Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd PART. 1037

 

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

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

GREAT-HEART. 'Beloved, thou dost faithfully whatsoever thou dost to the brethren, and to strangers; which have borne witness of thy charity before the church; whom if thou (yet) bring forward on their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well' (3 John 5, 6). Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and of his children, and particularly of Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave him something to drink, by the way.

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

FEEBLE. Alas! I want a suitable companion; you are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am weak; I choose, therefore, rather to come behind, lest, by reason of my many infirmities, I should be both a burden to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that which others can bear. I shall like no laughing; I shall like no gay attire; I shall like no unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be offended with that which others have 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 can not 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 ('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), so that I know not what to do.

GREAT-HEART. But, brother, said. Mr. Great-heart, I have it in commission to 'comfort the feeble-minded,' and to 'support the weak' (1 Thess. 5:14). You must needs go along with us; we will wait for you; we will lend you our help (Rom. 14:1); we will deny ourselves of some things, both opinionative and practical, for your sake (1 Cor. 8), 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 Cor. 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 [promises] in his hand (Psa. 38:17); and he also was going on pilgrimage.

FEEBLE. Then said Mr. Feeble-mind to him, Man, how camest thou hither? I was just now complaining that I had no suitable companion, but thou art according to my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt, I hope thee and I may be some help.

READY-TO-HALT. I shall be glad of thy company, said the other; and good Mr. Feeble-mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one of my crutches.

FEEBLE. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy goodwill, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think, when occasion is, it may help me against a dog.

READY. If either I or my crutches can do thee a pleasure, we are both at thy command, good Mr. Feeble-mind.

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

HON. Pray, Sir, now we are upon the road, tell us some profitable things of some that have gone on pilgrimage before us.

GREAT-HEART. With goodwill. I suppose you have heard how Christian of old met with Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also what hard work he had to go through in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Also, I think you cannot but have heard how Faithful was put to it with Madam Wanton, with Adam the first, with one Discontent, and Shame, four as deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the road.

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

GREAT-HEART. Aye, for as the Pilgrim well said, he of all men had the wrong name.

HON. But pray, Sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met

Talkative? That was also a notable one.

GREAT-HEART. He was a confident fool, yet many followed his ways.

HON. He had like to have beguiled Faithful.

GREAT-HEART. Aye, but Christian put him in a way that quickly found him out. Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist met with Christian and Faithful, and prophesied to them of what should befall them at Vanity Fair.

GREAT-HEART. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair.

HON. Say you so? I dare say it was a hard chapter that he then read unto them.

GREAT-HEART. It was so, but he gave them encouragement withal. But what do we talk about them? There were a couple of lion-like men; they had set their faces like flint. Don't you remember how undaunted they were when they stood before the judge?

HON. Well, Faithful bravely suffered.

GREAT-HEART. So he did, and as brave things came on it, for Hopeful and some others, as the story relates it, were converted by his death.

HON. Well, but pray go on; for you are well acquainted with things.

GREAT-HEART. Above all that Christian met with after he had passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch one.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd PART. 1036

 

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

GREAT-HEART. We want thee; for we are come to avenge the quarrel of the many that thou hast slain of the pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them out of the King's highway; wherefore, come out of thy cave. So he armed himself and came out; and to a battle they went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood still to take wind.

SLAY. Then said the giant, Why are you here on my ground?

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

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

FEEBLE-MIND. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you see; and, because death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at home; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have traveled hither from the town of Uncertain, where my father and I 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 to the gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; neither objected He against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind; but gave me such things that were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness there; and because the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for 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, and so went on their own pace (1 Thess. 5:14). 

When I came up to Assault Lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter; but, alas! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial. So he came up and took me. I conceived he should not kill me. Also, when he had got me into his den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive again; for I have heard that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of Providence, to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am; but I am, as you see, escaped with life; for the which I thank my King as author, and you as the means. Other brunts I also look for, but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank Him who loves me, I am fixed. My way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind.

HON. Then said old Mr. Honest, Have you not, some time ago, been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim.

FEEBLE. Acquainted with him! Yes, he came from the town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees 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 in a temper. He was a little shorter than I, but we were of much the same complexion.

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

FEEBLE. Most who have known us both have said so, 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, and what thou hast a mind to, call for freely; and what thou wouldest have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready mind.

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, This is an unexpected favor, " as the sun shone 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 comes one running, and calls at the door, and tells 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.

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

What, one would think, doth seek to slay outright,
Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight.
That very providence, whose face is death,
Doth oftentimes to the lowly life bequeath.
I was taken, he did escape and flee;
Hands crossed give death to him, and life to me.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd PART. 1035

 

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

Then said Gaius-

Apples were the ones with which we were beguiled
Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defil'd.
Apples forbid, if eaten, corrupt the blood;
To eat such, when commanded, does us good.
Drink of His flagons, then, thou church, His dove,
And eat His apples, who are sick of love.

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

GAIUS. Forbidden fruit will make you sick, but not what our Lord has tolerated.

While they were thus talking, they were presented with another dish, and it was a dish of nuts (Song. 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 keep their kernels from the eaters.
Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat;
They are brought here for you to crack and eat.

Then they were 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 awhile, and then thus replied—

He that 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 scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet; but it tendeth to poverty' (Prov. 11:24). 'There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches' (Prov. 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 host, Gaius, overhearing, said, With a very good will, my child.

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

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

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

He that will kill, must first be overcome,
Those who live abroad must first 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 that you should answer it. Then said the old gentleman,

He first by grace must conquer'd be,
That sin would mortify;
And who, that lives, would convince me,
Unto himself must die.

It is right, said Gaius; good doctrine and experience teach this. 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, 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 to mind: I will tell you a story worth hearing. There were two men who went on pilgrimage; 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 decayed with the decays of nature. The young man trod his steps as even as did the old one, and was every way as light as he. Who now, or which of them, had their graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike

HON. The young man's, doubtless. For that which heads it against the greatest opposition, gives best demonstration that it is strongest; especially when it also holdeth pace with that that meets not with half so much, as, to be sure, old age does not. Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed themselves with this mistake, namely, taking the decays of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, old men who are gracious are best able to give advice to those who are young, because they have seen most of the emptiness of things. But yet, for an old and a young [man] to set out both together, the young one has the advantage of the fairest discovery of a work of grace within him, though the old man's corruptions are naturally the weakest.

Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now, when the family was up, Christiana bid her son James read a chapter; so he read the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr. Honest asked, why it was said that the Savior is said to come 'out of a dry ground'; and also, that 'He had no form or comeliness in him?'

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 the unbelievers, who, because they want that eye that can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of Him by the meanness of His outside. Just like those who know not that precious stones are covered over with a homely crust; who, when they have found one, because they know not what they have found, cast it again away, as men do a common stone.

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I know, Mr. Greatheart is good at his weapons, if you please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a mile from hence, there is one Slay-good, a giant that does much annoy the King's highway in these parts; and I know whereabout his haunt is. He is the master of a number of thieves; it would be well if we could clear these parts of him. So they consented, and went, Mr. Great-heart with his sword, helmet, and shield, and the rest with spears and staves. When they came to the place where he was, they found him with one Feeble-mind in his hands, whom his servants had brought unto him, having taken him in the way. Now the giant was rifling him, with a purpose, after that, to pick his bones, for he was of the nature of flesh-eaters.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd PART. 1034

 

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

Then he went down and 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; and while supper is making ready, if you please, let us entertain one another with some good discourse. So they all said, Content.

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

GREAT-HEART. The woman is the wife of one Christian, a Pilgrim of former times, and these are his four children. The maid is one of her acquaintances, 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; yea, if they do but see any place where the old Pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the same.

GAIUS. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife? And are these Christians' children? I knew your husband's father, yeah, 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, shown 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 who have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, that was one of the first of the family from whence 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 whence your husband came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions; Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones, and Polycarp, who 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 who they put into a sack, and cast him into the sea to be drowned. It would be utterly impossible to count up all of that family that has suffered injuries and death, for the love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband has left behind him four such boys as these. I hope they will bear up their father's name, and tread in their father's steps, and come to their father's end.

GREAT-HEART. Indeed, Sir, they are likely lads; they seem to choose their father's ways heartily.

GAIUS. That is it that I said; wherefore 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; wherefore, let Christiana look out some damsels for her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, &c., that the name of their father and the house of his progenitors may never be forgotten in the world.

HON. It is a pity this family should fall and become extinct.

GAIUS. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may; but let Christiana take my advice, and that is the way to uphold it.

And, Christiana, said this Innkeeper, I am glad to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely couple. And may I advise, take Mercy into a nearer relation to thee; if she will, let her be given to Matthew, thy eldest son; it is the way to preserve you a posterity in the earth. So this match was concluded, and in the process of time, they were married; but more of that hereafter.

Gaius also proceeded and said, "I will now speak on behalf of women to take away their reproach." For as death and the curse came into the world by a woman, (Gen. 3), so also did life and health: 'God sent forth His Son made of a woman' (Gal. 4:4). Yea, to show how much those that came after, did abhor the act of the mother, this sex, in the Old Testament, coveted children, if happily this or that woman might be the mother of the Saviour of the world.

I will say again that when the Savior came, women rejoiced in Him before either man or angel (Luke 2). I read not that ever any man did give unto Christ so much as one groat; but the women followed Him, and ministered to Him of their substance (Luke 8:2, 3). It was a woman that washed His feet with tears, and a woman that anointed His body to the burial (Luke 7:37, 50; John 11:2; 12:3). They were women that wept, when He was going to the Cross, and women that followed Him from the Cross, and that sat by His sepulchre, when he was buried (Luke 23:27; Matt. 27:55, 56, 61). They were women who were first with Him at His resurrection-morn, and women who brought tidings first to His disciples that He was risen from the dead (Luke 24:22, 23). Women, therefore, are highly favored and shown by these things that they are sharers with us in the grace of life.

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

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this fore-runner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater appetite to my food than I had before.

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

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

The next thing they brought up was a bottle of wine, red as blood (Deut. 32:14). So Gaius said to them, Drink freely; this is the juice of the true vine, that makes glad the heart of God and man (Judg. 9:13; John 15:1). So they drank and were merry.

The next was a dish of milk well crumbed, but Gaius said, Let the boys have that, that they may grow thereby (1 Peter 2:1, 2). Then they brought up in the 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' (Isa. 7:15).

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd PART. 1033

 

HON. Aye, aye, so I mean, and so he believed and practiced.

GREAT-HEART. But what ground had he for his so saying?

HON. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant.

GREAT-HEART. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few particulars.

HON. 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.

GREAT-HEART. Highly base! indeed. And you are sure he was of this opinion?

HON. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for it, bring argument for it, &c.

GREAT-HEART. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world.

HON. You must understand me rightly. He did not say that any man might do this, but that those who had the virtues of those who did such things might also do the same.

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 if, because a child by the blast of the wind, or for that it stumbled at a stone, fell down, and defiled itself in mire, therefore he might willfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who could have thought that anyone could have been so blinded by the power of lust? But what is written must be true: They stumble at the Word, being disobedient; whereunto 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. It is just as if the dog should say, I have, or may have, the qualities of the child, because I lick up its stinking excrement. To eat up the sin of God's people is no sign of one who is possessed with their virtues (Hosea 4:8). 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; prithee, what can he say for himself?

HON. 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.

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.

HON. 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.

GREAT-HEART. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented; but he that feareth the King of Paradise, shall come out of them all.

CHRIST. There are strange opinions in the world; I know one that said, It was time enough to repent when they come to die.

GREAT-HEART. Such is not otherwise. That man would have been loath, might he have had a week to run twenty miles in for his life, to have deferred that journey to the last hour of that week.

HON. You say right, and yet the generality of them, that count themselves pilgrims, do indeed do thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveler on 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 did 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 that one would have thought could not have lived a day, who have yet proved very good pilgrims.

I have seen some who have run hastily forward, who again, after a little time, have run just as fast back again.

I have seen some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at first, but, after a while, have spoken as much against it. I have heard some, when they first set out for Paradise, say positively there is such a place; who, when they have been almost there, have come back again, and said there is none.

I have heard some vaunt what they would do, in case they should be opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all.

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

GREAT-HEART. Then said Mr. Great-heart, They be the three that set upon Little-faith heretofore. Well, said he, we are ready for them; so they went on their way. Now, they looked at every turning, when 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 for 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 (Rom. 16:23). So they all concluded to turn in thither, and the rather, because the old gentleman gave him so good a report. So when they came to the door, they went in, not knocking, for folks use not to knock at the door of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie there that night.

GAIUS. Yes, gentlemen, if ye be true men, for my house is for none but pilgrims. Then were Christiana, Mercy, and the boys, the more glad, for that the Inn-keeper 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. Greatheart and the old gentleman.

GREAT-HEART. Then said Mr. Great-heart, Good Gaius, what hast thou for supper? 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.

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd PART. 1032

 

It would be too tedious to tell you all. We will, therefore, only mention a passage or two more. When he came to Vanity Fair, I thought he would have fought with all the men at the fair. I feared that we should both have been knocked on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground, he was also very awake. But when he came to the river, where there was no bridge, he was again 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 wet-shod. When he was going up to the gate, I began to take his leave of him, and to wish him a good reception above. So he said, I shall, I shall. Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more.

HON. Then, it seems, he was well at last.

GREAT-HEART. Yes, yes; I never had doubt about him; he was a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept very low, and that made his life so burdensome to himself, and so troublesome to others (Psa. 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 (Rom. 14:21; 1 Cor. 8:13).

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

GREAT-HEART. There are two sorts of reasons for it: One is that the wise God will have it so; some must pipe, and some must weep (Matt. 11:16-18). Now Mr. Fearing was one who played upon this bass; he and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than the notes of other music are; though, indeed, some say the bass is the ground of music. And, for my part, I care not at all for that profession that begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string the musician usually touches is the bass when he intends to tune everything. God also plays upon this string first when he sets the soul in tune with Himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing; he could play upon no other music but this, till towards his latter end.

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

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

GREAT-HEART. You're right. Those were the things that were his troubles, 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.

CHRIST. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me good. I thought nobody had been like me, but I see there was some semblance betwixt this good man and me; only we differed in two things: His troubles were so great, 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 of other things. O, thought I, may I have the happiness to have a habitation there, it is enough, though I part with all the world to win it!

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

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

GREAT-HEART. Well said, James, thou hast hit the mark; for the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom; and, to be sure, they that 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, thou didst fear
Thy God, and wast afraid
Of doing anything, while here,
That would have thee betray'd.
And didst thou fear the lake and pit?
Would others do so too!
For, as for them that want thy wit,
They do themselves undo.

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

GREAT-HEART. Had you ever any talk with him about it?

HON. 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.

GREAT-HEART. Pray, what principles did he hold? for I suppose you can tell.

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

GREAT-HEART. How! If he had said, It is possible for the heart 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 that opinion that it was allowable so to be.

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

GREAT-HEART. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he had a desire to go. Everything frightened him that he heard anybody speak of, that had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for about a month together; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though they, many of them, offered to lend him their hand. He would not go back again, either. The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he came not to it; and yet was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you, one sunshine morning, I do not know how, he ventured, and so got over; but when he was over, he would scarcely believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of Despond in his mind; a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or else he could never have been as he was. 

So he came up to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the head of this way; and there also he stood a good while, before he would adventure 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 shrank back as before. He that opened stepped out after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what wantest thou? With that, he fell to the ground. He who spoke to him wondered to see him so faint. So he said to him, Peace be to thee; up, for I have set open the door to thee. Come in, for thou art blessed. With that, he got up and went in trembling, and when he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been entertained there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was bidden go on his way, and also told the way he should take. 

So he came till he came to our house. But as he behaved himself at the gate, so he did his behavior at my Master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in the cold a good while before he would adventure to call; yet he would not go back, and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master, to receive him and grant him the comfort of His house, and also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself so chicken-hearted a man; and yet, for all that, he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, poor man! He was almost starved. Yea, 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; wherefore He carried it so towards him, as might tend most to his encouragement. Well, when he had seen 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 came 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 Sepulcher. There, I confess, he desired to stay a little to look, and he seemed, for a while after, to be a little cheery. When we came to the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions; for you must know that his trouble was not about such things as those; his fear was about his acceptance at last.

I got him in at the House Beautiful, I think, before he was willing. Also, when he was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels that were of the place, but he was ashamed to make himself much for company. He longed to be alone, yet he always loved good talk and would often get behind the screen to hear it. He also loved to see ancient things and to ponder 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 durst not be so bold to ask.

When we also went from the House Beautiful, he went 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. Yeah, I think, there was a kind of sympathy between that valley and him; for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than when he was in that valley.

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

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

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

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd PART. 1030

 

CHRIST. But were you not afraid, good Sir, when you saw him come out with his club?

GREAT-HEART. It is my duty, said he, to distrust my own ability, that I may have reliance on Him that is stronger than all.

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

GREAT-HEART. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master Himself was served, and yet He it was that conquered at the last.

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

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

So the guide, Mr. Greatheart, 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?

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

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

GREAT-HEART. Why, what would, or could you have done, to have helped yourself, if we indeed had been of that company? HON. Done! Why I would have fought as long as breath had been in me; and had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on it; for a Christian can never be overcome, unless he should yield of himself.

GREAT-HEART. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide; for by this I know thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.

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

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

HON. My name I cannot; but I came from the town of Stupidity; it lieth about four degrees beyond the City of Destruction.

GREAT-HEART. Oh! are you that countryman, then? I deem I have half a guess of you; your name is Old Honesty, is it not? So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not Honesty, in the abstract, but Honest is my name; and I wish that my nature shall agree to what I am called.

HON. But, Sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that I am such a man, since I came from such a place?

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

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

GREAT-HEART. I believe it, Father Honest, I believe it; for I know the thing is true.

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

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

HON. I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars, which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband rings over all these parts of the world: his faith, his courage, his endurance, and his sincerity under all, have made his name famous. Then he turned to the boys and asked them their names, which they told him. And then said he unto them: Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue (Matt. 10:3). Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the Prophet, a man of faith and prayer (Psa. 99:6). Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flees from temptation (Gen. 39). And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord (Acts 1:13, 14). Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and her kindred to come along with Christiana and with her sons. At that, the old honest man said, Mercy is thy name; by Mercy shalt thou be sustained, and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither, where thou shalt look the Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort. All this while the guide, Mr. Greatheart, was very much pleased and smiled upon his companion.

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

HON. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man who 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.

GREAT-HEART. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right character of him.

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

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

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

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

Works of John Bunyan: THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. THE 2nd Part. 1029

 

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 forever. But let them that walk in darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God (Isa. 1:10). For my part, as I have told you already, I have often gone through this Valley, and have been much harder put to it than now I am, and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not mine own 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 did not get through the Valley; so they went on still, and behold, great stinks and loathsome smells, to their great annoyance. Then said Mercy to Christiana, There is not such pleasant being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house where we lay last.

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 made the sweeter to us.

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide, thou hast now spoken like a man. Why, if ever I get out of here again said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way better than ever I did in all my life. Then said the guide, We shall hear 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 you shall presently be among the snares. So they looked to their feet, and went on, but they were troubled much with the snares. Now, when they came 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 a-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 hereabout, 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 the way, and just there where Christian had seen the cave when he went by, out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry; and he called Great-heart by his name, and said unto him, How many times have you been forbidden to do these things? Then said Mr. Great-heart, What things? What things? Quoth the giant; you know what things; but I will put an end to your trade. But pray, said Mr. Great-heart, before we fall to it, let us understand wherefore we must fight. Now the women and children stood trembling, knowing not what to do. Quoth the giant, You rob the country, and rob it with the worst of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr. Great-heart; come to particulars, man. Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft of a kidnapper; thou gatherest up women and children, and carriest them into a strange country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom. But now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the God of Heaven; my business is to persuade sinners to repentance; I am commanded to do my endeavour to turn men, women, and children, 'from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God': and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt.

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

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

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

Mr. Great-heart, seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib; with that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow and smote the head of the giant from his shoulders. Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart also praised God, for the deliverance He had wrought. When this was done, they, among them, erected a pillar, and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote underneath 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 pilgrim's guide to be
Until that I did him oppose,
That was their enemy.

Now I saw, that they went to the ascent that was a little way off, cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims (that was the place from whence Christian had the first sight of Faithful his brother); wherefore here they sat down, and rested; they also here did eat and drink, and make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, No, save a little on my flesh; yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment, that it is at present a proof of my love to my Master and you, and shall be a means, by grace, to increase my reward at last (2 Cor. 4).

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

MERCY. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this Valley, as I have been anywhere else in all our journey; the place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places where there is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with wheels; methinks, here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has done, and 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 like 'the fish-pools of Heshbon' (Song. 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 filleth the pools (Psa. 84:6, 7). This Valley is that from whence also the King will give to His their vineyards (Hosea 2:15); and they that go through it, shall sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon.

GREAT-HEART. It is true, said their guide, I have gone through this Valley many a time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they have confessed the same. 'To this man will I look (saith the King), even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at My Word' (Isa. 66:2).

Now they had come to the place where the afore-mentioned 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, didn't I tell you? here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day; behold, also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place, some of the shivers of Apollyon's broken darts; see also, how they did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good their places against each other; how also, with their by-blows, they did split the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian did here play the man, and showed himself as stout as could, had he been there, even Hercules himself. When Apollyon was beaten, he made his retreat to the next Valley, that is called, the Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come anon.

Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which is engraven this battle and Christian's victory, to his fame throughout all ages. So, because it stood just on the wayside 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 sought
Each other to subdue.
The man so bravely played the man,
He made the fiend 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; and this Valley was longer than the other; a place, also, most strangely haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify; but these women and children went the better through it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their conductor.

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

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

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

Well, well, said Mr. Great-heart, let them that are most afraid keep close to me. So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; but when it was just come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then they remembered 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 a great padding pace after; and it had a hollow voice of roaring; and at every roar that it gave, it made all the Valley echo, and their hearts to ache, save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up, and Mr. Greatheart went behind, and put the Pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Greatheart addressed himself to give him battle. But when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and came no further (1 Peter 5:8, 9).

Then they went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till they came at a place where a pit was cast up the whole breadth of the way; and, before they could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and darkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then said the Pilgrims, Alas! Now what shall we do? But their guide made answer, Fear not, stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also. So they stayed there, because their path was marred. They then also thought that they did hear more, apparently, the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire, also, and the smoke of the pit, was much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what my poor husband went through; I have heard much of this place, but I never was here before now. Poor man, he went here all alone in the night; he had 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 into it themselves. 'The heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.' To be here is a fearful thing.