the Interpreter, look again. She therefore looked again, and said, Here is not any thing but an ugly spider, who hangs by her hands upon the wall. Then said he, Is there but one spider in all this spacious room? Then the water stood in Christiana’s eyes, for she was a woman quick of apprehension; and she said, Indeed, Lord, there are more here than one; indeed, and spiders whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleasantly on her, and said, You have said the truth. This made Mercy to blush, and the boys to cover their faces; for they all began now to understand the riddle.

Then said the Interpreter again, “The spider takes hold with her hands,” as you see, “and is in kings’ palaces” (Proverbs 30:28). And why is this recorded, but to show you, that, however full of the venom of sin you may be, yet you may, by the hand of Faith, lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to the King’s house above?

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

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

He had them into another room, where were a hen and chickens, and bid them observe a while. So one of the chickens went to the trough to drink, and every time she drank she lifted up her head and her eyes towards heaven. See, said he, what this little chick does, and learn of her to acknowledge from where your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up. Yet again, said he, observe and look: so they gave heed, and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold method towards her chickens: 1. She had a common call, and that she has all the day long. 2. She had a special call, and that she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note (Matthew 23:37). And, 4. She had an outcry.

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King and these chickens to his obedient ones; for, answerable to her, he himself has his methods which he walks in towards his people. By his common call, he gives nothing; by his special call, he always has something to give; he has also a brooding voice, for them that are under his wing; and he has an outcry, to give the alarm when he sees the enemy come. I choose, my darlings, to lead you into the room where such things are, because you are women, and they are easy for you.

Christiana: And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more. So he had them into the slaughter-house, where was a butcher killing a sheep; and behold, the sheep was quiet, and took her death patiently. Then said the Interpreter, You must learn of this sheep to suffer and to put up with wrongs without murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she takes her death, and, without objecting, she suffers her skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King does call you his sheep.

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

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

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied a little robin with a great spider in his mouth. So the Interpreter said, Look here. So they looked, and Mercy wondered, but Christiana said, What a disparagement is it to such a pretty little bird as the robin-red-breast; he being also a bird above many, that loves to maintain a kind of sociableness with men! I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of bread, or upon other such harmless matter: I like him worse than I did.

The Interpreter then replied, This robin is an emblem, very apt to set forth some professors by; for to sight they are, as this robin, pretty of note, color, and carriage. They seem also to have a very great love for professors that are sincere; and, above all others, to desire to associate with them, and to be in their company, as if they could live upon the good man’s crumbs. They pretend also, that therefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly, and the appointments of the Lord: but when they are by themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up spiders; they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water.

So, when they were come again into the house, because supper as yet was not ready, Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either show or tell some other things that are profitable.

Then the Interpreter began, and said, The fatter the sow is, the more she desires the mire; the fatter the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter; and the more healthy the lustful man is, the more prone he is to evil. There is a desire in women to go neat and [reconstructed: fine]; and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that which in God's sight is of great price. It is easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a whole year together: so it is easier for one to begin to profess well, than to hold out as he should to the end. Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly cast that overboard which is of the smallest value in the vessel; but who will throw the best out first? None but he that fears not God. One leak will sink a ship, and one sin will destroy a sinner. He that forgets his friend is ungrateful to him; but he that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness hereafter, is like him that sows cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley. If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to him, and make it always his company-keeper. Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the world. If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of that worth with men, what is heaven, that God commends? If the life that is attended with so many troubles, is so loath to be let go by us, what is the life above? Every body will cry up the goodness of men; but who is there that is, as he should be, affected with the goodness of God? We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat, and leave. So there is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the whole world has need of.

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into his garden again, and had them to a tree whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and had leaves. Then said Mercy, What means this? This tree, said he, whose outside is fair, and whose inside is rotten, is that to which many may be compared that are in the garden of God; who with their mouths speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing for him; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good for nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box.

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

“The Lord is only my support, and he that does me feed; how can I then want any thing of which I stand in need?”

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

Interpreter: But met you with no opposition before you set out of doors?

Christiana: Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous: she was akin to him that would have persuaded my husband to go back, for fear of the lions. She also befooled me, for, as she called it, my intended desperate adventure; she also urged what she could to dishearten me from it, the hardships and troubles that my husband met with in the way; but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of two ill-looking ones, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey, that has troubled me much: indeed, it still runs in my mind, and makes me afraid of every one that I meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me out of my way. Indeed, I may tell my Lord, though I would not have every body know of it, that between this and the gate by which we got into the way, we were both so sorely assaulted that we were made to cry out murder; and the two that made this assault upon us, were like the two that I saw in my dream.

Then said the Interpreter, Your beginning is good; your latter end shall greatly increase. So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said to her, And what moved you to come here, sweet heart?

Mercy: Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while continued silent.

Interpreter: Then said he, Be not afraid; only believe, and speak your mind.

Mercy: So she began, and said, Truly, sir, my want of experience is that which makes me covet to be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears of coming short at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as my friend Christiana can; nor know I what it is to mourn for my refusing the counsel of those that were good relations.

Interpreter: What was it, then, dear heart, that has prevailed with you to do as you have done?

Mercy: Why, when our friend here was packing up to be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what was her meaning. She said she was sent for to go to her husband; and then she up and told us how she had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, among immortals, wearing a crown, playing upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing praises to him for bringing him there, etc. Now, I thought, while she was telling these things to us, my heart burned within me. And I said in my heart, If this be true, I will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and will, if I may, go along with Christiana. So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and if she would let me go with her; for I saw now that there was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any longer in our town. But yet I came away with a heavy heart; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so many of my relations were left behind. And I am come with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana to her husband and his King.

Interpreter: Your setting out is good, for you have given credit to the truth; you are a Ruth, who did, for the love she bore to Naomi and to the Lord her God, leave father and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come out and go with a people she knew not heretofore. "The Lord recompense your work, and a full reward be given you of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to trust." (Ruth 2:11-12).

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

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

When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter took them and looked upon them, and said to them, "Fair as the moon." Then he called for the seal with which they used to be sealed that were washed in his bath. So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them, that they might be known in the places where they were yet to go. Now the seal was the contents and sum of the passover which the children of Israel did eat (Exodus 13:8-10), when they came out of the land of Egypt; and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and made their countenance more like those of angels.

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon these women, Go into the vestry, and fetch out garments for these people. So she went and fetched out white raiment, and laid it down before him; so he commanded them to put it on: it was fine linen, white and clean. When the women were thus adorned, they seemed to be a terror one to the other; for that they could not see that glory each one had in herself, which they could see in each other. Now therefore they began to esteem each other better than themselves. For, You are fairer than I am, said one; and, You are more comely than I am, said another. The children also stood amazed, to see into what fashion they were brought.

THE THIRD STAGE

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

This place has been our second stage: Here we have heard, and seen Those good things, that from age to age To others hid have been.

The dunghill-raker, spider, hen, The chicken, too, to me Have taught a lesson: let me then Conformed to it be.

The butcher, garden, and the field, The robin and his bait, Also the rotten tree, does yield Me argument of weight,

To move me to watch and pray, To strive to be sincere; To take my cross up day by day, And serve the Lord with fear.

Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and Great-Heart before them. So they went, and came to the place where Christian's burden fell off his back and tumbled into a sepulchre. Here then they made a pause; and here also they blessed God. Now, said Christiana, it comes to my mind what was said to us at the gate, that is, that we should have pardon by word and deed: by word, that is, by the promise; by deed, that is, in the way it was obtained. What the promise is, of that I know something; but what is it to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr. Great-Heart, I suppose you know; therefore, if you please, let us hear your discourse thereof.

Mr. Great-Heart: Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained by some one for another that has need thereof; not by the person pardoned, but in the way, says another, in which I have obtained it. So then, to speak to the question more at large, the pardon that you, and Mercy, and these boys have attained, was obtained by another; to wit, by him that let you in at the gate. And he has obtained it in this double way; he has performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt his blood to wash you in.

Christiana: But if he parts with his righteousness to us, what will he have for himself?

Mr. Great-Heart: He has more righteousness than you have need of, or than he needs himself.

Christiana: Pray make that appear.

Mr. Great-Heart: With all my heart: but first I must premise, that he of whom we are now about to speak, is one that has not his fellow: He has two natures in one person, plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. To each of these natures a righteousness belongs, and each righteousness is essential to that nature; so that one may as easily cause that nature to be extinct, as to separate its justice or righteousness from it. Of these righteousnesses therefore, we are not made partakers, so as that they, or any of them, should be put upon us, that we might be made just, and live thereby. Besides these, there is a righteousness which this person has, as these two natures are joined in one. And this is not the righteousness of the Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood; nor the righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from the Godhead; but a righteousness which stands in the union of both natures, and may properly be called the righteousness that is essential to his being prepared of God to the capacity of the mediatory office, which he was to be entrusted with. If he parts with his first righteousness, he parts with his Godhead; if he parts with his second righteousness, he parts with the purity of his manhood; if he parts with his third, he parts with that perfection that capacitates him to the office of mediation. He has therefore another righteousness, which stands in performance, or obedience to a revealed will; and that is what he puts upon sinners, and that by which their sins are covered. Therefore he says, “As by one man’s disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous.” (Romans 5:19).

Christiana: But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us?

Mr. Great-Heart: Yes; for though they are essential to his natures and office, and cannot be communicated to another, yet it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that justifies is for that purpose efficacious. The righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his obedience; the righteousness of his manhood gives capability to his obedience to justify; and the righteousness that stands in the union of these two natures to his office, gives authority to that righteousness to do the work for which it was ordained.

So then here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need of; for he is God without it: Here is a righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make him so; for he is perfect man without it. Again, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God-man, has no need of; for he is perfectly so without it. Here then is a righteousness that Christ, as God, and as God-man, has no need of, with reference to himself, and therefore he can spare it; a justifying righteousness, that he for himself wants not, and therefore gives it away: Hence it is called the gift of righteousness. This righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made himself under the law, must be given away; for the law does not only bind him that is under it, to do justly, but to use charity. (Romans 5:17). Therefore he must, or ought by the law, if he has two coats, to give one to him that has none. Now, our Lord indeed has two coats, one for himself, and one to spare; therefore he freely bestows one upon those that have none. And thus, Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you that are here, does your pardon come by deed, or by the work of another man. Your Lord Christ is he that worked, and has given away what he wrought for, to the next poor beggar he meets.

But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must something be paid to God as a price, as well as something prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to the just curse of a righteous law: now from this curse we must be justified by way of redemption, a price being paid for the harms we have done; and this is by the blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead, and died your death for your transgressions: Thus has he ransomed you from your transgressions by blood, and covered your polluted and deformed souls with righteousness (Romans 8:34); for the sake of which, God passes by you and will not hurt you when he comes to judge the world. (Galatians 3:13).

Christiana: This is brave! Now I see that there was something to be learned by our being pardoned by word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labor to keep this in mind: and, my children, do you remember it also. But, sir, was not this it that made my good Christian’s burden fall from off his shoulder, and that made him give three leaps for joy?

Mr. Great-Heart: Yes, it was the belief of this that cut those strings that could not be cut by other means; and it was to give him a proof of the virtue of this, that he was suffered to carry his burden to the cross.

Christiana: I thought so; for though my heart was lightsome and joyous before, yet it is ten times more lightsome and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I have felt, though I have felt but little as yet, that if the most burdened man in the world was here, and did see and believe as I now do, it would make his heart the more merry and blithe.

Mr. Great-Heart: There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us by the sight and consideration of these, but an endeared affection begot in us by it: for who can, if he does but once think that pardon comes not only by promise but thus, but be affected with the way and means of his redemption, and so with the man that has wrought it for him?

Christiana: True; methinks it makes my heart bleed to think that he should bleed for me. Oh, you loving One: Oh, you blessed One. You deserve to have me; you have bought me. You deserve to have me all: you have paid for me ten thousand times more than I am worth. No marvel that this made the tears stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he wished me with him: but, vile wretch that I was, I let him come all alone. Oh, Mercy, that your father and mother were here; indeed, and Mrs. Timorous also: in fact, I wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton too. Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected; nor could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home again, and to refuse to become good pilgrims.

Mr. Great-Heart: You speak now in the warmth of your affections; will it, think you, be always thus with you? Besides, this is not communicated to every one, nor to every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that saw the blood run from the heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that instead of lamenting, they laughed at him, and, instead of becoming his disciples, did harden their hearts against him. So that all that you have, my daughters, you have by peculiar impression made by a divine contemplating upon what I have spoken to you. Remember, that 'twas told you, that the hen, by her common call, gives no meat to her chickens. This you have therefore by a special grace.

Now I saw in my dream, that they went on until they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and Presumption, lay and slept in when Christian went by on pilgrimage: and behold, they were hanged up in irons a little way off on the other side.

Mercy: Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, what are these three men; and for what are they hanged there?

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

Mercy: But could they persuade any to be of their opinion?

Mr. Great-Heart: Yes, they turned several out of the way. There was Slow-pace that they persuaded to do as they. They also prevailed with one Short-wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger-after-Lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, her name was Dull, to turn out of the way and become as they. Besides, they brought up an ill report of your Lord, persuading others that he was a hard taskmaster. They also brought up an evil report of the good land, saying, it was not half so good as some pretended it was. They also began to vilify his servants, and to count the best of them meddlesome, troublesome busybodies. Further, they would call the bread of God husks; the comforts of his children, fancies; the travel and labor of pilgrims, things to no purpose.

Christiana: In fact, said Christiana, if they were such, they shall never be bewailed by me: they have but what they deserve; and I think it is well that they stand so near the highway, that others may see and take warning. But had it not been well if their crimes had been engraven in some plate of iron or brass, and left here where they did their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men?

Mr. Great-Heart: So it is, as you may well perceive, if you will go a little to the wall.

Mercy: No, no; let them hang, and their names rot, and their crimes live forever against them. I think it a high favor that they were hanged before we came here: who knows else what they might have done to such poor women as we are? Then she turned it into a song, saying,

“Now then you three hang there, and be a sign To all that shall against the truth combine. And let him that comes after, fear this end, If to pilgrims he is not a friend. And you, my soul, of all such men beware, That to holiness opposers are.”

Thus they went on till they came to the foot of the hill Difficulty, where again the good Mr. Great-Heart took an occasion to tell them what happened there when Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the spring. Lo, says he, this is the spring that Christian drank of before he went up this hill: and then it was clear and good; but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not desirous that pilgrims here should quench their thirst (Ezekiel 34:18-19). Thereat Mercy said, And why so envious, trow? But, said their guide, it will do, if taken up and put into a vessel that is sweet and good; for then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the water come out by itself more clear. Thus therefore Christiana and her companions were compelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they drank thereof.

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

Christiana: “The way of transgressors is hard.” (Proverbs 13:15). It is a wonder that they can get into these ways without danger of breaking their necks.

Mr. Great-Heart: They will venture: indeed, if at any time any of the King's servants do happen to see them, and do call upon them, and tell them that they are in the wrong way, and do bid them beware of the danger, then they railingly return them answer, and say, “As for the word that you have spoken to us in the name of the King, we will not hearken to you; but we will certainly do whatever thing goes out of our own mouths.” (Jeremiah 44:16-17). In fact, if you look a little further, you shall see that these ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, but also by being hedged up: yet they will choose to go there.

Christiana: They are idle; they love not to take pains; up-hill way is unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled to them as it is written, “The way of the slothful man is full of thorns.” (Proverbs 15:19). Indeed, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare than to go up this hill, and the rest of this way to the city.

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and up the hill they went. But before they got to the top, Christiana began to pant, and said, I dare say this is a breathing hill; no marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls choose to themselves a smoother way.

Then said Mercy, I must sit down: also the least of the children began to cry. Come, come, said Great-Heart, sit not down here; for a little above is the Prince’s arbor. Then he took the little boy by the hand, and led him up there.

When they were come to the arbor, they were very willing to sit down, for they were all in a pelting heat. Then said Mercy, “How sweet is rest to them that labor.” (Matthew 11:28); and how good is the Prince of pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them! Of this arbor I have heard much; but I never saw it before. But here let us beware of sleeping; for, as I have heard, it cost poor Christian dear.

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

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

Christiana: Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here to rest your legs? for I have here a piece of pomegranate which Mr. Interpreter put into my hand just when I came out of his door; he gave me also a piece of an honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits. I thought he gave you something, said Mercy, because he called you aside. Yes, so he did, said the other; but, said Christiana, it shall be still as I said it should, when at first we came from home; you shall be a sharer in all the good that I have, because you so willingly did become my companion. Then she gave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And said Christiana to Mr. Great-Heart, Sir, will you do as we? But he answered, You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall return; much good may what you have do you: at home I eat the same every day.

THE FOURTH STAGE

Now when they had eaten and drank, and had chatted a little longer, their guide said to them, The day wears away; if you think good, let us prepare to be going. So they got up to go, and the little boys went before; But Christiana forgot to take her bottle of spirits with her, so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. Then said Mercy, I think this is a losing place: here Christian lost his roll, and here Christiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this? So their guide made answer, and said, The cause is sleep, or forgetfulness: some sleep when they should keep awake, and some forget when they should remember; and this is the very cause why often, at the resting-places, some pilgrims in some things come off losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they have already received, under their greatest enjoyments; but for want of doing so, oftentimes their rejoicing ends in tears, and their sunshine in a cloud: witness the story of Christian at this place.

When they were come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous met Christian, to persuade him to go back for fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and before it, towards the road, a broad plate with a copy of verses written thereon, and underneath the reason of raising up that stage in that place rendered. The verses were,

“Let him that sees this stage, take heed To his heart and tongue; Lest, if he do not, here he speed As some have long agone.”

The words underneath the verses were, “This stage was built to punish those upon, who, through timorousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go further on pilgrimage. Also, on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the tongue with a hot iron, for endeavoring to hinder Christian on his journey.”

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of the Beloved: “What shall be given to you, or what shall be done to you, you false tongue? Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper. (Psalms 120:3-4).

So they went on till they came within sight of the lions. Now Mr. Great-Heart was a strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion: But yet when they were come up to the place where the lions were, the boys, that went before, were now glad to cringe behind, for they were afraid of the lions; so they stepped back, and went behind. At this their guide smiled, and said, How now, my boys; do you love to go before when no danger does approach, and love to come behind so soon as the lions appear?

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

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said the pilgrims’ guide, These women and children are going on pilgrimage, and this is the way they must go; and go it they shall, in spite of you and the lions.

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

Now, to say the truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back them, this way had of late lain much unoccupied, and was almost grown over with grass.

Christiana: Then said Christiana, Though the highways have been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers have been made in times past to walk through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen, now I am risen a mother in Israel (Judges 5:6-7).

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

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

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

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

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

The Porter: Will you not go in, and stay till morning?

Mr. Great-Heart: No, I will return to my Lord tonight.

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

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

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

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

Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country, and of her kindred. And she said, I came from the city of Destruction. I am a widow woman, and my husband is dead, his name was Christian, the pilgrim. How! said the Porter, was he your husband? Yes, said she, and these are his children and this, pointing to Mercy, is one of my town's-women. Then the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there come to the door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble-Mind; and to her the Porter said, Go tell it within, that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are come here on pilgrimage. She went in, therefore, and told it. But oh, what noise for gladness was there within when the damsel did but drop that out of her mouth!

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

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible lions, they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to go to rest. In fact, said those of the family, refresh yourselves first with a morsel of meat; for they had prepared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto (Exodus 12:21; John 1:29); for the Porter had heard before of their coming, and had told it to them within. So when they had supped, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired they might go to rest.

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

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

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

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

Mercy: Hark, don’t you hear a noise?

Christiana: Yes, it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are here.

Mercy: Wonderful! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here! Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep.

So in the morning when they were awake, Christiana said to Mercy, What was the matter that you did laugh in your sleep tonight? I suppose you were in a dream.

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

Christiana: Yes, you laughed heartily; but please, Mercy, tell me your dream.

Mercy: I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was bemoaning the hardness of my heart. Now I had not sat there long but it seemed many were gathered about me to see me, and to hear what it was that I said. So they listened, and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this, some of them laughed at me, some called me fool, and some began to thrust me about. With that, it seemed I looked up and saw one coming with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, Mercy, what ails you? Now when he had heard me make my complaint, he said, Peace be to you; he also wiped my eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold (Ezekiel 16:8-11). He put a chain about my neck, and ear-rings in my ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head. Then he took me by the hand, and said, Mercy, come after me. So he went up, and I followed till we came at a golden gate. Then he knocked; and when they within had opened, the man went in, and I followed him up to a throne, upon which one sat; and he said to me, Welcome, daughter. The place looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or rather like the sun, and I thought that I saw your husband there; so I awoke from my dream. But did I laugh?

Christiana: Laugh! aye, and well you might to see yourself so well. For you must give me leave to tell you that it was a good dream; and that, as you have begun to find the first part true, so you shall find the second at last. “God speaks once, indeed twice, yet man perceives it not; in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls upon men, in slumberings upon the bed.” (Job 33:14-15). We need not, when abed, to lie awake to talk with God; he can visit us while we sleep, and cause us then to hear his voice. Our heart oftentimes wakes when we sleep, and God can speak to that, either by words, by proverbs, by signs and similitudes, as well as if one was awake.

Mercy: Well, I am glad of my dream; for I hope before long to see it fulfilled, to the making me laugh again.

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

Mercy: Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us willingly accept of the proffer. I am the more willing to stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with these maids: it seems Prudence, Piety, and Charity, have very comely and sober countenances.

Christiana: We shall see what they will do.

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

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

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

Charity: Aye, and that with a very good will, said Charity. So they consented, and stayed there about a month or above, and became very profitable one to another. And because Prudence would see how Christiana had brought up her children, she asked leave of her to catechize them. So she gave her free consent. Then she began with her youngest, whose name was James.

Prudence: And she said, Come, James, can you tell me who made you?

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

Prudence: Good boy. And can you tell who saved you?

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

Prudence: Good boy still. But how does God the Father save you?

James: By his grace.

Prudence: How does God the Son save you?

James: By his righteousness, death and blood, and life.

Prudence: And how does God the Holy Ghost save you?

James: By his illumination, by his renovation, and by his preservation.

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

Prudence: Then she said, Come, Joseph, (for his name was Joseph,) will you let me catechize you?

Joseph: With all my heart.

Prudence: What is man?

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

Prudence: What is supposed by this word, saved?

Joseph: That man, by sin, has brought himself into a state of captivity and misery.

Prudence: What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity?

Joseph: That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant that none can pull us out of its clutches but God; and that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him indeed out of this miserable state.

Prudence: What is God’s design in saving poor men?

Joseph: The glorifying of his name, of his grace, and justice, etc., and the everlasting happiness of his creature.

Prudence: Who are they that will be saved?

Joseph: They that accept of his salvation.

Prudence: Good boy, Joseph; your mother has taught you well, and you have listened to what she has said to you.

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest but one,

Prudence: Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should catechize you?

Samuel: Yes, indeed, if you please.

Prudence: What is heaven?

Samuel: A place and state most blessed, because God dwells there.

Prudence: What is hell?

Samuel: A place and state most woeful, because it is the dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death.

Prudence: Why would you go to heaven?

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

Prudence: A very good boy, and one that has learned well.

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

Matthew: With a very good will.

Prudence: I ask then, if there was ever any thing that had a being antecedent to or before God?

Matthew: No, for God is eternal; nor is there any thing, excepting himself, that had a being until the beginning of the first day. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is.

Prudence: What do you think of the Bible?

Matthew: It is the holy word of God.

Prudence: Is there nothing written therein but what you understand?

Matthew: Yes, a great deal.

Prudence: What do you do when you meet with places therein that you do not understand?

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

Prudence: How do you believe as touching the resurrection of the dead?

Matthew: I believe they shall rise the same that was buried; the same in nature, though not in corruption. And I believe this upon a double account: first, because God has promised it; secondly, because he is able to perform it.

Then said Prudence to the boys, You must still hearken to your mother; for she can teach you more. You must also diligently give ear to what good talk you shall hear from others: for your sakes do they speak good things. Observe also, and that with carefulness, what the heavens and the earth do teach you; but especially be much in the meditation of that book which was the cause of your father's becoming a pilgrim. I, for my part, my children, will teach you what I can while you are here, and shall be glad if you will ask me questions that tend to godly edifying.

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

Her mind also was to be always busying of herself in doing; for when she had nothing to do for herself, she would be making hose and garments for others, and would bestow them upon those that had need. And Mr. Brisk not knowing where or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that he found her never idle. I will warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to himself.

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

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

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

So the next time he comes he finds her at her old work, making things for the poor. Then said he, What, always at it? Yes, said she, either for myself or for others. And what can you earn a day? said he. I do these things, said she, that I may be rich in good works, laying up in store for myself a good foundation against the time to come, that I may lay hold on eternal life (1 Timothy 6:17-19). Why, prithee, what do you do with them? said he. Clothe the naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. So he forbore to come at her again. And when he was asked the reason why, he said, that Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions.

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

Mercy: I might have had husbands before now, though I spoke not of it to any; but they were such as did not like my conditions, though never did any of them find fault with my person. So they and I could not agree.

Prudence: Mercy in our days is but little set by any further than as to its name: the practice which is set forth by your conditions, there are but few that can abide.

Mercy: Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I will die unmarried, or my conditions shall be to me as a husband: for I cannot change my nature; and to have one who lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I live. I had a sister named Bountiful, that was married to one of these churls, but he and she could never agree; but because my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that is, to show kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried her down at the cross, and then turned her out of his doors.

Prudence: And yet he was a professor, I warrant you?

Mercy: Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the world is now full: but I am for none of them all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christiana: Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it costs.

Mr. Skill: Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made him a purge, but it was too weak; it was said it was made of the blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer, and some of the juice of hyssop (Hebrews 9:13, 19; 10:1-4). When Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, he made one to the purpose. It was made *ex carne et sanguine Christi* (John 6:54-57; Hebrews 9:14); (you know physicians give strange medicines to their patients:) and it was made into pills, with a promise or two, and a proportionable quantity of salt (Mark 9:49). Now, he was to take them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the tears of repentance (Zechariah 12:10).

When this potion was prepared, and brought to the boy, he was loath to take it, though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come, come, said the physician, you must take it. It goes against my stomach, said the boy. I must have you take it, said his mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. Pray, sir, said Christiana to Mr. Skill, how does it taste? It has no ill taste, said the doctor; and with that she touched one of the pills with the tip of her tongue. Oh, Matthew, said she, this potion is sweeter than honey. If you love your mother, if you love your brothers, if you love Mercy, if you love your life, take it. So, with much ado, after a short prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge; it caused him to sleep, and to rest quietly; it put him into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes. So in a little time he got up, and walked about with a staff, and would go from room to room, and talk with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, and how he was healed.

So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, Sir, what will content you for your pains and care to and of my child? And he said, You must pay the master of the College of Physicians (Hebrews 13:11-15), according to rules made in that case and provided.

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

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

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

Mr. Skill: These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure when one is sick. Indeed, I dare say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic as he should, it will make him live for ever (John 6:51). But, good Christiana, you must give these pills no other way but as I have prescribed; for if you do, they will do no good. So he gave to Christiana physic for herself, and her boys, and for Mercy; and bid Matthew take heed how he ate any more green plums; and kissed them, and went his way.

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, that if at any time they would, they should ask her some questions that might be profitable and she would say something to them.

Matthew: Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, why for the most part physic should be bitter to our palates.

Prudence: To show how unwelcome the word of God and the effects thereof are to a carnal heart.

Matthew: Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and cause to vomit?

Prudence: To show that the word, when it works effectually, cleanses the heart and mind. For look, what the one does to the body, the other does to the soul.

Matthew: What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go upwards, and by seeing the beams and sweet influences of the sun strike downwards?

Prudence: By the going up of the fire, we are taught to ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires. And by the sun sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences downwards, we are taught the Saviour of the world, though high, reaches down with his grace and love to us below.

Matthew: From where have the clouds their water?

Prudence: Out of the sea.

Matthew: What may we learn from that?

Prudence: That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God.

Matthew: Why do they empty themselves upon the earth?

Prudence: To show that ministers should give out what they know of God to the world.

Matthew: Why is the rainbow caused by the sun?

Prudence: To show that the covenant of God’s grace is confirmed to us in Christ.

Matthew: Why do the springs come from the sea to us through the earth?

Prudence: To show that the grace of God comes to us through the body of Christ.

Matthew: Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops of high hills?

Prudence: To show that the Spirit of grace shall spring up in some that are great and mighty, as well as in many that are poor and low.

Matthew: Why does the fire fasten upon the candle-wick?

Prudence: To show that unless grace does kindle upon the heart, there will be no true light of life in us.

Matthew: Why are the wick, and tallow and all, spent to maintain the light of the candle?

Prudence: To show that body and soul, and all, should be at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain in good condition that grace of God that is in us.

Matthew: Why does the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill?

Prudence: To nourish her young ones with her blood, and thereby to show that Christ the blessed so loved his young, (his people,) as to save them from death by his blood.

Matthew: What may one learn by hearing the cock to crow?

Prudence: Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's repentance. The cock's crowing shows also, that day is coming on: let, then, the crowing of the cock put you in mind of that last and terrible day of judgment.

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

When the family where Christiana was, saw that they had a purpose to go forward, they called the whole house together, to give thanks to their King for sending of them such profitable guests as these. Which done, they said to Christiana, And shall we not show you something, as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which you may meditate when you are upon the way? So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy, into the closet, and showed them one of the apples that Eve ate of, and that she also did give to her husband, and that for the eating of which they were both turned out of paradise, and asked her what she thought that was. Then Christiana said, It is food or poison, I know not which. So they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands and wondered. (Genesis 3:6; Romans 7:24)

Then they had her to a place, and showed her Jacob's ladder. (Genesis 28:12) Now at that time there were some angels ascending upon it. So Christiana looked and looked to see the angels go up: so did the rest of the company. Then they were going into another place, to show them something else; but James said to his mother, Pray, bid them stay here a little longer, for this is a curious sight. So they turned again, and stood feeding their eyes with this so pleasant a prospect.

After this, they had them into a place where did hang up a golden anchor. So they bid Christiana take it down; for said they, You shall have it with you, for it is of absolute necessity that you should, that you may lay hold of that within the veil (Hebrews 6:19), and stand steadfast in case you should meet with turbulent weather (Joel 3:16): so they were glad thereof.

Then they took them, and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father offered up Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood, the fire, and the knife, for they remain to be seen to this very day. (Genesis 22:9) When they had seen it, they held up their hands, and blessed themselves, and said, Oh, what a man for love to his Master, and for denial to himself, was Abraham!

After they had showed them all these things, Prudence took them into a dining room, where stood a pair of excellent virginals; so she played upon them, and turned what she had showed them into this excellent song, saying,

“Eve’s apple we have showed you; Of that be you aware: You have seen Jacob’s ladder too, Upon which angels are. An anchor you received have; But let not these suffice, Until with Abra’m you have gave Your best, a sacrifice.”

Now, about this time, one knocked at the door; so the Porter opened, and behold, Mr. Great-Heart was there. But when he was come in, what joy was there! for it came now afresh again into their minds, how but a while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-man the giant, and had delivered them from the lions.

Then said Mr. Great-Heart to Christiana and to Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn, together with a couple of pomegranates; he has also sent the boys some figs and raisins; to refresh you in your way.

Then they addressed themselves to their journey, and Prudence and Piety went along with them. When they came to the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if any of late went by. He said, No; only one, some time since, who also told me, that of late there had been a great robbery committed on the King's highway as you go. But, said he, the thieves are taken, and will shortly be tried for their lives. Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid; but Matthew said, Mother, fear nothing, as long as Mr. Great-Heart is to go with us, and to be our conductor.

Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am much obliged to you for all the kindnesses that you have showed to me since I came here; and also for that you have been so loving and kind to my children. I know not how to gratify your kindness; therefore, pray, as a token of my respect to you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold angel in his hand; and he made her a low obeisance, and said, “Let your garments be always white; and let your head want no ointment.” (Ecclesiastes 9:8) Let Mercy live and not die, and let not her works be few. (Deuteronomy 33:6) And to the boys he said, Do you fly youthful lusts, and follow after godliness with them that are grave and wise (2 Timothy 2:22): so shall you put gladness into your mother’s heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded. So they thanked the Porter, and departed.

THE FIFTH STAGE

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

“Through all my life your favor is So frankly showed to me, That in your house for evermore My dwelling-place shall be.”

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

“For why? The Lord our God is good; His mercy is forever sure; His truth at all times firmly stood, And shall from age to age endure.”

So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that made those curious notes (Song 2:11-12). They are, answered she, our country birds: they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at the spring, when the flowers appear, and the sun shines warm, and then you may hear them all day long. I often, said she, go out to hear them; we also oftentimes keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company for us when we are melancholy: also they make the woods, and groves, and solitary places, places desirable to be in.

By this time Piety was come again. So she said to Christiana, Look here, I have brought you a scheme of all those things that you have seen at our house, upon which you may look when you find yourself forgetful, and call those things again to remembrance for your edification and comfort.

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

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said Mr. Great-Heart, We need not be so afraid of this valley, for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we procure it to ourselves. It is true, Christian did here meet with Apollyon, with whom he had also a sore combat: but that fray was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going down the hill: for they that get slips there, must look for combats here. And hence it is, that this valley has got so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear that some frightful thing has befallen such an one in such a place, are of opinion that that place is haunted with some foul fiend, or evil spirit; when, alas! it is for the fruit of their doing, that such things do befall them there. This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any the crow flies over; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might find somewhere hereabouts something that might give us an account why Christian was so hardly beset in this place.

Then said James to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon; let us go and see what it is. So they went and found there written, “Let Christian’s slips, before he came here, and the battles that he met with in this place, be a warning to those that come after.” Lo, said their guide, did not I tell you that there was something hereabouts that would give intimation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place? Then turning to Christiana, he said, No disparagement to Christian more than to any others whose hap and lot it was. For it is easier going up than down this hill, and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave the good man; he is at rest: he also had a brave victory over his enemy. Let Him grant, that dwells above, that we fare no worse, when we come to be tried, than he.

But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground in all those parts. It is fat ground, and as you see, consists much in meadows; and if a man was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now, if he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that which would be delightful to him. Behold how green this valley is; also how beautified with lilies (Song 2:1). I have known many laboring men that have got good estates in this Valley of Humiliation; for God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5). Indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and does bring forth by handfuls. Some also have wished that the next way to their Father’s house were here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go over; but the way is the way, and there is an end.

Now, as they were going along, and talking, they espied a boy feeding his father’s sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favored countenance; and as he sat by himself, he sung. Hark, said Mr. Great-Heart, to what the shepherd’s boy says. So they listened and he said,

“He that is down, needs fear no fall; He that is low, no pride: He that is humble, ever shall Have God to be his guide.

I am content with what I have, Little be it or much; And, Lord, contentment still I crave, Because you save such.

Fulness to such, a burden is, That go on pilgrimage; Here little, and hereafter bliss, Is best from age to age.”

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

In this valley our Lord formerly had his country-house: he loved much to be here. He loved also to walk these meadows, for he found the air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise, and from the hurryings of this life: all states are full of noise and confusion; only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation as in other places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in but those that love a pilgrim’s life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon, and to enter with him in a brisk encounter, yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met with angels here (Hosea 12:4-5), have found pearls here (Matthew 13:46), and have in this place found the words of life (Proverbs 8:36).

Did I say our Lord had here in former days his country-house, and that he loved here to walk? I will add — in this place, and to the people that love and trace these grounds, he has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully paid them at certain seasons, for their maintenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their pilgrimage.

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

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

Mercy: Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this valley as I have been anywhere else in all our journey: the place, it seems to me, suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places, where there is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with wheels. It seems to me, here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what he is, from where he came, what he has done, and to what the King has called him. Here one may think, and break at heart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes become as the fish-pools in Heshbon (Song of Solomon 7:4). They that go rightly through this valley of Baca, make it a well; the rain that God sends down from heaven upon them that are here, also fills the pools. This valley is that from where also the King will give to his their vineyards; and they that go through it shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon (Psalms 84:5-7; Hosea 2:15).

Mr. Great-Heart: 'Tis true, said their guide; I have gone through this valley many a time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they have confessed the same. "To this man will I look," says the King, "even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembles at my word" (Isaiah 66:2).

Now they were come to the place where the aforementioned battle was fought: Then said the guide to Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place; on this ground Christian stood, and up there came Apollyon against him; and look. And, look, did I not tell you? here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day: Behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place, some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts. See, also, how they did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good their places against each other; how also with their by-blows they did split the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian did here play the man, and showed himself as stout as Hercules could, had he been there, even he himself. When Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called, the Valley of the Shadow of Death, to which we shall come anon. Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which is engraved this battle, and Christian's victory, to his fame, throughout all ages: So because it stood just on the way-side before them, they stepped to it, and read the writing, which word for word was this:

"Hard by here was a battle fought, Most strange, and yet most true; Christian and Apollyon fought Each other to subdue.

The man so bravely play'd the man, He made the fiend to fly; Of which a monument I stand, The same to testify."

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

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

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

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

Well, said Mr. Great-Heart, let them that are most afraid keep close to me. So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; but when it was come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered they what had been said some time ago: "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you" (James 4:7).

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. But they had not gone far, before Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a lion, and it came at a great padding pace after: and it had a hollow voice of roaring; and at every roar it gave, it made the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up and Mr. Great-Heart went behind, and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great-Heart addressed himself to give him battle. (1 Peter 5:8-9). But when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and came no further.

Then they went on again, and their conductor went before them, till they came to a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way; and before they could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and a darkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then said the pilgrims, Alas! what now shall we do? But their guide made answer, Fear not; stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also; so they stayed there, because their path was marred. They then also thought that they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire also and the smoke of the pit were much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what my poor husband went through. I have heard much of this place, but I never was here before now. Poor man! he went here all alone in the night; he had night almost quite through the way: also these fiends were busy about him, as if they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it; but none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean until they come in themselves. The heart knows its own bitterness; and a stranger does not intermingle with its joy. (Proverbs 14:10). To be here is a fearful thing.

Mr. Great-Heart: This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down into the deep. This is like being in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the bottoms of the mountains. Now it seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about us for ever. But let them that walk in darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God. (Isaiah 50:10). For my part, as I have told you already, I have gone often through this valley, and have been much harder put to it than now I am: and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not my own savior; but I trust we shall have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke not only these, but all the Satans in hell.

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliverance, for there was now no let in their way; no, not there where but now they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got through the valley. So they went on still, and met with great stinks and loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, It is not so pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house where we lay last.

O but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go through here, as it is to abide here, always; and for aught I know, one reason why we must go this way to the house prepared for us is, that our home might be the sweeter to us.

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

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

Now they drew towards the end of this way; and just there where Christian had seen the cave when he went by, out from there came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry; and he called Great-Heart by his name, and said to him, How many times have you been forbidden to do these things? Then said Mr. Great-Heart, What things? What things! said the giant; you know what things: but I will put an end to your trade.

But, pray, said Mr. Great-Heart, before we fall to it, let us understand why we must fight. Now the women and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do. Said the giant, You rob the country, and rob it with the worst of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr. Great-Heart; come to particulars, man.

Then said the giant, You practice the craft of a kidnapper; you gather up women and children, and carry them into a strange country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom. But now Great-Heart replied, I am a servant of the God of heaven; my business is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am commanded to do my endeavors to turn men, women, and children, from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God; and if this be indeed the ground of your quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as you will.

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

Then they sat down to rest them; but Mr. Great-Heart betook himself to prayer. Also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle did last.

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again; and Mr. Great-Heart, with a blow, fetched the giant down to the ground. No, hold, let me recover, quoth he: so Mr. Great-Heart fairly let him get up. So to it they went again, and the giant missed but little of all to breaking Mr. Great-Heart’s skull with his club.

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

When this was done, they among them erected a pillar, and fastened the giant’s head on it, and wrote under in letters that passengers might read,

“He that did wear this head was one That pilgrims did misuse; He stopped their way, he spared none, But did them all abuse; Until that I Great-Heart arose, The pilgrims guide to be; Until that I did him oppose That was their enemy.”

The Sixth Stage

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

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

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

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

Mr. Great-Heart: Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master himself was served, and yet he it was that conquered at last. (2 Corinthians 4:10-11; Romans 8:37)

Matthew: When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonderfully good to us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us out of the hand of this enemy. For my part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God any more, since he has now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony of his love. Then they got up, and went forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Great-Heart: Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide; for by this I know you are a cock of the right kind, for you have said the truth.

Mr. Honest: And by this also I know that you know what true pilgrimage is; for all others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any.

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

Mr. Honest: My name I cannot tell you, but I came from the town of Stupidity: it lies about four degrees beyond the city of Destruction.

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

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

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

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

Mr. Great-Heart: I believe it, father Honest, I believe it; for I know the thing is true.

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of charity, and asked them their names, and how they had fared since they set out on their pilgrimage.

Christiana: Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you have heard of; good Christian was my husband, and these four are his children. But can you think how the old gentleman was taken, when she told him who she was? He skipped, he smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying,

Mr. Honest: I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband rings all over these parts of the world: his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, had made his name famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked them of their names, which they told him. Then said he to them, Matthew, be like Matthew the tax collector, not in vice, but in virtue (Matthew 10:3). Samuel, said he, be like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer (Psalm 99:6). Joseph, said he, be like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flees from temptation (Genesis 39). And James, be like James the just, and like James the brother of our Lord (Acts 1:13). Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and with her sons. At that the old honest man said, Mercy is your name: by mercy you will be sustained and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault you in your way, until you come there where you will look the Fountain of mercy in the face with comfort. All this while the guide, Mr. Great-Heart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon his companions.

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

Mr. Honest: Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had the root of the matter in him; but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days.

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

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

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

Mr. Honest: Then you knew him to be a troublesome one.

Mr. Great-Heart: I did so; but I could very well bear it; for men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the conduct of such as he was.

Mr. Honest: Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed himself under your conduct.

Mr. Great-Heart: Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of where he had a desire to go. Every thing frightened him that he heard any body speak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I heard that he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for above a month together; nor did he dare, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though they many of them offered to lend him their hands. He would not go back again, neither. The Celestial City — he said he should die if he came not to it; and yet he was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that any body cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you, one sunshiny morning, I do not know how, he ventured, and so got over; but when he was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of Despond in his mind, a slough that he carried every where with him, or else he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the head of this way, and there also he stood a good while before he would venture to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back, and give place to others, and say that he was not worthy. For, all he got before some to the gate, yet many of them went in before him. There the poor man would stand shaking and shrinking; I dare say it would have pitied one's heart to have seen him. Nor would he go back again. At last he took the hammer that hung on the gate, in his hand, and gave a small rap or two; then one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. He that opened stepped out after him, and said, You trembling one, what do you want? With that he fell down to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him so faint, so he said to him, Peace be to you; up, for I have set open the door to you; come in, for you are blessed. With that he got up, and went in trembling; and when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been entertained there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way he should take. So he went on till he came out to our house; but as he behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my Master the Interpreter's door. He lay there about in the cold a good while, before he would adventure to call; yet he would not go back: and the nights were long and cold then. In fact, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my master to receive him, and grant him the comfort of his house, and also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself so chicken-hearted a man; and yet for all that he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved; indeed, so great was his dejection, that though he saw several others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I think I looked out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down about the door, I went out to him, and asked what he was: but, poor man, the water stood in his eyes; so I perceived what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the thing to our Lord: so he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in; but I dare say, I had hard work to do it. At last he came in; and I will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonderfully lovingly to him. There were but a few good bits at the table, but some of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented the note; and my Lord looked thereon, and said his desire should be granted. So when he had been there a good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to be a little more comfortable. For my Master, you must know, is one of very tender bowels, especially to them that are afraid; therefore he carried it so towards him as might tend most to his encouragement. Well, when he had had a sight of the things of the place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the city, my Lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle of spirits, and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him; but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud.

When we were come to where the three fellows were hanged, he said that he doubted that that would be his end also. Only he seemed glad when he saw the cross and the sepulchre. There I confess he desired to stay a little to look; and he seemed for a while after to be a little cheery. When he came to the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions: for you must know, that his troubles were not about such things as these; his fear was about his acceptance at last.

I got him in at the house Beautiful, I think, before he was willing. Also, when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels of the place; but he was ashamed to make himself much in company. He desired much to be alone; yet he always loved good talk, and often would get behind the screen to hear it. He also loved much to see ancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told me afterward, that he loved to be in those two houses from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the Interpreter, but that he dared not be so bold as to ask.

When we went also from the house Beautiful, down the hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my life; for he cared not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Indeed, I think there was a kind of sympathy between that Valley and him; for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than he was in that Valley.

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew in this valley (Lamentations 3:27-29). He would now be up every morning by break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the valley.

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

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

It would be too tedious to tell you of all; we will therefore only mention a passage or two more. When he was come to Vanity Fair, I thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair. I feared there we should have been both knocked on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was very wakeful. But when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he should be drowned forever, and so never see that face with comfort that he had come so many miles to behold.

And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable: the water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life; so he went over at last, not much above wetshod. When he was going up to the gate, I began to take leave of him, and to wish him a good reception above. So he said, I shall, I shall. Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more.

Mr. Honest: Then it seems he was well at last?

Mr. Great-Heart: Yes, yes, I never had doubt about him. He was a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept very low, and that made his life so burdensome to himself, and so troublesome to others (Psalm 88). He was, above many, tender of sin: he was so afraid of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny himself of that which was lawful, because he would not offend (Romans 14:21; 1 Corinthians 8:13).

Mr. Honest: But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all his days so much in the dark?

Mr. Great-Heart: There are two sorts of reasons for it. One is, the wise God will have it so: some must pipe, and some must weep (Matthew 11:16). Now Mr. Fearing was one that played upon the bass. He and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than the notes of other music are: though indeed, some say, the bass is the ground of music. And for my part, I care not at all for that profession which begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string that the musician usually touches is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune. God also plays upon this string first, when he sets the soul in tune for himself. Only there was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing; he could play upon no other music but this till towards his latter end.

[I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the ripening of the wits of young readers, and because, in the book of Revelation, the saved are compared to a company of musicians, that play upon their trumpets and harps, and sing their songs before the throne (Revelation 5:8; 14:2-3).]

Mr. Honest: He was a very zealous man, as one may see by the relation you have given of him. Difficulties, lions, or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all; it was only sin, death, and hell, that were to him a terror, because he had some doubts about his interest in that celestial country.

Mr. Great-Heart: You say right; those were the things that were his troublers; and they, as you have well observed, arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, not from weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe that, as the proverb is, he could have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his way; but the things with which he was oppressed, no man ever yet could shake off with ease.

Christiana: Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me good; I thought nobody had been like me. But I see there was some semblance between this good man and me: only we differed in two things. His troubles were so great that they broke out; but mine I kept within. His also lay so hard upon him, they made him that he could not knock at the houses provided for entertainment; but my trouble was always such as made me knock the louder.

Mercy: If I might also speak my heart, I must say that something of him has also dwelt in me. For I have ever been more afraid of the lake, and the loss of a place in paradise, than I have been of the loss other things. O, thought I, may I have the happiness to have a habitation there! 'Tis enough, though I part with all the world to win it.

Matthew: Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that made me think that I was far from having that within me which accompanies salvation. But if it was so with such a good man as he, why may it not also go well with me?

James: No fears no grace, said James. Though there is not always grace where there is the fear of hell, yet, to be sure, there is no grace where there is no fear of God.

Mr. Great-Heart: Well said, James; you have hit the mark. For the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom; and to be sure, they that lack the beginning have neither middle nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell.

“Well, Master Fearing, you did fear Your God, and were afraid Of doing any thing, while here, That would have you betrayed. And did you fear the lake and pit? Would others do so too! For, as for them that lack your wisdom, They do themselves undo.”

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk. For after Mr. Great-Heart had made an end with Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but his name was Mr. Self-will. He pretended himself to be a pilgrim, said Mr. Honest; but I persuade myself he never came in at the gate that stands at the head of the way.

Mr. Great-Heart: Had you ever any talk with him about it?

Mr. Honest: Yes, more than once or twice; but he would always be like himself, self-willed. He neither cared for man, nor argument, nor yet example; what his mind prompted him to, that he would do, and nothing else could he be got to do.

Mr. Great-Heart: Pray, what principles did he hold? For I suppose you can tell.

Mr. Honest: He held that a man might follow the vices as well as the virtues of pilgrims; and that if he did both, he should be certainly saved.

Mr. Great-Heart: How? If he had said, it is possible for the best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of the virtues of pilgrims, he could not much have been blamed; for indeed we are exempted from no vice absolutely, but on condition that we watch and strive. But this, I perceive, is not the thing; but if I understand you right, your meaning is, that he was of opinion that it was allowable so to be.

Mr. Honest: Aye, aye, so I mean, and so he believed and practiced.

Mr. Great-Heart: But what grounds had he for his so saying?

Mr. Honest: Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant.

Mr. Great-Heart: Please, Mr. Honest, present us with a few particulars.

Mr. Honest: So I will. He said, to have to do with other men's wives had been practiced by David, God's beloved; and therefore he could do it. He said, to have more women than one was a thing that Solomon practiced, and therefore he could do it. He said, that Sarah and the godly midwives of Egypt lied, and so did save Rahab, and therefore he could do it. He said, that the disciples went at the bidding of their Master, and took away the owner's ass, and therefore he could do so too. He said, that Jacob got the inheritance of his father in a way of guile and dissimulation, and therefore he could do so too.

Mr. Great-Heart: High base indeed! And are you sure he was of this opinion?

Mr. Honest: I heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, bring arguments for it, etc.

Mr. Great-Heart: An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world!

Mr. Honest: You must understand me rightly: he did not say that any man might do this; but that they who had the virtues of those that did such things, might also do the same.

Mr. Great-Heart: But what more false than such a conclusion? For this is as much as to say, that because good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind; or that if, because a child, by the blast of the wind, or for that it stumbled at a stone, fell down and defiled itself in the mire, therefore he might willfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who could have thought that any one could so far have been blinded by the power of lust? But what is written must be true: they "stumble at the word, being disobedient; to which also they were appointed" (1 Peter 2:8). His supposing that such may have the godly men's virtues, who addict themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the other. To eat up the sin of God's people (Hosea 4:8), as a dog licks up filth, is no sign that one is possessed with their virtues. Nor can I believe that one who is of this opinion, can at present have faith or love in him. But I know you have made strong objections against him; please, what can he say for himself?

Mr. Honest: Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion, seems abundantly more honest than to do it, and yet hold contrary to it in opinion.

Mr. Great-Heart: A very wicked answer. For though to let loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against such things, is bad; yet, to sin, and plead a toleration so to do, is worse: the one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other leads them into the snare.

Mr. Honest: There are many of this man's mind, that have not this man's mouth; and that makes going on pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is.

Mr. Great-Heart: You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented: but he that fears the King of paradise, shall come out of them all.

Christiana: There are strange opinions in the world. I know one that said, it was time enough to repent when we come to die.

Mr. Great-Heart: Such are not overwise; that man would have been loath, might he have had a week to run twenty miles in his life, to defer his journey to the last hour of that week.

Mr. Honest: You say right; and yet the generality of them who count themselves pilgrims, do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in this road many a day; and I have taken notice of many things.

I have seen some that have set out as if they would drive all the world before them, who yet have, in a few days, died as they in the wilderness, and so never got sight of the promised land. I have seen some that have promised nothing at first setting out to be pilgrims, and who one would have thought could not have lived a day, that have yet proved very good pilgrims. I have seen some who have run hastily forward, that again have, after a little time, run just as fast back again. I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at first, that after a while have spoken as much against it. I have heard some, when they first set out for paradise, say positively, there is such a place, who, when they have been almost there, have come back again, and said there is none. I have heard some vaunt what they would do in case they should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all.

Now, as they were thus on their way, there came one running to meet them, and said, Gentlemen, and you of the weaker sort, if you love life, shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you.

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said Mr. Great-Heart, They be the three that set upon Little-Faith heretofore. Well, said he, we are ready for them: so they went on their way. Now they looked at every turning when they should have met with the villains; but whether they heard of Mr. Great-Heart, or whether they had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims.

Christiana then wished for an inn to refresh herself and her children, because they were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, There is one a little before us, where a very honorable disciple, one Gaius, dwells (Romans 16:23). So they all concluded to turn in there; and the rather, because the old gentleman gave him so good a report. When they came to the door they went in, not knocking, for folks use not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie there that night.

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

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said Mr. Great-Heart, good Gaius, what do you have for supper? for these pilgrims have come far today, and are weary.

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

Mr. Great-Heart: We will be content with what you have in the house; for as much as I have proved you, you are never destitute of that which is convenient.

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

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

Mr. Great-Heart: This woman is the wife of one Christian, a pilgrim of former times; and these are his four children. The maid is one of her acquaintance, one that she has persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, and covet to tread in his steps; indeed, if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim has lain, or any print of his foot, it ministers joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the same.

Gaius: Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and are these Christian's children? I knew your husband's father, yes, also his father's father. Many have been good of this stock; their ancestors dwelt first at Antioch (Acts 11:26). Christian's progenitors (I suppose you have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy men. They have, above any that I know, showed themselves men of great virtue and courage for the Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that loved him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, that was one of the first of the family from where your husband sprang, was knocked on the head with stones (Acts 7:59-60). James, another of this generation, was slain with the edge of the sword (Acts 12:2). To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men anciently of the family from where your husband came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones; and Polycarp, that played the man in the fire. There was he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun for the wasps to eat; and he whom they put into a sack, and cast him into the sea to be drowned. It would be impossible utterly to count up all of that family who have suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be glad to see that your husband has left behind him four such boys as these. I hope they will bear up their father's name, and tread in their father's steps, and come to their father's end.

Mr. Great-Heart: Indeed, sir, they are likely lads: they seem to choose heartily their father's ways.

Gaius: That is it that I said. Therefore Christian's family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the ground, and yet to be numerous upon the face of the earth; let Christiana look out some damsels for her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, etc., that the name of their father, and the house of his progenitors, may never be forgotten in the world.

Mr. Honest: 'Tis pity his family should fall and be extinct.

Gaius: Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may; but let Christiana take my advice, and that is the way to uphold it. And, Christiana, said this innkeeper, I am glad to see you and your friend Mercy together here, a lovely couple. And if I may advise, take Mercy into a nearer relation to you: if she will, let her be given to Matthew your eldest son. It is the way to preserve a posterity in the earth. So this match was concluded, and in process of time they were married: but more of that hereafter.

Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on the behalf of women, to take away their reproach. For as death and the curse came into the world by a woman (Genesis 3), so also did life and health: God sent forth his Son, made of a woman (Galatians 4:4). Indeed, to show how much they that came after did abhor the act of the mother, this sex in the Old Testament coveted children, if happily this or that woman might be the mother of the Saviour of the world. I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women rejoiced in him, before either man or angel (Luke 1:42-46). I read not that ever any man did give to Christ so much as one groat; but the women followed him, and ministered to him of their substance (Luke 8:2-3). It was a woman that washed his feet with tears (Luke 7:37-50), and a woman that anointed his body at the burial (John 11:2; 12:3). They were women who wept when he was going to the cross (Luke 23:27), and women that followed him from the cross (Matthew 27:55-56; Luke 23:55), and sat over against his sepulchre when he was buried (Matthew 27:61). They were women that were first with him at his resurrection morning (Luke 24:1), and women that brought tidings first to his disciples that he was risen from the dead (Luke 24:22-23). Women therefore are highly favored, and show by these things that they are sharers with us in the grace of life.

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and sent one to lay the cloth, and the trenchers, and to set the salt and bread in order.

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this forerunner of the supper, begets in me a greater appetite for my food than I had before.

Gaius: So let all ministering doctrines to you in this life beget in you a greater desire to sit at the supper of the great King in his kingdom; for all preaching, books, and ordinances here, are but as the laying of the trenchers, and the setting of salt upon the board, when compared with the feast which our Lord will make for us when we come to his house.

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and a wave-breast were set on the table before them; to show that they must begin their meal with prayer and praise to God. The heave-shoulder David lifted up his heart to God with; and with the wave-breast, where his heart lay, he used to lean upon his harp when he played (Leviticus 7:32-34; 10:14-15; Psalm 25:1; Hebrews 13:15). These two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all ate heartily thereof.

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red as blood (Deuteronomy 32:14; Judges 9:13; John 15:5). So Gaius said to them, Drink freely; this is the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of God and man. So they drank and were merry.

The next was a dish of milk well crumbed; Gaius said, Let the boys have that, that they may grow thereby (1 Peter 2:1-2).

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your judgments and understandings. This was our Lord’s dish when he was a child: “Butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil, and choose the good.” (Isaiah 7:15).

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very good-tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, May we eat apples, since it was such by and with which the serpent beguiled our first mother?

Then said Gaius,

“Apples were they with which we were beguiled, Yet sin, not apples, has our souls defiled: Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood; To eat such, when commanded, does us good: Drink of his flagons then, you church, his dove, And eat his apples, who are sick of love.”

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I a while since was sick with the eating of fruit.

Gaius: Forbidden fruit will make you sick; but not what our Lord has tolerated.

While they were thus talking, they were presented with another dish, and it was a dish of nuts (Song of Solomon 6:11). Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender teeth, especially the teeth of children: which when Gaius heard, he said,

“Hard texts are nuts, (I will not call them cheaters,) Whose shells do keep the kernel from the eaters: Open the shells, and you shall have the meat; They here are brought for you to crack and eat.”

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long time, talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman, My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle:

“A man there was, though some did count him mad, The more he cast away, the more he had.”

Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius would say; so he sat still a while, and then thus replied:

“He who bestows his goods upon the poor, Shall have as much again, and ten times more.”

Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have found it out.

Oh, said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a great while: nothing teaches like experience. I have learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by experience that I have gained thereby. There is that scatters, and yet increases; and there is that withholds more than is meet, but it tends to poverty: There is that makes himself rich, yet has nothing; there is that makes himself poor, yet has great riches (Proverbs 11:24; 13:7).

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, Mother, this is a very good man’s house: let us stay here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be married here to Mercy, before we go any further. The which Gaius the host overhearing, said, With a very good will, my child.

So they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew to wife.

While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, would be making coats and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought a very good report upon the pilgrims.

But to return again to our story: After supper the lads desired a bed, for they were weary with travelling: Then Gaius called to show them their chamber; but said Mercy, I will have them to bed. So she had them to bed, and they slept well: but the rest sat up all night; for Gaius and they were such suitable company, that they could not tell how to part. After much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old Mr. Honest, he that put forth the riddle to Gaius, began to nod. Then said Great-Heart, What, sir, you begin to be drowsy; come, rub up, now here is a riddle for you. Then said Mr. Honest, Let us hear it. Then replied Mr. Great-heart,

“He that would kill, must first be overcome: Who live abroad would, first must die at home.”

Ha, said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one; hard to expound, and harder to practice. But come, landlord, said he, I will, if you please, leave my part to you: do you expound it, and I will hear what you say.

No, said Gaius, it was put to you, and it is expected you should answer it. Then said the old gentleman,

“He first by grace must conquered be, That sin would mortify; Who that he lives would convince me, To himself must die.”

It is right, said Gaius; good doctrine and experience teach this. For, first, until grace displays itself, and overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether without heart to oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan’s cords, by which the soul lies bound, how should it make resistance before it is loosed from that infirmity? Secondly, Nor will any one that knows either reason or grace, believe that such a man can be a living monument of grace that is a slave to his own corruptions. And now it comes into my mind, I will tell you a story worth the hearing. There were two men that went on pilgrimage; the one began when he was young, the other when he was old. The young man had strong corruptions to grapple with; the old man’s were weak with the decays of nature. The young man trod his steps as even as did the old one, and was every way as light as he. Who now, or which of them, had their graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike?

Mr. Honest: The young man’s, doubtless. For that which makes head against the greatest opposition, gives best demonstration that it is strongest; especially when it also holds pace with that which meets not with half so much, as to be sure old age does not. Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed themselves with this mistake; namely, taking the decays of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, old men that are gracious are best able to give advice to them that are young, because they have seen most of the emptiness of things: but yet, for an old and a young man to set out both together, the young one has the advantage of the fairest discovery of a work of grace within him, though the old man’s corruptions are naturally the weakest. Thus they sat talking till break of day.

Now, when the family were up, Christiana bid her son James that he should read a chapter; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr. Honest asked why it was said that the Saviour was to come “out of a dry ground;” and also, that “he had no form nor comeliness in him.”

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said Mr. Great-Heart, To the first I answer, because the church of the Jews, of which Christ came, had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of religion. To the second I say, the words are spoken in the person of unbelievers, who, because they want the eye that can see into our Prince’s heart, therefore they judge of him by the meanness of his outside; just like those who, not knowing that precious stones are covered over with a homely crust, when they have found one, because they know not what they have found, cast it away again, as men do a common stone.

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I know, Mr. Great-Heart is good at his weapons, if you please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a mile from here there is one Slay-good, a giant, that does much annoy the King’s highway in these parts; and I know whereabout his haunt is. He is master of a number of thieves: it would be well if we could clear these parts of him. So they consented and went: Mr. Great-Heart with his sword, helmet, and shield; and the rest with spears and staves.

When they came to the place where he was, they found him with one Feeble-mind in his hand, whom his servants had brought to him, having taken him in the way. Now the giant was rifling him, with a purpose after that to pick his bones; for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters.

Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-Heart and his friends at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded what they wanted.

Mr. Great-Heart: We want you; for we are come to revenge the quarrels of the many that you have slain of the pilgrims, when you have dragged them out of the King’s highway: therefore come out of your cave. So he armed himself and came out, and to battle they went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood still to take wind.

Slay-Good: Then said the giant, Why are you here on my ground?

Mr. Great-Heart: To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told you before. So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. Great-Heart give back; but he came up again, and in the greatness of his mind he let fly with such stoutness at the giant’s head and sides, that he made him let his weapon fall out of his hand. So he smote him, and slew him, and cut off his head, and brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeble-mind the pilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings. When they were come home, they showed his head to the family, and set it up, as they had done others before, for a terror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter.

Then they asked Mr. Feeble-Mind how he fell into his hands.

Mr. Feeble-Mind: Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you see: and because death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at home; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have traveled here from the town of Uncertain, where I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor yet of mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I came at the gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; neither objected he against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind; but gave me such things as were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness there: and because the hill of Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much relief from pilgrims, though none were willing to go so softly as I am forced to do: yet still as they came on, they bid me be of good cheer, and said, that it was the will of their Lord that comfort should be given to the feeble-minded (1 Thessalonians 5:14); and so went on their own pace. When I was come to Assault-lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter. But, alas, feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial; so he came up and took me. I conceived he would not kill me. Also when he had got me into his den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive again; for I have heard, that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heart whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of providence, to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am; but I have, as you see, escaped with life, for the which I thank my King as the author, and you as the means. Other troubles I also look for; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank him that loved me, I am fixed; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind.

Mr. Honest: Then said old Mr. Honest, Have not you, sometime ago, been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim?

Mr. Feeble-Mind: Acquainted with him! Yes, he came from the town of Stupidity, which lies four degrees to the northward of the city of Destruction, and as many off of where I was born: yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he was my uncle, my father's brother. He and I have been much of a temper: he was a little shorter than I, but yet we were much of a complexion.

Mr. Honest: I perceive you knew him, and I am apt to believe also that you were related one to another; for you have his whitely look, a cast like his with your eye, and your speech is much alike.

Mr. Feeble-Mind: Most have said so that have known us both: and, besides, what I have read in him I have for the most part found in myself.

Gaius: Come, sir, said good Gaius, be of good cheer; you are welcome to me, and to my house. Whatever you have a mind to, call for freely; and what you would have my servants do for you, they will do it with a ready mind.

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, This is an unexpected favor, and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. Did giant Slay-good intend me this favor when he stopped me, and resolved to let me go no further? Did he intend, that after he had rifled my pockets I should go to Gaius mine host? Yet so it is.

Now, just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in talk, there came one running, and called at the door, and said, that about a mile and a half off there was one Mr. Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where he was, with a thunderbolt.

Mr. Feeble-Mind: Alas! said Mr. Feeble-mind, is he slain? He overtook me some days before I came so far as here, and would be my company-keeper. He was also with me when Slay-good the giant took me, but he was nimble of his heels, and escaped; but it seems he escaped to die, and I was taken to live.

“What one would think does seek to slay outright, often delivers from the saddest plight. That very Providence whose face is death, does often to the lowly life bequeath. I taken was, he did escape and flee; hands crossed gave death to him and life to me.”

Now, about this time Matthew and Mercy were married; also Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife; after which time they yet stayed about ten days at Gaius' house, spending their time and the seasons like as pilgrims use to do.

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did eat and drink, and were merry. Now the hour was come that they must be gone; therefore Mr. Great-heart called for a reckoning. But Gaius told him, that at his house it was not the custom for pilgrims to pay for their entertainment. He boarded them by the year, but looked for his pay from the good Samaritan, who had promised him, at his return, whatever charge he was at with them, faithfully to repay him (Luke 10:34-35). Then said Mr. Great-heart to him,

Mr. Great-Heart: Beloved, you do faithfully whatever you do to the brethren, and to strangers, who have borne witness of your charity before the church, whom if you yet bring forward on their journey, after a godly sort, you shall do well (3 John 5:6). Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and his children, and particularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to drink by the way.

Now Mr. Feeble-mind, when they were going out of the door, made as if he intended to linger. The which, when Mr. Great-Heart espied, he said, Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with us: I will be your conductor, and you shall fare as the rest.

Mr. Feeble-Mind: Alas! I want a suitable companion. You are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am weak; I choose, therefore, rather to come behind, lest, by reason of my many infirmities, I should be both a burden to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that which others can bear. I shall like no laughing; I shall like no gay attire; I shall like no unprofitable questions. In fact, I am so weak a man as to be offended with that which others have a liberty to do. I do not yet know all the truth: I am a very ignorant Christian man. Sometimes, if I hear some rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me because I cannot do so too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among the strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy, or as a lamp despised; so that I know not what to do. “He that is ready to slip with his feet is as a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease.” (Job 12:5).

Mr. Great-Heart: But, brother, said Mr. Great-Heart, I have it in commission to comfort the feeble-minded, and to support the weak. You must needs go along with us; we will wait for you; we will lend you our help; we will deny ourselves of some things, both opinionative and practical, for your sake: we will not enter into doubtful disputations before you; we will be made all things to you, rather than you shall be left behind. (1 Thessalonians 5:14; Romans 14; 1 Corinthians 8:9-13; 9:22).

Now, all this while they were at Gaius’ door; and behold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-to-halt came by, with his crutches in his hand, and he also was going on pilgrimage.

Mr. Feeble-Mind: Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, Man, how did you come here? I was but now complaining that I had not a suitable companion, but you are according to my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt; I hope you and I may be some help.

Mr. Ready-to-Halt: I shall be glad of your company, said the other; and, good Mr. Feeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend you one of my crutches.

Mr. Feeble-Mind: In fact, said he, though I thank you for your good-will, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. However, I think when occasion is, it may help me against a dog.

Mr. Ready-to-Halt: If either myself or my crutches can do you a pleasure, we are both at your command, good Mr. Feeble-mind.

Thus, therefore, they went on. Mr. Great-Heart and Mr. Honest went before, Christiana and her children went next, and Mr. Feeble-mind came behind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt with his crutches. Then said Mr. Honest,

Mr. Honest: Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us some profitable things of some that have gone on pilgrimage before us.

Mr. Great-Heart: With a good will. I suppose you have heard how Christian of old did meet with Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also what hard work he had to go through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Also I think you cannot but have heard how Faithful was put to it by Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with one Discontent, and Shame; four as deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the road.

Mr. Honest: Yes, I have heard of all this; but indeed good Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame: he was an unwearied one.

Mr. Great-Heart: Aye; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all men had the wrong name.

Mr. Honest: But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met Talkative? That same was also a notable one.

Mr. Great-Heart: He was a confident fool; yet many follow his ways.

Mr. Honest: He had like to have beguiled Faithful.

Mr. Great-Heart: Aye, but Christian put him into a way quickly to find him out.

Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist met with Christian and Faithful, and prophesied to them what should befall them at Vanity Fair. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair.

Mr. Honest: Say you so? I dare say it was a hard chapter that then he did read to them.

Mr. Great-Heart: It was so, but he gave them encouragement withal. But what do we talk of them? They were a couple of lion-like men; they had set their faces like a flint. Do not you remember how undaunted they were when they stood before the judge?

Mr. Honest: Well: Faithful bravely suffered.

Mr. Great-Heart: So he did, and as brave things came on’t; for Hopeful, and some others, as the story relates it, were converted by his death.

Mr. Honest: Well, but pray go on; for you are well acquainted with things.

Mr. Great-Heart: Above all that Christian met with after he had passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch one.

Mr. Honest: By-ends! what was he?

Mr. Great-Heart: A very arch fellow, a downright hypocrite; one that would be religious, whichever way the world went; but so cunning, that he would be sure never to lose or suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for every fresh occasion, and his wife was as good at it as he. He would turn from opinion to opinion; indeed, and plead for so doing, too. But, so far as I could learn, he came to an ill end with his by-ends; nor did I ever hear that any of his children were ever of any esteem with any that truly feared God.

Now by this time they were come within sight of the town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So, when they saw that they were so near the town, they consulted with one another how they should pass through the town; and some said one thing, and some another. At last Mr. Great-Heart said, I have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of pilgrims through this town. Now, I am acquainted with one Mr. Mnason (Acts 21:16), a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If you think good, we will turn in there.

Content, said old Honest; Content, said Christiana; Content, said Mr. Feeble-mind; and so they said all. Now you must think it was eventide by that they got to the outside of the town; but Mr. Great-Heart knew the way to the old man's house. So there they came; and he called at the door, and the old man within knew his tongue as soon as ever he heard it; so he opened the door, and they all came in. Then said Mnason, their host, How far have you come today? So they said, from the house of Gaius our friend. I promise you, said he, you have gone a good stitch. You may well be weary; sit down. So they sat down.

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, good sirs? I dare say you are welcome to my friend.

Mr. Mnason: I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you welcome; and whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what we can to get it for you.

Mr. Honest: Our great want, a while since, was harbor and good company, and now I hope we have both.

Mr. Mnason: For harbor, you see what it is; but for good company, that will appear in the trial.

Mr. Great-Heart: Well, said Mr. Great-Heart, will you have the pilgrims up into their lodging?

Mr. Mnason: I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their respective places; and also showed them a very fair dining-room, where they might be, and sup together until the time should come to go to rest.

Now, when they were seated in their places, and were a little cheery after their journey, Mr. Honest asked his landlord if there was any store of good people in the town.

Mr. Mnason: We have a few: for indeed they are but a few when compared with them on the other side.

Mr. Honest: But how shall we do to see some of them? For the sight of good men to them that are going on pilgrimage, is like the appearing of the moon and stars to them that are sailing upon the seas.

Mr. Mnason: Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his daughter Grace came up. So he said to her, Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Love-saints, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house who have a mind this evening to see them. So Grace went to call them, and they came; and after salutation made, they sat down together at the table.

Then said Mr. Mnason their landlord, My neighbors, I have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my house; they are pilgrims: they come from afar, and are going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you think this is? pointing his finger to Christiana. It is Christiana, the wife of Christian, the famous pilgrim, who, with Faithful his brother, was so shamefully handled in our town. At that they stood amazed, saying, We little thought to see Christiana when Grace came to call us; therefore this is a very comfortable surprise. They then asked her of her welfare, and if these young men were her husband's sons. And when she had told them they were, they said, The King whom you love and serve make you as your father, and bring you where he is in peace.

Mr. Honest: Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat down) asked Mr. Contrite and the rest, in what posture their town was at present.

Mr. Contrite: You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time. 'T is hard keeping our hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered condition. He that lives in such a place as this is, and has to do with such as we have, has need of an item to caution him to take heed every moment of the day.

Mr. Honest: But how are your neighbors now for quietness?

Mr. Contrite: They are much more moderate now than formerly. You know how Christian and Faithful were used at our town; but of late, I say, they have been far more moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lies as a load upon them till now; for since they burned him, they have been ashamed to burn any more. In those days we were afraid to walk the street; but now we can show our heads. Then the name of a professor was odious; now, especially in some parts of our town, (for you know our town is large,) religion is counted honorable. Then said Mr. Contrite to them, Pray how fares it with you in your pilgrimage? How stands the country affected towards you?

Mr. Honest: It happens to us as it happens to wayfaring men: sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul; sometimes up hill, sometimes down hill; we are seldom at a certainty. The wind is not always on our backs, nor is every one a friend that we meet with in the way. We have met with some notable rubs already, and what are yet behind we know not; but for the most part, we find it true that has been talked of old, A good man must suffer trouble.

Mr. Contrite: You talk of rubs; what rubs have you met with?

Mr. Honest: No, ask Mr. Great-Heart, our guide; for he can give the best account of that.

Mr. Great-Heart: We have been beset three or four times already. First, Christiana and her children were beset by two ruffians, who they feared would take away their lives. We were beset by Giant Bloody-man, Giant Maul, and Giant Slay-good. Indeed, we did rather beset the last than were beset by him. And thus it was: after we had been some time at the house of Gaius mine host, and of the whole church, we were minded upon a time to take our weapons with us, and go see if we could light upon any of those that are enemies to pilgrims; for we heard that there was a notable one thereabouts. Now Gaius knew his haunt better than I, because he dwelt thereabout. So we looked, and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth of his cave: then we were glad, and plucked up our spirits. So we approached up to his den; and lo, when we came there, he had dragged, by mere force, into his net, this poor man, Mr. Feeble-mind, and was about to bring him to his end. But when he saw us, supposing, as we thought, he had another prey, he left the poor man in his hole, and came out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about him; but, in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, and his head cut off, and set up by the way-side for a terror to such as should after practise such ungodliness. That I tell you the truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion.

Mr. Feeble-Mind: Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, I found this true, to my cost and comfort: to my cost, when he threatened to pick my bones every moment; and to my comfort, when I saw Mr. Great-Heart and his friends, with their weapons, approach so near for my deliverance.

Mr. Holy-Man: Then said Mr. Holy-man, There are two things that they have need to possess who go on pilgrimage; courage, and an unspotted life. If they have not courage, they can never hold on their way; and if their lives be loose, they will make the very name of a pilgrim stink.

Mr. Love-Saints: Then said Mr. Love-saints, I hope this caution is not needful among you: but truly there are many that go upon the road, who rather declare themselves strangers to pilgrimage, than strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

Mr. Dare-Not-Lie: Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, 'Tis true. They have neither the pilgrim's weed, nor the pilgrim's courage; they go not uprightly, but all awry with their feet; one shoe goes inward, another outward; and their stockings are out behind: here a rag, and there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord.

Mr. Penitent: These things, said Mr. Penitent, they ought to be troubled for; nor are the pilgrims like to have that grace put upon them and their Pilgrim's Progress as they desire, until the way is cleared of such spots and blemishes. Thus they sat talking and spending the time until supper was set upon the table, to which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies: so they went to rest.

Now they stayed in the fair a great while, at the house of Mr. Mnason, who in process of time gave his daughter Grace to Samuel, Christian's son, to wife, and his daughter Martha to Joseph.

The time, as I said, that they stayed here, was long, for it was not now as in former times. Therefore the pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people of the town, and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, labored much for the poor: so their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was there an ornament to her profession. And, to say the truth for Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all of a very good nature, and did much good in their places. They were also all of them very fruitful; so that Christian's name, as was said before, was like to live in the world.

While they lay here, there came a monster out of the woods, and slew many of the people of the town. It would also carry away their children, and teach them to suck its whelps. Now, no man in the town dared so much as face this monster; but all fled when they heard the noise of his coming.

The monster was like no one beast on the earth. Its body was like a dragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns. It made great havoc of children, and yet it was governed by a woman (Revelation 17:3). This monster propounded conditions to men; and such men as loved their lives more than their souls, accepted of those conditions. So they came under.

Now Mr. Great-Heart, together with those who came to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they might deliver the people of this town from the paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent.

Then did Mr. Great-Heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their weapons, go forth to meet him. Now the monster at first was very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with great disdain; but they so belabored him, being sturdy men at arms, that they made him make a retreat: so they came home to Mr. Mnason's house again.

The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in, and to make his attempts upon the children of the people of the town. At these seasons did these valiant worthies watch him, and did still continually assault him; insomuch that in process of time he became not only wounded, but lame. Also he has not made that havoc of the townsmen's children as formerly he had done; and it is verily believed by some that this beast will die of his wounds.

This, therefore, made Mr. Great-Heart and his fellows of great fame in this town; so that many of the people that wanted their taste of things, yet had a reverent esteem and respect for them. Upon this account, therefore, it was, that these pilgrims got not much hurt here. True, there were some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole, nor understand any more than a beast; these had no reverence for these men, and took no notice of their valor and adventures.

The Seventh Stage

Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on their way; therefore they prepared for their journey. They sent for their friends; they conferred with them; they had some time set apart to commit each other to the protection of their Prince. There were again that brought them of such things as they had, that were fit for the weak and the strong, for the women and the men, and so loaded them with such things as were necessary (Acts 28:10). Then they set forward on their way; and their friends accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again committed each other to the protection of their King, and parted.

They therefore that were of the pilgrims' company went on, and Mr. Great-Heart went before them. Now, the women and children being weakly, they were forced to go as they could bear; by which means Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind, had more to sympathize with their condition.

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to the place where Faithful was put to death. Therefore they made a stand, and thanked him that had enabled him to bear his cross so well; and the rather, because they now found that they had a benefit by such a manly suffering as his was.

They went on therefore after this a good way further, talking of Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful joined himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead.

Now they were come up with the hill Lucre, where the silver mine was which took Demas off from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and perished; therefore they considered that. But when they were come to the old monument that stood over against the hill Lucre, namely, to the pillar of salt, that stood also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, they marveled, as did Christian before, that men of such knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were, should be so blinded as to turn aside here. Only they considered again, that nature is not affected with the harms that others have met with, especially if that thing upon which they look has an attracting virtue upon the foolish eye.

I saw now, that they went on till they came to the river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains; to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against surfeits; where the meadows are green all the year long, and where they might lie down safely (Psalm 23:2).

By this river-side, in the meadows, there were cotes and folds for sheep, a house built for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here one that was entrusted with them, who could have compassion; and that could gather these lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that were with young (Hebrews 5:2; Isaiah 40:11). Now, to the care of this man Christiana admonished her four daughters to commit their little ones, that by these waters they might be housed, harbored, succored, and nourished, and that none of them might be lacking in time to come. This man, if any of them go astray, or be lost, will bring them again; he will also bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen them that are sick (Jeremiah 23:4; Ezekiel 34:11-16). Here they will never want meat, drink, and clothing; here they will be kept from thieves and robbers; for this man will die before one of those committed to his trust shall be lost. Besides, here they shall be sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to walk in right paths, and that you know is a favor of no small account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit: fruit, not like that which Matthew ate of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's garden; but fruit that procures health where there is none, and that continues and increases it where it is. So they were content to commit their little ones to him; and that which was also an encouragement to them so to do, was, for that all this was to be at the charge of the King, and so was as a hospital to young children and orphans.

Now they went on. And when they were come to By-path Meadow, to the stile over which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down, and consulted what was best to be done: namely, now they were so strong, and had got such a man as Mr. Great-Heart for their conductor, whether they had not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at liberty before they went any further. So one said one thing, and another said the contrary. One questioned if it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground; another said they might, provided their end was good; but Mr. Great-Heart said, Though that assertion offered last cannot be universally true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome evil, to fight the good fight of faith: and I pray, with whom should I fight this good fight, if not with Giant Despair? I will therefore attempt the taking away of his life, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. Then said he, Who will go with me? Then said old Honest, I will. And so will we too, said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, Joseph, and James; for they were young men and strong (1 John 2:13-14). So they left the women in the road, and with them Mr. Feeble-mind, and Mr. Ready-to-halt with his crutches, to be their guard until they came back; for in that place the Giant Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a little child might lead them (Isaiah 11:6).

So Mr. Great-Heart, old Honest, and the four young men, went to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant Despair. When they came at the castle gate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the old Giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife follows. Then said he, Who and what is he that is so hardy, as after this manner to molest the Giant Despair? Mr. Great-Heart replied, It is I, Great-Heart, one of the King of the Celestial country's conductors of pilgrims to their place; and I demand of you that you open your gates for my entrance: prepare yourself also to fight, for I have come to take away your head; and to demolish Doubting Castle.

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no man could overcome him: and again thought he, Since heretofore I have made a conquest of angels, shall Great-Heart make me afraid? So he harnessed himself, and went out. He had a cap of steel upon his head, a breast-plate of fire girded to him, and he came out in iron shoes, with a great club in his hand. Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind and before: also, when Diffidence the giantess came up to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at one blow. Then they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was brought down to the ground, but was very loath to die. He struggled hard, and had, as they say, as many lives as a cat; but Great-Heart was his death, for he left him not till he had severed his head from his shoulders.

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and that you know might with ease be done, since Giant Despair was dead. They were seven days in destroying of that; and in it of pilgrims they found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved to death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter: these two they saved alive. But it would have made you wonder to have seen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the castle yard, and how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was.

When Mr. Great-Heart and his companions had performed this exploit, they took Mr. Despondency, and his daughter Much-afraid, into their protection; for they were honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting Castle to that tyrant Giant Despair. They, therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant, (for his body they had buried under a heap of stones,) and down to the road and to their companions they came, and showed them what they had done. Now, when Feeble-mind and Ready-to-halt saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, they were very cheerful and merry. Now Christiana, if need was, could play upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the lute: so, since they were so merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despondency's daughter, Much-afraid, by the hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could not dance without one crutch in his hand, but I promise you he footed it well: also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the music handsomely.

As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not so much to him; he was for feeding rather than dancing, for that he was almost starved. So Christiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits for present relief, and then prepared him something to eat; and in a little time the old gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived.

Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, Mr. Great-Heart took the head of Giant Despair, and set it upon a pole by the highway-side, right over against the pillar that Christian erected for a caution to pilgrims that came after, to take heed of entering into his grounds.

Then he writ under it upon a marble stone these verses following: "This is the head of him whose name only in former times did pilgrims terrify. His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife brave Mr. Great-Heart has bereft of life. Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid, Great-Heart for them also the man has played. Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye up here, may his scruples satisfy. This head also, when doubting cripples dance, does show from fears they have deliverance."

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they went forward, and went on till they came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties of the place. They also acquainted themselves with the shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, to the Delectable Mountains.

Now the shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great-Heart, (for with him they were well acquainted,) they said to him, Good sir, you have got a goodly company here; pray where did you find all these?

Then Mr. Great-Heart replied,

"First, here is Christiana and her train, her sons, and her sons' wives, who, like the wain, keep by the pole, and do by compass steer from sin to grace, else they had not been here. Next here's old Honest come on pilgrimage, Ready-to-halt too, who I dare engage true-hearted is, and so is Feeble-mind, who willing was not to be left behind. Despondency, good man, is coming after, and so also is Much-afraid, his daughter. May we have entertainment here, or must we further go? Let's [reconstructed: know] where to trust."

Then said the shepherds, This is a comfortable company. You are welcome to us; for we have for the feeble, as well as for the strong. Our Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of these; therefore Infirmity must not be a block to our entertainment (Matthew 25:40). So they had them to the palace door, and then said to them, Come in, Mr. Feeble-Mind; come in Mr. Ready-to-halt; Come in, Mr. Despondency, and Mrs. Much-afraid his daughter. These, Mr. Great-Heart, said the shepherds to the guide, we call in by name, for that they are most subject to draw back; but as for you, and the rest that are strong, we leave you to your usual liberty. Then said Mr. Great-Heart, This day I see that grace does shine in your faces, and that you are my Lord's shepherds indeed; for that you have not pushed these diseased neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewn their way into the palace with flowers, as you should (Ezekiel 34:21).

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-Heart and the rest did follow. When they were also set down, the shepherds said to those of the weaker sort, What is it that you would have? for, said they, all things must be managed here to the supporting of the weak, as well as to the warning of the unruly. So they made them a feast of things easy of digestion, and that were pleasant to the palate and nourishing; the which when they had received, they went to their rest, each one respectively to his proper place.

When morning was come, because the mountains were high and the day clear, and because it was the custom of the shepherds to show the pilgrims before their departure some rarities, therefore, after they were ready, and had refreshed themselves, the shepherds took them out into the fields, and showed them first what they had shown to Christian before.

Then they had them to some new places. The first was Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a man at a distance that tumbled the hills about with words. Then they asked the shepherds what that should mean. So they told them, that that man was the son of one Mr. Great-grace, of whom you read in the first part of the records of the Pilgrim's Progress; and he is set there to teach pilgrims how to believe down, or to tumble out of their ways, what difficulties they should meet with, by faith (Mark 11:23-24). Then said Mr. Great-Heart, I know him; he is a man above many.

Then they had them to another place, called Mount Innocence. And there they saw a man clothed all in white; and two men, Prejudice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt upon him. Now behold, the dirt, whatever they cast at him, would in a little time fall off again, and his garment would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast there. Then said the pilgrims, What means this? The shepherds answered, This man is named Godlyman, and this garment is to show the innocency of his life. Now, those that throw dirt at him are such as hate his well-doing; but, as you see the dirt will not stick upon his clothes, so it shall be with him that lives innocently in the world. Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, they labor all in vain; for God, by that a little time is spent, will cause that their innocence shall break forth as the light, and their righteousness as the noonday.

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, where they showed them a man that had a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he cut coats and garments for the poor that stood about him; yet his bundle or roll of cloth was never the less. Then said they, What should this be? This is, said the shepherds, to show you, that he who has a heart to give of his labor to the poor, shall never lack the means. He that waters shall be watered himself. And the cake that the widow gave to the prophet did not cause that she had the less in her barrel.

They had them also to the place where they saw one Fool and one Want-wit washing an Ethiopian, with intention to make him white; but the more they washed him, the blacker he was. Then they asked the shepherds what that should mean. So they told them, saying, Thus it is with the vile person; all means used to get such a one a good name, shall in conclusion tend but to make him more abominable. Thus it was with the Pharisees; and so it shall be with all hypocrites.

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana her mother, Mother, I would, if it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that commonly called the By-way to hell. So her mother broke her mind to the shepherds. Then they went to the door; it was on the side of a hill; and they opened it, and bid Mercy listen a while. So she listened, and heard one saying, Cursed be my father for holding of my feet back from the way of peace and life. Another said, Oh that I had been torn in pieces before I had, to save my life, lost my soul! And another said, If I were to live again, how would I deny myself, rather than to come to this place! Then there was as if the very earth groaned and quaked under the feet of this young woman for fear; so she looked white, and came trembling away, saying, Blessed be he and she that is delivered from this place!

Now, when the shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had them back to the palace, and entertained them with what the house would afford. But Mercy, being a young and married woman, longed for something that she saw there, but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for she looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, off which I cannot take my mind; if, therefore, I have it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then said her mother, I will mention your wants to the shepherds, and they will not deny you. But she said, I am ashamed that these men should know that I longed. Nay, my daughter, said she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a thing as that. So Mercy said, Then mother, if you please, ask the shepherds if they are willing to sell it.

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man, one way, with his own features exactly; and turn it but another way, and it would show one the very face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims himself. Indeed, I have talked with them that can tell, and they have said that they have seen the very crown of thorns upon his head by looking in that glass; they have in it also seen the holes in his hands, his feet, and his side. Indeed, such an excellency is there in this glass, that it will show him to one where they have a mind to see him, whether living or dead; whether in earth, or in heaven; whether in a state of humiliation, or in his exaltation; whether coming to suffer, or coming to reign (James 1:23; 1 Corinthians 13:12; 2 Corinthians 3:18).

Christiana therefore went to the shepherds apart — now the names of the shepherds were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere — and said to them, There is one of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think longs for something that she has seen in this house; and she thinks that she shall miscarry if she should by you be denied.

Experience: Call her, call her, she shall assuredly have what we can help her to. So they called her, and said to her, Mercy, what is that thing you would want? Then she blushed, and said, The great glass that hangs up in the dining-room. So Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was given her. Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks, and said, By this I know that I have obtained favor in your eyes.

They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and to their husbands great commendations, for that they had joined with Mr. Great-Heart in the slaying of Giant Despair, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle.

About Christiana's neck the shepherds put a bracelet, and so did they about the necks of her four daughters; also they put ear-rings in their ears, and jewels on their foreheads.

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions which before were given to Christian and his companion. The reason was, for that these had Great-Heart to be their guide, who was one that was well acquainted with things, and so could give them their cautions more seasonably, namely, even when the danger was nigh the approaching. What cautions Christian and his companion had received of the shepherds, they had also lost by that the time was come that they had need to put them in practice. Therefore, here was the advantage that this company had over the other.

From there they went on singing, and they said,

“Behold how fitly are the stages set For their relief that pilgrims are become, And how they us receive without one let, That make the other life our mark and home!

What novelties they have to us they give, That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live; They do upon us, too, such things bestow, That show we pilgrims are, wherever we go.”

THE EIGHTH STAGE

When they were gone from the shepherds, they quickly came to the place where Christian met with one Turn-away that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. Therefore of him Mr. Great-Heart their guide now put them in mind, saying, This is the place where Christian met with one Turn-away, who carried with him the character of his rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man; he would hearken to no counsel, but once a falling, persuasion could not stop him. When he came to the place where the cross and sepulchre were, he did meet with one that did bid him look there; but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and said he was resolved to go back to his own town. Before he came to the gate, he met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him, to turn him into the way again; but this Turn-away resisted him, and having done much despite to him, he got away over the wall, and so escaped his hand.

Then they went on; and just at the place where Little-Faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his sword drawn, and his face all over with blood. Then said Mr. Great-Heart, Who are you? The man made answer, saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, as I was in my way, there were three men that did beset me, and propounded to me these three things: 1. Whether I would become one of them. 2. Or go back from where I came. 3. Or die upon the place (Proverbs 1:11-14). To the first I answered, I had been a true man for a long season, and therefore it could not be expected that I should now cast in my lot with thieves. Then they demanded what I would say to the second. So I told them that the place from where I came, had I not found incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at all; but finding it altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I told them my life cost far more dear than that I should lightly give it away. Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to my choice; therefore at your peril be it if you meddle. Then these three, namely, Wild-head, Inconsiderate, and Pragmatic, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them. So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their valor, and have also carried away with them some of mine. They are but just now gone; I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they betook themselves to flight.

Mr. Great-Heart: But here was great odds, three against one.

Valiant-for-Truth: ‘Tis true; but little and more are nothing to him that has the truth on his side: “Though an host should encamp against me,” said one (Psalm 27:3), “my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident,” etc. Besides, said he, I have read in some records, that one man has fought an army: and how many did Samson slay with the jawbone of an ass!

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said the guide, Why did you not cry out, that some might have come in for your succor?

Valiant-for-Truth: So I did to my King, who I knew could hear me, and afford invisible help, and that was sufficient for me.

Mr. Great-Heart: Then said Great-Heart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, You have worthily behaved yourself; let me see your sword. So he showed it to him.

When he had taken it in his hand, and looked at it awhile, he said, Ha, it is a right Jerusalem blade.

Valiant-for-Truth: It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, with a hand to wield it, and skill to use it, and he may venture upon an angel with it. He need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edge will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and soul, and spirit, and all (Hebrews 4:12).

Mr. Great-Heart: But you fought a great while; I wonder you was not weary.

Valiant-for-Truth: I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand; and then they were joined together as if a sword grew out of my arm; and when the blood ran through my fingers, then I fought with most courage.

Mr. Great-Heart: You have done well; you have resisted to blood, striving against sin. You shall abide by us, come in and go out with us; for we are your companions. Then they took him and washed his wounds, and gave him of what they had, to refresh him: and so they went together.

Now, as they went on, because Mr. Great-Heart was delighted in him, (for he loved one greatly that he found to be a man of his hands,) and because there were in company those that were feeble and weak, therefore he questioned with him about many things; as first, what countryman he was.

Valiant-for-Truth: I am of Dark-land; for there was I born, and there my father and mother are still.

Mr. Great-Heart: Dark-land! said the guide; does not that lie on the same coast with the City of Destruction?

Valiant-for-Truth: Yes, it does. Now that which caused me to come on pilgrimage was this. We had one Mr. Tell-true come into our parts, and he told it about what Christian had done, that went from the City of Destruction; namely, how he had forsaken his wife and children, and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's life. It was also confidently reported, how he had killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in his journey; and how he got through to where he intended. It was also told what welcome he had at all his Lord's lodgings, especially when he came to the gates of the Celestial City; for there, said the man, he was received with sound of trumpet by a company of shining ones. He told also how all the bells in the city did ring for joy at his reception, and what golden garments he was clothed with; with many other things that now I shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian and his travels that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him; nor could father or mother stay me. So I got from them, and am come thus far on my way.

Mr. Great-Heart: You came in at the gate, did you not?

Valiant-for-Truth: Yes, yes; for the same man also told us, that all would be nothing if we did not begin to enter this way at the gate.

Mr. Great-Heart: Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the pilgrimage of your husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near.

Valiant-for-Truth: Why, is this Christian's wife?

Mr. Great-Heart: Yes, that it is; and these also are his four sons.

Valiant-for-Truth: What, and going on pilgrimage too?

Mr. Great-Heart: Yes, verily, they are following after.

Valiant-for-Truth: It glads me at the heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he shall see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the gates into the Celestial City.

Mr. Great-Heart: Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; for, next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his wife and children.

Valiant-for-Truth: But now you are upon that, pray let me hear your opinion about it. Some make a question whether we shall know one another when we are there.

Mr. Great-Heart: Do you think they shall know themselves then, or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in that bliss? And if they think they shall know and do this, why not know others, and rejoice in their welfare also? Again, since relations are our second self, though that state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally concluded that we shall be more glad to see them there than to see they are wanting?

Valiant-for-Truth: Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have you any more things to ask me about my beginning to come on pilgrimage?

Mr. Great-Heart: Yes; were your father and mother willing that you should become a pilgrim?

Valiant-for-Truth: O no; they used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at home.

Mr. Great-Heart: Why, what could they say against it?

Valiant-for-Truth: They said it was an idle life; and if I myself were not inclined to sloth and laziness, I would never countenance a pilgrim's condition.

Mr. Great-Heart: And what did they say else?

Valiant-for-Truth: Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way; indeed, the most dangerous way in the world, said they, is that which the pilgrims go.

Mr. Great-Heart: Did they show you wherein this way is so dangerous?

Valiant-for-Truth: Yes; and that in many particulars.

Mr. Great-Heart: Name some of them.

Valiant-for-Truth: They told me of the Slough of Despond, where Christian was well-nigh smothered. They told me, that there were archers standing ready in Beelzebub-castle to shoot them who should knock at the Wicket-gate for entrance. They told me also of the wood and dark mountains; of the hill Difficulty; of the lions; and also of the three giants, Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. They said, moreover, that there was a foul fiend haunted the Valley of Humiliation; and that Christian was by him almost bereft of life. Besides, said they, you must go over the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the light is darkness, where the way is full of snares, pits, traps, and gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the pilgrims met with here. Further they said I must go over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous; and that after all this I should find a river, over which there was no bridge; and that that river did lie between me and the Celestial country.

Mr. Great-Heart: And was this all?

Valiant-for-Truth: No. They also told me that this way was full of deceivers, and of persons that lay in wait there to turn good men out of the path.

Mr. Great-Heart: But how did they make that out?

Valiant-for-Truth: They told me that Mr. Worldly Wiseman did lie there in wait to deceive. They said also, that there were Formality and Hypocrisy continually on the road. They said also, that By-ends, Talkative, or Demas, would go near to gather me up; that the Flatterer would catch me in his net; or that, with green-headed Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate, from where he was sent back to the hole that was in the side of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell.

Mr. Great-Heart: I promise you this was enough to discourage you; but did they make an end here?

Valiant-for-Truth: No, stay. They told me also of many that had tried that way of old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find something of the glory there that so many had so much talked of from time to time, and how they came back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in that path, to the satisfaction of all the country. And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with several more; who, they said, had some of them gone far to see what they could find, but not one of them had found so much advantage by going as amounted to the weight of a feather.

Mr. Great-Heart: Said they any thing more to discourage you?

Valiant-for-Truth: Yes. They told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim, and how he found his way so solitary that he never had a comfortable hour therein; also, that Mr. Despondency had like to have been starved therein: indeed, and also (which I had almost forgot) that Christian himself, about whom there has been such a noise, after all his adventures for a celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, and never went a foot further; however it was smothered up.

Mr. Great-Heart: And did none of these things discourage you?

Valiant-for-Truth: No; they seemed but as so many nothings to me.

Mr. Great-Heart: How came that about?

Valiant-for-Truth: Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-true had said; and that carried me beyond them all.

Mr. Great-Heart: Then this was your victory, even your faith.

Valiant-for-Truth: It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, got into the way, fought all that set themselves against me, and, by believing, am come to this place.

“Who would true valor see, Let him come here; One here will constant be, Come wind, come weather There’s no discouragement Shall make him once relent His first avow’d intent To be a pilgrim.

Whoso beset him round With dismal stories, Do but themselves confound; His strength the more is. No lion can him fright, He’ll with a giant fight, But he will have a right To be a pilgrim.

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend Can daunt his spirit; He knows he at the end Shall life inherit. Then fancies fly away, He’ll not fear what men say; He’ll labor night and day To be a pilgrim.

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy. And that place was all grown over with briars and thorns, excepting here and there, where was an enchanted arbor, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, it is a question, some say, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this forest, therefore, they went, both one and another, and Mr. Great-Heart went before, for that he was the guide; and Mr. Valiant-for-truth came behind, being rear-guard, for fear lest peradventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon their rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand; for they knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as well as they could. Feeble-mind, Mr. Great-Heart commanded should come up after him; and Mr. Despondency was under the eye of Mr. Valiant.

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and darkness fell upon them all; so that they could scarce, for a great while, the one see the other. Therefore they were forced, for some time, to feel one for another by words; for they walked not by sight. But any one must think, that here was but sorry going for the best of them all; but how much worse for the women and children, who both of feet and heart were but tender! Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that led in the front, and of him that brought them up behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along.

The way also here was very wearisome, through dirt and slabbiness. Nor was there, on all this ground, so much as one inn or victualling-house wherein to refresh the feebler sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and puffing, and sighing, while one tumbles over a bush, another sticks fast in the dirt, and the children, some of them, lost their shoes in the mire; while one cries out, I am down; and another, Ho, where are you? and a third, The bushes have got such fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them.

Then they came at an arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the pilgrims; for it was finely wrought above-head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, whereon the weary might lean. This, you must think, all things considered, was tempting; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled with the badness of the way: but there was not one of them that made so much as a motion to stop there. Indeed, for aught I could perceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice of their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, and of the nature of the dangers when they were at them, that usually, when they were nearest to them, they did most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny the flesh. This arbor was called The Slothful’s Friend, and was made on purpose to allure, if it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary.

I saw them in my dream, that they went on in this their solitary ground, till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, though when it was light their guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand. But he had in his pocket a map of all ways leading to or from the Celestial City; therefore he struck a light (for he never goes without his tinder-box also), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him to be careful in that place to turn to the right hand. And had he not been careful here to look in his map, they had all, in probability, been smothered in the mud; for just a little before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows how deep, full of nothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in.

Then thought I with myself, Who that goes on pilgrimage but would have one of these maps about him, that he may look, when he is at a stand, which is the way he must take?

Then they went on in this Enchanted Ground till they came to where there was another arbor, and it was built by the highway-side. And in that arbor there lay two men, whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went thus far on pilgrimage; but here, being wearied with their journey, they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook their heads; for they knew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them and try to awake them; so they concluded to go to them and awake them, that is, if they could; but with this caution, namely, to take heed that they themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbor.

So they went in, and spoke to the men, and called each by his name, for the guide, it seems, did know them; but there was no voice nor answer. Then the guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will pay you when I take my money. At which the guide shook his head. I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my hand, said the other. At that, one of the children laughed.

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? The guide said, They talk in their sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, they will answer you after this fashion; or, as one of them said in old time, when the waves of the sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship (Proverbs 23:34-35), When I awake, I will seek it yet again. You know, when men talk in their sleep, they say any thing; but their words are not governed either by faith or reason. There is an incoherency in their words now, as there was before between their going on pilgrimage and sitting down here. This, then, is the mischief of it: when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, it is twenty to one but they are served thus. For this Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has; therefore it is, as you see, placed almost at the end of the way, and so it stands against us with the more advantage. For when, thinks the enemy, will these fools be so desirous to sit down as when they are weary? And when so like to be weary as when almost at their journey's end? Therefore it is, I say, that the Enchanted Ground is placed so near to the land Beulah, and so near the end of their race. Therefore let pilgrims look to themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can awake them.

Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward; only they prayed their guide to strike a light, that they might go the rest of their way by the help of the light of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they went by the help of that through the rest of this way, though the darkness was very great (2 Peter 1:19). But the children began to be sorely weary, and they cried out to him that loves pilgrims, to make their way more comfortable. So by that they had gone a little further, a wind arose that drove away the fog, so the air became more clear. Yet they were not off (by much) of the Enchanted Ground; only now they could see one another better, and the way wherein they should walk.

Now when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that a little before them was a solemn noise, as of one that was much concerned. So they went on and looked before them: and behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, with hands and eyes lifted up, and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that was above. They drew near, but could not tell what he said; so they went softly till he had done. When he had done, he got up, and began to run towards the Celestial City. Then Mr. Great-Heart called after him, saying, Soho, friend, let us have your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up to him. But as soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, I know this man. Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Prithee, who is it? It is one, said he, that comes from whereabout I dwelt. His name is Standfast; he is certainly a right good pilgrim.

So they came up to one another; and presently Standfast said to old Honest, Ho, father Honest, are you there? Aye, said he, that I am, as sure as you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr. Standfast, that I have found you on this road. And as glad am I, said the other, that I espied you on your knees. Then Mr. Standfast blushed, and said, But why, did you see me? Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight. Why, what did you think? said Standfast. Think! said old Honest; what could I think? I thought we had an honest man upon the road, and therefore should have his company by and by. If you thought not amiss, said Standfast, how happy am I! But if I be not as I should, it is I alone must bear it. That is true, said the other; but your fear does further confirm me that things are right between the Prince of pilgrims and your soul. For he says, "Blessed is the man that fears always" (Proverbs 28:14).

Valiant-for-Truth: Well but, brother, I pray you tell us what was it that was the cause of your being upon your knees even now: was it for that some special mercy laid obligations upon you, or how?

Standfast: Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground; and as I was coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous nature the road in this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage, had here been stopped and been destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the death with which this place destroys men. Those that die here, die of no violent distemper: the death which such die is not grievous to them. For he that goes away in a sleep, begins that journey with desire and pleasure. Indeed, such acquiesce in the will of that disease.

Mr. Honest: Then Mr. Honest interrupting him, said, Did you see the two men asleep in the arbor?

Standfast: Aye, aye, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there; and for all I know, there they will lie till they rot (Proverbs 10:7). But let me go on with my tale. As I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself to me, and offered me three things, to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now the truth is, I was both weary and sleepy. I am also as poor as an owlet, and that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once and again, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. Then I began to be angry; but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she made offers again, and said, if I would be ruled by her, she would make me great and happy; for, said she, I am the mistress of the world, and men are made happy by me. Then I asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set me further from her; but she still followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to my knees, and with hands lifted up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had said he would help. So, just as you came up, the gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for this my

great deliverance; for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my journey.

Mr. Honest: Without doubt her designs were bad. But stay, now you talk of her, I think I either have seen her, or have read some story of her.

Standfast: Perhaps you have done both.

Mr. Honest: Madam Bubble! Is she not a tall, comely dame, something of a swarthy complexion?

Standfast: Right, you hit it: she is just such a one.

Mr. Honest: Does she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end of a sentence?

Standfast: You fall right upon it again, for these are her very actions.

Mr. Honest: Does she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight.

'Tis just so; had she stood by all this while, you could not more amply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her features.

Mr. Honest: Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and he that wrote of her said true.

Mr. Great-Heart: This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Whoever does lay his head down in her lap, had as good lay it down on that block over which the axe does hang; and whoever lay their eyes upon her beauty are counted the enemies of God. This is she that maintains in their splendor all those that are the enemies of pilgrims (James 4:4). Indeed, this is she that has bought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gossiper; she is always, both she and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another, now commending, and then preferring the excellences of this life. She is a bold and impudent slut: she will talk with any man. She always laughs poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the rich. If there be one cunning to get money in a place, she will speak well of him from house to house. She loves banqueting and feasting mainly well; she is always at one full table or another. She has given it out in some places that she is a goddess, and therefore some do worship her. She has her time, and open places of cheating; and she will say and avow it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. She promises to dwell with children's children, if they will but love her and make much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold like dust in some places and to some persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of commending her commodities, and she loves them most that think best of her. She will promise to some crowns and kingdoms, if they will but take her advice; yet many has she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times more to hell.

Standfast: Oh, said Standfast, what a mercy is it that I did resist her; for where might she have drawn me!

Mr. Great-Heart: Where? In fact, none but God knows where. But in general, to be sure, she would have drawn you into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition (1 Timothy 6:9). 'Twas she that set Absalom against his father, and Jeroboam against his master. 'Twas she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord; and that prevailed with Demas to forsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can tell of the mischief that she does. She makes variance between rulers and subjects, between parents and children, between neighbor and neighbor, between a man and his wife, between a man and himself, between the flesh and the spirit. Therefore, good Mr. Standfast, be as your name is, and when you have done all, stand.

At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a mixture of joy and trembling; but at length they broke out and sang,

"What danger is the Pilgrim in! How many are his foes! How many ways there are to sin No living mortal knows.

Some in the ditch are spoiled, indeed, can Lie tumbling in the mire: Some, though they shun the frying-pan Do leap into the fire."

After this, I beheld until they were come into the land of Beulah, where the sun shines night and day. Here, because they were weary, they betook themselves a while to rest. And because this country was common for pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards that were here belonged to the King of the Celestial country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of his things. But a little while soon refreshed them here; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually sound so melodiously, that they could not sleep, and yet they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep ever so soundly. Here also all the noise of them that walked the streets was, More pilgrims are come to town! And another would answer, saying, And so many went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates today! They would cry again, There is now a legion of shining ones just come to town, by which we know that there are more pilgrims upon the road; for here they come to wait for them, and to comfort them after all their sorrow. Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But how were their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and their eyes delighted with celestial visions! In this land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing that was offensive to their stomach or mind; only when they tasted of the water of the river over which they were to go, they thought that it tasted a little bitterish to the palate; but it proved sweeter when it was down.

In this place there was a record kept of the names of them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all the famous acts that they had done. It was here also much discoursed, how the river to some had had its flowings, and what ebbings it has had while others have gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for others.

In this place the children of the town would go into the King's gardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring them to them with much affection. Here also grew camphire, with spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all chief spices. With these the pilgrims' chambers were perfumed while they stayed here; and with these were their bodies anointed, to prepare them to go over the river, when the time appointed was come.

Now, while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, there was a noise in the town that there was a post come from the Celestial City, with matter of great importance to one Christiana, the wife of Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her, and the house was found out where she was. So the post presented her with a letter. The contents were, Hail, good woman; I bring you tidings that the Master calls for you, and expects that you should stand in his presence in clothes of immortality within these ten days.

When he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was, an arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her, that at the time appointed she must be gone.

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of this company that was to go over, she called for Mr. Great-Heart her guide, and told him how matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have been glad had the post come for him. Then she bid him that he should give advice how all things should be prepared for her journey. So he told her, saying, Thus and thus it must be, and we that survive will accompany you to the river-side.

Then she called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told them that she had read with comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons and daughters to be ready against the messenger should come for them.

When she had spoken these words to her guide, and to her children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said to him, Sir, you have in all places showed yourself true-hearted; be faithful to death, and my King will give you a crown of life (Revelation 2:10). I would also entreat you to have an eye to my children; and if at any time you see them faint, speak comfortably to them. For my daughters, my sons' wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the promise upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr. Standfast a ring.

Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!" (John 1:47). Then said he, I wish you a fair day when you set out for Mount Sion, and shall be glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod. But she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone; for however the weather is in my journey, I shall have time enough when I come there to sit down and rest me and dry me.

Then came in that good man Mr. Ready-to-halt, to see her. So she said to him, Your travel up to now has been with difficulty; but that will make your rest the sweeter. Watch, and be ready; for at an hour when you think not, the messenger may come.

After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid, to whom she said, You ought, with thankfulness, forever to remember your deliverance from the hands of Giant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is, that you are brought with safety here. Be watchful, and cast away fear; be sober, and hope to the end.

Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, You were delivered from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that you might live in the light of the living, and see your King with comfort. Only I advise you to repent of your aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness, before he sends for you; lest you should, when he comes, be forced to stand before him for that fault with blushing.

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was full of people to see her take her journey. But behold, all the banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down from above to accompany her to the city gate. So she came forth, and entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her. The last words that she was heard to say were, I come, Lord, to be with you and bless you! So her children and friends returned to their place, for those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and called, and entered in at the gate with all the ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had entered with before her. At her departure, the children wept. But Mr. Great-Heart and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. So all departed to their respective places.

In process of time there came a post to the town again, and his business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and said, I am come from Him whom you have loved and followed, though upon crutches; and my message is to tell you, that he expects you at his table to sup with him in his kingdom, the next day after Easter; therefore prepare yourself for this journey. Then he also gave him a token that he was a true messenger, saying, "I have broken your golden bowl, and loosed your silver cord" (Ecclesiastes 12:6).

After this, Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr. Valiant to make his will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to them that should survive him but his crutches, and his good wishes, therefore thus he said, These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may prove better than I have been.

Then he thanked Mr. Great-Heart for his conduct and kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came to the brink of the river, he said, Now I shall have no more need of these crutches, since over there are chariots and horses for me to ride on. The last words he was heard to say were, Welcome life! So he went his way.

After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him that the post sounded his horn at his chamber door. Then he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to tell you that your Master has need of you, and that in a very little time you must behold his face in brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of my message: "Those that look out at the windows shall be darkened" (Ecclesiastes 12:3). Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told them what errand had been brought to him, and what token he had received of the truth of the message. Then he said, since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make a will? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind me, for that I shall have no need of it in the place where I go, nor is it worth bestowing upon the poorest pilgrims: therefore, when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury it in a dunghill. This done, and the day being come on which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His last words were, Hold out, faith and patience! So he went over to the other side.

When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was sent for; for a post was come, and brought this message to him: Trembling man! these are to summon you to be ready with the King by the next Lord's day, to shout for joy for your deliverance from all your doubtings. And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take this for a proof: so he gave him a grasshopper to be a burden to him (Ecclesiastes 12:5).

Now Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when she heard what was done, that she would go with her father. Then Mr. Despondency said to his friends, Myself and my daughter, you know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every company. My will and my daughter's is, that our desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received, from the day of our departure, forever; for I know that after my death they will offer themselves to others. For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts which we entertained when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them off after; and they will walk about, and seek entertainment of the pilgrims: but for our sakes, shut the doors upon them. When the time was come for them to depart, they went up to the brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency were, Farewell, night; welcome, day! His daughter went through the river singing, but none could understand what she said.

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post in the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he came to the house where he was, and delivered to his hand these lines: You are commanded to be ready against this day seven-night, to present yourself before your Lord at his Father's house. And for a token that my message is true, "All the daughters of music shall be brought low" (Ecclesiastes 12:4). Then Mr. Honest called for his friends, and said to them, I die, but shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go with me; let him that comes after be told of this. When the day that he was to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now the river at that time over-flowed its banks in some places; but Mr. Honest, in his lifetime, had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns! So he left the world.

After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was taken with a summons by the same post as the other, and had this for a token that the summons was true, "That his pitcher was broken at the fountain" (Ecclesiastes 12:6). When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I am going to my Father's; and though with great difficulty I have got here, yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles who will now be my rewarder. When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the river-side, into which as he went, he said, "Death, where is your sting?" And as he went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is your victory?" (1 Corinthians 15:55). So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.

Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Standfast. This Mr. Standfast was he whom the rest of the pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground. And the post brought it him open in his hands: the contents of it were, that he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. Standfast was put into a muse. No, said the messenger, you need not doubt of the truth of my message; for here is a token of the truth of it, “Your wheel is broken at the cistern.” (Ecclesiastes 12:6). Then he called to him Mr. Great-Heart, who was their guide, and said to him, Sir, although it was not my chance to be much in your good company during the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew you, you have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left behind me a wife and five small children; let me entreat you, at your return, (for I know that you go and return to your Master’s house, in hopes that you may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims,) that you send to my family, and let them be acquainted with all that has and shall happen to me. Tell them moreover of my happy arrival at this place, and of the present and late blessed condition I am in. Tell them also of Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and her children came after her husband. Tell them also of what a happy end she made, and where she is gone. I have little or nothing to send to my family, unless it be prayers and tears for them; of which it will suffice that you acquaint them, if perhaps they may prevail. When Mr. Standfast had thus set things in order, and the time being come for him to hasten away, he also went down to the river. Now there was a great calm at that time in the river; therefore Mr. Standfast, when he was about half-way in, stood a while, and talked with his companions that had waited upon him there. And he said, This river has been a terror to many; indeed, the thoughts of it also have often frightened me; but now I think I stand easy; my foot is fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests that carried the ark of the covenant stood while Israel went over Jordan. (Joshua 3:17). The waters indeed are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the convoy that waits for me on the other side, do lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey; my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that head which was crowned with thorns, and that face which was spit upon for me. I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with him in whose company I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too. His name has been to me as a civet-box; indeed, sweeter than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most sweet, and his countenance I have more desired than they that have most desired the light of the sun. His words I did use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held me, and has kept me from my iniquities; indeed, my steps has he strengthened in his way.

Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed under him: and after he had said, Take me, for I come to you, he ceased to be seen of them.

But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players upon stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the city.

As for Christiana’s children, the four boys that Christiana brought, with their wives and children, I did not stay where I was till they were gone over. Also, since I came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so would be for the increase of the church, in that place where they were, for a time.

Should it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it an account of what I here am silent about: meantime I bid my reader

Farewell.

The End.

Which tells the story of how Christian's wife and children set out on their journey, the dangers they faced along the way, and their safe arrival at the country they sought.

I have used illustrations (Hosea 12:10).

The Author's Way

Of Sending Forth His Second Part of the Pilgrim

Go now, my little book, to every place where my first Pilgrim has already shown his face. Knock at their door. If anyone asks, "Who's there?" then answer: "Christiana is here." If they invite you in, then enter — with all her boys — and tell them who they are and where they came from. Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or names. But if not, ask again whether they once welcomed a pilgrim named Christian. If they say yes, and that they loved his journey, then let them know that these are his family — his wife and children, following after him.

Tell them that these have left their home and house, become pilgrims, seeking a world to come; that they have met with hardships on the way, that troubles find them morning, noon, and night; that they have walked over serpents, fought with devils, and have overcome many evils besides. Tell them also of those others who, out of love for the pilgrim journey, have been bold and brave defenders of that road — and how they still refuse this world to do their Father's will. Go tell them too of the wonderful things that pilgrimage brings to those who walk it. Let them know how beloved these pilgrims are by their King, how He watches over them; what fine homes He is preparing for them, and what a glorious calm awaits at the end for all who hold fast to Him and His ways — though rough winds and swelling seas may come.

Perhaps they will embrace you warmly, as they welcomed my first book, and give you and your fellow travelers the kind of welcome that shows they are true friends of pilgrims.

Objection 1: But what if they will not believe I truly belong to you? For there are those who copy the Pilgrim and his name, trying through disguise to pass themselves off as the same, and by such tricks have made their way into the homes and hands of many unsuspecting readers.

Answer: It is true — some have of late tried to copy my Pilgrim and attach my title to their own work; others have borrowed half my name and title and sewn them onto their books to make them sell. But even so, the features of such books proclaim they are not mine, whoever made them.

If you meet with such imitations, your only course is to speak plainly in your own native voice — a voice no one else uses and no one can easily imitate.

And if, after all that, they still have doubts, thinking you wander about like impostors corrupting the land or deceiving good people with questionable claims — then send for me, and I will testify that you are genuine pilgrims. I will declare that you alone are my Pilgrims, and that word will settle the matter.

Objection 2: But what if I go looking for readers who wish the first Pilgrim harm? What am I to do when I knock at such a door asking for friends of pilgrims, and am met only with greater hostility?

Answer: Do not be frightened, my book — such threats are nothing but groundless fears. My first Pilgrim's book has traveled by sea and land, and I have never heard of it being turned away or shut out by any country, rich or poor. In France and Flanders, where men fight and kill each other, my Pilgrim is welcomed as a friend and brother.

In Holland, too, so I am told, my Pilgrim is, to some, worth more than gold. Highlanders and the wild Irish alike call my Pilgrim a familiar friend.

In New England it has received such a warm reception and so much loving attention that it has been polished, newly dressed, and adorned with care so that it may show itself at its best. And more than that — so well does my Pilgrim carry himself that thousands speak of him and sing his praise each day.

Closer to home, you will find my Pilgrim has no cause for shame or fear: city and country alike welcome him warmly. Indeed, people cannot help but smile when my Pilgrim appears in any company.

Fine gentlemen embrace my Pilgrim and love him, valuing it more than books of far greater size — saying that a small thing of real worth beats a large thing of little value. Young ladies and young women too show my Pilgrim no small kindness; he has found a place in their cabinets, their hearts, because he shares his wisdom with them in wholesome and engaging ways that reward their reading double what they put in. I believe some prize him more than gold. Even the children walking in the street, if they happen to meet my holy Pilgrim, will greet him warmly and call him the finest young hero of the day.

Those who have never met him still admire what they have heard, and long to have his company and hear him tell the pilgrim stories he knows so well.

Even some who at first did not love him — who called him a fool and a simpleton — now that they have seen and heard him, say they must recommend him, and pass him on to those they love.

Therefore, my Second Part, you have no reason to be afraid to show yourself. None who wish well to the first Pilgrim will harm you — for you come after him with a second store of things just as good, just as rich, just as valuable: for the young and the old, the wavering and the settled.

Objection 3: But some say he laughs too loud. Some say his head is in the clouds. Some say his words and stories are so difficult they cannot find his meaning in them.

Answer: One may, I think, judge both his laughter and his tears by the tears that stand in his eyes. Some things are of such a nature that they make the imagination smile even while the heart aches. When Jacob saw his Rachel with her sheep, he both kissed her and wept at the same moment."

As for those who say a cloud sits on his head — that only shows his wisdom is wrapped in its own covering, and that to stir the mind to search earnestly for what it longs to find, things that seem hidden in difficult words only draw the godly mind more eagerly to study what those sayings mean when they speak to us in such a veiled way. I also know that a rich illustration works its way deeper into the curious mind and lodges more firmly in the heart and head than things that are stated plainly.

So go, my book, and let no discouragement hold back your travels. You are sent to friends, not enemies — to friends who will make room for you, and warmly welcome you and your pilgrims and your words.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left hidden, you, my bold second Pilgrim, have revealed. What Christian left locked up when he went his way, sweet Christiana opens with her key.

Objection 4: But some people do not like the style of your first book — they call it fiction and toss it aside like rubbish. If I meet such people, what should I say? Should I dismiss them as they dismiss me, or not?

Answer: My Christiana, if you meet such people, greet them warmly and with every kindness. Do not return their contempt with contempt. If they frown, smile back at them. Perhaps it is simply their nature, or something they have heard, that makes them scoff or push back like this.

Some dislike fish, some dislike cheese, some are cold toward their friends and do not care for their own home. Some recoil at pork, pass over chicken, and care no more for one bird than another. Leave such people to their preferences, my Christiana, and seek out those who will be glad to find you. Do not argue — simply present yourself humbly, in the plain dress of a pilgrim.

Go then, my little book, and share with all who welcome and receive you what you would keep from those who would not appreciate it. Pray that what you show them will be a blessing — that it will do them good and move them to choose the pilgrim's life, by someone far better than you or me. Go then, I say — tell all people who you are: say, I am Christiana, and my purpose now, with my four sons, is to show you what it means to take up the pilgrim's lot.

Go also and tell them who travels with you — say: Here is my neighbor Mercy, who has long journeyed as a pilgrim alongside me. Come and see her with her clear and honest face, and learn to tell the difference between idle people and true pilgrims. Let young women learn from her to value the world to come above all else. When young girls follow God and leave old, foolish sinners to their own devices, it is like the days when children cried 'Hosanna!' while their elders stood by sneering.

Then tell them of old Honest, whom you found walking the pilgrim road with his white hair. Tell them how straightforward and sincere this man was, and how faithfully he carried his cross in following his Lord. Perhaps the story of this gray-headed man will move some elderly soul to fall in love with Christ and mourn their sin.

Tell them also of Mr. Fearing, who went on pilgrimage and how he spent his days in loneliness, with fears and tears — and how in the end he won the joyful prize. He was a good man, though often downcast in spirit. He is a good man, and has now inherited life.

Tell them of Mr. Feeble-mind as well, who would not go ahead but always lagged behind. Show them how he nearly lost his life, and how one called Greatheart restored him. This man was true in heart, though weak in spiritual strength — true godliness could be read plainly in his face.

Then tell them of Mr. Ready-to-halt, a man who walked on crutches but was largely without fault. Tell them how Mr. Feeble-mind and he became dear friends and shared many of the same convictions. And let everyone know that, weak as they both were, there were times when one could sing and the other dance.

Do not forget Mr. Valiant-for-truth, that man of courage, young as he was. Tell everyone that his spirit was so strong that no one could ever make him turn back. And tell how Greatheart and he, when the moment came, could not resist — but pulled down Doubting Castle and slew Giant Despair!

Do not overlook Mr. Despondency either, nor his daughter Much-afraid — though they were wrapped in such a heavy manner that some might have thought their God had abandoned them. They went quietly, but steadily — and in the end found that the Lord of pilgrims was their friend. When you have told the world of all these things, turn your attention to these strings, my book — for when they are plucked, the music they make can cause a cripple to dance and a giant to shake.

The riddles hidden in your pages — tell them freely and explain them well. As for the rest of your mysterious lines, let them remain for those with nimble minds who will delight in working them out.

May this little book be a blessing to all who love this book and me. May every person who buys it never have reason to say his money was wasted or thrown away. May this second Pilgrim bring forth such fruit as will satisfy every good pilgrim's heart. And may it persuade some who have gone astray to turn their feet and their hearts back to the right road.

This is the heartfelt prayer of the author, John Bunyan.

Courteous companions,

Some time ago, telling you my dream about Christian the pilgrim and his dangerous journey toward the Celestial Country was a pleasure to me and, I hope, a benefit to you. At that time I also told you what I saw concerning his wife and children — how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage, so much so that he had to leave without them. He dared not risk the destruction he knew was coming by staying with them in the City of Destruction. And so, as I showed you then, he left them behind and set out.

But because of other pressing responsibilities, I have been much delayed in returning to those regions, and so until now I have had no opportunity to find out what happened to those he left behind — in order to give you an account of them. Recently, however, I had occasion to travel that way again. After taking lodgings in a wood about a mile from the place, I fell asleep — and dreamed again.

In my dream, an elderly gentleman came walking past where I lay. Since he was heading in the same direction I was traveling, I got up and walked with him. As we went along — as travelers do — we fell into conversation, and our talk turned naturally to Christian and his journey. This is how I began with the old man:

"Sir," I said, "what is that town down below, on the left side of our road?"

Then Mr. Sagacity — for that was his name — said, "That is the City of Destruction, a crowded place, but full of people who are badly behaved and lazy."

"I thought that must be the place," I said. "I once passed through that town myself, and so I know that what you say about it is true."

Mr. Sagacity: "Too true! I wish I could speak better of the people who live there."

"Well, sir," said I, "I can see you are a man of good will — someone who takes pleasure in hearing and telling about what is good. Tell me, have you ever heard of a man from this town, some time ago, named Christian, who set out on pilgrimage toward the higher country?"

Mr. Sagacity: "Heard of him! Yes indeed — and I also heard about all the troubles, hardships, battles, imprisonments, cries, groans, alarms, and fears he experienced along the way. More than that, I can tell you the whole country is talking about him. There are very few households that have heard of him and his story and have not sought out and obtained an account of his pilgrimage. I would even say that his daring journey has won many admirers for his way of life. For though when he lived among them everyone thought him a fool, now that he is gone he is highly spoken of by all. It is said that he lives splendidly where he is now. And many who have firmly decided they would never take the risks he took still find themselves longing for what he gained."

"They are right to think so," said I, "if they think at all honestly about it — for he now lives at and in the very fountain of life, and has everything he has without toil or sorrow, for no grief is mixed with it. But tell me — what are people saying about him?"

Mr. Sagacity: "People talk about him in remarkable ways. Some say he now walks clothed in white (Revelation 3:4), with a golden chain around his neck and a crown of gold set with pearls on his head. Others say the shining ones — those who sometimes appeared to him during his journey — have become his constant companions, and that he lives among them as familiarly as neighbors here on earth. It is also confidently said that the King of the place where he now is has already given him a rich and delightful dwelling at court, and that he eats and drinks and walks and talks with the King every day, and receives the smiles and favor of Him who is Judge of all (Zechariah 3:7; Luke 14:14-15). Moreover, some expect that his Prince — the Lord of that country — will come to these parts before long, and will demand to know, if anyone can say, why his neighbors thought so little of Christian and mocked him so when he chose to become a pilgrim (Jude 14-15)."

"For they say that Christian now holds such a place in his Prince's affections that the King takes personally every insult that was thrown at Christian when he became a pilgrim — as though it had been done to Himself (Luke 10:16). And no wonder, for it was out of love for his Prince that Christian ventured everything he did."

"I am sure of it," said I, "and I am glad of it — glad for the poor man's sake, for he now rests from his labors and reaps the harvest of his tears with joy. He is beyond the reach of his enemies and out of range of those who hated him (Revelation 14:13; Psalm 126:5-6). I am also glad that news of all this is spreading through the country here. Who knows but that it may do some good to those who are still left behind? But sir, while it is fresh in my mind — have you heard anything of his wife and children? Poor souls — I wonder what has become of them."

Mr. Sagacity: "Who — Christiana and her sons? They are likely to do just as well as Christian did himself. For though they all made fools of themselves at first and could not be moved either by Christian's tears or his pleading, second thoughts have worked wonders in them. They packed up their things and have gone after him."

"Better and better!" said I. "What — wife and children, all of them?"

Mr. Sagacity: "It is true. I can give you a full account of the matter — I was there at the time and was thoroughly familiar with the whole affair."

"Then," said I, "it seems a man may report this as established fact."

Mr. Sagacity: "You need have no hesitation in affirming it — I mean that they have all gone on pilgrimage, the good woman and all four of her boys. And since it seems we are going some distance together, I will tell you the whole story."

Now Christiana — for that was the name she took from the day she and her children set out on a pilgrim's life — after her husband had crossed the river and she could hear nothing more of him, found her thoughts beginning to stir. First came grief at losing her husband, and sorrow at the complete severing of that loving bond between them. For, as Mr. Sagacity said to me, human nature cannot help but fill the living heart with heavy thoughts when remembering those they have loved and lost. And so the loss of her husband cost Christiana many tears. But that was not all. Christiana also began to ask herself whether her own cold and ungrateful behavior toward her husband had not played a part in why she would see him no more — why he had been taken from her in such a way. And with that thought came flooding into her mind, in wave after wave, every unkind, unloving, and ungodly thing she had done to her dear friend. This weighed heavily on her conscience and burdened her with guilt. She was also deeply wounded when she recalled Christian's restless groans, his salt tears, and his grief — and how she had hardened her heart against all his pleading and all his loving attempts to persuade her and the boys to go with him. In fact, everything Christian had ever said to her or done in her presence, all through the time his burden weighed on his back, came back to her now with the force of lightning, tearing her heart open. Most of all, his desperate cry — 'What shall I do to be saved?' — rang in her ears with a dull and aching echo.

Then she said to her children, "Sons, we are all ruined. I have sinned your father away from us — he is gone. He wanted us to come with him, but I refused to go. And by doing so I have kept you from life as well." At that the boys broke into tears and cried out that they wanted to go after their father. "Oh," said Christiana, "if only it had been our lot to go with him! Then we would have been far better off than we are likely to be now. For though I once foolishly thought that my husband's troubles came from some delusion in his mind, or from a fit of dark moods — I now cannot get it out of my head that they came from something else altogether: that he had been given the light of life (James 1:23-25; John 8:12), and by means of that light, as I now see, he escaped the snares of death" (Proverbs 14:27). Then they all wept again, crying, "Oh, what a dreadful day that was!"

The following night Christiana had a dream. In it she saw what appeared to be a large sheet of parchment opened before her, on which was recorded the full account of her life and conduct. The wrongdoings written there seemed to her very dark and heavy. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, "Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!" (Luke 18:13.) And her little children heard her.

After this she thought she saw two hideous figures standing at her bedside, saying to each other, "What are we going to do about this woman? She is crying out for mercy both waking and sleeping. If she is allowed to go on as she has begun, we will lose her as we lost her husband. We must by one means or another draw her thoughts away from what lies ahead — otherwise nothing in the world will prevent her from becoming a pilgrim."

At this she woke up in a cold sweat, shaking. But after a while she fell asleep again. Then she thought she saw Christian, her husband, in a place of great happiness among many immortals, a harp in his hand. He was standing and playing it before One who sat upon a throne with a rainbow around His head. She also saw — as if it were right before her — Christian bowing his face to the pavement at his Prince's feet, saying, "I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing me into this place." Then a company of those standing all around him shouted and played on their harps. But no one alive could understand what they said — only Christian and those with him.

The next morning, after she had risen, prayed to God, and talked with her children for a while, someone knocked hard at the door. She called out, "If you come in God's name, come in." The visitor said, "Amen," and opened the door and greeted her with, "Peace be to this house." After this greeting, he said, "Christiana, do you know why I have come?" She blushed and trembled, and her heart began to burn with desire to know where he had come from and what his purpose was. So he said to her, "My name is Secret. I dwell with those who are on high. It is spoken of where I live that you have a desire to go there. There is also a report that you are aware of the wrong you have done your husband — hardening your heart against his way and keeping these children in ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell you that He is a God who is ready to forgive, and that He takes delight in multiplying His pardons. He also wants you to know that He invites you to come into His presence, to His table — and that He will feed you with the finest things of His house and with the inheritance of Jacob your father."

"There is Christian, your husband that was, along with countless companions — all gazing continually on that face from which life radiates to all who look upon it. And they will all rejoice when they hear the sound of your feet crossing your Father's threshold."

At this, Christiana was overcome with shame and bowed her face to the ground. The visitor continued, "Christiana, there is also a letter for you, which I have brought from your husband's King." She took it and opened it. It breathed the fragrance of the finest perfume (Song of Solomon 1:3), and it was written in letters of gold. Its message was this: that the King desired her to do as Christian her husband had done — for that was the way to come to His city and dwell in His presence with joy forever. At this, the good woman was completely undone. She cried out to her visitor, "Sir, will you take me and my children with you, so that we also may go and worship the King?"

Then the visitor said, "Christiana, the bitter comes before the sweet. You must pass through troubles, as did the one who went before you, in order to enter the Celestial City. I therefore advise you to do as Christian your husband did: go to the Wicket Gate across the plain, for it stands at the head of the road you must travel. I wish you every blessing. I also advise you to put this letter close to your heart, and to read it to yourself and to your children until you have it memorized. For it is one of the songs you must sing during this time of pilgrimage (Psalm 119:54) — and you must also present it at the gate at the far end of the road."

Now I saw in my dream that the old gentleman, as he told me this story, seemed deeply moved by it himself. He went on and said, "So Christiana called her sons together and spoke to them in this way: 'My sons, as you may have noticed, I have been in great anguish of soul lately over the death of your father. Not that I have any doubt about his happiness — I am now certain that he is well. 'But I have also been deeply troubled by thoughts of my own condition and yours, which I truly believe to be miserable by nature. 'The way I treated your father in his distress weighs heavily on my conscience as well — for I hardened both my own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage.'

'These thoughts would be enough to destroy me completely — but for the dream I had last night, and but for the encouragement this stranger gave me this morning. 'Come, my children — let us pack up and be gone to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, so that we may find your father and be with him and his companions in peace, as the laws of that land allow.'

Then her children burst into tears — this time out of joy, because their mother's heart had turned. So their visitor said farewell to them, and they began to prepare for the journey.

But while they were making ready to leave, two of Christiana's neighbors came to her house and knocked at the door. She called out to them just as before, "If you come in God's name, come in." The women were startled, for they were not used to hearing such words from Christiana's lips. But they came in — and found the good woman busy preparing to leave her house.

They started, and said, "Neighbor, whatever do you mean by this?"

Christiana answered the elder of the two, whose name was Mrs. Timorous, and said, "I am getting ready for a journey."

This Timorous was the daughter of the man who had met Christian on the Hill of Difficulty and tried to make him turn back for fear of the lions.

Timorous: "A journey? To where, may I ask?"

Christiana: "To go after my dear husband." And with that she began to weep.

Timorous: "Surely not, good neighbor! Please, for your poor children's sake, don't throw yourself away so recklessly."

Christiana: "No — my children are coming with me. Not one of them is willing to stay behind."

Timorous: "I truly cannot imagine what, or who, has brought you to this frame of mind!"

Christiana: "Oh, neighbor — if you knew what I know, I have no doubt you would come with us."

Timorous: "Tell me then — what new knowledge have you come to, that has so torn you from your friends and tempted you to go nobody knows where?"

Then Christiana replied, "I have been in deep anguish since my husband left me — especially since he crossed the river. But what troubles me most is the cold and harsh way I treated him when he was in distress. And now I find I am just as he was then — nothing will satisfy me but to go on pilgrimage. I dreamed last night that I saw him. Oh, how my soul longs to be where he is! He lives in the presence of the King of that country. He sits and eats at the King's own table. He has become a companion of immortal beings, and has been given a house to live in that makes the finest palace on earth look like a dunghill by comparison (2 Corinthians 5:1-4). The Prince of that place has also sent for me, with the promise of welcome if I come. His messenger was here just now, and brought me a letter inviting me to come." With that she pulled out the letter, read it aloud, and said to them, "What do you say to this?"

Timorous: "Oh, what madness has taken hold of you and your husband — to throw yourselves into such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure, what your husband ran into, almost at the very first step of his journey — as our neighbor Obstinate can still testify, for he went with him. And Pliable too — until they wisely thought better of it and turned back. We have also heard how he met the lions, and Apollyon, and the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and much else besides. And let us not forget what he suffered at Vanity Fair. If he, a man, was so hard pressed by all that — what can you, a woman, expect to face? Think also of these four precious children — your own flesh and blood. Even if you were willing to throw yourself away, stay home for their sakes."

But Christiana said to her, "Do not try to tempt me, neighbor. An opportunity has been placed in my hands to gain something beyond price, and I would be the greatest fool alive to let it pass. As for the troubles you say I am likely to meet on the way — far from discouraging me, they tell me I am on the right track. The bitter must come before the sweet, and that will only make the sweet sweeter. Therefore, since you did not come to my house in God's name — as I said you should — please go, and trouble me no further."

Then Timorous turned on Christiana with contempt and said to her companion, "Come, neighbor Mercy, let us leave her to make her own choices, since she scorns our advice and our company." But Mercy hesitated and could not so quickly agree — and for two reasons. First, her heart went out to Christiana. She said to herself: if my neighbor is determined to go, I will walk a little way with her and give her a hand. Second, her heart also went out to her own soul, for what Christiana had said had taken hold in her mind. So she said to herself again: I will talk with Christiana more; and if I find truth and life in what she says, then I too will go with her wholeheartedly. So Mercy began to reply to her neighbor Timorous:

Mercy: "Neighbor, I did come with you this morning to visit Christiana. But since she is, as you can see, taking her final leave of this place, I think I will walk with her this bright morning for a little way and help her along the road." But she did not tell Timorous her second reason — she kept that to herself.

Timorous: "Well, I can see you have a mind to play the fool along with her. But be wise and be warned while you still can: when we are out of danger, we are out of it — but once we are in it, we are in it."

So Mrs. Timorous went back to her house, and Christiana set out on her journey. But when Timorous got home, she called in some of her neighbors — Mrs. Bat's-Eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. When they had gathered at her house, she began telling them the story of Christiana and her planned departure. This is how she started her account:

Timorous: "Neighbors, having nothing much to do this morning, I went to pay Christiana a visit. When I came to the door and knocked — as we always do — she answered, 'If you come in God's name, come in.' In I went, thinking all was well. But when I got inside, I found her getting ready to leave town — her and all her children. So I asked her what she meant by it. She told me plainly that she had made up her mind to go on pilgrimage, just as her husband had. She also told me about a dream she had, and about a letter she received from the King of the country where her husband now lives, inviting her to come."

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

Timorous: "Go she will, whatever comes of it. And I think I know this for certain — because the very argument I used to try to keep her at home — the troubles she is likely to meet on the road — turned out to be one of her main reasons for going. She told me in so many words: 'The bitter comes before the sweet — and that only makes the sweet sweeter.'"

Mrs. Bat's-Eyes: "Oh, what a blind and foolish woman! Will she not take warning from what her husband suffered? For my part, I can see that if he were back here again, he would gladly stay home with a whole skin rather than run all those risks for nothing."

Mrs. Inconsiderate also spoke up, saying, "Good riddance to such ridiculous fools from our town! As far as I'm concerned, she is no loss. If she stayed and kept on with these ideas of hers, who could live in peace nearby her? She would either be sullen and gloomy, or unfriendly, or constantly talking about things that no sensible person wants to hear. So for my part, I will not shed a single tear when she leaves. Let her go and let someone better take her place. The world has never been right since these eccentric fools moved in."

Then Mrs. Light-mind added the following: "Come now, let's drop this dreary subject. I was at Madam Wanton's yesterday, and we were as merry as could be. Who do you suppose was there but me, and Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and three or four others, along with Mrs. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some more besides? We had music and dancing and everything else you could want for a good time. And I will say this — my lady herself is a wonderfully well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is quite the charming fellow."

The First Stage

By this time Christiana was on her way, and Mercy had come along with her. As they went — the children with them — Christiana began to talk. "Mercy," said Christiana, "I take this as an unexpected kindness, that you have stepped out the door with me to keep me company for a little of the way."

Mercy: Then young Mercy said — for she was still young — "If I thought going with you would really lead to something, I would never go back to that town again."

Christiana: "Well, Mercy," said Christiana, "throw in your lot with me. I know very well how our pilgrimage will end. My husband is where he would not trade his place for all the gold in the Spanish mines. And you will not be turned away either, even if you come only on my invitation. The King who has called me and my children is a God who delights in mercy. And if you are willing, I will hire you as my servant — though we will share everything equally between us. Only come with me."

Mercy: "But how can I be certain that I would be welcomed there? If I had that assurance from someone who truly knows, I would not hesitate at all — I would go, with God's help, no matter how hard the road."

Christiana: "Well then, dear Mercy, here is what to do: come with me as far as the Wicket Gate, and there I will make further inquiry on your behalf. If you do not receive any encouragement there, I will be content for you to return home — and I will repay you for the kindness you are showing me and my children by coming this far with us."

Mercy: "Then I will come, and accept whatever follows. And may the Lord grant that my lot falls there, according to the will of the King of heaven."

Christiana was glad at heart — not only because she now had a companion, but because she had helped this young woman fall in love with her own salvation. So they walked on together, and Mercy began to weep. Then Christiana said, "Why does my sister weep so?"

Mercy: "Alas!" she said. "Who can help but weep, when they truly consider the condition of my poor family and friends who are still back in our sinful town? And what makes my grief worse is that they have no teacher and no one to warn them of what is coming."

Christiana: "Compassion is fitting for a pilgrim. You weep for your friends just as my dear Christian wept for me when he left — mourning because I would not listen to him. But his Lord, and ours, gathered up every one of those tears and kept them. And now you and I and these precious children of mine are reaping the fruit of them. I hope, Mercy, that your tears will not be wasted either. For the truth has promised, 'Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.' And 'he who goes out weeping, carrying precious seed, will surely return with shouts of joy, bringing his harvest with him' (Psalm 126:5-6)."

Then Mercy said,

"Let the Most Blessed be my guide, if it be His blessed will, to His gate, into His fold, up to His holy hill.

And let Him never allow me to waver or turn aside from His free grace and holy ways, whatever may come to me.

And let Him gather those of mine whom I have left behind. Lord, make them pray that they may be Yours, with all their heart and mind."

Now my old friend Mr. Sagacity continued and said: When Christiana came to the Slough of Despond, she stopped in her tracks. "This," she said, "is the place where my dear husband nearly drowned in the mud." She also noticed that despite the King's command to make this place passable for pilgrims, it seemed to be in worse condition than before. I asked whether that was truly so. "Yes," said the old gentleman, "sadly true. For there are many who claim to be the King's workers and say they are there to repair the King's roads, but bring mud and filth instead of stone — and so they make things worse rather than better." So Christiana stood there hesitating with her boys. But Mercy said, "Come — let us try it. Only let us be careful." So they watched their steps carefully and managed to stumble their way across.

Even so, Christiana nearly went under — more than once. As soon as they had crossed, they thought they heard words spoken to them: 'Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord' (Luke 1:45).

Then they pressed on, and Mercy said to Christiana, "If I had as good reason to expect a warm welcome at the Wicket Gate as you do, I think no Slough of Despond would discourage me."

"Well," said Christiana, "you know your own troubles and I know mine. And I think we will both face plenty more before we reach the end of our journey. For can we imagine that those who are seeking such glorious things as we are — and who are so envied for the happiness we are heading toward — would be left alone? Those who hate us will throw every fear and trap and trouble and affliction they possibly can at us along the way."

And at this point Mr. Sagacity left me to dream the rest of my dream on my own. So I thought I saw Christiana and Mercy and the boys all coming up to the gate together. When they arrived, they had a brief discussion about how they should knock and what they should say to whoever opened it. They decided that since Christiana was the eldest, she should knock and speak for the rest. So Christiana began to knock — and like her poor husband before her, she knocked and knocked again. But instead of anyone answering, they all seemed to hear a dog barking at them — a large dog at that. This frightened the women and children badly. They dared not knock again for a while, afraid the massive dog might lunge at them. So they were thrown into great uncertainty and did not know what to do. They dared not knock for fear of the dog, and dared not turn back for fear that the gatekeeper would see them retreating and be displeased with them. At last they decided to knock again — and this time they knocked harder than before. Then the gatekeeper said, "Who is there?" The dog stopped barking, and he opened the gate to them.

Then Christiana bowed low and said, "Do not let our Lord be offended with His servants for knocking at His royal gate." Then the keeper said, "Where have you come from? And what do you want?"

Christiana answered, "We have come from the same place Christian came from, and on the same errand — to be, if it please you, graciously admitted through this gate onto the road that leads to the Celestial City. And further, my Lord — I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, who has now gone on ahead."

At this the keeper of the gate was amazed, saying, "What — has she who so recently despised this life now become a pilgrim?" Then she bowed her head and said, "Yes — and so have these dear children of mine."

Then he took her by the hand and led her in, saying, "Let the little children come to Me." And with that he shut the gate. He then called to a trumpeter stationed above the gate to welcome Christiana with shouts and trumpet music for joy. So the trumpeter obeyed, and sounded his horn, filling the air with his joyful melody.

All this while, poor Mercy stood outside, trembling and weeping, afraid she would be turned away. But once Christiana and her boys had been admitted, she began to plead on Mercy's behalf.

Christiana: "She said, 'My Lord, I have a companion who still stands outside. She has come here for the same reason I have — but she is very distressed in her heart, because she feels she is coming uninvited, whereas I was summoned by my husband's King.'"

Now Mercy had grown so anxious that every moment felt like an hour to her. Before Christiana could finish pleading on her behalf, Mercy knocked at the gate herself — and she knocked so hard that Christiana jumped. Then the keeper of the gate said, "Who is there?" And Christiana said, "It is my friend."

So he opened the gate and looked out — and found Mercy collapsed on the ground in a faint, for she had given up hope that the gate would ever open for her.

He took her by the hand and said, "Young woman, I tell you to arise."

"Oh, sir," she said, "I am faint. There is barely any life left in me." But he answered by quoting what someone once said: 'When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord, and my prayer came to You, into Your holy temple' (Jonah 2:7). "Do not be afraid. Stand on your feet and tell me why you have come."

Mercy: "I have come for something to which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana was. Her invitation came from the King, and mine came only from her. So I am afraid I am presuming."

Gatekeeper: "Did she invite you to come with her to this place?"

Mercy: "Yes, my Lord — and as You can see, here I am. If there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, I beg that Your poor servant might have a share of it."

Then he took her by the hand again and gently led her in, saying, "I pray for all who believe in Me, by whatever means they come to Me." Then he said to those standing nearby, "Bring something for Mercy to smell, to revive her from her faintness." So they brought her a bundle of myrrh, and after a little while she was restored.

And now Christiana and her boys and Mercy had all been received by the Lord at the head of the road, and He spoke kindly to them. Then they said to Him further, "We are sorry for our sins, and we beg our Lord's forgiveness — and also to know what we must do."

"I grant pardon," He said, "both by word and by deed — by word in the promise of forgiveness, and by deed in the way I obtained it. Take the first from My lips with a kiss, and the other as it shall be revealed to you" (Song of Solomon 1:2; John 20:20).

Now I saw in my dream that He spoke many kind and encouraging words to them, which filled them with great joy. He also took them up to the top of the gate and showed them the deed by which they had been saved — and told them further that they would see this sight again as they went along the road, for their comfort.

So He left them for a while in a pleasant sitting room below, where they talked among themselves. And Christiana began by saying, "Oh, how glad I am that we have made it in!"

Mercy: "And well you may be — but I, above all, have reason to leap for joy."

Christiana: "At one point as I stood at the gate, with no one answering my knocking, I thought all our effort had been wasted — especially when that horrible dog started barking so ferociously at us."

Mercy: "But my worst moment was when I saw that you had been taken in and I was left outside. Then I thought: this is the fulfillment of what is written — 'Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and the other left' (Matthew 24:41). I could barely keep from crying out, 'I am lost!' I was terrified to knock again. But when I looked up and saw what was written over the gate, I found courage. I also thought: I must either knock again or die. So I knocked — though I cannot tell you how I did it, for at that moment my spirit was wavering between life and death."

Christiana: "You cannot tell how you knocked? I can assure you, your knocking was so urgent that the very sound of it startled me. I have never heard such knocking in all my life. I thought you were going to come in by sheer force — to take the kingdom by storm" (Matthew 11:12).

Mercy: "Alas! In my position, who could have done otherwise? You saw the door was shut against me, and there was that vicious dog nearby. Who, as faint-hearted as I was, would not have knocked with everything they had? But tell me — what did our Lord say about my roughness? Was He not displeased with me?"

Christiana: "When He heard your thundering knock, He gave the most gentle, innocent smile. I believe what you did pleased Him, for He showed no sign to the contrary. But I must say, I wonder in my heart why He keeps such a dog. Had I known about it beforehand, I would never have had the courage to come at all. But we are in now, and I am glad with all my heart."

Mercy: "If you don't mind, I will ask Him the next time He comes down why He keeps such a frightful animal in His yard. I hope He will not take it badly."

"Please do," said the children, "and try to persuade Him to have it put down — for we are afraid it will bite us when we leave."

So at last He came down to them again, and Mercy fell face down on the ground before Him in worship, and said, "Let my Lord accept the offering of praise which I now bring Him, with the words of my lips."

Then He said to her, "Peace be with you. Rise up." But she remained with her face to the ground and said, 'You are righteous, O Lord, when I plead with You — yet let me speak with You about Your ways' (Jeremiah 12:1). "Why do You keep so fierce a dog in Your yard, when the sight of it nearly drives women and children like us away from Your gate in terror?"

He answered and said, "That dog belongs to someone else. It is kept on another man's property — my pilgrims only hear its barking from a distance. It belongs to the castle you see over there, but its noise can reach up to the walls of this place. That dog has actually driven many an honest pilgrim forward — from worse to better — by the terror of its roaring. The one who owns it does not keep it out of any goodwill toward Me or Mine. His purpose is to prevent pilgrims from coming to Me, to make them too frightened to knock at this gate. At times it has broken loose and attacked some whom I love. But I bear it patiently for now. I also give My pilgrims timely help, so that they are never handed over to its power to do with them as its savage nature would prompt. But My purchased one — I believe that had you known beforehand, you would not have been afraid of a dog after all. A beggar going door to door, rather than miss a chance at a crust of bread, will brave the barking, baying, and even biting of a dog. Shall a dog — a dog in another man's yard — a dog whose barking I turn to the benefit of My pilgrims — keep anyone from coming to Me? 'I delivered them from the lion, and My darling from the power of the dog' (Psalm 22:21-22)."

Mercy: Then Mercy said, "I confess my ignorance. I spoke without understanding. I acknowledge that You do all things well."

Christiana: Then Christiana began to talk about the journey ahead and to ask about the road. So He fed them, washed their feet, and set them on the road — just as He had done for her husband before them.

The Second Stage

So I saw in my dream that they walked on their way, and the weather was very pleasant for traveling.

Then Christiana began to sing:

"Blessed be the day I first began to make my way as a pilgrim here, and blessed be the man who stirred me to start.

It's true I was long in coming to seek a life that would last forever, but now I run as fast as I can — better late than never.

Our tears are turned to joy, our fears are turned to faith — as we can see. And so our beginnings, as someone has said, show us what our end will be."

Now on the other side of the wall that bordered the road Christiana and her companions were traveling, there was a garden belonging to the same man who owned the barking dog mentioned earlier. Some of the fruit trees in that garden had extended their branches over the wall, and their ripe fruit was hanging within reach. Those who found it picked it and ate it, to their own harm. So Christiana's boys — as boys do — were attracted by the trees and the fruit hanging from them, and they began to pick and eat. Their mother scolded them for it, but they kept on anyway.

"Boys," she said, "you are doing wrong — that fruit is not ours." But she did not know it belonged to the enemy. I'll warrant that if she had known, she would nearly have died of fright. But that incident passed, and they went on their way. About two bow-shots from the place where they had entered the road, they spotted two very evil-looking men coming rapidly down the road to meet them. At that, Christiana and Mercy drew their veils over their faces and pressed on. The children went ahead. At last they came face to face. The two men came right up to the women as though to embrace them. But Christiana said, "Stand back — or go peaceably past, as you should." But the men, as though deaf to her words, paid no attention and began to lay their hands on them. At this, Christiana grew furious and fought back with her feet. Mercy also did her best to push them off. Then Christiana said to them again, "Stand back and be on your way. We are pilgrims and have no money — we live on the generosity of our friends."

Evil-looking men: Then one of them said, "We are not after your money. We have come to tell you that if you will grant us one small request, we will make you the happiest women in the world."

Christiana: Now Christiana, understanding well what they intended, answered plainly, "We will not hear, consider, or agree to anything you ask. We are in a hurry and cannot linger — our business is a matter of life and death." So she and her companion tried again to get past them, but the men blocked their way.

Evil-looking men: "We mean no harm to your lives. It is something else we want."

Christiana: "Yes," said Christiana, "you want us — body and soul — I know that is why you have come. But we would rather die on this spot than let ourselves be led into traps that would ruin our eternal well-being." With that, they both screamed, crying out, "Murder! Murder!" — calling upon the legal protections that exist for women in such danger (Deuteronomy 22:25-27). But the men still pressed toward them, determined to overpower them. So they cried out again.

Now, since they were not far from the gate through which they had entered, their cries were heard back there. Someone from the household came out, and recognizing Christiana's voice, ran quickly to help. But by the time help arrived within sight of them, the women were in a desperate struggle and the children were standing nearby weeping. The rescuer called out to the attackers, "What are you doing? Would you cause our Lord's people to be violated?" He also moved to seize them, but they scrambled over the wall into the garden of the man who owned the large dog — and the dog became their protector. The Reliever then came up to the women and asked how they were. They answered, "We thank your Prince — we are fairly well, though we have been badly frightened. And we thank you for coming to our aid — otherwise we would have been overpowered."

Reliever: After a few more words, the Reliever said this: "I was surprised that when you were welcomed at the gate above — knowing you were only women traveling alone — you did not ask the Lord for a guide. If you had, He would have granted you one, and you could have avoided all this trouble and danger."

Christiana: "Alas!" said Christiana. "We were so caught up in the joy of the moment that we completely forgot about dangers ahead. Besides, who would have thought that so close to the King's palace there could be such wicked men lurking? It would certainly have been wise to ask our Lord for a guide — but since He knew it would be for our good, I wonder that He did not send one along with us anyway."

Reliever: "It is not always best to give things that have not been asked for — otherwise those things lose their value in the eyes of those who receive them. When someone feels the lack of something, they come to appreciate it for what it is truly worth, and they use it accordingly. If my Lord had simply given you a guide without your asking, you would not have felt this regret over the oversight as deeply as you do now. So all things work together for good, and this will make you more watchful going forward."

Christiana: "Should we go back to my Lord, confess our foolishness, and ask for one?"

Reliever: "I will bring your confession to Him myself. You do not need to go back — in every place you will come to, you will lack nothing at all. In every one of my Lord's lodgings, which He has prepared for the reception of His pilgrims, there is everything needed to protect them from any attack. But as I said, He will be asked by them to do it for them (Ezekiel 36:37). And nothing worth having is too small to ask for." Having said this, he returned to his post, and the pilgrims continued on their way.

Mercy: "What a sudden shock this has been!" said Mercy. "I thought we were past all danger and would never see sorrow again."

Christiana: "Your innocence, my sister," said Christiana to Mercy, "excuses you a great deal. But my fault is all the greater, because I knew about this danger before I even left home, and still did not prepare for it when I had the chance. I am very much to blame."

Mercy: "How did you know this before you left home?" said Mercy. "Please explain this mystery to me."

Christiana: "I will tell you. Before I took a single step out the door, one night as I lay in bed I had a dream about this very thing. I thought I saw two men — looking exactly like the ones who attacked us — standing at the foot of my bed, plotting how they might stop me from being saved. I will tell you their exact words. They said — and this was while I was in deep distress — 'What shall we do with this woman? She cries out day and night for forgiveness. If we let her keep going the way she has started, we will lose her just as we lost her husband.' This should have put me on guard and prompted me to prepare while there was still time."

Mercy: "Well," said Mercy, "though our neglect has shown us our own weakness, our Lord has used it to display the riches of His grace. For as we have seen, He followed us with kindness we never even asked for, and in His pure mercy He delivered us from the hands of those who were stronger than us."

After they had talked a little longer, they drew near to a house standing alongside the road — a house built for the relief of pilgrims, as is more fully described in the first part of The Pilgrim's Progress. They moved toward the house, which was the Interpreter's House, and when they reached the door they heard lively conversation inside. They listened closely and thought they heard Christiana mentioned by name — for word of her journey and her children's pilgrimage had gone on ahead of her. This news was especially welcome to those inside, because they had heard she was the wife of Christian, the woman who had once been so reluctant to go on pilgrimage. So they stood quietly and listened to the people inside speaking well of someone who had no idea she was standing right at the door. At last Christiana knocked, just as she had knocked at the gate before. When she knocked, a young servant girl came to the door and opened it, and found two women standing there.

The Damsel: "Who is it you wish to speak with here?" the girl asked.

Christiana: Christiana answered, "We understand this is a place of welcome for pilgrims, and we are pilgrims standing at your door right now. We ask to receive whatever is offered here, for as you can see the day is nearly gone, and we have no desire to travel any farther tonight."

The Damsel: "May I ask your name, so I can tell my master inside?"

Christiana: "My name is Christiana. I was the wife of the pilgrim who traveled this road some years ago, and these are his four children. This young woman is my companion, and she is also making the pilgrimage."

Innocent: Then Innocent — for that was her name — ran inside and said to those gathered there, "Can you imagine who is at the door? It is Christiana and her children, and her companion — all of them waiting to be welcomed in!" They leaped for joy and went to tell their Master. So he came to the door, and looking at her he said, "Are you the Christiana whom Christian the good man left behind when he set out on his pilgrimage?"

Christiana: "I am the woman who was so hard-hearted that I dismissed my husband's troubles and let him go on his journey alone. These are his four children. But now I have come myself, for I am convinced that there is no right way but this one."

Interpreter: "Then what was written of the man who said to his son, 'Go work today in my vineyard,' and the son said, 'I will not' — but afterward he changed his mind and went — is now fulfilled" (Matthew 21:29).

Christiana: "So be it," said Christiana. "Amen. May God make that saying true in my life, and may I be found by Him at the last in peace, without spot and blameless."

Interpreter: "But why do you stand there at the door? Come in, you daughter of Abraham! We were just talking about you — news of your pilgrimage reached us before you did. Come, children, come in. Come, young woman, come in." And so he brought them all into the house.

Once they were inside, they were invited to sit down and rest. While they rested, those who served in the house came into the room to see them. One person smiled, then another, and they all smiled for joy that Christiana had become a pilgrim. They looked at the boys too, and gently stroked their faces as a sign of warm welcome. They were equally kind and affectionate toward Mercy, and welcomed them all into their Master's house.

After a little while — supper not being ready yet — the Interpreter took them into his Significant Rooms and showed them what Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen there some time before. They saw the man in the cage, the man and his dream, the man who cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of the greatest of them all, along with all the other things that had been so valuable to Christian.

When that was done, and after Christiana and her company had had some time to take it all in, the Interpreter led them separately into another room. There stood a man who could look nowhere but downward, with a muck-rake in his hand. Above his head stood another figure holding a glorious crown, offering it to him in exchange for the rake. But the man never looked up, never paid attention — he just kept raking together the straw, the small sticks, and the dust on the floor.

Christiana: "I think I understand something of what this means," said Christiana. "This is a picture of a man who is entirely caught up in the things of this world — is it not, good sir?"

Interpreter: "You are right," he said. "His muck-rake shows his worldly mind. Notice how he pays attention to raking up straw and sticks and dust from the floor rather than listening to the one above who is calling to him with a glorious crown in hand. This shows that heaven is nothing more than a fairy tale to some people, and that earthly things are counted as the only real things. Notice also that the man could look nowhere but downward. This is to show you that when earthly things take a powerful hold on a person's mind, they completely carry that person's heart away from God."

Christiana: "Then deliver me from this muck-rake," said Christiana (Proverbs 30:8).

Interpreter: "That prayer has been sitting unused so long it has almost grown rusty," said the Interpreter. "'Give me not riches' is barely the prayer of one in ten thousand. Straw and sticks and dust — these are the great things most people are chasing after today."

At that, Christiana and Mercy wept and said, "Alas, it is all too true."

After showing them this, the Interpreter led them into the finest room in the house — a truly splendid room. He told them to look around and see if they could find anything of value in it. They looked all around the room. But there was nothing to be seen except one large spider clinging to the wall, and they passed right over it without noticing.

Mercy: "Sir, I see nothing," said Mercy. But Christiana stayed quiet.

Interpreter: "Look again," said the Interpreter. So she looked again and said, "There is nothing here but an ugly spider hanging on the wall by her hands." Then he said, "Is there only one spider in this whole spacious room?" At that, tears came to Christiana's eyes — for she was a woman of quick understanding — and she said, "Indeed, Lord, there are more here than one. There are spiders whose venom is far more destructive than hers." The Interpreter smiled warmly at her and said, "You have spoken the truth." This made Mercy blush and the boys hide their faces, for they were all beginning to understand what the picture meant.

Then the Interpreter said again, "'The spider takes hold with her hands,' as you see, 'and is in kings' palaces'" (Proverbs 30:28). "And why is this written — except to show you that no matter how full of the venom of sin you may be, you can still, by the hand of faith, take hold and dwell in the finest room in the King's house above?"

Christiana: "I had a sense of something like that," said Christiana, "but I could not quite work it out. I thought about how we are like spiders — ugly creatures no matter how fine a room we are found in. But the idea that through this spider, this venomous and unpleasant creature, we were to learn how faith acts — that never crossed my mind. And yet she took hold with her hands, and as I can see, she lives in the finest room in the house. God has made nothing in vain."

They all seemed glad, though tears stood in their eyes. They looked at one another and bowed before the Interpreter.

He led them into another room where there was a hen with her chicks, and told them to watch for a while. One of the chicks went to the water trough to drink, and every single time it drank it lifted its head and eyes toward heaven. "See what this little chick does," he said, "and learn from her to acknowledge where your blessings come from by receiving them with a look upward." "Now watch again," he said. So they watched closely and noticed that the hen related to her chicks in four distinct ways: first, she had a common call that she used throughout the day; second, she had a special call that she used only sometimes; third, she had a brooding note (Matthew 23:37); and fourth, she had an alarm cry.

"Now," he said, "compare this hen to your King, and these chicks to His obedient people. For in the same way, He has His own ways of relating to His people. Through His common call He gives nothing specific; through His special call He always has something to give. He also has a brooding voice for those who shelter under His wing, and He has an alarm cry to warn when He sees the enemy coming. I have chosen, my dear ones, to bring you into this room — where such things are shown — because you are women, and these pictures are easy for you to understand."

Christiana: "Sir," said Christiana, "please show us more." So he led them into the slaughterhouse, where a butcher was killing a sheep. The sheep was perfectly calm and accepted its death without resistance. Then the Interpreter said, "You must learn from this sheep to endure suffering and put up with wrongs without grumbling or complaining. See how quietly she accepts her death, and how without protest she allows her skin to be taken from her. Your King calls you His sheep."

After this he led them into his garden, where a wide variety of flowers was growing. "Do you see all of these?" he asked. "Yes," said Christiana. "Notice," he said again, "that the flowers are different in height, quality, color, fragrance, and purpose. Some are more valuable than others. But wherever the gardener has planted them, there they stand — and they do not quarrel with one another."

Then he led them into his field, which he had planted with wheat and grain. But when they looked, the tops of every stalk had been cut off, leaving only bare straw. "This ground was fertilized, plowed, and sowed," he said. "But what should be done with this crop?" "Burn some," said Christiana, "and make compost of the rest." "You see," said the Interpreter, "that fruit is what you expect from it — and for the lack of fruit you condemn it to the fire and to be trampled underfoot. Take care that by this judgment you do not also condemn yourselves."

As they were coming back inside, they spotted a little robin with a large spider in its mouth. "Look at that," said the Interpreter. So they looked. Mercy was surprised, but Christiana said, "What a shame for such a pretty little bird as the robin redbreast — a bird that, above many others, loves to be near people and keep their company! I had always thought they lived on breadcrumbs and other harmless things. I like him less now than I did before."

The Interpreter replied, "This robin is a fitting picture of certain people who make a profession of faith. In appearance they are like the robin — pleasant in voice, appearance, and manner. They also seem to have a deep love for sincere believers and want more than anything to be in their company, as if they could survive on the crumbs from a godly person's table. They claim that this is why they frequent the houses of the godly and attend the Lord's appointed gatherings. But in private — like this robin — they catch and gobble up spiders. They change what they feed on, drink wickedness, and swallow sin like water."

When they came back inside, supper was still not ready, so Christiana again asked the Interpreter to show or tell them something else that would be profitable.

Then the Interpreter began: "The fatter the pig grows, the more it craves the mud. The better-fed the ox, the more carelessly it walks to slaughter. And the more vigorous a lustful man is, the more drawn he is to evil. Women naturally desire to dress well and look attractive — and to be adorned with what God considers of great worth is a beautiful thing. Staying awake one or two nights is far easier than going a whole year without sleep. In the same way, it is easier to make a good start in the life of faith than to hold out faithfully to the very end. Every ship's captain in a storm will gladly throw overboard the least valuable cargo first — but who would throw out the best things first? Only someone who does not fear God. One leak can sink a ship, and one unrepented sin can destroy a person. Someone who forgets a friend is ungrateful. But someone who forgets their Savior is cruel to themselves. A person who lives in sin while expecting happiness in eternity is like someone who sows weeds and expects to fill their barn with wheat and barley. If you want to live well, bring to mind the thought of your last day often, and keep it as a constant companion. Whispering and restless, shifting thoughts are proof that sin is at work in the world. If the world — which God thinks little of — is considered so valuable by people, how much more valuable is heaven, which God commends? If this life, full of troubles as it is, is so hard for us to let go of, how precious must the life above be? Everyone praises the goodness of people they admire — but who is truly moved, as they should be, by the goodness of God? We rarely sit down to a meal without eating our fill and still leaving something on the table. In the same way, there is more merit and righteousness in Jesus Christ than the whole world could ever exhaust."

When the Interpreter finished, he took them back out into his garden and showed them a tree whose inside was completely rotten and hollow — yet it still stood and put out leaves. "What does this mean?" asked Mercy. "This tree," he said, "which looks fine on the outside but is rotten within, represents many who are found in God's garden. They speak highly of God with their mouths, but in reality they will do nothing for Him. Their leaves are green, but their hearts are good for nothing except as kindling for the devil's fire."

Supper was now ready. The table was set and everything was laid out, so they sat down and ate after giving thanks. The Interpreter made it his custom to entertain guests with music at meals, so the musicians played. There was also a singer, and he had a very fine voice. His song went like this:

"The Lord alone is my support, the one who feeds my need. How then could I ever lack the things on which I feed?"

When the song and music were finished, the Interpreter asked Christiana what had first moved her to set out on a pilgrim's life. Christiana answered, "First, the loss of my husband weighed on my heart and grieved me deeply — but that was only natural love. Then the memory of my husband's struggles and his pilgrimage came back to me, along with how rudely and coldly I had treated him through all of it. Guilt gripped my mind and would have pulled me into despair, but just in time I had a dream showing me my husband's well-being, and then received a letter from the King of the country where my husband now lives, inviting me to come. The dream and the letter together so worked on me that they drove me to take this road."

Interpreter: "But did you face any opposition before you left home?"

Christiana: "Yes — a neighbor of mine, a Mrs. Timorous. She was related to the man who tried to persuade my husband to turn back for fear of the lions. She mocked me for what she called my reckless plan, and pressed as hard as she could to discourage me by reminding me of all the hardships and troubles my husband had faced on the road. But I got past that well enough. What has troubled me most, though, was a dream I had about two evil-looking men who I believed were plotting to make me fail on my journey. That dream still plays in my mind and makes me wary of everyone I meet, afraid they intend to harm me or drive me off the road. I will tell you — though I would not want everyone to know — that between here and the gate where we entered the road, we were attacked so violently that we cried out 'murder.' And the two men who attacked us looked exactly like the two I had seen in my dream."

Then the Interpreter said, "Your beginning is good — and your end will be far greater." He then turned to Mercy and said to her, "And what was it that moved you to come here, my dear?"

Mercy: Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and stayed silent for a moment.

Interpreter: "Do not be afraid," he said. "Only believe, and speak your mind."

Mercy: So she began and said, "Truly, sir, my lack of experience is what makes me want to stay quiet — and it is also what fills me with fear that I may fall short in the end. I cannot tell of visions and dreams as my friend Christiana can. Nor do I know what it is to grieve over having rejected the counsel of good people who loved me."

Interpreter: "What was it, then, dear one, that led you to do what you have done?"

Mercy: "Well, when our friend here was packing up to leave our town, I and another neighbor happened to go and visit her. We knocked and went in. When we saw what she was doing, we asked what she meant by it. She told us she had been sent for to go to her husband. Then she told us how she had seen him in a dream — living in a wonderful place among immortals, wearing a crown, playing a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing praises to Him for bringing him there. While she was describing all of this, my heart burned inside me. I said to myself, 'If this is true, I will leave my father and mother and the land where I was born, and go with Christiana if I am allowed.' So I asked her more about the truth of what she was saying, and whether she would let me go with her — for I could see clearly that there was no staying in our town without risk of ruin. Even so, I left with a heavy heart — not because I was unwilling to go, but because so many of my loved ones were being left behind. I have come with everything my heart has in it, and I will go with Christiana to her husband and his King, if I may."

Interpreter: "Your setting out is good, for you have believed the truth. You are like Ruth, who out of love for Naomi and for the Lord her God left her father and mother and the land of her birth to go with a people she had not known before. 'May the Lord repay your work, and may a full reward be given you by the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge' (Ruth 2:11-12)."

Supper was now over and preparations were made for bed. The women were given rooms of their own, and the boys slept together separately. When Mercy was in bed, she could not sleep for joy — for the fear that she might ultimately miss out had been pushed further away than ever before. So she lay there blessing and praising God, who had shown such favor toward her.

In the morning they rose with the sun and prepared to leave. But the Interpreter asked them to stay a little longer. "You must leave here in the proper way," he said. Then he said to Innocent, the girl who had first opened the door for them, "Take these guests into the garden to the bath, and there wash them and make them clean from the dirt they have picked up in their travels." So Innocent took them into the garden and brought them to the bath. She told them that there they must wash and be made clean, for that was what her Master required of all women who came to his house on their way to pilgrimage. So they went in and washed — they and the boys, all of them. And when they came out of that bath, they were not only clean and fresh but noticeably more alive and strengthened in their whole bodies. When they came back inside, they looked far more beautiful than when they had gone out to wash.

When they returned from the garden bath, the Interpreter received them and looked at them with delight, and said to them, "Fair as the moon." Then he called for the seal with which those who were washed in his bath were marked. The seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them so that they would be recognized in the places still ahead. The seal was the content and meaning of the Passover that the children of Israel kept when they came out of Egypt (Exodus 13:8-10), and the mark was placed between their eyes. This seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was an adornment to their faces. It also gave them a quiet dignity, and their expressions became more like those of angels.

Then the Interpreter said again to the servant who attended the women, "Go to the wardrobe and bring out garments for these people." She went and brought out white clothing and laid it before him. He directed them to put it on — it was fine linen, white and clean. Once the women were dressed in this way, each one was struck with awe at the sight of the other, because she could not see in herself the glory that she plainly saw in her companion. And so they began to value one another more highly than themselves. "You are more beautiful than I am," said one. "You are lovelier than I am," said another. The children stood amazed to see what they had become.

The Third Stage

The Interpreter then called for a servant of his named Great-heart, and told him to take a sword, a helmet, and a shield. "Take these daughters of mine," he said, "and escort them to the house called Beautiful, where they will rest next." So Great-heart took up his weapons and went on ahead of them. The Interpreter called out, "God speed." Those of the household sent them off with many warm wishes. And so they went on their way, singing:

This place has been our second stage: here we have heard and seen those good things that from age to age to others have been hidden.

The muck-raker, spider, and the hen, the chicken too, have taught a lesson meant to change me then — and make me what I ought.

The butcher, garden, and the field, the robin and his bait, the rotten tree — these all have given me lessons that have weight.

They move me now to watch and pray, to strive to be sincere, to take my cross up every day and serve the Lord with fear.

I saw in my dream that they went on, with Great-heart leading the way. They came to the place where Christian's burden had fallen from his back and rolled into a tomb. There they paused, and there they gave thanks to God. "Now," said Christiana, "I remember what was said to us at the gate — that we would have pardon by word and deed: by word meaning the promise, and by deed meaning the way that pardon was obtained. I have some understanding of what the promise is. But what does it mean to have pardon by deed — or 'in the way it was obtained'? Mr. Great-heart, I believe you know. Would you please explain it to us?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Pardon by deed means pardon that was obtained by one person on behalf of another who needed it — not by the person being pardoned, but through the action of another who says, 'I have obtained it for you.' So to answer the question more fully: the pardon that you, and Mercy, and these boys have received was obtained by someone else — namely, by the one who let you in at the gate. He obtained it in two ways: He performed a righteousness to cover you, and He shed His blood to wash you clean."

Christiana: "But if He gives His righteousness away to us, what does He keep for Himself?"

Mr. Great-heart: "He has more righteousness than you need — or than He needs for Himself."

Christiana: "Please explain that."

Mr. Great-heart: "Gladly. But first let me lay some groundwork. The one we are speaking about has no equal. He has two natures in one person — natures that are clearly distinct, yet impossible to divide. To each nature belongs its own righteousness, and each righteousness is essential to that nature. You could no more remove that righteousness from the nature than you could destroy the nature itself. We do not share in those righteousnesses — they are not put onto us so that we might be made just through them. But beyond those, there is another righteousness that belongs to this person precisely as the two natures are joined together in one. This is not the righteousness of His divine nature taken by itself, nor the righteousness of His human nature taken by itself, but a righteousness that exists in the union of both natures. It may properly be called the righteousness essential to His being prepared by God for the office of mediator, which was entrusted to Him. If He gives up the first righteousness, He gives up His deity. If He gives up the second, He gives up the purity of His humanity. If He gives up the third, He gives up the very qualification that fits Him for the work of mediation. He therefore has yet another righteousness — one that consists in His performance of, or obedience to, God's revealed will. That is the righteousness He puts upon sinners, the one by which their sins are covered. This is why it is written: 'For as through the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, even so through the obedience of the One the many will be made righteous' (Romans 5:19)."

Christiana: "But are the other righteousnesses of no benefit to us at all?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Yes, they are — even though they belong essentially to His natures and office and cannot be transferred to another. It is by virtue of them that the justifying righteousness actually has its power and effect. The righteousness of His divine nature gives authority to His obedience. The righteousness of His human nature gives His obedience the capacity to justify. And the righteousness that belongs to Him as the union of both natures in His office gives that righteousness the authority to accomplish what it was appointed to do."

So there is a righteousness that Christ as God does not need for Himself — for He is God without it. There is a righteousness that Christ as man does not need to make Him human — for He is perfect man without it. And there is a righteousness that Christ as the God-man does not need for Himself — for He is perfectly and completely that without it. Here, then, is a righteousness that Christ as God, and as God-man, has no personal need of — and can therefore give away. It is a justifying righteousness that He does not need for Himself, and so He bestows it as a gift. This is why it is called 'the gift of righteousness.' Since Christ the Lord has placed Himself under the law, this righteousness must be given away — for the law does not only require the one under it to act justly, but also to be charitable (Romans 5:17). The law requires that if a person has two coats, he must give one to someone who has none. Now, our Lord truly has two coats — one for Himself and one to spare. And so He freely gives one away to those who have none. And this, Christiana and Mercy and the rest of you here, is how your pardon comes by deed — by the work of another. Your Lord Christ is the one who did the work, and He has given away what He earned to the next poor beggar He meets."

There is more to pardon by deed than simply receiving a covering. A price must also be paid to God. Sin has handed us over to the just curse of a righteous law. To be freed from that curse we must be redeemed — a price paid for the wrong we have done. That price is the blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place and died your death for your sins. In this way He ransomed you from your offenses by blood and covered your polluted and broken souls with righteousness (Romans 8:34). Because of this, God passes over you and will not bring judgment upon you when He comes to judge the world (Galatians 3:13).

Christiana: "This is wonderful! Now I see there was something truly important to understand in what it means to be pardoned by word and deed. Good Mercy, let us work to keep this in our minds. And children, remember it too. But sir, was this not what made my dear Christian's burden fall from his shoulders and made him jump for joy three times?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Yes. It was believing this that cut those chains which nothing else could cut. And it was to give him living proof of the power of this truth that he was allowed to carry his burden all the way to the cross."

Christiana: "I thought so. For though my heart was already light and joyful before, it is ten times more so now. And I am convinced from what little I have felt so far that if the most burdened person in the world were here and could see and believe as I do right now, it would fill their heart with more joy than they could contain."

Mr. Great-heart: "What comes to us through reflecting on these things is not only comfort and relief from a heavy burden — it also produces a deep love within us. For who, once they truly understand that pardon comes not only by promise but through all of this, could fail to be moved by the way their redemption was accomplished — and by the one who accomplished it for them?"

Christiana: "That is true. It makes my own heart ache to think that He bled for me. Oh, You loving One! Oh, You blessed One! You deserve to have me — You have bought me. You deserve to have all of me — You have paid for me ten thousand times more than I am worth. No wonder this made tears come to my husband's eyes and made him press on with such eagerness. I am certain he wished I had been with him — but I, wretched as I was, let him go on alone. Oh Mercy, how I wish your father and mother could be here — yes, and Mrs. Timorous too. Truly I wish Madam Wanton were here right now. Surely their hearts would be moved. The fear that holds one back and the powerful lusts that grip the other would not be strong enough to make them turn around and refuse to become pilgrims."

Mr. Great-heart: "You speak now from the warmth of your heart. But do you think it will always feel this way? Besides, this kind of response is not given to everyone — not even to everyone who watched Jesus bleed. There were people standing right there who saw the blood run from His heart to the ground, and instead of being broken by it, they laughed at Him. Instead of becoming His followers, they hardened their hearts against Him. So all that you have, my daughters, you have through a special work of grace — a divine impression made by God's Spirit as you have considered what I have shared with you. Remember what was said: the hen gives no food to her chicks through her common call. What you have, therefore, is the gift of special grace."

I saw in my dream that they went on until they reached the place where Simple, and Sloth, and Presumption had been lying asleep when Christian passed by on his pilgrimage. Now they were hanging in iron chains a little way off, on the other side of the road.

Mercy: "Who are these three men," said Mercy to their guide and escort, "and why are they hanging there?"

Mr. Great-heart: "These three men were of very bad character. They had no desire to become pilgrims themselves, and they blocked the way for everyone they could. They embodied sloth and folly and infected others with the same, while also teaching people to presume they would be fine in the end no matter how they lived. When Christian passed by, they were asleep. Now that you are passing by, they are hanged."

Mercy: "Were they actually able to persuade people to adopt their way of thinking?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Yes, they turned many off the road. There was Slow-pace, whom they persuaded to do as they did. They also succeeded with Short-wind, No-heart, Linger-after-Lust, and Sleepy-head, and with a young woman named Dull — all of them turned aside and became like them. Beyond that, they spread false reports about your Lord, telling others He was a harsh taskmaster. They also spread a bad report about the good land, claiming it was not half as wonderful as people said. They went on to slander His servants, calling the best of them meddlesome and troublesome busybodies. And further — they called the bread of God nothing but scraps, the comforts of His children mere fantasies, and the journey and labor of pilgrims a complete waste of time."

Christiana: "Then if that is what they were, I will not waste a tear on them. They have gotten what they deserve. And I think it is good that they hang so close to the highway, so that others can see them and take warning. But would it not have been fitting to engrave their crimes on iron or brass plates, left here where they did their harm, as a caution to other evildoers?"

Mr. Great-heart: "That has been done — as you will see if you walk a little closer to the wall."

Mercy: "No, no — let them hang, their names rot, and their crimes stand as a witness against them forever. I count it a great mercy that they were hanged before we arrived. Who knows what they might have done to poor women like us otherwise?" Then she turned her thoughts into a song:

"Now hang there, you three, as a warning sign to all who dare against the truth combine. And let the one who comes this way take heed, if he refuses to a pilgrim's need. And you, my soul, beware of men like these who set themselves true holiness to seize."

They continued on until they came to the foot of Hill Difficulty. There Mr. Great-heart took the opportunity to tell them what had happened there when Christian passed by. He led them first to the spring. "Look," he said. "This is the spring that Christian drank from before he climbed this hill. In his day it was clear and good. But now it has been muddied by the feet of those who have no desire for pilgrims to quench their thirst here" (Ezekiel 34:18-19). "Why would anyone be so spiteful?" said Mercy. "It will do," said their guide, "if you draw it and let it sit in a clean vessel. The dirt will settle to the bottom and the water will come out clear on its own." So that is what Christiana and her companions did. They drew the water into an earthen pot and let it stand until the sediment settled to the bottom, and then they drank it.

Next he showed them the two side paths at the foot of the hill — the ones where Formalist and Hypocrisy had lost themselves. "These are dangerous paths," he said. "Two were destroyed here when Christian came by. And though, as you can see, these ways have since been blocked off with chains, posts, and a ditch, there are still those who would rather risk going that way than make the effort to climb this hill."

Christiana: "'The way of the unfaithful is hard'" (Proverbs 13:15). "It is a wonder they can get into those paths without breaking their necks."

Mr. Great-heart: "They will try anyway. If any of the King's servants happen to see them and call out to warn them — telling them they are on the wrong path and urging them to take care — they hurl back a contemptuous answer: 'As for what you have spoken to us in the name of the King, we will not listen to you — we will certainly do whatever we have decided to do' (Jeremiah 44:16-17). Look a little further, and you will see that every precaution has been taken — not only posts, ditches, and chains, but hedges as well. And still they will choose to go that way."

Christiana: "They are lazy — they don't want to exert themselves. Climbing uphill is unpleasant to them. So what is written is fulfilled in them: 'The way of the sluggard is like a hedge of thorns' (Proverbs 15:19). They would actually rather walk into a snare than go up this hill and along the rest of the road to the city."

Then they set out and began to climb the hill. But before they reached the top, Christiana was gasping for breath and said, "I dare say this is a hill that takes the wind right out of you. No wonder those who love their ease more than their souls choose a smoother path."

"I have to sit down," said Mercy. The youngest of the children also began to cry. "Come, come," said Great-heart, "don't sit down here — a little further up is the Prince's arbor." Then he took the little boy by the hand and led him up to it.

When they reached the arbor, they were very glad to sit down, for they were all flushed and overheated. "How sweet rest is for those who labor," said Mercy (Matthew 11:28). "And how good is the Prince of pilgrims, to provide such resting places for them! I have heard much about this arbor, but I have never seen it before. Let us be careful, though, not to fall asleep here — for as I have heard, it cost poor Christian dearly."

Then Mr. Great-heart said to the little ones, "Come, my boys — how are you doing? What do you think of going on pilgrimage now?" "Sir," said the youngest, "I was nearly ready to give up. But I thank you for taking my hand when I needed it. And I remember now what my mother told me — that the road to heaven is like climbing a ladder, and the road to hell is like going down a hill. But I would far rather climb the ladder to life than go down the hill to death."

"But the saying goes," said Mercy, "'Going downhill is easy.'" "The day is coming," said James — for that was his name — "when I believe going downhill will be the hardest thing of all." "That's a good lad," said his master. "You have given her just the right answer." Then Mercy smiled, and the little boy blushed.

Christiana: "Come," said Christiana, "will you have a bite to sweeten your mouths while you rest your legs? I have here a piece of pomegranate that Mr. Interpreter pressed into my hand just as I was leaving his door. He also gave me a piece of honeycomb and a small bottle of spirits." "I thought he gave you something," said Mercy, "because he called you aside." "Yes, he did," said Christiana. "But as I said when we first set out from home — you will share in every good thing I have, because you so willingly became my companion." So she shared with them, and they all ate — Mercy and the boys both. Then Christiana said to Mr. Great-heart, "Sir, will you have some too?" But he answered, "You are the ones on pilgrimage, and I will soon be returning. May what you have do you good — I eat the same things at home every day."

The Fourth Stage

When they had eaten and drunk and talked a little longer, their guide said, "The day is wearing on — if you are ready, let us prepare to go." So they got up to leave, and the little boys went on ahead. But Christiana had forgotten her bottle of spirits, so she sent her youngest boy back to get it. Then said Mercy, "This seems to be a place where things get left behind. Christian lost his scroll here, and Christiana has left her bottle. Sir, what causes this?" Their guide answered, "The cause is drowsiness or forgetfulness. Some sleep when they ought to be awake, and some forget when they ought to remember. This is why pilgrims so often come away from their resting places having lost something. Pilgrims should stay alert and hold on to what they have received, especially in moments of great enjoyment — but for failing to do so, their joy often ends in tears and their sunshine turns to cloud. The story of Christian at this very spot is proof of that."

When they came to the place where Mistrust and Timorous had met Christian and tried to persuade him to turn back for fear of the lions, they saw what appeared to be a platform. In front of it, facing the road, was a large sign with verses written on it, and below the verses an explanation of why the platform had been built there. The verses read:

"Let all who see this platform take heed to what their heart and tongue pursue, or they may end as others did who passed along this way before you."

The words below the verses read: "This platform was built as a place of punishment for those who, through cowardice or mistrust, refuse to press on in pilgrimage. On this platform both Mistrust and Timorous were branded through the tongue with a hot iron, as punishment for attempting to hinder Christian on his journey."

Then said Mercy, "This calls to mind the words of the Beloved: 'What shall be given to you, and what more shall be done to you, you deceitful tongue? Sharp arrows of the warrior, with the burning coals of the broom tree'" (Psalm 120:3-4).

So they went on until the lions came into view. Mr. Great-heart was a strong man and had no fear of lions. But when they reached the spot where the lions were, the boys — who had been walking confidently ahead — suddenly shrank back and fell in behind the others, frightened. Great-heart smiled at this and said, "Well now, boys — you like walking out front when there is no danger, but as soon as the lions appear you are glad to bring up the rear?"

As they pressed forward, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword, intending to cut a path through for the pilgrims past the lions. Just then a man appeared who had appointed himself the lions' defender. He said to the pilgrims' guide, "What brings you here?" This man's name was Grim — also called Bloody-man, on account of the pilgrims he had killed. He was of the race of giants.

Mr. Great-heart: "These women and children are going on pilgrimage," said the pilgrims' guide, "and this is the road they must travel. They will pass through, in spite of you and the lions."

Grim: "This is not their road, and they will not go through it. I have come out to oppose them, and to that end I will stand with the lions."

The truth was, because of the ferocity of the lions and the menacing presence of the man who backed them, this part of the road had gone largely untraveled for some time and was nearly overgrown with grass.

Christiana: "Though the highways have been deserted," said Christiana, "and though travelers have been forced off the path in times past — it must not be so now, now that I have risen up, now that I have risen as a mother in Israel" (Judges 5:6-7).

Grim: Then he swore by the lions that they would not pass, and ordered them to turn aside — they would get no passage there.

But Great-heart, their guide, advanced on Grim and struck him so hard with his sword that he drove him back.

Grim: "Will you strike me down on my own ground?"

Mr. Great-heart: "This is the King's highway, and it is on this highway that you have placed the lions. These women and children — weak as they are — will go on their way in spite of your lions." With that he landed another decisive blow and brought Grim to his knees. The same blow shattered his helmet, and the next cut off his arm. Then the giant let out a roar so horrifying that it terrified the women — yet they were glad to see him crumple to the ground. The lions were chained and could do nothing on their own. So when old Grim, who had set himself up as their defender, was dead, Mr. Great-heart said to the pilgrims, "Come now, follow me, and the lions will not harm you." They went forward, the women trembling as they passed by the lions, and the boys looking as though they might faint — but they all got through without being hurt.

When the Porter's lodge came into sight, they hurried toward it, eager to arrive before dark — for traveling that stretch at night is dangerous. When they reached the gate, the guide knocked and the Porter called out, "Who is there?" But as soon as Great-heart spoke, the Porter recognized his voice and came down, for Great-heart had often been there before as an escort of pilgrims. When he came down and opened the gate, he saw the guide standing directly in front of it — the women were behind him, out of sight — and said to him, "Mr. Great-heart, what brings you here so late at night?" "I have brought some pilgrims," he said, "who by my Lord's command must lodge here. I would have arrived earlier, but I was held up by the giant who used to defend the lions for his own purposes. After a long and hard battle I cut him down, and I have now brought the pilgrims here safely."

The Porter: "Will you come in and stay until morning?"

Mr. Great-heart: "No, I will return to my Lord tonight."

Christiana: "Oh sir, I can hardly bear the thought of you leaving us on our pilgrimage. You have been so faithful and kind to us — you fought so bravely for us, and advised us so warmly and freely — I will never forget the favor you have shown us."

Mercy: "Oh, if only you could travel with us all the way to the end!" said Mercy. "How can poor women like us hold up in a road so full of troubles without a friend and defender by our side?"

James: "Please, sir," said James, the youngest of the boys, "let us persuade you to come with us and help us, because we are so weak and the way is so dangerous."

Mr. Great-heart: "I am bound by my Lord's command. If He assigns me to escort you all the way through, I will gladly go with you. But here is where you made your first mistake — when He sent me with you this far, you should have asked Him right then to let me go all the way, and He would have granted it. For now, though, I must go back. And so, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children — farewell."

Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana where she was from and about her family. She said, "I came from the City of Destruction. I am a widow — my husband is dead. His name was Christian the pilgrim." "What!" said the Porter. "Was he your husband?" "Yes," she said, "and these are his children. And this one" — pointing to Mercy — "is from my town." Then the Porter rang his bell, as was his custom on such occasions, and one of the young women came to the door — her name was Humble-mind. The Porter said to her, "Go inside and tell them that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, have arrived here on pilgrimage." She went in and delivered the message. And what a burst of joyful noise broke out inside the moment those words left her mouth!

They came rushing to the Porter's gate, for Christiana was still standing at the door. Some of the most dignified among them said to her, "Come in, Christiana — come in, wife of that good man. Come in, you blessed woman — come in, and bring all who are with you." So she went in, and her children and companions followed her. Once inside, they were shown to a large room and invited to sit down. The leading members of the household were called to come and welcome the guests. They came in, and when they understood who the visitors were, they greeted each other with a kiss and said, "Welcome, vessels of the grace of God — welcome to us, your friends."

Since it was growing late and the pilgrims were tired from the journey — and also shaken by the battle and the sight of the terrifying lions — they wanted to prepare for bed as soon as possible. "First refresh yourselves with a little food," said those of the household. They had prepared a lamb for them, along with the customary sauce that goes with it (Exodus 12:21; John 1:29), for the Porter had heard of their coming ahead of time and had passed word along inside. After they had eaten and finished their prayers with a psalm, they asked to be shown to their rooms.

"If we may be so bold as to choose," said Christiana, "could we have the chamber where my husband stayed when he was here?" So they were taken up to it, and they all rested in that room. When they had settled in, Christiana and Mercy lay talking quietly together about things that were on their hearts.

Christiana: "I never once imagined, when my husband set out on his pilgrimage, that I would ever follow him."

Mercy: "And just as little did you think you would ever be lying in his bed, in his chamber, resting as you are now."

Christiana: "And even less did I imagine seeing his face with joy, and worshiping the Lord the King together with him. And yet now I believe I shall."

Mercy: "Listen — do you hear that?"

Christiana: "Yes — I believe it is music, playing for joy that we are here."

Mercy: "How wonderful — music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here!" Then they talked a while longer and fell asleep.

In the morning when they awoke, Christiana said to Mercy, "What were you dreaming about? You were laughing in your sleep last night."

Mercy: "Was I? I was dreaming, and it was a beautiful dream — but are you certain I laughed?"

Christiana: "You laughed heartily. Please, Mercy — tell me your dream."

Mercy: "I dreamed I was sitting alone in a quiet place, grieving over the hardness of my heart. I had not been sitting there long before it seemed as though a crowd had gathered around me to watch and listen to what I was saying. They listened, and I went on mourning over my hard heart. At that, some of them laughed at me, some called me a fool, and some began to shove me around. Then I looked up and saw someone coming toward me with wings. He came straight to me and said, 'Mercy, what is the matter?' When he had heard my complaint, he said, 'Peace be to you.' He wiped my eyes with his handkerchief and dressed me in silver and gold (Ezekiel 16:8-11). He put a chain around my neck and earrings in my ears and a beautiful crown on my head. Then he took me by the hand and said, 'Mercy, come with me.' He went up, and I followed, until we came to a golden gate. He knocked, and when those inside had opened it, he went in and I followed him up to a throne where someone was seated. And he said to me, 'Welcome, daughter.' The place was radiant and shimmering like the stars — or rather like the sun. And I thought I saw your husband there. Then I woke up. Did I really laugh?"

Christiana: "Laugh — yes, and well you might, to see yourself doing so well! For I must tell you — that was a good dream. And just as you have already begun to see the first part of it come true, so you will find the second part fulfilled in the end. 'Indeed God speaks once, or twice, yet no one notices it. In a dream, a vision of the night, when sound sleep falls on men, while they slumber in their beds' (Job 33:14-15). We do not need to be awake in bed to hear from God — He can visit us while we sleep and cause us to hear His voice even then. Our hearts are often awake when our bodies are sleeping, and God can speak to the heart through words, proverbs, signs, and images, just as well as when one is fully awake."

Mercy: "I am glad for my dream — for I hope before long to see it fulfilled and to laugh with joy again."

Christiana: "I think it is high time we got up and found out what we are to do today."

Mercy: "If they invite us to stay a while, I hope we will gladly accept the offer. I would very much like to stay here a little longer and get to know these young women better — Prudence, Piety, and Charity all have such gracious and composed faces."

Christiana: "We will see what they say."

So when they were up and dressed, they came downstairs and asked one another how they had slept and whether it had been restful.

Mercy: "Very well," said Mercy. "It was one of the best nights of sleep I have ever had in my life."

Then Prudence and Piety said, "If you will agree to stay here for a while, we will offer you everything this house has to give."

Charity: "Yes, and with great pleasure," said Charity. So they agreed to stay, and remained there for about a month or more, and it was a benefit to everyone. Because Prudence wanted to see how Christiana had raised her children, she asked permission to question them in the faith. Christiana readily agreed. Prudence began with the youngest, whose name was James.

Prudence: "Come, James," she said. "Can you tell me who made you?"

James: "God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit."

Prudence: "Good boy. And can you tell me who saved you?"

James: "God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit."

Prudence: "Very good. But how does God the Father save you?"

James: "By His grace."

Prudence: "How does God the Son save you?"

James: "By His righteousness, His death, His blood, and His life."

Prudence: "And how does God the Holy Spirit save you?"

James: "By His illumination, by His renewal of my heart, and by His keeping me."

Then Prudence said to Christiana, "You are to be commended for how you have raised your children. I think I need not ask the others these same questions, since even the youngest answers them so well. I will move on to the next youngest."

Prudence: "Come, Joseph" — for his name was Joseph — "will you let me question you in the faith?"

Joseph: "With all my heart."

Prudence: "What is man?"

Joseph: "A rational creature, made by God — as my brother said."

Prudence: "What does the word 'saved' imply?"

Joseph: "That man, through sin, has brought himself into a condition of bondage and misery."

Prudence: "What does it imply that he is saved by the Trinity?"

Joseph: "That sin is such a great and powerful tyrant that no one can pull us out of its grip but God — and that God loves mankind so much that He truly does pull him out of that miserable condition."

Prudence: "What is God's purpose in saving people?"

Joseph: "The glorifying of His name, His grace, and His justice — and the eternal happiness of His people."

Prudence: "Who are those who will be saved?"

Joseph: "Those who receive His salvation."

Prudence: "Well done, Joseph. Your mother has taught you well, and you have paid close attention to what she has said."

Then Prudence turned to Samuel, who was the second eldest.

Prudence: "Come, Samuel — are you willing for me to question you?"

Samuel: "Yes, please — if you would like."

Prudence: "What is heaven?"

Samuel: "A place and condition of the highest blessedness, because God lives there."

Prudence: "What is hell?"

Samuel: "A place and condition of the greatest misery, because it is where sin, the devil, and death dwell."

Prudence: "Why do you want to go to heaven?"

Samuel: "So that I may see God and serve Him without growing tired. So that I may see Christ and love Him forever. And so that I may have that fullness of the Holy Spirit in me which I am not able to have in any complete measure here on earth."

Prudence: "A very good boy, and one who has learned his lessons well."

Then she turned to the eldest, whose name was Matthew, and said, "Come, Matthew — shall I question you as well?"

Matthew: "Very gladly."

Prudence: "Was there ever anything in existence before God?"

Matthew: "No — for God is eternal. Nothing other than God had any existence before the beginning of the first day. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them."

Prudence: "What do you think of the Bible?"

Matthew: "It is the holy Word of God."

Prudence: "Is everything in it something you understand?"

Matthew: "No — there is a great deal I do not understand."

Prudence: "What do you do when you come to passages you cannot understand?"

Matthew: "I remind myself that God is wiser than I am. And I pray that He would be pleased to show me all in it that He knows would be for my good."

Prudence: "What do you believe about the resurrection of the dead?"

Matthew: "I believe that the same person who was buried will rise again — the same in nature, though free from decay. And I believe this on two grounds: first, because God has promised it; and second, because He has the power to bring it about."

Then Prudence said to the boys, "You must continue to listen to your mother, for she can teach you much more. You should also pay careful attention to the good teaching you hear from others — they speak good things for your benefit. Observe also, with care, what the heavens and the earth teach you. But above all, spend much time meditating on that book which first caused your father to become a pilgrim. As for myself, children, I will teach you what I can while you are here, and I will be glad to answer any questions you have that lead to growth in godliness."

By the time the pilgrims had been at the house for a week, Mercy had a visitor who claimed to have an interest in her. His name was Mr. Brisk — a man of some polish and social bearing who made a show of religion, but who in truth clung tightly to the world. He came to see Mercy once or twice, or more, and made known his interest in her. Mercy was attractive in appearance, which made her all the more appealing to him.

Her nature was to always keep herself busy doing something. When she had nothing to do for herself, she would make stockings and clothing for others, and give them to those who were in need. Mr. Brisk, not knowing where or to whom she gave everything she made, was quite taken with her — for he never found her idle. "I'll warrant she would make a fine housewife," he said to himself.

Mercy then told the young women of the household about the matter and asked what they knew of him, since they knew him better than she did. They told her that he was a very busy young man who made a profession of religion — but that he was, they feared, a stranger to any real power of godliness.

"Then," said Mercy, "I will give him no more encouragement. I have no intention of taking on a burden to my soul."

Prudence replied that there was no need to discourage him strongly. If Mercy simply continued doing what she had been doing for the poor, that would cool his interest soon enough.

So the next time he came he found Mercy at her usual work, making things for the poor. "What — always at it?" he said. "Yes," she replied, "either for myself or for others." "And what do you earn from it?" he said. "I do this," she said, "to be rich in good works, laying up for myself a good foundation for the time to come, that I may take hold of eternal life" (1 Timothy 6:17-19). "But what do you do with the things you make?" he asked. "Clothe the naked," she said. His expression fell at that. He stopped coming to see her after that. When asked why, he said that Mercy was a fine girl, but had some troublesome qualities.

When he had gone, Prudence said, "Did I not tell you that Mr. Brisk would soon leave you? He will spread a negative report about you. For all his talk of religion and his show of interest in Mercy, their characters are so different that I do not think they could ever come together."

Mercy: "I could have been married before now, though I never spoke of it to anyone. But those men could not accept my way of life, even though none of them ever found fault with me personally. So we could never come to an agreement."

Prudence: "Mercy is valued in name only these days. Very few people can actually tolerate the way of life that the name implies."

Mercy: "Well," said Mercy, "if no one will have me, I will die unmarried — or my way of life will serve as my husband. I cannot change who I am. And I will never allow someone who is fundamentally opposed to this in me to be part of my life. I had a sister named Bountiful who married one of these harsh men, and they could never agree. Because my sister was determined to continue what she had started — that is, showing kindness to the poor — her husband first shamed her publicly and then turned her out of the house."

Prudence: "And yet he was a professor of religion, I would expect?"

Mercy: "Yes, that kind of professor — and the world today is full of them. But I want nothing to do with any of them."

Now Matthew, Christiana's eldest son, fell ill. His sickness was severe — he was seized with terrible stomach cramps, twisting pain that at times nearly doubled him over. There lived not far away a man named Mr. Skill, a seasoned and highly regarded physician. Christiana sent for him, and after he had come in, looked the boy over for a little while, and observed him, he concluded that Matthew was suffering from a stomach ailment. He asked the mother, "What has Matthew been eating lately?" "Nothing but wholesome food," said Christiana. The physician replied, "This boy has gotten hold of something that is sitting in his stomach undigested and will not clear without treatment. I am telling you plainly — he must be purged, or he will die."

Samuel: "Mother," said Samuel, "what was it that my brother picked up and ate just after we left the gate at the head of the road? You know there was an orchard on the left side, on the other side of the wall, and some of the trees hung over the wall. My brother pulled fruit from them and ate it."

Christiana: "That is true, my child," said Christiana. "He did take some and eat it. I scolded him for it, naughty boy that he was, but he ate it anyway."

Mr. Skill: "I knew he had eaten something that was not healthy food. That fruit is among the most harmful things there is — it is the fruit of Beelzebub's orchard. I am surprised no one warned you about it. Many have died from eating it."

Christiana: Then Christiana began to cry. "Oh, naughty boy!" she said. "And oh, careless mother! What shall I do for my son?"

Mr. Skill: "Come now, do not be too discouraged. The boy may recover well, but he must be purged and must vomit it out."

Christiana: "Please, sir, do everything in your power for him, whatever it costs."

Mr. Skill: "I expect to be reasonable." So he prepared a purge for the boy, but it was too weak. It was said to be made from the blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer, and some juice of hyssop (Hebrews 9:13, 19; 10:1-4). When Mr. Skill saw that the first purge was not strong enough, he made one that would truly work. It was made from the flesh and blood of Christ — ex carne et sanguine Christi (John 6:54-57; Hebrews 9:14). Physicians, as you know, sometimes prescribe unusual medicines. This medicine was formed into pills, with one or two promises added, along with a measured portion of salt (Mark 9:49). He was to take them three at a time, on an empty stomach, dissolved in about an eighth of a cup of the tears of repentance (Zechariah 12:10).

When the medicine was prepared and brought to the boy, he was reluctant to take it — even though the cramps were tearing him apart. "Come, come," said the physician, "you must take it." "It goes against my stomach," said the boy. "You must take it," said his mother. "I will only vomit it up again," said the boy. "Sir," said Christiana to Mr. Skill, "how does it taste?" "It has no bad taste," said the doctor. With that she touched one of the pills with the tip of her tongue. "Oh, Matthew," she said, "this medicine is sweeter than honey. If you love your mother, if you love your brothers, if you love Mercy, if you love your own life — take it." So, with some difficulty, and after a short prayer asking God's blessing on it, he took it, and it worked gently within him. It caused him to be purged, it caused him to sleep and rest quietly, it brought on a warm healing sweat, and it completely cleared him of his cramps. Before long he was up and walking about with a staff, going from room to room and talking with Prudence, Piety, and Charity about his illness and how he had been healed.

When the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, "Sir, what do we owe you for your care and attention to my child?" He said, "You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians according to the rules established for such cases" (Hebrews 13:11-15).

Christiana: "But sir," she said, "what else is this medicine good for?"

Mr. Skill: "It is a universal medicine. It is effective against every disease that pilgrims are prone to, and when properly prepared, it will keep indefinitely."

Christiana: "Please, sir — make me up twelve boxes of them. If I can have these, I will need no other medicine."

Mr. Skill: "These pills are good for preventing illness as well as for curing it when one is sick. Indeed, I will say it boldly and stand by it: if a person will use this medicine as directed, it will make him live forever" (John 6:51). "But, good Christiana, you must give these pills in no other way than as I have prescribed — otherwise they will do no good." So he provided medicine for Christiana, for her boys, and for Mercy. He told Matthew to be careful about eating unripe fruit again. Then he kissed them farewell and went on his way.

It was mentioned earlier that Prudence had invited the boys to bring her any questions they had, and that she would give them helpful answers.

Matthew: Matthew, who had been sick, asked her why medicine is usually bitter to the taste.

Prudence: "To show how unwelcome the Word of God and its effects are to an unrenewed heart."

Matthew: "Why does medicine, when it works, purge and cause vomiting?"

Prudence: "To show that when the Word works effectively, it cleanses the heart and mind. What medicine does to the body, the Word does to the soul."

Matthew: "What should we learn from seeing flame rise upward, and from seeing the sun's warmth and light reach downward?"

Prudence: "The rising of fire teaches us to reach toward heaven with burning, eager desire. And the sun sending its heat and light and warmth downward teaches us that the Savior of the world, though high above all, reaches down with His grace and love to us below."

Matthew: "Where do the clouds get their water?"

Prudence: "From the sea."

Matthew: "What can we learn from that?"

Prudence: "That ministers should draw their teaching from God."

Matthew: "Why do the clouds release their water onto the earth?"

Prudence: "To show that ministers should pour out what they have received from God and give it to the world."

Matthew: "Why is the rainbow caused by the sun?"

Prudence: "To show that God's covenant of grace is confirmed to us in Christ."

Matthew: "Why do springs travel from the sea through the earth to reach us?"

Prudence: "To show that the grace of God comes to us through the body of Christ."

Matthew: "Why do some springs rise out of the tops of high mountains?"

Prudence: "To show that the Spirit of grace will spring up in some who are powerful and influential, just as He does in many who are poor and lowly."

Matthew: "Why does fire catch on the wick of a candle?"

Prudence: "To show that unless grace ignites on the heart, there will be no true light of life within us."

Matthew: "Why does the wick, and the wax, and everything burn away to keep the candle alight?"

Prudence: "To show that body, soul, and everything we have should be dedicated to — and spent in — maintaining the grace of God that is in us."

Matthew: "Why does the pelican pierce her own breast with her beak?"

Prudence: "To feed her young with her own blood — and thereby to show that Christ the Blessed loved His people so deeply that He saved them from death by His own blood."

Matthew: "What can we learn from hearing a rooster crow?"

Prudence: "Learn to remember Peter's sin and Peter's repentance. The crowing of the rooster also tells us that a new day is breaking — and so let the rooster's crow remind you of that final and terrible day of judgment that is coming."

Around this time their month was up. So they informed the household that it was time for them to prepare and be going. Then Joseph said to his mother, "You should not forget to send word to the Interpreter's house, to ask him to send Mr. Great-heart to us as our guide for the rest of the way." "Good boy," she said, "I had nearly forgotten." So she wrote out a request and asked Mr. Watchful the porter to send it by a suitable messenger to her good friend the Interpreter. When the Interpreter received it and read its contents, he said to the messenger, "Go back and tell them I will send him."

When the household where Christiana was staying saw that they were preparing to leave, they gathered everyone in the house together to give thanks to their King for sending them such worthwhile guests. When that was done, they said to Christiana, "Before you go, shall we show you something as is our custom with pilgrims — something to meditate on while you travel?" So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy into a private room and showed them one of the apples that Eve ate, and that she gave to her husband — the very fruit for eating which they were both driven out of paradise. They asked her what she made of it. "I cannot tell," said Christiana, "whether it is food or poison." So they explained the matter to her, and she lifted her hands in wonder (Genesis 3:6; Romans 7:24).

Then they brought her to another place and showed her Jacob's ladder (Genesis 28:12). At that moment some angels were ascending it. So Christiana stood and watched the angels going up — and so did the rest of the company. They were about to move on to show them something else, but James said to his mother, "Please ask them to wait here a little longer — this is a remarkable sight." So they turned back and stood there, feasting their eyes on the beautiful scene.

After this, they brought them to a place where a golden anchor was hanging. They told Christiana to take it down. "You must bring it with you," they said, "for it is absolutely necessary — so that you may lay hold of what lies within the veil" (Hebrews 6:19), "and stand firm when you encounter rough and stormy conditions" (Joel 3:16). They were glad to have it.

Then they took them to the mountain where Abraham our father offered up his son Isaac, and showed them the altar, the wood, the fire, and the knife — for they remain visible to this very day (Genesis 22:9). When they had seen it, they raised their hands in awe and said, "Oh, what a man Abraham was for love of his Master, and for the denial of himself!"

After they had shown them all these things, Prudence brought them into a dining room where a fine keyboard instrument stood. She played on it and set everything they had been shown to this song:

"Eve's apple we have shown to you — of that, take care, beware. You've seen the ladder Jacob knew, upon which angels stare. An anchor, too, you now possess; but let not these suffice, until with Abraham you've blessed your Lord with sacrifice."

Around this time someone knocked at the door. The Porter opened it, and there stood Mr. Great-heart. What joy filled the room when he came in — for it all came freshly back to their minds how, just a short while ago, he had slain old Grim the giant and delivered them from the lions.

Mr. Great-heart: "My Lord has sent each of you a bottle of wine, and also some roasted grain, along with a couple of pomegranates. He has also sent the boys some figs and raisins to refresh you on your way."

Then they prepared for the journey, and Prudence and Piety went along with them as far as the gate. When they arrived at the gate, Christiana asked the Porter whether anyone had passed by recently. He said no — only one person, some time ago, who had mentioned that there had recently been a serious robbery committed on the King's highway ahead. "But," he added, "the thieves have been caught and will soon be put on trial for their lives." At this Christiana and Mercy were frightened. But Matthew said, "Mother, have no fear — Mr. Great-heart is going with us and will be our guide."

Then Christiana said to the Porter, "Sir, I am deeply grateful for all the kindness you have shown me since I arrived, and for how loving and attentive you have been to my children. I do not know how to adequately repay such kindness — please accept this small token of my gratitude." She pressed a gold coin into his hand. He bowed deeply to her and said, "Let your garments always be white, and let your head never lack ointment" (Ecclesiastes 9:8). "Let Mercy live and not die, and let her works be many" (Deuteronomy 33:6). And to the boys he said, "Flee the desires of youth and follow after godliness with those who are mature and wise" (2 Timothy 2:22). "In doing this you will bring gladness to your mother's heart, and earn the approval of all who are right-minded." So they thanked the Porter and went on their way.

The Fifth Stage

I saw in my dream that they walked on until they came to the crest of the hill, when Piety suddenly thought of something and cried out, "Oh no — I forgot to give Christiana and her companions what I intended to bring them. I must go back and get it." So she ran back to fetch it. While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard, from a grove a little way off to the right, a beautiful melody with words something like these:

"Through all my life Your favor is so freely shown to me, that in Your house forevermore my dwelling place shall be."

And as she listened, she thought she heard another voice answering:

"Why is this so? The Lord our God is good; His mercy is forever sure. His truth at all times firmly stood and shall from age to age endure."

So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that sang such beautiful songs (Song of Solomon 2:11-12). "Those are the birds of our country," she answered. "They sing these songs only rarely — except in the spring, when the flowers appear and the sun shines warm, and then you may hear them all day long. I often go out to listen to them myself," she said. "We sometimes keep them tame here in the house as well. They are wonderful company when we feel downcast — and they make the woods and groves and lonely places into places one wants to be."

By this time Piety had returned. She said to Christiana, "Look here — I have brought you a written summary of all the things you saw in our house. When you find yourself forgetting, you can look at it and call those things back to mind for your encouragement and comfort."

Now they began to descend the hill into the Valley of Humiliation. It was a steep slope and the path was slippery, but they were very careful and got down safely. When they were in the valley, Piety said to Christiana, "This is the place where your husband Christian met the foul fiend Apollyon — where they had that terrible battle you have surely heard about. But take heart: as long as Mr. Great-heart is here to guide and escort you, we trust you will fare better." With that, the two women entrusted the pilgrims to their guide, and he led the way forward while they followed.

Mr. Great-heart: "We need not be so afraid of this valley," said Mr. Great-heart. "There is nothing here to harm us, unless we bring it on ourselves. It is true that Christian met Apollyon here and had a fierce battle with him — but that fight was the fruit of the stumbles he took coming down the hill. Those who slip on the descent must expect a fight in the valley. That is why this valley has gotten such a dark reputation. When ordinary people hear that something frightening happened to someone in a certain place, they conclude the place is haunted by some evil spirit — when in truth, what happens there is the consequence of what the person brought with them. This Valley of Humiliation is in itself as fertile and good a place as any you could find. And I am persuaded that if we look carefully, we might find something nearby that would explain why Christian had such a hard time here."

Then James said to his mother, "Look — there is a pillar over there, and it looks as though something is written on it. Let us go and see what it says." So they went and found these words carved on it: "Let Christian's stumbles before he came here, and the battles he faced in this place, serve as a warning to those who come after." "There now," said their guide, "did I not tell you that we would find something here to explain why Christian had such a difficult time in this valley?" Then he turned to Christiana and said, "This is no worse reflection on Christian than on anyone else whose path brought them through this place. For going up this hill is easier than coming down — and that can be said of very few hills in all these parts. But let us leave the good man to his rest. He is at peace now, and he won his victory. May He who dwells above grant that we fare no worse when our time of testing comes."

But let us return to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most fruitful land in all these parts — rich, fertile ground, as you can see, mostly made up of meadows. If someone came here in the summertime, as we are doing now, knowing nothing of its history, and simply let his eyes enjoy what they saw, he would find it a truly delightful place. See how green this valley is, and how it is covered with lilies (Song of Solomon 2:1). I have known many hardworking people who have built a good life in this Valley of Humiliation — for God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5). It is indeed very fertile ground and brings forth abundantly. Some have even wished the road to their Father's house passed entirely through here, so they would have no more hills and mountains to cross. But the way is the way, and that is that.

As they were walking along and talking, they spotted a boy tending his father's sheep. His clothes were plain and poor, but his face was bright and cheerful. He was sitting by himself and singing. "Listen," said Mr. Great-heart, "to what the shepherd boy is singing." So they listened, and this is what he sang:

"The one who is down need fear no fall; the one who is low, no pride. The one who is humble shall always have God walking by his side.

I am content with what I have, whether little or whether much; and, Lord, contentment still I crave, because You save such.

To have too much is a burden still for those who walk the pilgrim's way. Here little, and hereafter bliss — that's best from age to age."

"Do you hear him?" said the guide. "I dare say this boy lives a merrier life, and carries more true peace and contentment in his heart, than the man dressed in silk and velvet. But let us continue on our way."

In this valley our Lord once had His country house, and He loved to spend time here. He loved to walk these meadows, for He found the air refreshing. Here a person is free from the noise and frenzy of life — every other place is full of noise and confusion, but the Valley of Humiliation is quiet and uncrowded. Here a person is less disturbed in his thoughts than he tends to be anywhere else. This is a valley that only those who love the pilgrim's life ever walk through. And though Christian had the bad luck of meeting Apollyon here and being drawn into a fierce battle, I must tell you that in earlier days people have met with angels in this valley (Hosea 12:4-5), have found pearls here (Matthew 13:46), and have discovered the words of life in this place (Proverbs 8:36).

I said that our Lord once had His country house here and loved to walk these paths. Let me add this: for those who love and frequent these grounds, He has established a yearly provision, faithfully delivered to them at appointed seasons — both for their support along the way and to encourage them to press on in their pilgrimage.

Samuel: As they continued on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, "Sir, I understand that this is the valley where my father and Apollyon fought their battle. But where exactly did the fight take place? This valley seems very large."

Mr. Great-heart: "Your father's battle with Apollyon took place a little further ahead, in a narrow pass just beyond Forgetful Green. That spot is the most dangerous place in all these parts. For whenever pilgrims get into serious trouble, it is usually when they have forgotten the kindnesses they have received and how unworthy they are of them. This is the same place where others have been hard pressed as well. But I will tell you more about the spot when we reach it — for I believe that to this day there is still either some mark of the battle or some memorial to show that the fight was fought there."

Mercy: "I think I feel more at ease in this valley than anywhere else we have been on this whole journey," said Mercy. "This place seems to suit my spirit. I love being somewhere with no rattle of carriages or rumbling of wheels. It seems to me that here, without much disturbance, one can think about who they are, where they have come from, what they have done, and what the King has called them to. Here one can think, and break at heart, and melt in spirit, until one's eyes become like the pools of Heshbon" (Song of Solomon 7:4). "Those who pass rightly through this valley of weeping make it a spring, and the rain God sends down upon those here fills the pools. This is also the valley from which the King will give His people their vineyards — and those who pass through it will sing, as Christian did, even though he met Apollyon" (Psalm 84:5-7; Hosea 2:15).

Mr. Great-heart: "That is true," said their guide. "I have passed through this valley many times, and I have never been in a better state of heart than when I was here. I have also guided many pilgrims through it, and they have said the same. 'To this one will I look,' says the King, 'even to the one who is poor and of a broken spirit, and who trembles at My word'" (Isaiah 66:2).

They had now come to the place where the battle had been fought. The guide said to Christiana, her children, and Mercy, "This is the spot. Christian stood right here, and Apollyon came at him from up there. And look — did I not tell you? There is still some of your husband's blood on these stones to this day. See also how here and there you can still find fragments of Apollyon's broken darts. Look at how the ground is torn up from their feet as they fought to hold their ground against each other — and how their wild blows even split the very stones. Truly, Christian played the man here and showed a courage that Hercules himself could not have surpassed. When Apollyon was beaten, he retreated into the next valley, which is called the Valley of the Shadow of Death — and we will come to that shortly. And look — there stands a monument with an account of this battle and Christian's victory, for all ages to remember." Since the monument stood right there at the roadside, they stopped and read it. Word for word, this is what was written:

"Hard by here a battle was fought, most strange, and yet most true. Christian and Apollyon met each other to subdue.

The man so bravely played the man he made the fiend to flee — of which I stand a monument to testify and see."

When they had passed that place, they came to the edge of the Valley of the Shadow of Death. This valley was longer than the one before it — a place filled with strange and troubling things, as many could attest. But these women and children fared better through it than some had, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their guide.

When they were entering the valley, they thought they heard a groaning — like the sound of dying men — deep and agonized. They also thought they heard voices crying out, as if from people in extreme torment. These sounds made the boys tremble. The women turned pale. But their guide urged them to take heart and press on.

They went a little further, and then the ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet, as if hollow underneath. They also heard something like the hissing of serpents — but nothing appeared. "Are we not to the end of this dreadful place yet?" asked the boys. But the guide again told them to be of good courage and to watch their footing carefully. "Be careful," he said, "that you do not step into a trap."

James began to feel sick — though I believe it was from fear. His mother gave him some of the bottle of spirits that had been given to her at the Interpreter's house, along with three of the pills Mr. Skill had prepared, and the boy began to recover. They went on until they reached about the middle of the valley. Then Christiana said, "I think I see something on the road ahead — a shape unlike anything I have seen before." "Mother, what is it?" said Joseph. "An ugly thing, child — a very ugly thing," she said. "But what does it look like, Mother?" he asked. "I cannot quite make it out," she said, "but it is coming closer now." Then she said, "It is nearly upon us."

"Well," said Mr. Great-heart, "those who are most afraid, stay close to me." So the fiend came on, and their guide went out to meet it — but the moment it reached him, it vanished from all of their sight. Then they called to mind what had been said: "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you" (James 4:7).

They went on, feeling somewhat refreshed. But before they had gone far, Mercy looked behind her and saw what appeared to be something like a lion coming after them at a fast, heavy pace. It roared with a deep hollow voice, and at every roar the valley echoed and every heart in the company sank — except the heart of their guide. The lion came on quickly. Mr. Great-heart moved to the rear and put all the pilgrims ahead of him, then turned to face the lion and prepared to fight (1 Peter 5:8-9). But when the lion saw that its enemy was resolved to stand and resist, it stopped and pulled back, and came no further.

They went on again, their guide leading the way, until they came to a place where the entire width of the road had been cut open by a great pit. Before they could work out how to cross it, a thick mist and deep darkness fell over them, and they could not see. "What shall we do now?" said the pilgrims. But their guide answered, "Do not be afraid. Stand still and see how this too will end." So they stopped, for the path ahead was blocked. Standing there in the dark, they seemed to hear more clearly the sounds of enemies moving and rushing. The fire and smoke rising from the pit became easier to make out. Then Christiana said to Mercy, "Now I understand what my poor husband went through. I have heard much about this place, but I never came here myself before. Poor man — he walked through this alone in the night. Darkness was with him nearly the whole way, and those fiends were at him as though they would tear him apart. Many have talked about it, but no one truly understands what the Valley of the Shadow of Death means until they come into it themselves. The heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger does not share in its grief (Proverbs 14:10). To be here is a terrifying thing."

Mr. Great-heart: "This is like doing business on the deep sea, or like going down into the depths. This is like being in the heart of the ocean, or descending to the bottom of the mountains — as though the earth with all its locked gates were closing around us forever. But let those who walk in darkness with no light trust in the name of the Lord and depend on their God (Isaiah 50:10). As I have already told you, I have passed through this valley many times and have been in far more desperate straits than I am now — and as you can see, I am still alive. I do not boast, for I am not my own savior. But I trust we will come through safely. Come, let us pray for light from the One who can lighten our darkness and rebuke not only these enemies, but all the powers of hell."

So they cried out and prayed, and God sent light and a way forward — the pit that had stopped them was no longer an obstacle. But they were not yet through the valley. They pressed on and encountered terrible stenches and foul smells that were a great misery to them. "This is not as pleasant as the gate, or the Interpreter's house, or the house where we slept last," said Mercy to Christiana.

"Oh, but," said one of the boys, "it is not as bad to pass through here as it would be to live here forever. And for all I know, one reason we must go this way to the house prepared for us is so that our home will be all the sweeter when we arrive."

"Well said, Samuel," said the guide. "You have spoken like a man. 'If I ever get out of here again,' said the boy, 'I think I will prize light and a good road more than I ever have in my life.'" "We will be out soon," said the guide.

They went on, and Joseph said, "Can we see the end of this valley yet?" "Watch your feet," said the guide, "for we are about to enter the snares." So they watched where they stepped and went carefully forward, though the snares gave them great trouble. While they were in the midst of them, they saw a man thrown into a ditch on the left side of the road, his flesh torn and mangled. "That is a man called Heedless, who was traveling this way," said the guide. "He has been lying there a long time. There was a man called Take-Heed traveling with him when he was caught and killed — but Take-Heed managed to escape. You cannot imagine how many have been killed in this area, and yet people are foolish enough to set out on pilgrimage lightly, with no guide. Poor Christian! It was a wonder he got through — but he was loved by his God, and he had a courageous heart of his own, or he could never have done it."

Now they were drawing toward the end of the valley. Just at the spot where Christian had seen the cave when he passed through, a giant came out. His name was Maul, and he made it his business to wreck young pilgrims with twisted arguments. He called out to Great-heart by name and said, "How many times have you been told not to do this?" "Do what?" said Mr. Great-heart. "You know what," said the giant. "But I am going to put an end to your work once and for all."

"Before we come to blows," said Mr. Great-heart, "let us at least understand what we are fighting about." The women and children stood trembling and did not know what to do. "You rob the land," said the giant, "and you rob it with the worst kind of theft." "That is too vague," said Mr. Great-heart. "Come to specifics, man."

Then the giant said, "You practice the trade of a kidnapper. You gather up women and children and carry them away into a foreign country, weakening my master's kingdom." But Great-heart replied, "I am a servant of the God of heaven. My business is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am commanded to do my utmost to turn men, women, and children from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God. If that is indeed what your quarrel is about, then let us fight whenever you are ready."

Then the giant advanced and Mr. Great-heart went out to meet him, drawing his sword as he went. The giant had a club. Without further talk they went at each other, and with his first blow the giant knocked Mr. Great-heart down onto one knee. The women and children cried out. But Mr. Great-heart recovered himself and struck back vigorously, wounding the giant in the arm. They fought this way for about an hour, until the battle grew so fierce that the giant's breath was blasting from his nostrils like steam from a boiling pot.

Then they paused to rest. Mr. Great-heart used the time to pray. The women and children did nothing but weep and groan throughout the entire battle.

When they had rested and caught their breath, they went at each other again. Mr. Great-heart landed a blow that brought the giant down to the ground. "Wait — let me get up," said the giant. Mr. Great-heart let him rise. Then they fell to fighting again, and the giant came very close to crushing Mr. Great-heart's skull with his club.

Seeing his danger, Mr. Great-heart drove forward with full force and drove his sword under the giant's fifth rib. The giant began to weaken and could no longer lift his club. Mr. Great-heart followed up his blow and struck the giant's head from his shoulders. Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart praised God for the victory He had given.

When it was over, they set up a pillar among them, fixed the giant's head to the top of it, and wrote beneath it in letters that travelers could read:

"The one whose head is fixed above was one who harmed those on the way — he blocked their path and spared not one, but did them harm without delay. Until Great-heart arose to be the pilgrims' guide through every fight, and stood against their enemy and set their path again aright."

The Sixth Stage

I saw them continue on to a rise in the ground a short distance ahead, which had been built up as a viewing point for pilgrims. It was the very place from which Christian had first caught sight of his brother Faithful. They sat down there and rested, and ate and drank and celebrated, for they had been delivered from such a dangerous enemy. As they sat eating, Christiana asked the guide if he had taken any injury in the battle. Mr. Great-heart said, "Nothing but a small wound to my body — but that will not hurt me at all. In fact, it is at present a proof of my love for my Master and for you, and by His grace it will increase my reward in the end."

Christiana: "But were you not frightened, good sir, when you saw him coming with his club?"

Mr. Great-heart: "It is my duty," he said, "to distrust my own strength, so that I will lean upon the One who is stronger than all."

Christiana: "But what did you think when he knocked you to the ground with his first blow?"

Mr. Great-heart: "I thought," said he, "that my Master Himself was treated the same way — and yet He is the one who conquered in the end" (2 Corinthians 4:10-11; Romans 8:37).

Matthew: "Whatever any of you think," said Matthew, "I believe God has been wonderfully good to us — both in bringing us out of this valley and in delivering us from this enemy. For my part, I see no reason to distrust our God any longer, since He has now, in a place as dark as this, shown us such clear proof of His love." Then they got up and went on.

Not far ahead of them stood an oak tree, and under it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep. They could tell he was a pilgrim by his clothing, his staff, and his belt.

Mr. Great-heart woke him. The old man, startling awake and looking around, called out, "What's this? Who are you, and what do you want here?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Easy, friend — there is no one here but friends." But the old man got up and stood on his guard, demanding to know who they were. "My name is Great-heart," said the guide. "I am the escort of these pilgrims who are traveling to the Celestial Country."

Mr. Honest: "Then I beg your pardon," said Mr. Honest. "I was afraid you might be from the company that robbed Little-faith of his money some time ago. But now that I look at you all more carefully, I can see you are honest people."

Mr. Great-heart: "But what would you have done, or been able to do, to help yourself if we had been from that company?"

Mr. Honest: "Done! Why, I would have fought as long as there was breath in me. And if I had, I am quite sure you could never have gotten the better of me — for a Christian can never truly be conquered unless he surrenders of his own will."

Mr. Great-heart: "Well said, father Honest," said the guide. "By this I can tell you are a man of the right kind — for what you have said is the truth."

Mr. Honest: "And by that I can tell you understand what true pilgrimage is — for everyone else thinks we are the easiest people in the world to overcome."

Mr. Great-heart: "Well — since we have met so happily, may I ask your name, and the name of the place you have come from?"

Mr. Honest: "My name I cannot tell you just yet, but I am from the town of Stupidity — it lies about four degrees further on than the City of Destruction."

Mr. Great-heart: "Oh — are you from that country? Then I think I have a fair guess at your name. It is Old Honesty, is it not?"

Mr. Honest: The old gentleman flushed and said, "Not honesty in the abstract — my name is simply Honest, and I hope my character matches what I am called. But sir, how could you guess that I was such a man, given where I come from?"

Mr. Great-heart: "I had heard of you from my Master — for He knows all things done on the earth. But I have often marveled that anyone ever came out of your town, for it is even worse than the City of Destruction itself."

Mr. Honest: "Yes, we are further from the sun there, and so we are colder and more numb to spiritual things. But if a man were buried in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of righteousness will rise upon him, his frozen heart will begin to thaw — and that is what has happened to me."

Mr. Great-heart: "I believe it, father Honest — I believe every word of it, for I know it is true."

Then the old man greeted all the pilgrims with a warm and affectionate embrace, and asked their names and how they had fared since setting out on their pilgrimage.

Christiana: "My name you have probably heard," said Christiana. "Good Christian was my husband, and these four are his children." And you should have seen how the old gentleman reacted when she told him who she was — he jumped, he smiled, he poured out blessings on them all, saying:

Mr. Honest: "I have heard much about your husband — his travels and the battles he fought throughout his life. Let me say it for your comfort: your husband's name is known all through these parts of the world. His faith, his courage, his endurance, and his sincerity through everything have made his name famous." Then he turned to the boys and asked their names, and they told him. "Matthew," he said, "be like Matthew the tax collector — not in his former life, but in his virtues" (Matthew 10:3). "Samuel, be like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer" (Psalm 99:6). "Joseph, be like Joseph in Potiphar's house — pure in heart and one who flees from temptation" (Genesis 39). "And James, be like James the just, and like James the brother of our Lord" (Acts 1:13). Then they told him about Mercy, and how she had left her home and her family to come along with Christiana and her sons. At that the old man said, "Mercy is your name — and by mercy you will be carried and sustained through every difficulty that awaits you on your way, until you come to where you will look the Fountain of Mercy in the face with joy." All this while, their guide Mr. Great-heart was very well pleased and smiled at his companions.

As they walked on together, the guide asked the old man if he knew a certain pilgrim named Mr. Fearing, who had come from that same part of the country.

Mr. Honest: "Yes, very well," he said. "He was a man who had the root of the matter in him — but he was the most difficult pilgrim I ever traveled with in all my days."

Mr. Great-heart: "I can see you knew him well, for you have described him exactly right."

Mr. Honest: "Knew him! I was a close companion of his — I was with him through most of his journey. I was with him when he first began to think about what would come to us in eternity."

Mr. Great-heart: "I was his guide from my Master's house all the way to the gates of the Celestial City."

Mr. Honest: "Then you know what a difficult one he was."

Mr. Great-heart: "I do — but I bore with it well enough. Men in my line of work are often entrusted with pilgrims exactly like him."

Mr. Honest: "Well then — please tell us something about him, and how he conducted himself on the journey under your care."

Mr. Great-heart: "He was always afraid that he would fall short of where he longed to go. Everything he heard anyone say frightened him, if it had even the slightest hint of trouble in it. I heard that he lay groaning at the Slough of Despond for more than a month. And even though he saw several people go over before him, and many of them offered him a helping hand, he would not dare to cross. Yet he would not turn back either. He said that he would die if he did not reach the Celestial City — and yet every difficulty crushed his spirit and every little obstacle someone threw in his path made him stumble. Well, after he had been lying at the Slough for a long time, as I said, one sunny morning — I don't know how he managed it — he ventured across and got over. But once he was over, he could barely believe it had happened. I think he carried a Slough of Despond inside him — a slough he took with him everywhere — or he could never have been the way he was. So he came up to the gate — you know the one, at the head of this road — and there he stood for a long while before he dared to knock. When the gate opened, he would step back and give way to others, saying he was not worthy to go in. Even though he had arrived before some of them, many went in ahead of him. The poor man stood there trembling and shrinking — it would have broken your heart to see him. But he would not turn back. At last he picked up the hammer that hung on the gate and gave a couple of small, hesitant knocks. The gate opened, but he shrank back again as before. The one who opened it stepped out after him and said, 'You trembling soul — what do you want?' At that he fell down to the ground. The gatekeeper was startled to see him so faint and said, 'Peace to you. Rise — I have opened the door for you. Come in, for you are blessed.' With that he got up and went in, trembling — and when he was inside, he was too ashamed to show his face. After he had been received and welcomed there for a while — as you know how it is done — he was told to press on and shown which way to go. So he went on until he came to our house. And he behaved at my Master the Interpreter's door exactly as he had at the gate. He wandered around in the cold outside for a long time before he would venture to knock — yet he would not go back. The nights were long and cold. He actually had a letter of commendation in his pocket from my Master asking him to receive him, to give him the comfort of the house, and to assign him a strong and courageous guide — for he was such a timid man by nature. And yet even with that letter, he was afraid to knock. So he lingered about outside until, poor man, he was nearly starved. His discouragement was so deep that even though he watched others knock and go in, he could not bring himself to do it. At last, I think I happened to look out the window and saw a man hovering about the door. I went out to him and asked who he was — the poor man, his eyes were full of tears, and I could see at once what he needed. So I went inside and told the household, and we brought the matter to our Lord. He sent me back out to invite him in — but I can tell you it was hard work. At last he came in. And I will say this for my Lord — He treated him with wonderful tenderness and love. There was not much food set out at the table, but some of the best of it was placed before him. Then he presented the letter, and my Lord read it and said his request would be granted. After he had been there a good while, he seemed to take heart and grow a little more at ease. For my Master, you must know, has a very compassionate nature — especially toward those who are frightened — and He treated him in whatever way would most encourage him. When he had seen the sights of the house and was ready to take his journey to the city, my Lord — as He had done with Christian before — gave him a bottle of spirits and some comforting food. And so we set out, with me going ahead of him. But the man was not one for many words — he mostly just sighed deeply as he walked."

When we came to the place where the three men were hanging, he said that he feared that would be his own end too. But he seemed glad when he saw the cross and the tomb. There he asked to stop for a moment to look, and for a while after that he seemed a little more cheerful. When he came to Hill Difficulty, he made nothing of it, and did not fear the lions much either — for his struggles were not about things like that. His fear was about whether he would be accepted at the end.

I more or less got him into the house Beautiful before he was truly willing. And even when he was inside, when I introduced him to the young women of the house, he was too ashamed to mix much with the company. He preferred to be alone — yet he always loved good conversation, and would often slip behind a screen to listen to it. He also loved to look at ancient things and spend time turning them over in his mind. He told me afterward that he had loved being at the two houses behind him — the gate and the Interpreter's — but that he had not dared to ask to stay longer.

When we left the house Beautiful and came down the hill into the Valley of Humiliation, he descended better than any man I have ever seen on that slope — for he did not care how lowly his position was, as long as he could be happy in the end. In fact, I think there was a natural connection between that valley and him. I never saw him in better spirits during the whole pilgrimage than he was in that valley.

There he would lie down, put his face to the earth, and kiss the very flowers growing in that valley (Lamentations 3:27-29). He was up every morning at dawn, walking back and forth through the valley."

But when we reached the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I nearly lost my man — not because he had any thought of turning back, which he always refused to do, but because he was ready to die from terror. 'The hobgoblins will have me! The hobgoblins will have me!' he cried, and I could not talk him out of it. He made such a commotion and such an outcry that if the enemies had heard him, it would have been enough to bring them down on us.

But I noticed something remarkable: the valley was as quiet while we passed through it as I had ever known it to be before or since. I believe the Lord had given those enemies a special restraint and had commanded them not to interfere until Mr. Fearing had passed through.

It would take too long to recount everything. I will mention only a few more things. When he came to Vanity Fair, I thought he would have fought every man in the place. I genuinely feared we would both get our heads knocked in — he was so furious at their foolishness. On the Enchanted Ground he was very watchful and alert. But when he came to the river where there is no bridge, he fell into despair once more. Now, he said, he would drown forever and never see the face he had traveled so many miles to behold.

And again I noticed something remarkable: the water of that river was lower at that moment than I had ever seen it in my life. So he crossed over in the end, barely getting his feet wet. When he was making his way up to the gate, I began to take my leave of him and wished him a warm welcome on the other side. He said, 'I shall — I shall.' Then we parted, and I saw him no more.

Mr. Honest: "So he arrived safely in the end?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Yes — I never had any doubt about him. He was a man of exceptional inner quality. It was just that he was always kept very low in spirit, and that made his own life a burden to him and difficult for others around him (Psalm 88). He was, more than most, sensitive to sin. He was so afraid of wronging others that he often denied himself things that were perfectly lawful, rather than risk giving offense" (Romans 14:21; 1 Corinthians 8:13).

Mr. Honest: "But what could be the reason that such a good man spent his entire life walking in such darkness?"

Mr. Great-heart: "There are two kinds of reasons for it. One is that the wise God wills it so — some must pipe and some must weep (Matthew 11:16). Mr. Fearing was one who played the bass note. He and those like him sound the deep, sorrowful tones, whose notes are more mournful than the higher parts of the music — though some say that the bass is the foundation of all music. And for my own part, I have no trust in a faith that does not begin in a heavy sense of one's own sin. The first string a musician usually strikes is the bass, when he wants to bring everything into tune. And God plays this same string first when He sets a soul in tune for Himself. The only shortcoming in Mr. Fearing was that he could play on no other string until near the very end of his life."

I take the liberty of speaking in this way — using musical images — to sharpen the thinking of younger readers, and because in the book of Revelation the saved are pictured as musicians playing their trumpets and harps and singing their songs before the throne (Revelation 5:8; 14:2-3).

Mr. Honest: "He was a remarkably zealous man, as you can see from what you have described. Difficulties, lions, Vanity Fair — none of those things frightened him at all. It was only sin, death, and hell that terrified him, because he had doubts about whether he truly had a share in that celestial country."

Mr. Great-heart: "You are exactly right. Those were the things that troubled him — and they arose, as you have rightly observed, from a weakness in his assurance, not from weakness of courage in the practical duties of the pilgrim's life. I would dare to say that, as the saying goes, he could have bitten a burning brand if it had stood in his way — but the troubles that weighed him down are not things any man has ever shaken off easily."

Christiana: "This account of Mr. Fearing has done me good," said Christiana. "I thought no one was quite like me. But I see there was something in common between this good man and myself — only we differed in two ways. His troubles were so intense they broke out of him openly, while I kept mine inside. And his fear weighed on him so heavily that it made him unable to knock at the doors of the houses prepared for him — but my trouble always made me knock the louder."

Mercy: "If I may also speak from my heart — something of him has also lived in me. I have always been more afraid of the lake of fire and of losing my place in paradise than of any other loss. 'Oh,' I have thought, 'may I have the happiness of a home there — it is worth giving up everything in the world to have it.'"

Matthew: "For my part," said Matthew, "fear was the very thing that made me wonder whether I truly had anything in me that comes with salvation. But if it was that way for a man as good as he, why could it not also go well for me?"

James: "No fear, no grace," said James. "Though there is not always grace where there is fear of hell, there is certainly no grace where there is no fear of God at all."

Mr. Great-heart: "Well said, James — you have hit the mark. For the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, and those who lack the beginning have neither middle nor end. But let us close our account of Mr. Fearing with this farewell sent after him:"

"Well, Master Fearing, you did fear your God, and trembled at doing anything while you were here that might betray your faith. And did you fear the lake and pit? Would others do so too! For those who lack your kind of wisdom only undo themselves."

I saw them continue talking as they went. After Mr. Great-heart had finished speaking about Mr. Fearing, Mr. Honest began to tell them about another man — his name was Mr. Self-will. "He made a claim to being a pilgrim," said Mr. Honest, "but I am quite persuaded he never came in through the gate at the head of the road."

Mr. Great-heart: "Did you ever have a conversation with him about it?"

Mr. Honest: "Yes, more than once. But he was always himself — self-willed through and through. He had no regard for other people, for argument, or for example. Whatever his own mind told him to do, that he would do — and nothing else could move him."

Mr. Great-heart: "And what beliefs did he hold? I take it you can tell us."

Mr. Honest: "He held that a man could follow the sins of the great pilgrims as well as their virtues — and that if he did both, he would certainly be saved."

Mr. Great-heart: "What? Now, if he had said it is possible for even the best of pilgrims to fall into the same sins as well as to show the same virtues, he could not have been blamed much — for none of us is completely free from any particular sin, except by watchfulness and effort. But that, I see, is not what you mean. If I understand you correctly, you are saying he believed it was perfectly acceptable to live that way."

Mr. Honest: "Exactly — that is what he believed and how he lived."

Mr. Great-heart: "But what grounds did he give for saying this?"

Mr. Honest: "He said he had Scripture to support it."

Mr. Great-heart: "Please, Mr. Honest — give us a few examples."

Mr. Honest: "Gladly. He said that David, God's beloved, had committed adultery — and therefore he could do the same. He said that Solomon kept many women — and therefore he could do the same. He said that Sarah, and the godly midwives of Egypt, and Rahab all told lies — and therefore he could too. He said that the disciples took the owner's donkey at their Master's direction — and therefore he could take things that belonged to others. He said that Jacob got his father's inheritance through cunning and deception — and therefore he could do the same."

Mr. Great-heart: "A remarkably bold position! And you are certain he actually held this view?"

Mr. Honest: "I heard him argue for it, cite Scripture for it, and make the case for it openly."

Mr. Great-heart: "An opinion that should not be tolerated anywhere in the world!"

Mr. Honest: "You must understand me precisely: he did not say that just anyone could do these things. His claim was that those who shared the virtues of those who had done such things were also free to do the same."

Mr. Great-heart: "But what could be more false than such a conclusion? This is the same as saying: because godly men in the past sometimes sinned out of weakness, therefore he has permission to sin deliberately. Or it is like saying: because a child fell into mud after being knocked down by the wind or stumbling over a stone, another child may therefore choose to wallow in it like a pig. Who could have imagined anyone could be so thoroughly blinded by their own desires? But Scripture must be fulfilled: 'they stumble at the word, being disobedient — and to this they were also appointed' (1 Peter 2:8). His idea that those who give themselves over to a saint's sins can somehow possess that saint's virtues is equally deluded. To feed on the sins of God's people (Hosea 4:8) like a dog lapping up filth is no sign that one shares their virtues. And I cannot believe that a person who holds this view can at present have any true faith or love in him at all. But I know you pressed him hard on it — what was his defense?"

Mr. Honest: "He said that holding this as an open belief is far more honest than living this way while publicly professing the opposite."

Mr. Great-heart: "A thoroughly wicked answer. For though giving free rein to sinful desires while opposing them in one's stated beliefs is bad — actually sinning and claiming the right to do so is worse. The first causes bystanders to stumble by accident; the second leads them deliberately into a trap."

Mr. Honest: "There are many who think exactly as this man did, but are not honest enough to say so openly. And that is a large part of why the pilgrimage gets such little respect."

Mr. Great-heart: "You are right, and it is a sad thing. But the one who truly fears the King of paradise will come safely through all of that."

Christiana: "There are some strange ideas in the world. I knew someone who said it was soon enough to repent when a person comes to die."

Mr. Great-heart: "Such people are not very wise. That man would never have agreed, if he had a week to run twenty miles, to put off starting until the very last hour of the week."

Mr. Honest: "You are right — and yet the majority of those who consider themselves pilgrims do exactly that. I am, as you can see, an old man, and I have been traveling this road for many years. I have observed a great many things."

"I have seen some who set out as if they would drive all the world before them, yet who within a few days died in the wilderness and never caught sight of the promised land. I have seen some who showed no promise at all when they first set out — people you would not have thought could last a single day — who turned out to be very good pilgrims. I have seen some rush eagerly forward, only to turn around and run just as fast in the other direction before long. I have seen some who spoke enthusiastically about the pilgrim's life at first, who later spoke just as forcefully against it. I have heard some who, when they first set out for paradise, insisted firmly that such a place existed — and who, when they were almost there, turned back and said there is no such place. And I have heard some boast loudly about what they would do if they met with opposition, who at the first false alarm abandoned their faith, the pilgrim's road, and everything."

As they were walking along, someone came running toward them and said, "Gentlemen — and you women with them — if you value your lives, look out for yourselves! There are robbers on the road ahead."

Mr. Great-heart: "Those must be the three who attacked Little-faith some time ago," said Mr. Great-heart. "Well — we are ready for them." So they went on. They watched at every bend in the road for the villains to appear. But whether the robbers had heard of Mr. Great-heart, or whether they had found easier prey elsewhere, they never showed themselves.

Christiana now wished for an inn where she could rest herself and her children, for they were all tired. "There is one just a little ahead," said Mr. Honest, "where a very honorable Christian man named Gaius lives" (Romans 16:23). They all agreed to stop there — all the more readily because the old gentleman had spoken so well of him. When they came to the door, they went straight in without knocking, as one does at an inn. They asked for the master of the house, and he came to them. They asked if they could spend the night there.

Gaius: "Yes, gentlemen — if you are honest folk. My house is for pilgrims and no one else." This made Christiana, Mercy, and the boys all the gladder, for the innkeeper was one who loved pilgrims. So they asked for rooms, and he showed Christiana, her children, and Mercy to one, and gave another to Mr. Great-heart and the old gentleman.

Mr. Great-heart: "Good Gaius," said Mr. Great-heart, "what do you have for supper? These pilgrims have come a long way today and are tired."

Gaius: "It is late," said Gaius, "so we cannot conveniently go out for food now. But what we have in the house you are welcome to, if that will do."

Mr. Great-heart: "Whatever you have in the house will be perfectly fine. In my experience of you, you are never without something good and suitable."

So Gaius went down and spoke to the cook — whose name was Taste-that-which-is-good — and gave orders for supper to be prepared for the company of pilgrims. Then he came back up and said, "Come, my good friends — you are very welcome here, and I am glad to have a house to receive you in. While supper is being prepared, shall we spend the time in good conversation?" They all agreed.

Gaius: "Tell me," said Gaius, "whose wife is this good woman, and whose daughter is this young woman?"

Mr. Great-heart: "This woman is the wife of Christian, a pilgrim of former days, and these are his four children. The young woman is a friend of hers whom she persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys are very much like their father and are eager to follow in his footsteps. Indeed, if they happen to see any place where the old pilgrim once rested, or any mark of his passing, it fills their hearts with joy, and they long to rest or walk in the same places."

Gaius: "What — this is Christian's wife, and these are Christian's children? I knew your husband's father — yes, and his grandfather too. Many good people have come from this line. Their ancestors first lived at Antioch (Acts 11:26). Christian's forebears — I expect you have heard your husband speak of them — were men of great worth. More than anyone I know, they showed themselves to be men of remarkable virtue and courage for the Lord of pilgrims, for His ways, and for those who loved Him. I have heard of many of your husband's family who stood firm through every test for the sake of truth. Stephen, one of the first of the line your husband came from, was stoned to death (Acts 7:59-60). James, another of that generation, was killed by the sword (Acts 12:2). To say nothing of Paul and Peter — men of the same ancient family. There was Ignatius, who was thrown to the lions; Romanus, whose flesh was cut from his bones; and Polycarp, who stood firm in the fire. There was one who was hung up in a basket in the sun to be eaten by wasps, and another who was put in a sack and thrown into the sea to drown. It would be impossible to count all of that family who have suffered injury and death for love of the pilgrim's life. I cannot help but be glad that your husband has left behind four such sons as these. I hope they will carry their father's name forward, walk in their father's footsteps, and reach their father's destination."

Mr. Great-heart: "Indeed, sir, they are fine lads. They seem to wholeheartedly choose their father's path."

Gaius: "That is what I was saying. Christian's family is likely to spread wide and grow numerous in the world. Let Christiana find good young women for her sons to marry, so that the name of their father, and the legacy of his ancestors, may never be forgotten."

Mr. Honest: "It would be a great pity for his line to die out."

Gaius: "It cannot die out entirely, though it may be reduced. But let Christiana take my advice, and that will be the way to keep it going. And Christiana," said the innkeeper, "I am glad to see you and your friend Mercy here together — a lovely pair. And if I may suggest it: draw Mercy into a closer relationship with your family. If she is willing, let her be given to Matthew, your eldest son. That is the way to carry on a good heritage in the earth." So this match was agreed upon, and in due time they were married — but more about that later.

Gaius went on to say, "I want to speak up now on behalf of women, to remove from them any reproach. For just as death and the curse came into the world through a woman (Genesis 3), so also came life and health — for God sent His Son into the world, born of a woman (Galatians 4:4). And to show how much those who came later abhorred what their foremother had done, women in the Old Testament longed to have children, in the hope that one of them might become the mother of the Savior of the world. What is more, when the Savior came, women rejoiced in Him before either man or angel did (Luke 1:42-46). I do not read that any man ever gave Christ so much as a small coin, but women followed Him and provided for Him out of their own means (Luke 8:2-3). It was a woman who washed His feet with tears (Luke 7:37-50), and a woman who anointed His body for burial (John 11:2; 12:3). Women wept as He went to the cross (Luke 23:27), women stayed with Him at the cross (Matthew 27:55-56; Luke 23:55), and women sat by His tomb after He was buried (Matthew 27:61). Women were first at the tomb on the morning of His resurrection (Luke 24:1), and women were the first to bring the disciples news that He had risen from the dead (Luke 24:22-23). Women, therefore, are highly honored — and by all of these things they show that they are equal sharers with us in the grace of life."

Then the cook sent word upstairs that supper was nearly ready, and sent someone to lay the table, set out the plates, and arrange the salt and bread.

Then Matthew said, "The sight of this tablecloth and these first preparations for supper stirs up an appetite in me that I did not have before."

Gaius: "Then let all the teaching you receive in this life stir up in you a greater longing for the supper of the great King in His kingdom — for all preaching, books, and ordinances here are no more than the laying of the cloth and setting out the salt, compared to the feast our Lord will prepare for us when we come to His house."

Supper was brought up. First, a raised shoulder and a waved breast were set before them — to show that a meal should begin with the lifting up of the heart to God in prayer and praise. David lifted his heart to God with the raised shoulder, and with the breast, where his heart lay, he would lean upon his harp when he played (Leviticus 7:32-34; 10:14-15; Psalm 25:1; Hebrews 13:15). These two dishes were fresh and fine, and they all ate heartily.

Next they brought a bottle of wine, red as blood (Deuteronomy 32:14; Judges 9:13; John 15:5). "Drink freely," said Gaius. "This is the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of God and man." So they drank and were merry.

Next came a dish of milk with bread crumbled into it. "Let the boys have that," said Gaius, "so that they may grow by it" (1 Peter 2:1-2).

Then they brought a dish of butter and honey. "Eat freely of this," said Gaius, "for it is good to sharpen and strengthen the mind and understanding. This was our Lord's food when He was a child: 'Curds and honey He will eat to know how to refuse the evil and choose the good'" (Isaiah 7:15).

Then they brought a dish of apples, and they were wonderfully good. Then Matthew said, "May we eat apples? It was with something like these that the serpent deceived our first mother."

Then said Gaius:

"Apples were what we were deceived with, it is true, but sin, not apples, left our souls defiled. Forbidden fruit, when eaten, poisons us — but fruit commanded gives us life worthwhile. So drink His wine, O church, His cherished dove, and eat His apples — you who are sick with love."

Then said Matthew, "I asked the question because I was recently sick from eating fruit."

Gaius: "Forbidden fruit will make you sick — but not what our Lord has given you and approved."

While they were talking, another dish appeared — a dish of nuts (Song of Solomon 6:11). Then some at the table said, "Nuts are hard on tender teeth — especially the teeth of children." When Gaius heard this, he said:

"Hard texts are nuts — I will not say cheats — whose shells keep hidden all the inner meats. Crack open the shells, and you will find the store: they're brought here for you — crack them and eat more."

Then they were all very merry and sat at the table for a long time, talking about many things. Then the old gentleman said, "My good host — while we are cracking your nuts, would you be so kind as to crack this riddle for us?"

"There was a man — some called him mad — the more he gave away, the more he had."

They all leaned in, wondering what good Gaius would say. He sat quietly for a moment, and then replied:

"He who gives his goods away to the poor shall have as much again, and ten times more."

"I honestly didn't think you'd work that out, sir," said Joseph.

"Oh," said Gaius, "I have been living this way for a long time. Nothing teaches like experience. I have learned from my Lord to be generous, and I have found from experience that I have gained by it. 'There is one who scatters and yet increases; and there is one who withholds more than he ought and ends up in poverty. There is one who makes himself seem rich and yet has nothing; and there is one who makes himself seem poor and yet has great riches'" (Proverbs 11:24; 13:7).

Then Samuel whispered to his mother Christiana and said, "Mother, this is a very good man's house. Let us stay here a good while and let my brother Matthew be married to Mercy here, before we go any further." Gaius overheard this and said, "Very gladly, my boy."

So they stayed for more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew as his wife.

During the time they were there, Mercy kept up her usual custom of making coats and clothing to give to the poor — and this won a very good name for the pilgrims throughout the area.

But to return to our story: after supper the boys asked to be put to bed, for they were tired from traveling. Gaius called for someone to show them to their room. But Mercy said, "I will take them to bed myself." So she took them up and they slept soundly. The rest stayed up through the night — for Gaius and his guests were such good company together that they could not bring themselves to part. After much talk about their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old Mr. Honest, who had put the riddle to Gaius earlier, began to nod off. "What, sir," said Great-heart, "are you falling asleep? Come now, wake yourself up — here is a riddle for you." "Let us hear it," said Mr. Honest. Then Mr. Great-heart said:

"The one who would kill must first be overcome; the one who would live abroad must first die at home."

"Ha," said Mr. Honest. "That is a hard one — hard to explain, and harder still to put into practice. But come, landlord," he said, "if you don't mind, I will leave my part to you. You explain it, and I will listen."

"No," said Gaius. "It was put to you, and you are the one expected to answer it." Then the old gentleman said:

"The one who would put sin to death must first be conquered by grace — the one who would prove that he truly lives must die to himself in his place."

"That is right," said Gaius. "Sound teaching and lived experience both confirm it. First — until grace reveals itself and conquers the soul with its glory, the soul has no real desire or power to resist sin. Besides, if sin is the devil's rope that holds the soul bound, how can the soul resist before it has been set free? Second — neither reason nor grace will allow anyone to believe that a person who is a slave to his own sinful desires can be a living proof of grace. And now that it comes to mind, let me tell you a story worth hearing. Two men set out on pilgrimage — one when he was young, the other when he was old. The young man had powerful sinful desires to wrestle against; the old man's were weaker, worn down by age. Yet the young man kept pace just as steadily as the old man and was in every way as lively. Now, which of the two had the more clearly shining grace — since both seemed equally devoted?"

Mr. Honest: "The young man's, without question. What overcomes the greatest opposition shows itself to be the strongest — especially when it keeps pace with one that faces only half as much resistance, which is certainly the case with old age. Besides, I have noticed that old men sometimes deceive themselves in this way — they mistake the fading of their natural desires for a gracious victory over sin, and so flatter themselves. It is true that old men who are godly are better placed to give advice to the young, because they have seen more of the emptiness of things. But when an old man and a young man both set out together, the young man shows the more convincing evidence of grace at work within him — even though the old man's sinful desires are naturally weaker." And so they went on talking until daybreak.

When the household was up, Christiana asked her son James to read a chapter. So he read Isaiah 53. When he had finished, Mr. Honest asked why it was said that the Savior was to come "out of dry ground," and also that "He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him."

Mr. Great-heart: "To the first," said Mr. Great-heart, "I answer: because the Jewish church, from which Christ came, had by that time nearly lost all the life and vitality of true religion. To the second I say: those words are spoken from the perspective of unbelievers, who, lacking the eye that can see into our Prince's heart, judge Him entirely by His outward appearance. They are like people who have never learned to recognize precious stones — when they find one, they throw it away as if it were an ordinary rock, because they cannot see what they have found."

"Well then," said Gaius. "Now that you are all here — and since Mr. Great-heart, as I know, is good with weapons — if you are willing, after we refresh ourselves, let us go out into the fields and see if we can accomplish some good. About a mile from here there is a giant called Slay-good, who does great harm to pilgrims on the King's highway in these parts. I know where his lair is. He commands a company of thieves, and it would be a great service to clear him from this area." So they agreed, and set out together — Mr. Great-heart with his sword, helmet, and shield; the rest armed with spears and staves.

When they reached the giant's lair, they found him holding a pilgrim in his hand — a man called Feeble-mind — whom his servants had seized on the road and brought to him. The giant was searching him with the intention of picking his bones clean afterward, for he was a flesh-eater by nature.

When he saw Mr. Great-heart and his companions at the entrance to his cave, armed and ready, he demanded to know what they wanted.

Mr. Great-heart: "We want you. We have come to avenge the deaths of the many pilgrims you have dragged off the King's highway and killed. Come out of your cave." So the giant armed himself and came out, and they fought for more than an hour before both sides stopped to catch their breath.

Slay-good: "Why are you on my ground?"

Mr. Great-heart: "To avenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told you." They went at it again, and the giant drove Mr. Great-heart back — but he came on again, and with fierce determination he struck the giant's head and sides so powerfully that the giant's weapon fell from his hand. Then he struck him and killed him, cut off his head, and carried it back to the inn. He also took Feeble-mind the pilgrim and brought him along to his lodgings. When they got home, they showed the head to those of the household and set it up — as they had done with others before — as a warning to anyone who might try the same in the future.

Then they asked Mr. Feeble-mind how he had fallen into the giant's hands.

Mr. Feeble-mind: "I am a sickly man, as you can see," said the poor man. "Death used to knock at my door almost every day, so I thought I would never truly be well staying at home. And so I set out on a pilgrim's life and have traveled here from the town of Uncertain, where I and my father were born. I have no strength of body, nor much of mind — but I would, if I can, however slowly I must crawl, spend my life on the pilgrim's road. When I came to the gate at the head of the way, the Lord of that place welcomed me freely. He raised no objection to my frail appearance or my feeble spirit, but gave me everything necessary for the journey and told me to hope to the end. When I came to the Interpreter's house I received much kindness there — and because the Hill of Difficulty was judged too hard for me, one of his servants carried me up it. I have found much help from other pilgrims along the way, though none was willing to go as slowly as I am forced to go. Still, as they pressed on past me, they encouraged me and said it was their Lord's will that the faint-hearted should be comforted (1 Thessalonians 5:14), and then went on at their own pace. When I came to Assault Lane, this giant met me and told me to prepare to fight. But I, feeble as I was, needed a cup of comfort far more than a battle — and he came and seized me. I believed he would not kill me. And when he had me in his cave, since I had not come willingly, I believed I would come out alive — for I have heard that no pilgrim who is taken captive by violent force, if he holds his heart true to his Master, is permitted by providence to die at the enemy's hand. I expected to be robbed — and robbed I certainly was — but I have, as you can see, escaped with my life. For that I thank my King as the author, and you as the means. I expect more troubles ahead, but this I have settled in my heart: I will run when I can, walk when I cannot run, and crawl when I cannot walk. As for the main thing — I thank the One who loved me — I am fixed and firm. My way is before me, and my heart is already beyond the river that has no bridge, even if, as you can see, I am only a man of feeble mind."

Mr. Honest: "Have you not, some time back, known a pilgrim named Mr. Fearing?"

Mr. Feeble-mind: "Known him! Yes indeed. He came from the town of Stupidity, which lies four degrees north of the City of Destruction — and about as far from where I was born. Yet we knew each other well — he was in fact my uncle, my father's brother. He and I were very much alike in temperament. He was a little shorter than me, but we were of very much the same character."

Mr. Honest: "I can tell you knew him — and I am quite ready to believe you were related. You have the same pale look he had, the same cast of eye, and your way of speaking is very similar."

Mr. Feeble-mind: "Most people who knew us both have said the same thing. And besides — what I noticed in him, I have mostly found in myself."

Gaius: "Come, sir," said good Gaius. "Be of good cheer — you are welcome to me and to my house. Whatever you would like, ask for it freely, and my servants will serve you gladly."

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, "This is an unexpected kindness — like sunshine breaking through the darkest cloud. Did the giant Slay-good intend to do me a favor when he stopped me and would not let me go further? Did he mean to send me to Gaius my host after he had emptied my pockets? Yet here I am — that is how it has turned out."

Just as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gaius were talking, someone came running and knocked at the door, reporting that about a mile and a half away, a pilgrim named Mr. Not-right had been struck dead where he stood by a thunderbolt.

Mr. Feeble-mind: "Alas!" said Mr. Feeble-mind. "Is he dead? He caught up with me a few days before I came this far, and had been keeping me company. He was with me when the giant Slay-good took me — but he was quick on his feet and escaped. It seems he escaped only to die, and I was taken only to live."

"What seems to seek a person's ruin outright often delivers them from their darkest plight. That very providence whose face looks like death often grants the lowly life and breath. I was taken, he escaped and ran free — crossed purposes gave death to him and life to me."

Around this time Matthew and Mercy were married. Gaius also gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, as his wife. After these events they stayed about ten more days at Gaius's house, spending their time as pilgrims do.

When the time came to leave, Gaius made a feast for them, and they ate and drank and were glad together. At last the hour came for them to depart, and Mr. Great-heart called for the bill. But Gaius told him it was not the custom of his house for pilgrims to pay for their stay. He received them by the year, and looked to the good Samaritan for his payment — who had promised him, on his return, to faithfully repay whatever he spent on their behalf (Luke 10:34-35). Then Mr. Great-heart said to him:

Mr. Great-heart: "Beloved, you are faithful in everything you do for the brothers and for strangers — those who have testified to your generosity before the church. If you continue to send them forward on their journey in a godly manner, you will do well" (3 John 5:6). Then Gaius said his farewells to all of them, including his own family, and gave a special word to Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to drink for the road.

Now as they were going out the door, Mr. Feeble-mind lingered behind as if he meant to stay. When Mr. Great-heart noticed this, he said, "Come, Mr. Feeble-mind — please go along with us. I will be your guide, and you will be treated the same as the rest."

Mr. Feeble-mind: "Alas — I need a companion suited to me. You are all strong and vigorous, but I, as you can see, am weak. I would rather come along behind, in case my many limitations make me a burden both to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of weak and feeble spirit, and I am likely to be troubled and weakened by things that others can handle easily. I do not like laughter. I do not like fine clothes or gaudy appearances. I do not like pointless arguments. In fact, I am so weak that I am put out by things others are perfectly free to enjoy. I still do not know the full truth of everything — I am a very ignorant Christian. Sometimes, when I hear others rejoicing in the Lord, it only troubles me, because I cannot do the same. It is with me as it is with a weak man among the strong, or a sick man among the healthy, or a candle nobody values. 'He who is about to stumble is like a lamp despised in the eyes of the one who is at ease'" (Job 12:5).

Mr. Great-heart: "But, brother," said Mr. Great-heart, "I am commissioned to comfort the faint-hearted and support the weak. You must come with us. We will wait for you. We will help you. We will set aside certain things — both in opinion and in practice — out of consideration for you. We will not enter into unsettled debates in your presence. We will make ourselves whatever we need to be rather than leave you behind" (1 Thessalonians 5:14; Romans 14; 1 Corinthians 8:9-13; 9:22).

All this time they were standing at Gaius's door. And just as they were deep in this conversation, a man named Mr. Ready-to-halt came by on his crutches — and he too was on his way as a pilgrim.

Mr. Feeble-mind: "Friend," said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, "how did you come to be here? I was just this moment lamenting that I had no companion well suited to me — and now here you are, exactly what I needed. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt! I hope you and I may be of some help to each other."

Mr. Ready-to-halt: "I will be very glad of your company," said the other. "And good Mr. Feeble-mind — rather than we should part, since we have met so happily, I will lend you one of my crutches."

Mr. Feeble-mind: "Well, I thank you kindly for the offer," he said, "but I am not inclined to walk with a crutch before I am actually lame. Still, I suppose that in a pinch it might be useful against a dog."

Mr. Ready-to-halt: "Whether it is myself or my crutches that can be of service to you — we are both at your disposal, good Mr. Feeble-mind."

So they all went on together. Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Honest led the way, Christiana and her children followed, and Mr. Feeble-mind came along behind with Mr. Ready-to-halt on his crutches. Then said Mr. Honest:

Mr. Honest: "Please, sir — now that we are on the road, tell us some worthwhile things about those who have gone on pilgrimage before us."

Mr. Great-heart: "Gladly. I expect you have heard how Christian in former days met Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and what a hard time he had passing through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. And I trust you have also heard how Faithful was assailed by Madam Wanton, and by Adam the First, and by Discontent, and by Shame — four of the most deceitful enemies a person can meet on the road."

Mr. Honest: "Yes, I have heard all of that. But good Faithful had the hardest time of it with Shame — that one was relentless."

Mr. Great-heart: "Indeed — as the pilgrim himself rightly said, of all the enemies he met, Shame had the most wrong name."

Mr. Honest: "But pray, sir — where was it that Christian and Faithful met Talkative? That was quite a notable character."

Mr. Great-heart: "A confident fool — but many follow his ways."

Mr. Honest: "He came close to deceiving Faithful."

Mr. Great-heart: "Yes — but Christian quickly showed Faithful how to see through him."

So they went on until they came to the place where Evangelist had met Christian and Faithful and told them what would happen to them at Vanity Fair. "This is where Christian and Faithful met with Evangelist," said their guide, "who prophesied to them of the troubles they would face at Vanity Fair."

Mr. Honest: "Is that so? That must have been a sobering message for them to receive."

Mr. Great-heart: "It was — but he encouraged them as well. But why dwell on what it cost them? They were a pair of lion-hearted men, with faces set like flint. Do you remember how fearless they were when they stood before the judge?"

Mr. Honest: "Indeed — Faithful suffered bravely."

Mr. Great-heart: "He did — and great things came from it. Hopeful, and several others, were brought to faith through his death, as the story tells."

Mr. Honest: "Well, please go on — you know these things better than most."

Mr. Great-heart: "Of all those Christian encountered after passing through Vanity Fair, Mr. By-ends was the most scheming of them all."

Mr. Honest: "By-ends! What sort of man was he?"

Mr. Great-heart: "A thoroughly crafty man — a downright hypocrite. He would be religious whichever way the world happened to be blowing, but was cunning enough never to lose anything or suffer anything for it. He had a version of religion for every occasion, and his wife was just as skilled at it as he was. He would shift from one view to another — and even argue for the right to do so. But as far as I could tell, his self-serving ways brought him to a bad end, and I never heard that any of his children had any standing among those who truly feared God."

By now they had come within sight of the town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is held. Seeing that they were so close to the town, they talked among themselves about how to pass through it. People had various suggestions. At last Mr. Great-heart said, "As you may know, I have often escorted pilgrims through this town. I am acquainted with a man named Mr. Mnason (Acts 21:16) — a native of Cyprus, a longtime disciple — at whose house we could lodge. If you are willing, we will stay with him."

"Agreed," said old Honest. "Agreed," said Christiana. "Agreed," said Mr. Feeble-mind. And so said everyone. By the time they reached the edge of town it was evening, but Mr. Great-heart knew the way to the old man's house. They arrived at the door and he knocked. The old man inside recognized his voice the moment he heard it, opened the door, and they all came in. "How far have you come today?" asked Mnason their host. "From the house of our friend Gaius," they said. "I must say," he replied, "that is a good day's walking. You must be tired — sit down." So they sat down.

Mr. Great-heart: "Come now — how are you all?" said their guide. "I dare say you are welcome here by my friend."

Mr. Mnason: "And I welcome you myself," said Mr. Mnason. "Whatever you need, just ask, and we will do our best to provide it."

Mr. Honest: "What we most needed a little while ago was shelter and good company — and now, I hope, we have both."

Mr. Mnason: "The shelter you can see for yourself. As for the good company — that will prove itself in time."

Mr. Great-heart: "Well then," said Mr. Great-heart, "will you show the pilgrims to their rooms?"

Mr. Mnason: "Of course," said Mr. Mnason. He showed them to their rooms and also pointed out a spacious dining room where they could gather and share a meal before retiring.

When they had settled into their seats and were beginning to recover from the journey, Mr. Honest asked their host whether there were many good-hearted people living in the town.

Mr. Mnason: "We have a few — though they are but few compared to those on the other side."

Mr. Honest: "But how might we meet some of them? For the sight of good people to those going on pilgrimage is like the moon and stars appearing to sailors on the sea."

Mr. Mnason: Then Mr. Mnason stamped his foot, and his daughter Grace came up. He said to her, "Grace, go and tell my friends — Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Love-saints, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent — that I have a friend or two here this evening who would like to see them." So Grace went to call them, and they came. After greetings were exchanged, they all sat down together at the table.

Then said Mr. Mnason their host, "Neighbors, as you can see, I have a company of strangers at my house. They are pilgrims, come from far away and on their way to Mount Zion. But who," said he, pointing at Christiana, "do you think this is? It is Christiana — the wife of Christian, the famous pilgrim who, together with his brother Faithful, was so shamefully treated in our town." At that they were all amazed. "We never imagined we would see Christiana when Grace came to call us — this is a wonderful surprise." They asked about her well-being and whether the young men were her husband's sons. When she told them they were, they said, "May the King whom you love and serve make you as your father, and bring you where he is in peace."

Mr. Honest: Once everyone was seated, Mr. Honest asked Mr. Contrite and the others what state the town was in at present.

Mr. Contrite: "You can imagine — fair-time is always a hectic season here. It is hard to keep our hearts and minds in good order when the world around us is in such a frenzy. Anyone who lives in a place like this, and has to deal with the kind of people we deal with, has constant need to be on guard at every hour."

Mr. Honest: "But how have your neighbors been toward you lately? Is there more peace?"

Mr. Contrite: "Much more moderate than before. You know how Christian and Faithful were treated when they came through our town. But lately things have been far calmer. I believe the blood of Faithful has been weighing on them ever since — for ever since they burned him, they have been ashamed to burn anyone else. In those days we were afraid to walk the streets. Now we can show our faces. Back then the name of a professing Christian was hated here. Now, in some parts of our town at least — and you know our town is large — religion is even regarded with a measure of respect." Then Mr. Contrite said to them, "And please tell us — how are things going for you on your pilgrimage? How does the country stand toward you?"

Mr. Honest: "It is as it always is for travelers on the road: sometimes the way is clear, sometimes muddy; sometimes uphill, sometimes down; we are rarely certain what lies ahead. The wind is not always at our backs, and not everyone we meet on the road is a friend. We have already run into some notable trouble, and what is still ahead we do not know. But for the most part we find it true, as the old saying goes: a good man must expect to suffer."

Mr. Contrite: "You mention troubles — what troubles have you met with?"

Mr. Honest: "Ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide — he can give you the best account of that."

Mr. Great-heart: "We have been attacked three or four times already. First, Christiana and her children were assaulted by two ruffians who they feared would kill them. We were attacked by Giant Bloody-man, Giant Maul, and Giant Slay-good — though with the last one, I should say we sought him out more than he sought us. Here is how it happened: after we had been some time at the house of Gaius, our host, we decided to take our weapons and go looking for any enemies of pilgrims in the area, for we had heard that a notable one lived nearby. Gaius knew the giant's territory better than I, since he lived nearby. So we searched until at last we spotted the mouth of his cave, and our spirits rose. We approached the den, and when we arrived we found that he had seized this poor man, Mr. Feeble-mind, by brute force and was about to kill him. But when he saw us, thinking he had found another catch, he dropped the poor man in his hole and came out to face us. We fell on him hard, and he fought back fiercely — but in the end he was brought down, his head cut off, and set up at the roadside as a warning to any who might try the same wickedness afterward. And here is the man himself to confirm the truth of it — rescued like a lamb from the lion's mouth."

Mr. Feeble-mind: "I found it all true," said Mr. Feeble-mind, "both to my cost and to my comfort. To my cost, when he threatened to strip my bones at any moment. And to my comfort, when I saw Mr. Great-heart and his companions armed and approaching for my rescue."

Mr. Holy-man: "There are two things that pilgrims must have," said Mr. Holy-man. "Courage and a blameless life. Without courage, they can never keep going. And if their lives are dishonorable, they will bring the very name of pilgrim into disgrace."

Mr. Love-saints: "I hope such a warning is not needed here," said Mr. Love-saints, "but truly there are many on the road who show themselves to be strangers to pilgrimage itself, rather than strangers and pilgrims in the world."

Mr. Dare-not-lie: "That is true," said Mr. Dare-not-lie. "They have neither the pilgrim's manner nor the pilgrim's courage. They do not walk uprightly — they stumble along crooked paths, one foot turned in and the other turned out, their stockings slipping, clothes in rags and tatters — a disgrace to their Lord."

Mr. Penitent: "These things ought to trouble them," said Mr. Penitent. "And the pilgrim's road is not likely to be held in the honor it deserves until such blemishes and stains are cleared from it." So they sat talking and spending the time until supper was set on the table. They ate and refreshed themselves after their weariness, and then went to rest.

They stayed at Vanity Fair for quite a long time, at Mr. Mnason's house. In due course Mr. Mnason gave his daughter Grace to Samuel, Christian's son, as his wife, and his daughter Martha to Joseph.

The time they spent there was long, for things were different now from what they had been in former days. The pilgrims got to know many of the good people of the town and helped them in whatever ways they could. Mercy, as was her nature, worked hard for the poor — so much so that those she fed and clothed gave her their blessing, and she was a credit to the pilgrim's life. And to give an honest word for Grace, Phebe, and Martha — they were all women of very good character and did a great deal of good wherever they were placed. They were all fruitful as well, so that Christian's name, as was said before, was likely to live on in the world.

While they were staying there, a monster came out of the woods and killed many people in the town. It also carried away their children and taught them to nurse its own offspring. No one in the town dared face this monster — everyone fled at the sound of its coming.

The monster resembled no single animal on earth. Its body was like a dragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns. It devastated the children, and yet it was controlled by a woman (Revelation 17:3). This monster offered terms to the people, and those who loved their earthly lives more than their souls accepted those terms and submitted to it.

Then Mr. Great-heart, together with those who had come to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, agreed together to go and engage this beast, in the hope of delivering the town's people from the jaws of this devouring creature.

So Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent took up their weapons and went out to meet it. At first the monster was wildly aggressive and looked on its enemies with contempt. But they were sturdy fighting men and laid into it so fiercely that they drove it back. So they returned to Mr. Mnason's house.

The monster, you should know, had appointed seasons when it would come out and attack the children of the townspeople. During these seasons these brave men kept watch for it and continually assaulted it — so much so that over time the creature was not only wounded but crippled. It no longer caused the destruction among the townspeople's children that it once had, and many believed the beast would die of its wounds.

This made Mr. Great-heart and his companions greatly celebrated in the town, so that even people who did not fully share their beliefs held them in genuine respect and esteem. Because of this, the pilgrims came through their time there without much trouble. There were, to be sure, a few of the lowest sort who could see no further than a mole and understand no more than a beast — these had no respect for the men and paid no attention to their courage and their deeds.

The Seventh Stage

At last the time came for the pilgrims to move on. They prepared for the journey, gathered their friends together, spent time with them, and set apart a season to commend one another to the protection of their Prince. People brought them gifts suited to their various needs — provisions for the weak and the strong, for the women and the men — and loaded them down with everything necessary (Acts 28:10). Then they set forward on their way. Their friends accompanied them as far as was fitting, then they committed one another again to the King's protection, and parted.

The pilgrims' company went on with Mr. Great-heart leading the way. Because the women and children were not physically strong, they could only move as fast as the weakest among them — which meant that Mr. Ready-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had companions who truly understood their situation.

Once they had left the townspeople behind and said their final farewells to their friends, they soon came to the place where Faithful had been put to death. There they stopped and gave thanks to the One who had enabled Faithful to carry his cross so well — all the more fervently because they now saw that they themselves had benefited from his courageous suffering.

They went on for some distance after that, talking about Christian and Faithful, and about how Hopeful had joined himself to Christian after Faithful's death.

Now they came up alongside hill Lucre, where the silver mine was — the mine that had drawn Demas away from his pilgrimage, and into which, some believe, Mr. By-ends fell and perished. They took note of that. But when they came to the old monument that stood opposite hill Lucre — the pillar of salt, which stood in view of Sodom and its foul lake — they were amazed, as Christian had been before them, that people of such intelligence and maturity could be so blinded as to turn aside there. They concluded that human nature is not held back by the misfortunes of others — especially when the thing drawing the eye has a strong pull on foolish desires.

I saw now that they went on until they came to the river on this side of the Delectable Mountains — the river where beautiful trees grow on both banks, whose leaves, taken internally, are good against excess; where the meadows stay green all year long, and where pilgrims could lie down in safety (Psalm 23:2).

Along this riverbank, in the meadows, there were folds and enclosures for sheep, and a house built for the care and upbringing of the young lambs — the small children of the women going on pilgrimage. A caretaker lived there who was full of compassion — one who could gather these lambs with his arm, carry them against his chest, and gently lead those who were expecting young (Hebrews 5:2; Isaiah 40:11). Now Christiana urged her four daughters-in-law to entrust their little ones to the care of this man, so that beside these waters they might be housed, sheltered, cared for, and nourished, and so that none would ever be wanting in the days to come. If any of them go astray or become lost, he will bring them back. He will also bind up the broken and strengthen the sick (Jeremiah 23:4; Ezekiel 34:11-16). Here they will never lack food, drink, or clothing. Here they will be kept safe from thieves and robbers — for this man would die before he would allow one of those in his care to be lost. Besides, here they will have good nourishment and wise instruction, and will be taught to walk in right paths — which is no small favor. And here, as you can see, there are fresh waters, pleasant meadows, beautiful flowers, a variety of trees, and trees bearing wholesome fruit — not like the fruit Matthew ate that had fallen over the wall from Beelzebub's garden, but fruit that restores health where there is none, and strengthens and sustains it where it is already present. So they were happy to commit their little ones to his care. Their willingness was also encouraged by knowing that all of this was provided at the King's own expense — a kind of hospital and home for young children and orphans.

They went on. When they came to By-path Meadow — to the stile over which Christian and Hopeful had crossed when they were captured by Giant Despair and imprisoned in Doubting Castle — they sat down and discussed what would be best to do. They were now a strong company with Mr. Great-heart as their guide. Should they not attempt to attack the giant, tear down his castle, and set free any pilgrims imprisoned there before going further? Some said one thing and some another. One asked whether it was right to venture onto that ground. Another said they might, as long as their purpose was good. But Mr. Great-heart said, "Though that last point cannot be taken as a universal rule, I do have a commission to resist sin, to overcome evil, and to fight the good fight of faith. And with whom should I fight this good fight if not with Giant Despair? I will therefore try to take his life and demolish Doubting Castle." Then he said, "Who will go with me?" Old Honest said, "I will." "And so will we," said Christiana's four sons — Matthew, Samuel, Joseph, and James — for they were strong young men (1 John 2:13-14). So they left the women on the road, along with Mr. Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt on his crutches, to guard them until they returned. For in that neighborhood, with Giant Despair so close, those who stayed on the road were quite safe — even a small child could lead them there (Isaiah 11:6).

So Mr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young men went up toward Doubting Castle to find Giant Despair. When they reached the castle gate, they knocked with an unusually loud and forceful noise. The old giant came to the gate, with his wife Diffidence following behind. "Who is this that dares disturb Giant Despair in this manner?" said he. Mr. Great-heart replied, "It is I — Great-heart, one of the King of the Celestial Country's escorts of pilgrims to their destination. I demand that you open your gates for me to enter. Prepare yourself to fight — for I have come to take off your head and demolish Doubting Castle."

Giant Despair, being a giant, thought no man could overcome him. He also reasoned with himself: "I have gotten the better of angels before now — shall Great-heart make me afraid?" So he armed himself and came out. He wore a steel helmet on his head, a breastplate of fire strapped to his chest, iron shoes on his feet, and carried a great club in his hand. Then the six men surrounded him, attacking from all sides. When Diffidence the giantess came out to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down with a single blow. Then they fought for their lives. Giant Despair was brought to the ground, but he was extremely hard to kill — he struggled with a tenacity that made it seem he had as many lives as a cat. But Great-heart was his end, for he did not leave off until he had separated the giant's head from his shoulders.

Then they set about demolishing Doubting Castle — and that, as you might expect, was easy enough once Giant Despair was dead. They spent seven days tearing it down. Inside they found two pilgrims who had been held captive: a man named Mr. Despondency, nearly starved to death, and his daughter Much-afraid. Both of these they brought out alive. It would have grieved you, though, to see the dead bodies lying here and there throughout the castle yard, and how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was.

When Mr. Great-heart and his companions had accomplished this deed, they took Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid under their protection — for they were good people, though they had been prisoners of that tyrant Giant Despair in Doubting Castle. They carried with them the giant's head (for his body they had buried under a pile of stones) and went back down to the road and to their companions, showing them what they had done. When Feeble-mind and Ready-to-halt saw that it was truly the head of Giant Despair, they were filled with joy and excitement. Now Christiana, when the occasion called for it, could play the viol, and her daughter Mercy could play the lute. Since everyone was in such high spirits, she played them a tune, and Ready-to-halt began to dance. He took Despondency's daughter Much-afraid by the hand and they danced together right there on the road. He could not dance without one of his crutches, it is true — but I assure you he managed it well enough. And the girl was commendable too, for she kept fine time with the music.

As for Mr. Despondency, music was not what he needed most — food was, for he was half-starved. So Christiana gave him some of her bottle of spirits for immediate comfort, and then prepared something for him to eat. Before long the old gentleman came back to himself and began to revive considerably.

I saw in my dream that when all of this was finished, Mr. Great-heart took the head of Giant Despair and mounted it on a pole at the roadside — right beside the pillar that Christian had set up as a warning to pilgrims after him, to take care not to wander onto the giant's land.

Then he had these verses carved on a stone of marble beneath it: "This is the head of him whose name alone once made the bravest pilgrims turn and groan. His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife brave Mr. Great-heart has bereft of life. Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid, Great-heart for them has also played his trade. Who doubts this deed, let him look up and see — his questions here will answered fully be. This head, while doubting cripples dance below, declares that they from fear are freed, and so."

Having shown themselves so bravely against Doubting Castle and slain Giant Despair, they went on their way until they came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful had once refreshed themselves with all the beauty and variety of that place. They also became acquainted with the shepherds there, who welcomed them — as they had welcomed Christian before — to the Delectable Mountains.

When the shepherds saw the large company that followed Mr. Great-heart — for they knew him well — they said to him, "Good sir, you have gathered quite a company. Where did you find them all?"

Then Mr. Great-heart replied:

"First, here is Christiana with her train — her sons, her sons' wives — who, like a steady wain, keep to the pole and steer by compass true from sin to grace, or they'd not be here too. Next, here's old Honest come on pilgrimage; Ready-to-halt, whom I'll vouch for at this stage — true-hearted is he; so is Feeble-mind, who would not hear of being left behind. Despondency, good man, is coming after, and so is Much-afraid, his dear daughter. May we find welcome here, or must we go? Let us know where we stand, that we may know."

Then said the shepherds, "What a fine company this is! You are all welcome here — for we have provision for the feeble just as much as for the strong. Our Prince has an eye on what is done for even the least of these, and so weakness must never be a reason to withhold our welcome" (Matthew 25:40). So they led them to the palace door and said, "Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind. Come in, Mr. Ready-to-halt. Come in, Mr. Despondency — and Mrs. Much-afraid, his daughter." "We call these in by name," the shepherds said to the guide, "because they are the most likely to hold back. As for you and the rest who are strong, we leave you to come in freely as you are used to doing." Then said Mr. Great-heart, "Today I see that grace shines in your faces, and that you are truly my Lord's shepherds. For you have not pushed these weak ones aside with shoulder or elbow, but have instead strewn their path to the palace with flowers, as you ought" (Ezekiel 34:21).

So the feeble and weak went in first, and Mr. Great-heart and the rest followed. When they were all seated, the shepherds said to the weaker ones, "What do you need? For here everything is managed with an eye to supporting the weak, as well as to the admonishing of the unruly." So they prepared for them a meal of things easy to digest, pleasant to eat, and nourishing to the body. When they had eaten, they went to rest, each to his own place.

When morning came — the mountains being high and the day clear, and it being the custom of the shepherds to show pilgrims certain remarkable things before they departed — after everyone had risen and refreshed themselves, the shepherds took them out into the fields. They showed them first the same things they had shown to Christian before.

Then the shepherds took them to some new places. The first was Mount Marvel, where they looked out and saw a man in the distance moving hills with nothing but words. They asked the shepherds what this meant. The shepherds told them that the man was the son of one Mr. Great-grace — whom you may remember from the first part of the Pilgrim's Progress — and that he had been placed there to teach pilgrims how to use faith to overcome whatever difficulties they encounter on the road (Mark 11:23-24). Then Mr. Great-heart said, "I know him. He is a man above most."

Then the shepherds took them to another place, called Mount Innocence. There they saw a man dressed entirely in white, while two men named Prejudice and Ill-will kept throwing dirt at him. But no matter how much dirt they threw, after a little while it always fell away, and his garment looked as clean as if nothing had been thrown at all. The pilgrims asked what this meant. The shepherds answered, "This man is named Godlyman, and his white garment represents the innocence of his life. The ones throwing dirt are people who hate his goodness. But just as you can see the dirt will not stick to his clothes, so it will be with anyone who lives with true integrity in this world. Whoever tries to make such men look dirty is wasting their effort — for God, in time, will cause their innocence to shine out like the dawn and their righteousness like the noonday sun."

Then the shepherds took them to Mount Charity, where they showed them a man with a large roll of cloth before him, from which he kept cutting coats and garments for the poor standing around him — yet his supply of cloth never grew smaller. The pilgrims asked what this meant. The shepherds answered, "This is to show you that the one who gives generously of his labor to the poor will never run short of the means to do so. The one who waters others will himself be watered. The cake the widow gave to the prophet did not cause her barrel to have any less in it."

The shepherds also took them to a place where they saw two men named Fool and Want-wit washing an Ethiopian, trying to make him white. But the more they washed him, the darker he became. The pilgrims asked the shepherds what this meant. They answered, "This is how it is with a wicked person. Every effort made to give such a person a good reputation will in the end only make them more notorious. This was how it was with the Pharisees, and so it will be with all hypocrites."

Then Mercy, the wife of Matthew, said to Christiana her mother-in-law, "Mother, if it were possible, I would like to see the hole in the hill — the one they call the By-way to hell." So Christiana brought this wish to the shepherds. They led them to the door — it was set into the side of a hill — and opened it, telling Mercy to listen for a moment. She listened, and heard one voice saying, "Cursed be my father for holding my feet back from the way of peace and life." Another said, "Oh that I had been torn to pieces rather than lose my soul to save my life!" And another said, "If I could live my life again, how gladly I would deny myself, rather than come to this place!" At that, the ground seemed to groan and shake under the young woman's feet from sheer terror. She turned pale and came trembling away, saying, "Blessed is the one who is delivered from this place!"

When the shepherds had shown them all these things, they brought them back to the palace and entertained them with everything the house could offer. But Mercy, being a young newly married woman, had been longing for something she had seen there, and was too ashamed to ask for it. Her mother-in-law noticed she looked unwell and asked what was the matter. Mercy said, "There is a looking-glass hanging in the dining room that I cannot get out of my mind. If I cannot have it, I think it will be the end of me." Her mother-in-law said, "I will mention your wish to the shepherds — they will not refuse you." But Mercy said, "I am ashamed for these men to know that I was longing for it." "No, my daughter," she replied, "it is no shame but a virtue to long for such a thing as that." So Mercy said, "Then, mother, if you please, ask the shepherds whether they would be willing to sell it."

The glass was one of a kind. Held one way, it showed the viewer his own face exactly. But turned another way, it showed the very face and likeness of the Prince of pilgrims Himself. Indeed, I have spoken with those who can vouch for it, and they say they have seen the very crown of thorns on His head by looking in that glass. They have also seen the wounds in His hands, His feet, and His side. The excellence of this glass is remarkable — it can show Him to whoever has a heart to see Him: whether living or dead, whether on earth or in heaven, whether in His humiliation or in His exaltation, whether coming to suffer or coming to reign (James 1:23; 1 Corinthians 13:12; 2 Corinthians 3:18).

So Christiana went to speak to the shepherds privately — their names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere — and said to them, "One of my daughters, a young married woman, has been longing for something she saw in this house, and she believes it will be the end of her if you refuse her."

Experience: "Call her, call her — she will certainly have whatever we can give her." So they called her and asked, "Mercy, what is it you want?" She blushed and said, "The great glass that hangs in the dining room." Sincere ran and fetched it, and it was given to her with everyone's glad consent. She bowed her head and gave thanks, saying, "By this I know I have found favor in your eyes."

The shepherds also gave the other young women whatever they desired, and they commended their husbands warmly for having joined with Mr. Great-heart in slaying Giant Despair and demolishing Doubting Castle.

The shepherds placed bracelets around the neck of Christiana and around the necks of her four daughters-in-law. They put earrings in their ears and jewels on their foreheads.

When it came time to leave, the shepherds let them go in peace, but did not give them the specific warnings that had been given to Christian and his companion before them. The reason was that they now had Great-heart as their guide — a man who knew the road well and could give them timely warnings right when danger was near. Christian and his companion had received warnings from the shepherds but had forgotten them by the time they actually needed them. That was the advantage this company had over the earlier pilgrims.

From there they went on their way singing, and this was what they sang:

"How well the stages of the road are planned to bring relief to those who pilgrim are, and how they take us in with open hand who make the life to come our home and star!

What new and wondrous things they share with us, so we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live; and gifts they place upon us mark us thus as pilgrims everywhere we go and give."

The Eighth Stage

After leaving the shepherds, they soon came to the place where Christian had once met a man named Turn-away, who came from the town of Apostasy. Their guide, Mr. Great-heart, reminded them of it, saying, "This is the place where Christian met Turn-away, who wore the mark of his rebellion plainly on him. I will tell you about this man: he would listen to no counsel, and once he began to fall away, no persuasion could stop him. When he came to the place of the cross and the tomb, someone urged him to look there — but he gnashed his teeth and stamped his foot and declared he was resolved to go back to his own town. Before he reached the gate, Evangelist met him and tried to lay hands on him to turn him back onto the right path. But Turn-away resisted him, treated him with great contempt, climbed over the wall, and escaped his reach."

They went on, and at the very spot where Little-faith had once been robbed, they came upon a man standing with his sword drawn and his face covered in blood. Mr. Great-heart asked, "Who are you?" The man answered, "My name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a pilgrim on my way to the Celestial City. As I was traveling, three men set upon me and gave me three choices: first, whether I would join them; second, whether I would turn back the way I had come; or third, whether I would die on the spot (Proverbs 1:11-14). To the first, I told them I had been a faithful man for a long time and had no intention of throwing in my lot with thieves. To the second, I told them that I had only left where I came from because I found it thoroughly unsuitable and unprofitable — and having left it for this road, I had no intention of going back. To the third, I told them my life was worth far more than to be thrown away so lightly, and that they had no right to put these choices to me at all — so whatever came of it would be on their own heads. Then those three — Wild-head, Inconsiderate, and Pragmatic — drew their swords on me, and I drew mine on them. We fought, one against three, for more than three hours. They have left some marks of their effort on me, as you can see, and I on them. They have only just now gone — I expect they heard your company coming and took to their heels."

Mr. Great-heart: "But that was great odds — three against one."

Valiant-for-truth: "That is true. But numbers count for nothing when truth is on your side. As one man said, 'Though an army should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war should rise against me, in this I will be confident' (Psalm 27:3). Besides, I have read in the records that one man has fought an entire army — and how many did Samson slay with the jawbone of a donkey!"

Mr. Great-heart: "Then why didn't you cry out for help, so that someone might have come to your aid?"

Valiant-for-truth: "I did cry out — to my King, who I knew could hear me and send invisible help. That was enough for me."

Mr. Great-heart: "You have fought bravely. Let me see your sword." So Valiant-for-truth showed it to him.

When Mr. Great-heart had taken it in hand and examined it for a moment, he said, "Ha — this is a true Jerusalem blade."

Valiant-for-truth: "It is. A man who has one of these blades, with a strong arm to carry it and the skill to use it, can face even an angel with confidence. He need not worry about it failing him, as long as he knows how to wield it. Its edge will never dull. It cuts through flesh and bone, soul and spirit, and everything else besides (Hebrews 4:12)."

Mr. Great-heart: "But you fought for a long time — I wonder you were not exhausted."

Valiant-for-truth: "I fought until my sword fused to my hand — the two became one, as if the sword had grown straight out of my arm. And when the blood ran through my fingers, that was when I fought with the most courage of all."

Mr. Great-heart: "You have done well. You have resisted to the point of blood, striving against sin. You will stay with us — come and go with us, for we are your companions." Then they washed his wounds, gave him what they had to refresh himself, and they all went on together.

As they traveled on, Mr. Great-heart was drawn to Valiant-for-truth — he greatly admired a man who could prove himself in a fight. Since there were also feeble and weak members in the company, he engaged him in conversation on many things. First, he asked him what country he was from.

Valiant-for-truth: "I am from Dark-land. That is where I was born, and my father and mother still live there."

Mr. Great-heart: "Dark-land!" said the guide. "Does that not lie on the same side as the City of Destruction?"

Valiant-for-truth: "Yes, it does. What set me on pilgrimage was this: a man named Mr. Tell-true came through our area and spread the story of what Christian had done — how he had left the City of Destruction, forsaken his wife and children, and taken up a pilgrim's life. It was also reliably reported that he had killed a serpent that came out to block his way, and that he had made it all the way to his destination. People also told what a welcome he received at every one of his Lord's lodging places, and especially at the gates of the Celestial City — where, they said, he was received with the sound of trumpets by a company of shining ones. They told how all the bells in the city rang for joy at his arrival, and what golden garments he was clothed in, and many other things I will not recount now. In short, that man told Christian's story in such a way that my heart burned with eagerness to follow him. Neither my father nor my mother could hold me back. So I left them and have come this far on the road."

Mr. Great-heart: "You came in at the gate, didn't you?"

Valiant-for-truth: "Yes, yes. That same man also told us that none of it would count for anything if we did not begin by entering through the gate."

Mr. Great-heart: "Look at this," said the guide to Christiana. "The story of your husband's pilgrimage, and what he gained by it, has spread far and wide."

Valiant-for-truth: "What — is this Christian's wife?"

Mr. Great-heart: "It is. And these are his four sons as well."

Valiant-for-truth: "What — going on pilgrimage too?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Indeed they are — following after him."

Valiant-for-truth: "That gladdens my heart. How joyful Christian will be when he sees those who would not come with him at first entering after him through the gates of the Celestial City!"

Mr. Great-heart: "It will certainly be a comfort to him. For next to the joy of being there himself, nothing will gladden him more than to meet his wife and children there."

Valiant-for-truth: "Now that you've brought this up — let me hear your thinking on something. Some people question whether we will actually recognize one another when we are there."

Mr. Great-heart: "Do you think they will know themselves there, and rejoice to find themselves in that blessedness? If so, why would they not also know others and rejoice in their happiness as well? Besides, since our family relationships are a kind of extension of ourselves — even though that bond as we know it will be changed there — why can we not reasonably conclude that we will be more glad to find them there than to find them missing?"

Valiant-for-truth: "I see where you stand on that. Do you have any more questions about how I came to set out on pilgrimage?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Yes — were your father and mother willing for you to become a pilgrim?"

Valiant-for-truth: "Not at all. They used every means they could think of to persuade me to stay home."

Mr. Great-heart: "What arguments did they have against it?"

Valiant-for-truth: "They said it was a lazy, idle life — and that if I weren't inclined to sloth myself, I would never have entertained the idea of becoming a pilgrim."

Mr. Great-heart: "What else did they say?"

Valiant-for-truth: "They told me it was a dangerous road — the most dangerous road in the world, they said, is the one pilgrims travel."

Mr. Great-heart: "Did they explain in what ways the road was so dangerous?"

Valiant-for-truth: "Yes — in many specific ways."

Mr. Great-heart: "Name some of them."

Valiant-for-truth: "They told me about the Slough of Despond, where Christian nearly drowned. They told me about the archers stationed in Beelzebub's castle, ready to shoot anyone who knocked at the Wicket-gate. They told me about the dark woods and mountains, about Hill Difficulty, about the lions, and about the three giants — Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. They also said there was a terrible fiend haunting the Valley of Humiliation who nearly took Christian's life. And beyond that, they said, I would have to pass through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where hobgoblins lurk, where the darkness swallows the light, and where the path is littered with snares, pits, traps, and nets. They told me about Giant Despair and Doubting Castle, and the destruction pilgrims found there. They also warned me that the Enchanted Ground was dangerous, and that after all of this I would come to a river with no bridge, which lies between the traveler and the Celestial Country."

Mr. Great-heart: "And was that all?"

Valiant-for-truth: "No. They also told me that the road was full of deceivers and people lying in wait to lead good men astray."

Mr. Great-heart: "How did they support that claim?"

Valiant-for-truth: "They told me that Mr. Worldly Wiseman lay in wait there to deceive travelers. They said that Formality and Hypocrisy were constantly on the road. They also said that By-ends, Talkative, or Demas would likely ensnare me, or that the Flatterer would catch me in his net, or that I would end up like foolish Ignorance — boldly pressing on to the gate, only to be sent back to the hole in the hillside and made to go the by-way to hell."

Mr. Great-heart: "I can see that was more than enough to discourage anyone. But did they stop there?"

Valiant-for-truth: "No, wait — there is more. They told me about many people who had tried this road in days gone by, who had traveled quite a long way on it hoping to find some of the glory everyone had talked so much about, but who had turned back and made fools of themselves in everyone's eyes for having ever set foot on that path. They named several such people: Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, and others — some of whom had gone quite far, they said, without finding any more advantage from it than the weight of a feather."

Mr. Great-heart: "Did they say anything else to discourage you?"

Valiant-for-truth: "Yes. They told me about one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim, and how he found the road so bleak and comfortless that he never had a pleasant hour on it. They also told me that Mr. Despondency had nearly starved to death on it. And — this I had almost forgotten — they told me that Christian himself, the one everyone had made so much fuss about, had after all his adventures in pursuit of a heavenly crown been drowned in the black river and never went a step further. The story had been hushed up, they said, but they were certain it was true."

Mr. Great-heart: "And did none of those things discourage you?"

Valiant-for-truth: "No — they all seemed like nothing to me."

Mr. Great-heart: "How did that come about?"

Valiant-for-truth: "I simply kept believing what Mr. Tell-true had told me. And that carried me past every argument they could make."

Mr. Great-heart: "Then that was your victory — your faith."

Valiant-for-truth: "It was. I believed, and so I came out, got on the road, fought everyone who stood against me, and by believing have come to this place."

"Who would true courage see, let him come here; one here will constant be, come wind, come weather. There is no discouragement that shall make him once relent his first and firm intent to be a pilgrim.

Whoever sets upon him with tales of gloom and fear only defeats himself; his strength grows ever more. No lion can him frighten, he'll face a giant fighting, but he will have a right to be a pilgrim.

No hobgoblin nor foul fiend can shake his spirit down; he knows that in the end he'll win eternal life. So fears and fancies fade away, he will not mind what others say; he'll labor night and day to be a pilgrim."

By this time they had entered the Enchanted Ground, where the air itself had a natural tendency to make travelers drowsy. The whole place was overgrown with briars and thorns, except here and there where an enchanted arbor stood — and it was said that anyone who sat down or fell asleep in one of these might never rise or wake again in this world. They pressed through this stretch with Mr. Great-heart leading in front as their guide, and Mr. Valiant-for-truth bringing up the rear so that no fiend, dragon, giant, or thief could attack from behind. Every man walked with his sword drawn, knowing they were in a dangerous place. They encouraged each other as best they could. Mr. Great-heart ordered Feeble-mind to stay close behind him, and Mr. Despondency was kept under the watchful eye of Mr. Valiant.

They had not gone far before a thick mist and darkness fell over them all, so heavy that for a long time they could barely see one another. For a while they had to keep in contact by calling out to each other, since they could not see to walk. It was hard going for even the strongest of them — but far worse for the women and children, who were tender both in body and in spirit. Yet through it all, the encouraging words of the one leading them forward and the one guarding the rear kept them moving steadily along.

The road itself was exhausting — muddy and slick, with no inn or tavern anywhere on that stretch where the weaker travelers could rest and refresh themselves. There was plenty of grunting and puffing and sighing, as one person stumbled over a bush, another got stuck fast in the mud, and some of the children lost their shoes in the mire. "I'm down!" one cried. "Where are you?" called another. "The bushes have hold of me — I can't get free!" said a third.

Then they came upon an arbor by the side of the road — warm, inviting, and seemingly promising great rest. It was beautifully made, covered overhead with greenery, furnished with benches and seats, and fitted with a soft couch where the weary could lie down. Given everything they had been through, this was genuinely tempting. But not one of them so much as suggested stopping. As far as I could tell, they had listened so faithfully to their guide, and he had warned them so clearly about the dangers ahead and what those dangers were like when they were near, that whenever they were closest to the greatest threats, their spirits rose and they urged each other all the more to resist the pull of the flesh. This arbor was called The Slothful's Friend, and it had been built precisely to lure weary pilgrims in to rest — and never leave.

I saw in my dream that they pressed on through the lonely terrain until they came to a place where it was easy for a traveler to lose the path. In daylight the guide could manage well enough to steer clear of the wrong turns, but in the darkness he was at a loss. Fortunately, he carried in his pocket a map of all the roads leading to and from the Celestial City. So he struck a light — for he never travels without his tinderbox either — and consulted his map, which told him to turn right at exactly that spot. Had he not taken the trouble to check the map, the whole company would very likely have been swallowed up in the mud. Right in front of them, at the end of what had appeared to be the clearest path, was a pit of unknown depth — filled with nothing but mud, made on purpose to destroy pilgrims.

I thought to myself: who would go on pilgrimage without carrying one of those maps, so that when the way is uncertain, you can look and see which direction to take?

They continued on through the Enchanted Ground until they came to another arbor, this one built right beside the road. Inside it lay two men whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two had traveled this far on their pilgrimage, but worn out by the journey, they had sat down to rest — and had fallen fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they stopped and shook their heads, for they knew those sleepers were in a pitiful state. They discussed what to do: go on and leave them sleeping, or step in and try to wake them. They decided to go in and wake them if they could — but with one firm caution: none of them were to sit down or accept the comfort that arbor offered.

So they went in and spoke to the men, calling each by name — for the guide apparently knew them — but there was no voice and no answer. The guide shook them and did everything he could to rouse them. "I'll pay you when I collect my money," mumbled one. The guide shook his head. "I'll keep fighting as long as I can hold my sword," muttered the other. At that, one of the children laughed.

Then Christiana asked what this meant. The guide said, "They are talking in their sleep. You can strike them or beat them or do anything you like, and they will answer you just the same way — as one man said in ancient times when the waves of the sea beat against him while he slept on the mast of a ship: 'When I awake, I will seek it again' (Proverbs 23:34-35). When men talk in their sleep, they say anything at all, but their words are governed by neither faith nor reason. What they say now makes no more sense than the fact that they started out as pilgrims and ended up sitting down here. And this is the real danger: heedless pilgrims who travel this road are almost certain to end up like this. The Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges the enemy of pilgrims has, which is exactly why it is placed so near the end of the way — it stands against us with all the greater advantage. For when, the enemy reasons, will these travelers be most desperate to sit down and rest? When they are exhausted. And when are they most exhausted? When they are almost at the end of their journey. That is why the Enchanted Ground lies so close to the land of Beulah and the finish of the race. Let pilgrims take heed, then, lest they fall as these men have — asleep, and no one able to wake them."

The pilgrims were shaken, and moved forward with a kind of trembling urgency. They asked their guide to strike a light so they could see the rest of the way by lantern. He lit one, and they traveled the remainder of that stretch by its glow, though the darkness was very thick (2 Peter 1:19). The children began to grow desperately weary and cried out to the One who loves pilgrims to make the way easier. And before long a wind came up and drove away the fog, clearing the air considerably. They were still on the Enchanted Ground, but they could now see each other and make out the road ahead.

When they were nearly at the far end of that ground, they heard a sound ahead — like someone in deep earnest distress. They moved toward it and looked, and saw what appeared to be a man on his knees, hands and eyes lifted up, speaking urgently to someone above him. They drew near but could not make out his words, so they waited quietly until he had finished. When he was done, he rose and began running toward the Celestial City. Mr. Great-heart called after him, "Hey there, friend — if you are heading, as I suppose, to the Celestial City, come join our company!" The man stopped, and they came up to him. The moment Mr. Honest laid eyes on him, he said, "I know this man." "Who is he?" asked Mr. Valiant-for-truth. "He is from the area where I come from," said Honest. "His name is Standfast. He is a true and good pilgrim."

They came together, and immediately Standfast said to old Honest, "Father Honest — is that you?" "It is," said Honest, "as sure as you are standing there." "I am very glad to find you on this road," said Mr. Standfast. "And I am just as glad I caught sight of you on your knees," said Honest. Standfast blushed and asked, "You saw me?" "I did," said Honest, "and my heart was glad at the sight." "What were you thinking?" Standfast asked. "What could I think?" said old Honest. "I thought, here is an honest man on the road, and we will soon have his company." "If you have not thought wrong," said Standfast, "then I am truly happy — but if I am not what I should be, that is mine to bear alone." "That is true," said Honest, "but your very fear confirms to me that all is well between you and the Prince of pilgrims. For He says, 'Blessed is the man who fears always' (Proverbs 28:14)."

Valiant-for-truth: "But, brother, please tell us — what was the reason you were just now on your knees? Was it from some special mercy that had come to you, or something else?"

Standfast: "We are, as you can see, on the Enchanted Ground. As I was walking along, I was thinking about just how dangerous this stretch of road is, and how many who had come this far on pilgrimage had been stopped and destroyed right here. I was also thinking about the particular way this place kills people. Those who die here do not die of any violent illness. The death that takes them is not even unpleasant to them — for the one who drifts away in sleep begins that final journey with a kind of contentment and ease. He surrenders willingly to the thing that is destroying him."

Mr. Honest: "Did you see the two men asleep in the arbor?"

Standfast: "Yes, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there. And for all I know, they will lie there until they rot (Proverbs 10:7). But let me finish what I was telling you. As I was thinking on these things, as I said, a woman appeared to me — richly dressed, but old — and offered me three things: her body, her purse, and her bed. The truth is, I was both tired and sleepy, and as poor as a church mouse — which she may well have known. I turned her away once and again, but she brushed aside my refusals and smiled. Then I grew angry, but she paid that no attention whatsoever. Then she made her offers again and told me that if I would let her lead me, she would make me great and happy — for she was, she said, the mistress of the world, and men owed all their happiness to her. I asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. That put me further off than ever, but still she followed me with enticements. So I did as you saw — I fell to my knees, hands lifted up, and cried out to the One who promised to help. And just as you arrived, the woman went on her way. Then I continued giving thanks for this great"

deliverance — for I have no doubt that she intended no good to me, but was trying to stop me in my journey.

Mr. Honest: "There is no question her intentions were wicked. But wait — now that you describe her, I think I have either seen her myself or read a description of her somewhere."

Standfast: "Perhaps both."

Mr. Honest: "Madam Bubble — is she not a tall, handsome woman, somewhat dark in complexion?"

Standfast: "Exactly right. That is her to the life."

Mr. Honest: "Does she not speak very smoothly, with a smile at the end of every sentence?"

Standfast: "You have her perfectly — those are her very manners."

Mr. Honest: "Does she not carry a large purse at her side, and keep her hand in it constantly, running her fingers through her money as if it were her greatest delight?"

Standfast: "Exactly so. If she had been standing here the whole time, you could not have described her more fully or painted her features more precisely."

Mr. Honest: "Then the one who drew her portrait was a skilled painter, and the one who wrote about her told the truth."

Mr. Great-heart: "This woman is a witch, and it is by her sorcery that this ground is enchanted. Anyone who lays his head in her lap might as well lay it on a chopping block with an axe hanging over it. Whoever fixes his eyes on her beauty is counted an enemy of God. She is the one who keeps all the enemies of pilgrims living in comfort and splendor (James 4:4). She has turned many a man away from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gossip — she and her daughters are always close on some pilgrim's heels, praising and promoting the attractions of this present life. She is bold and shameless and will talk to any man. She always laughs poor pilgrims to scorn, but speaks highly of the rich. If there is someone skilled at making money in a place, she will go from house to house singing his praises. She loves feasting and banqueting above almost everything and is always at some lavish table. In some places she has even claimed to be a goddess, and some do actually worship her. She has her set times and public venues for her deceptions, and she declares that no one can offer anything to compare with what she offers. She promises to be with a man's children and grandchildren if they will only love her and hold her close. In some places, and to some people, she scatters gold like dust. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and held close in men's hearts. She never tires of promoting what she sells, and she loves most the ones who think the most highly of her. She will promise crowns and kingdoms to those who follow her advice — yet she has led many to the gallows, and ten thousand times more to hell."

Standfast: "Oh, what a mercy that I resisted her! Where might she have led me?"

Mr. Great-heart: "Where? Only God knows exactly. But in general terms, she would have pulled you into all kinds of foolish and harmful desires that drag men down into ruin and destruction (1 Timothy 6:9). She was the one who turned Absalom against his father, and Jeroboam against his master. She persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and she convinced Demas to abandon the godly pilgrim's life. The damage she causes is beyond anyone's full accounting. She sets rulers against subjects, parents against children, neighbor against neighbor, husband against wife, a man against himself, and the flesh against the spirit. So, good Mr. Standfast — live up to your name. When you have done everything, stand firm."

This exchange stirred up a mixture of joy and trembling among the pilgrims. At last it overflowed and they broke into song:

"What dangers surround the pilgrim's way! How many foes he has to face! How many paths lead souls astray — no living man can count their trace.

Some stumble helpless in the ditch and wallow in the muddy mire; some dodge the frying pan in time, but leap instead into the fire."

After this, I watched in my dream as they at last came into the land of Beulah, where the sun shines both night and day. Weary from the journey, they rested there for a time. Because this country is open to all pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards there belong to the King of the Celestial Country, they were free to enjoy whatever they liked. They did not need much rest, though — for the bells rang so constantly and the trumpets sounded so sweetly that they could not sleep, yet they felt as refreshed as if they had slept deeply through the night. All through the streets of that land the talk was: "More pilgrims have come to town!" And another would answer, "And so many have crossed the river today and been let in at the golden gates!" Others would cry out, "A whole company of shining ones has just arrived in town — which means more pilgrims must be on the road, for the shining ones come here to wait for them and comfort them after all their suffering." Then the pilgrims got up and walked around freely. How their ears were filled with heavenly sounds, and their eyes with celestial visions! In that land everything they heard, saw, felt, smelled, and tasted was pleasing to both body and soul. There was only one exception: when they tasted the water of the river they would eventually have to cross, it seemed a little bitter at first — but it proved sweeter on the way down.

In that place, records were kept of the names of all who had been pilgrims in ages past, along with accounts of the great deeds they had done. There was also much discussion there about how the river had been experienced differently by different people — shallow and easy for some, overflowing its banks for others.

The children of that town would go into the King's gardens and gather bouquets of flowers for the pilgrims, bringing them with great warmth and affection. The gardens also grew camphire, spikenard, saffron, calamus, cinnamon, frankincense, myrrh, aloes, and all manner of fine spices. With these, the pilgrims' rooms were perfumed during their stay, and with these their bodies were anointed to prepare them to cross the river when the appointed time came.

While they were resting there and waiting for the appointed hour, word spread through the town that a messenger had arrived from the Celestial City with news of great importance for one Christiana, the wife of Christian the pilgrim. She was sought out and found, and the messenger delivered her a letter. Its contents read: "Greetings, good woman. I bring you word that the Master is calling for you and expects you to stand before Him in robes of immortality within ten days."

After reading the letter to her, the messenger gave her a sign to confirm that he was a true messenger and had come to tell her to make ready. The sign was an arrow sharpened with love, which entered gently into her heart and worked within her so steadily that by the appointed time she was truly ready to go.

When Christiana saw that her time had come and that she would be the first of the company to cross over, she called for Mr. Great-heart her guide and told him the news. He said he was heartily glad to hear it, and that he wished the messenger had come for him as well. She asked him to advise her on how to prepare for her journey. He told her what needed to be done, and said, "We who remain will accompany you to the river's edge."

Then she called for her children, gave them her blessing, and told them she had read with great comfort the mark set on their foreheads. She was glad to see them there with her, and glad that they had kept their garments white. Finally, she gave what little she had to the poor and charged her sons and daughters-in-law to be ready for when the messenger came for them.

When she had spoken to her guide and her children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth and said to him, "Sir, you have shown yourself to be true-hearted in every situation. Be faithful to the end, and my King will give you a crown of life (Revelation 2:10). I also ask you to keep an eye on my children, and if at any time you see them grow faint, speak words of comfort to them. As for my daughters-in-law — they have been faithful, and the fulfillment of the promise awaits them at the end." Then she gave Mr. Standfast a ring.

Then she called for old Mr. Honest and said of him, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!" (John 1:47). He replied, "I wish you fair weather when you set out for Mount Zion, and I will be glad to hear that you crossed the river without trouble." She answered, "Come rain or shine, I am eager to be gone. However the crossing may be, I will have time enough when I arrive to sit down, rest, and dry off."

Then good Mr. Ready-to-halt came in to see her. She said to him, "Your journey has been hard until now — but that will only make the rest sweeter. Stay alert and be ready, for the messenger may come at an hour you least expect."

After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid, and she said to them, "You ought to give thanks always for your deliverance from Giant Despair and Doubting Castle. The fruit of that mercy is that you have been brought safely here. Stay watchful, cast away your fear, be sober, and hope to the very end."

Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, "You were rescued from the mouth of Giant Slay-good so that you might live in the light of the living and see your King with joy. I only urge you to repent of your tendency to fear and to doubt His goodness before He sends for you — so that when He comes, you will not have to stand before Him with shame over that fault."

The day came when Christiana had to depart. The road was crowded with people who had come to see her off. And on the far bank of the river, the banks were lined with horses and chariots that had come down from above to escort her to the city gate. She came forward and stepped into the river, giving a farewell nod to those who remained behind. The last words she was heard to say were: "I come, Lord, to be with You and bless You!" Her children and friends returned to their homes, for those waiting for Christiana had carried her beyond their sight. She crossed over and was called, and entered through the gate with all the joyful ceremonies her husband Christian had experienced before her. The children wept at her departure. But Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Valiant played joyfully on harp and cymbal. And so all returned to their respective places.

In time, a messenger came to the town again, and his business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. He found him and said, "I have come from the One you have loved and followed, though on crutches. My message is that He expects you at His table to dine with Him in His kingdom the day after Easter. Prepare yourself for the journey." Then he gave him a sign that he was a true messenger, saying, "I have broken your golden bowl and loosed your silver cord" (Ecclesiastes 12:6).

After this, Mr. Ready-to-halt called his fellow pilgrims together and told them, "I have been sent for — and God will surely visit you as well." He asked Mr. Valiant to help him put his affairs in order. Having nothing to leave to those who would outlive him but his crutches and his good wishes, he said this: "These crutches I leave to the son who walks in my steps, along with a hundred heartfelt wishes that he may prove a better man than I have been."

He thanked Mr. Great-heart for his guidance and kindness, and then prepared for his journey. When he came to the edge of the river, he said, "I have no more need of these crutches now — for on the other side there are chariots and horses waiting for me." The last words he was heard to say were: "Welcome, life!" And so he went his way.

After this, Mr. Feeble-mind heard the messenger's horn sound at his chamber door. The messenger entered and said, "I have come to tell you that your Master has need of you, and that very soon you will behold His face in its full brightness. Take this as a sign that my message is true: 'Those who look out of the windows will see dimly' (Ecclesiastes 12:3)." Mr. Feeble-mind called his friends together and told them what message had come and what sign had been given to confirm it. Then he said, "Since I have nothing to leave anyone, what use would a will be to me? As for my feeble mind — I will leave that behind, for I will have no need of it where I am going, and it is not even worth giving to the poorest of pilgrims. When I am gone, Mr. Valiant, I ask you to bury it in a dunghill." When the day of his departure came, he entered the river like the rest. His last words were: "Hold out, faith and patience!" And so he crossed to the other side.

After many days had passed, Mr. Despondency was sent for. A messenger came with this word: "Trembling man — you are summoned to be ready to stand before the King by next Lord's Day, to shout for joy over your deliverance from all your doubts and fears." And as a sign that the message was true, the messenger gave him a grasshopper to be a burden to him (Ecclesiastes 12:5).

When Mr. Despondency's daughter Much-afraid heard what had come to her father, she said she would go with him. Mr. Despondency then said to his friends, "You know what we have been, and how we have troubled every company we were in. It is our wish — both mine and my daughter's — that our despair and our slavish fears be received by no one after we are gone, not ever. For I know that after our deaths they will go looking for new hosts among the pilgrims. To speak plainly: these fears and doubts were companions we took in when we first set out as pilgrims, and we could never shake them off. They will wander about seeking shelter among pilgrims — but for our sakes, shut the door on them." When the time came for them to go, they walked to the edge of the river. Mr. Despondency's last words were: "Farewell, night; welcome, day!" His daughter went through the river singing, but no one could understand what she sang.

Some time after this, a messenger came to town and asked for Mr. Honest. He came to the house where Honest was staying and put this message into his hand: "You are commanded to be ready within seven days to present yourself before your Lord at His Father's house. And as a sign that my message is true: 'All the daughters of music will be brought low' (Ecclesiastes 12:4)." Mr. Honest called his friends together and said, "I am dying, but I will not make a will. My honesty goes with me — let those who come after be told of it." When the day came for him to depart, he went down to cross the river. The river was running high and had overflowed its banks in places that day. But Mr. Honest had in his lifetime arranged for one Good-conscience to meet him there — and Good-conscience did come and gave him his hand and helped him across. Mr. Honest's last words were: "Grace reigns!" And so he left the world.

After this it became known that Mr. Valiant-for-truth had received his summons from the same messenger as the others, and that the sign given to him was this: "that his pitcher was broken at the fountain" (Ecclesiastes 12:6). When he understood it, he called his friends to him and told them the news. "I am going to my Father's house," he said. "Though I have come here through great difficulty, I do not regret a single hardship I endured to reach this place. My sword I leave to whoever takes up the pilgrimage after me, and my courage and my skill to whoever is capable of claiming them. My wounds and scars I carry with me as a testimony that I fought the battles of the One who will now be my reward." When the day came for him to leave, many accompanied him to the river. As he stepped in, he said, "Death, where is your sting?" And as he waded deeper, he said, "Grave, where is your victory?" (1 Corinthians 15:55). So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.

Then a summons came for Mr. Standfast — the same Mr. Standfast whom the other pilgrims had found on his knees in the Enchanted Ground. The messenger brought it openly in his hands. The contents declared that he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master was no longer willing for him to remain so far away. Mr. Standfast fell into a quiet contemplation at this. "There is no need to doubt my message," said the messenger. "Here is your sign: 'Your wheel is broken at the cistern'" (Ecclesiastes 12:6). Then Standfast called for Mr. Great-heart, their guide, and said to him, "Sir, though it was not my fortune to spend much time in your company during my pilgrimage, you have been a great help to me since I came to know you. When I left home, I left behind a wife and five young children. I ask you, when you return — for I know you will return to your Master's house and hope to guide more holy pilgrims — please send word to my family. Let them know everything that has happened to me and what is about to happen. Tell them of my happy arrival here and of the blessed state I am now in. Tell them also of Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and her children followed after him. Tell them what a happy end she made, and where she has gone. I have little to send my family besides prayers and tears for them — but perhaps you could tell them even that, in case it should do some good." When Mr. Standfast had thus set everything in order and the time came for him to go, he went down to the river. The river was very calm at that hour. When he had waded out to the middle, he paused and spoke to the companions who had come to see him off. He said, "This river has been a terror to many — I confess the very thought of it often frightened me. But now I find I stand firm. My foot rests on the same foundation as the feet of the priests who carried the ark of the covenant while Israel crossed the Jordan (Joshua 3:17). The water is bitter to the taste and cold to the body — yet the thought of where I am going, and of the escort waiting for me on the other side, burns in my heart like a glowing coal. I see myself now at the end of my journey. My days of toil are over. I am going to see the head that was crowned with thorns, and the face that was spat upon for me. I have lived until now by faith and hearsay — but now I go where I will live by sight, and will be with the One in whose company I find my greatest joy. I have always loved to hear my Lord spoken of. Wherever I have seen the print of His footstep on the earth, I have longed to place my own foot there. His name has been to me like the finest perfume — sweeter than all spices. His voice has been the sweetest sound I know, and I have desired His face more than those who long most for the light of the sun. His words I gathered as food, and as medicine against my times of weakness. He has held me and kept me from my sins, and He has made my steps steady on His road."

While he was speaking, his expression changed. His strong frame gave way beneath him. And after he said, "Take me, for I come to You," he was no longer seen by those who stood watching.

But it was glorious to see how the open sky filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players of stringed instruments, all welcoming the pilgrims as they made their way up and entered one after another through the beautiful gate of the city.

As for Christiana's children — the four sons she had brought, along with their wives and children — I did not remain long enough to see them all cross over. But after I left, I heard it said that they were still alive and would remain so for the growth of the church in that place, for a time.

If it should ever be my lot to travel that way again, I may give those who wish it a fuller account of what I have left unsaid here. In the meantime, I bid my reader

Farewell.

The End.