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,


what I saw concerning his wife and children,

and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage,

insomuch that he was forced to go on his progress without them;

for he durst not run the danger of that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them in the City of Destruction;


as I then showed you,

he left them and departed.


it hath so happened,

through the abundance of business,

that I have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence 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.


having had some concerns that way of late,

I went down again thitherward.


having taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile off the place,

as I slept I dreamed again.


And as I was in my dream,


an aged gentleman came by where I lay;


because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling,

methought I got up and went with him.


as we walked,

and as travelers usually do,

I was as if we fell into discourse;

and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels;

for thus I began with the old man:


said I,

"what town is that there below,

that lieth on the left hand of our way?"

Then said Mr. 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,"

quoth I:

"I went once myself through that town,

and therefore know that this report you give of it is true."


Too true!

I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell therein.



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.


did you never hear what happened to a man some time ago of this town (whose name was Christian),

that went on pilgrimage up towards the higher regions?"


Hear of him!


and I also heard of the difficulties,






frights and fears that he met with and had in his journey.


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 record of his pilgrimage.


I think I may say that his hazardous journey has got many wellwishers to his ways;

for though,

when he was here,

he was a fool in every man's mouth,

yet now he is gone he is highly commended of all.


'tis said he lives bravely where he is: yea,

many of them that are resolved never to run his risks yet have their mouths water at his gains.

"They may,"

quoth I,

"well think,

if they think anything that is true,

that he liveth 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 therewith.



what talk have the people about him?"



the people talk strangely about him: some say that he now walks in white;

that he has a chain of gold about his neck;

that he has a crown of gold beset with pearls upon his head.

Others say that the Shining Ones,

that sometimes showed themselves unto him in his journey,

are become his companions,

and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is,

as here one neighbor is with another.


it is confidently spoken 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 eateth and drinketh and walketh with Him,

and receiveth of the smiles and favors of Him that is judge of all there.


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.

For they say,

now he is so in the affections of his Prince,

and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the wrongs that were cast upon Christian when he became a Pilgrim,

that He will look upon all as if done unto Himself;

and no marvel,

for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did.


"I daresay,"

quoth I;

"I am glad on't;

I am glad for the poor man's sake,

for that he now has rest from his labor,

and for that he reapeth the benefit of his tears with joy,

and for that he has got beyond gunshot of his enemies,

and is out of the reach of them that hate him.

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,


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."



Christiana and her sons?

They are like to do as well as did Christian himself;


though they all played the fool at first,

and would by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian,


second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them,

so they have packed up,

and are also gone after him.

"Better and better,"

quoth I:



wife and children and all?"


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.


said I,

"a man,

it seems,

may report it for a truth?"


You need not fear to declare it.

I mean,

that they are all gone on pilgrimage,

both the good woman and her four boys.


since (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 had gone over the river,

and she could hear of him no more,

her thoughts began to work in her mind.


for that she had lost her husband,

and of that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt them.

For you know (said he to me) it is only natural that the living should have many sad thoughts,

in the remembrance of the loss of loving relations.



of her husband,

did cost her many a tear.

But this was not all;

for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself,

whether 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.


upon this,

came into her mind,

by swarms,

all her unkind,


and ungodly treatment of her dear friend;

which also troubled her conscience,

and did load her with guilt.

She was,


much broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans,

brinish 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;


there was not anything 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 her heart in sunder.

Specially 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,


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 all into tears,

and cried out to go after their father.


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 came from 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;

and it was this,

that the light of life was given him,

by the help of which,

as I perceive,

he has escaped the snares of death."


Then they all wept again,

and cried out,


woe worth the day!"

The next night Christiana had a dream;



she saw as if a broad parchment were opened before her,

in which were recorded the sum of her ways;

and the times,

as she thought,

looked very black upon her.

Then she cried out aloud in her sleep,


have mercy upon me a sinner!"

and the little children heard her.

After this,

she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her bed-side,

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.

Wherefore we must,

by one way or other,

seek to take her off from the thoughts of what shall be hereafter;


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 upon a throne,

with a rainbow about His head.

She saw,


as if he bowed his head with his face to the paved work that was under the Prince's feet,


"I heartily thank my Lord and King for bringing of me into this place."

Then shouted a company of them that stood round about,

and harped with their harps;

but no man living could tell what they said,

but Christian and his companions.

Next morning,

when she was up,

and had prayed to God and talked with her children a while,

one knocked hard at the door;

to whom she spake out,


"If thou comest in God's name,

come in."

So he said,


and opened the door,

and saluted her with "Peace be to this house!"

The which,

when he had done,

he said,


knowest thou wherefore I am come?"

Then she blushed and trembled,

also her heart began to wax warm with desires to know from whence he came,

and what was his errand to her.

So he said unto her,

"My name is Secret: I dwell with those that are on high.

It is talked of where I dwell,

as if thou hadst a desire to go thither;

also there is a report that thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy husband,

in hardening thy heart against his way,

and in keeping of these thy babes in their ignorance.


the Merciful One hath sent me to tell thee,

that He is a God ready to forgive,

and that He taketh delight to pardon offences.

He also would have thee know that He inviteth thee to come into His presence,

to His table,

and that He will feed thee with the fat of His house,

and with the heritage of Jacob thy father.

"There is Christian,

thy husband that was,

with legions more,

his companions,

ever behold that face that doth minister life to beholders;

and they will be glad when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold."


Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself,

and bowed her head to the ground.

This visitor proceeded,

and said,


here is also a letter for thee,

which I have brought from thy husband's King."

So she took it,

and opened it;

but it smelt after the manner of the best perfume;

also it was written in letters of gold.

The contents of the letter were these:

"That the King would have her to do as 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,


will you carry me and my children with you,

that we also may worship this King?"

Then said the visitor,


the bitter is before the sweet.

Thou must through troubles,

as did he that went before thee,

enter the Celestial City.

Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband: go to the wicket-gate yonder over the plain,

for that stands in the head of the way up which you must go;

and I wish thee all good speed.

Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom,

that thou read therein to thyself,

and to thy children,

until you have got it by rote of heart: for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage.

Also this thou must deliver in at the farther gate."


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 went on,

and said:

So Christiana called her sons together,

and began thus to address herself unto them:

"My sons,

I have,

as you may perceive,

been of late under much trouble 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 mine own state and yours,

which I verily believe is by nature miserable.

My treatment also of your father in his distress is a great load to my conscience,

for I hardened both mine 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 for a dream which I had last night,

and but for the encouragement that this stranger has given me this morning.


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 bade them farewell;

and they began to prepare to set out for their journey.


But while they were thus about to be gone,

two of the women that were Christiana's neighbors came up to the house,

and knocked at the 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;


behold they found the good woman preparing to be gone from her house.

So they began,

and said,


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 Difficulty,

and would have had him go back for fear of the lions.


For what journey,

I pray you?


Even to go after my good husband.

And with that she fell a weeping.


I hope not so,

good neighbor.


for your poor children's sake,

do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.



my children shall go with me;

not one of them is willing to stay behind.


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




knew you but as much as I do,

I doubt not but that you would go with me.



what new knowledge hast thou got that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends,

and that tempteth thee 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 troubleth me most is my unkind treatment of him when he was under his distress.


I am now as he was then: nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage.

I was a-dreaming last night that I saw him.

Oh that my soul was with him!

He dwelleth in the presence of the King of the country;

he sits and eats with Him at His table;

he has become a companion of immortals,

and has a house now given him to dwell in,

to which the best palaces on earth,

if compared,

seem to me but as a dunghill.

The Prince of the place has also sent for me,

with promises 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 the letter,

and read it,

and said to them,

"What now will you say to this?"




the madness that hath possessed thee and thy husband,

to run yourselves upon such difficulties!

You have heard,

I am sure,

what your husband did meet with,

even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way,

as our neighbor Obstinate can yet testify,

for he went along with them,


and Pliable too;

until they,

like wise men,

were afraid to go any farther.

We also heard,

over and above,

how he met with the lions,


the Shadow of Death,

and many other things.

Nor is the danger he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee.

For if he,

though a man,

was so hard put to it,

what canst thou,

being but a poor woman,


Consider also that these four sweet babes are thy children,

thy flesh and thy bones.


though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself,


for the sake of thy children,

keep thou at home.

But Christiana said unto 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 off from being to me a discouragement,

that they show I am in the right.

The bitter must come before the sweet,

and that also will make the sweet the sweeter.


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,


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.


Her heart 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."


Her heart yearned over her own soul;

for what Christiana had said had taken hold upon her mind.

Wherefore 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,


with my heart,

shall also go with her."

Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous:



I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning;

and since she is,

as you see,

taking her last farewell of her country,

I think to walk this sunshiny morning a little with her,

to help her on her way.

But she told her not of the second reason,

but kept that to herself.



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.


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:




having had little to do this morning,

I went to give Christiana a visit;

and when I came at the door,

I knocked,

as you know it is our custom;

and she answered,

"If you come in God's name come in."

So in I went,

thinking all was well;

but when I came in I found her preparing herself to depart the town,

she and also her children.

So I asked her what was her meaning by that.

And she told me,

in short,

that she was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage,

as did her husband.

She told me also a dream that she had,

and how the King of the country where her husband was had sent her an inviting letter to come thither.

Then said Mrs. Know-nothing,



do you think she will go?"



go she will,

whatever comes on't;

and methinks I know it by this: for that which was my great reason in persuading her to stay at home (that is,

the troubles she was like to meet with in the way) is one great reason with her to put her forward on her journey.

For she told me,

in so many words,

"The bitter goes before the sweet;


and forasmuch as it so doth,

it makes the sweet the sweeter."



this blind and foolish woman!"

said she;

"will she not take warning by her husband's trials?

For my part,

I see,

if he were here again,

he would rest him content in a whole skin,

and never run so many dangers for nothing."

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied,


"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.


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:


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 Mr. Lechery,

Mrs. Filth,

and some others.

So there we had music and dancing,

and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure.


I dare say,

my lady herself is an admirable well-bred gentlewoman,

and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow."



By this time Christiana was got on her way,

and Mercy went along with her.

So as they went,

her children being there also,

Christiana began to discourse.



said Christiana,

"I take this as an unexpected favor,

that thou shouldest set forth out of doors with me,

to accompany me a little in my way."


Then said young Mercy (for she was but young),

"If I thought it would be a good purpose to go with you,

I would never go near the town any more."




said Christiana,

"cast in thy lot with me: I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage: my husband is where he would not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines.

Nor shalt thou be turned away,

though thou goest but upon my invitation.

The King who hath sent for me and my children is One that delighteth in mercy.


if thou wilt,

I will hire thee,

and thou shalt go along with me as my servant;

yet we will have all things in common betwixt thee and me,

only go along with me."


But how shall I be sure that I also shall be welcomed?

Had I this hope but from one that can tell,

I would have no hesitation at all,

but would go,

being helped by Him that can help,

though the way be never so tedious.



loving Mercy,

I will tell thee what thou shalt do: go with me to the wicket-gate,

and there I will further inquire for thee;

and if there thou dost not meet with encouragement,

I will be content that thou shalt return to thy place: I also will pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my children,

in the accompanying of us in our way as thou dost.



Then will I go thither,

and will take what shall follow;

and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall,

even as the King of heaven shall have His heart upon me!

Christiana was then glad at her heart,

not only that she had a companion,

but also for that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation.

So they went on together and Mercy began to weep.

Then said Christiana,

"Wherefore weepeth my sister so?"



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 one to teach them nor to tell them what is to come."


Tenderness becometh pilgrims;

and thou dost for thy friends as my good Christian did for me when he left me: he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him;

but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears,

and put them into His bottle;

and now both I and thou,

and these my sweet babes,

are reaping the fruit and benefit of them I hope,


that these tears of thine will not be lost;

for the Truth hath said that "they that sow in tears shall reap in joy,"

in singing;

and "he that goeth forth and weepeth,

bearing precious seed,

shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,

bringing his sheaves with him."

Then said Mercy:

"Let the Most Blessèd be my guide,


't be His blessèd will,

Unto His gate,

into His fold,

Up to His holy hill.

"And never let Him suffer me To swerve or turn aside From His free grace and holy ways,

Whate'er shall me betide.

"And let Him gather them of mine That I have left behind: Lord,

make them pray they may be Thine,

With all their heart and mind."

Now my old friend proceeded,

and said,

"But when Christiana came to the Slough of Despond,

she began to be at a stand;


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.


said the old gentleman,

"too true,

for many there be that pretend to be the King's laborers,

and say they are for mending the King's highway,

that bring dirt and dung instead of stones,

and so mar instead of mending.

Here Christiana,


with her boys,

did make a stand.

But said Mercy,


let us venture,

only let us be wary.'

Then they looked well to their steps,

and made shift to get staggeringly over.

Yet Christiana had to have been in,

and that not once nor twice.


they had no sooner got over,

but they thought they heard words that said unto them,

'Blessed is she that believeth,

for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.'

"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.'


said the other,

'You know your trouble,

and I know mine;


good friend,

we shall have enough evil before we come at our journey's end.

For can it be imagined that the people that design to attain such excellent glories as we do,

and that are so envied that happiness as we are,

but that we shall meet with what fears,

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.


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 unto him that did open unto 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,


as her poor husband did,

she knocked and knocked again.

But instead of any that answered,

they all thought that they heard as if a dog came barking upon them;

a dog,

and a great one too: and this made the women and children afraid,

nor durst they for a while to knock any more,

for fear the mastiff should fly upon them.



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 the gate should espy them as they so went,

and should be offended with them.

At last they thought of knocking again,

and knocked more loudly 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 unto them.

Then Christiana made low obeisance,

and said,

"Let not our Lord be offended with His handmaidens,

for that we have knocked at His princely gate."

Then said the Keeper,

"Whence come ye?

and what is it that you would have?"

Christiana answered,

"We are come from whence Christian did come,

and upon the same errand as he;

to wit,

to be,

if it shall please you,

graciously admitted by this gate into the way that leads to the Celestial City.

And I answer,

my Lord,

in the next place,

that I am Christiana,

once the wife of Christian,

that now is gotten above."

With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel,



is she now become a pilgrim,


but a while ago hated that life?"

Then she bowed her head,

and said,


and so are these my sweet babes also."

Then He took her by the hand,

and let her in,

and said also,

"Suffer the little children to come unto me;"

and with that He shut up the gate.

This done,

He called to a trumpeter that was above,

over the gate,

to entertain Christiana with shouting and sound of trumpet for joy.

So he obeyed,

and sounded,

and filled the air with his melodious notes.


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.



And she said,

"My Lord,

I have a companion of mine that stands yet without,

that is come hither upon the same account as myself,

one that is much troubled in her mind,

for that she comes,

as she thinks,

without sending for;

whereas I was sent to by my husband's King to come."

Now Mercy began to be very impatient,

for each minute was as long to her as an hour;

wherefore she prevented Christiana from asking for her more fully 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 said Christiana,

"It is my friend."

So He opened the gate and looked out;

but Mercy was fallen down without in a swoon,

for she fainted,

and was afraid that no gate would be opened to her.

Then he took her by the hand,

and said,


I bid thee arise."



said she,

"I am faint: there is scarce life left in me."

But He answered that "One once said,

'When my soul fainted within me,

I remembered the Lord;

and my prayer came in unto Thee,

into Thy holy temple.'

Fear not,

but stand upon thy feet,

and tell me wherefore thou art come."


I am come for that unto which I was never invited,

as my friend Christiana was.

Hers was from the King,

and mine was but from her.

Wherefore I fear I presume.


Did she desire thee to come with her to this place?




as my Lord sees,

I am come.

And if there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare,

I beseech that I,

Thy poor handmaiden,

may be partaker thereof.


Then He took her again by the hand,

and led her gently in,

and said,

"I pray for all them that believe on me,

by what means soever they come unto me."

Then said He to those that stood by,

"Fetch something,

and give it to Mercy to smell on,

thereby to stay her fainting."

So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh,

and a while after she was revived.

And now was Christiana and her boys and Mercy received of the Lord at the head of the way,

and spoke kindly unto by Him.

Then said they yet further unto Him,

"We are sorry for our sins,

and beg of our Lord His pardon and further information what we must do."

"I grant pardon,"

said He,

"by word and deed: by word,

in the promise of forgiveness;

by deed,

in the way I obtained it.

Take the first from my lips with a kiss,

and the other as it shall be revealed."


I saw in my dream,

that He spake many good words unto them,

whereby they were greatly gladded.

He also had them up to the top of the gate,

and showed them by what deed they were saved;

and told them withal that that sight they would have again as they went along the way,

to their comfort.

So He left them a while in a summer parlor below,

where they entered into a talk by themselves;

and thus Christiana began:

"O Lord,

how glad am I that we are got in hither!"


So you well may;

but I of all have cause to leap for joy.


I thought one time as I stood at the gate,

because I knocked,

and none did answer,

that all our labor had been lost,

specially when that ugly cur made such a heavy barking against us.


But my worst fear was after I saw that you were taken into His favor,

and that I was left behind.


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."

I had much ado to forbear crying out,



And afraid I was to knock any more: but when I looked up to what was written over the gate,

I took courage.

I also thought that I must either knock again or die;

so I knocked,

but I cannot tell how,

for my spirit now struggled betwixt life and death.

_Chr._ 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 violent hands,

or take the kingdom by storm.

_Mer._ Alas!

to be in my case,

who that so was could but have done so?

You saw that the door was shut upon me,

and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout.


I say,

that was so faint-hearted as I,

would not have knocked with all their might?



what said my Lord to my rudeness?

Was He not angry with me?


When He heard your lumbering noise,

He gave a wonderful innocent smile;

I believe what you did pleased Him well enough,

for He showed no sign to the contrary.

But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog;

had I known that afore,

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.

_Mer._ 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.



said the children,

"and persuade Him to hang him,

for we are afraid he will bite us when we go hence."

So at last He came down to them again,

and Mercy fell to the ground on her face before Him,

and worshiped,

and said,

"Let my Lord accept the offering of praise which I now offer unto Him with my lips."


So He said unto her,

"Peace be to thee;

stand up."

But she continued upon her face,

and said,

"Righteous art Thou,

O Lord,

when I plead with Thee;

yet let me talk with Thee of Thy judgments.

Wherefore dost Thou keep so cruel a dog in Thy yard,

at the sight of which such women and children as we are ready to fly from the gate with 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 frighted many an honest pilgrim from worse to better,

by the great voice of his roaring.


he that owneth him doth 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 love;

but I take all at present patiently.

I also give my pilgrims timely help,

so that they are not delivered up to his power,

to do with them what his doggish nature would prompt him to.



my beloved one,

I should suppose,

hadst thou known even so much beforehand,

thou wouldst not have been afraid of a dog.

The beggars that go from door to door will,

rather than lose a supposed alms,

run the danger of the bawling,


and biting too,

of a dog;

and shall a dog in another man's yard,

a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims,

keep any one from coming to me?

I deliver them from the lions,

their darling from the power of the dog."


Then said Mercy,

"I confess my ignorance,

I spake what I understood not: I acknowledge that Thou doest all things well."


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.

So I saw in my dream that they walked on in their way,

and had the weather very comfortable to them.

Then Christiana began to sing:

"Blessed be the day that I began A pilgrim for to be;

And blessèd also be the man That thereto movèd me.

"'Tis true

'twas long ere 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 turnèd,

as we see;

Thus our beginning (as one saith) Shows what our end will be."


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;


being mellow,

they that found them did gather them up and oft eat of them to their hurt.

So Christiana's boys,

as boys are apt to do,

being pleased with the trees,

and the fruit that did hang thereon,

did bend the branches down,

and pluck the fruit,

and begin to eat.

Their mother did also chide them for so doing;

but still the boys went on.

[Illustration: Christiana's Boys Began to Eat.

Page 231]


said she,

"my sons,

you do wrong,

for that fruit is none of ours;"

but she did not know that it did belong 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.



by that they were gone about two bow-shots from the place that led them unto the way,

they espied two very ill-favored ones coming down apace to meet them.

With that,


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 by,

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,


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,


as live upon the charity of our friends."


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 grant one small request which we shall ask,

we will make women of you for ever."


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 or death."

So again she and her companions made a fresh attempt to go past them;

but they letted them in their way.


And they said,

"We intend no hurt to your lives;

it is another thing we would have."



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 risk the loss of our well-being hereafter."


with that,

they both shrieked out,

and cried,



and so put themselves under those laws that are provided for the protection of women.

But the men still made their approach upon them,

with design to prevail against them.

They therefore cried out again.



they being,

as I said,

far from the gate in at which they came,

their voices were heard from where they were,


wherefore some of the house came out,


knowing it was Christiana's tongue,

they made haste to her relief.

But by the time that they were got within sight of them,

the women were in a very great terror;

the children also stood crying by.

Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the ruffians,


"What is that thing you do?

Would you make my Lord's people to do wrong?"

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 thy Prince,

pretty well,

only we have been somewhat affrighted: we thank thee also for that thou camest in to our help,

otherwise we had been overcome."



after a few more words,

this Reliever said as followeth:

"I marvelled much when you were entertained at the gate above,

being ye knew that ye were but weak women,

that you asked not the Lord for a conductor.

Then might you have avoided these troubles and dangers;

for He would have granted you one."



said Christiana,

"we were taken so with our present blessing,

that dangers to come were forgotten by us.


who could have thought that,

so near the King's palace,

there could have lurked such naughty ones?


it had been well for us had we asked our Lord for one;


since our Lord knew it would be for our profit,

I wonder He sent not one along with us."


It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for,


by so doing,

they become of little value;

but when the want of a thing is felt,

then he who needs it feels its preciousness;

and so when it is given it will be used.

Had my Lord granted you a conductor,

you would not either have so 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.


Shall we go back again to my Lord,

and confess our folly,

and ask one?


Your confession of your folly I will present Him with.

To go back again you need not;


in all places where you shall come,

you will find no want at all;


in every one of my Lord's lodgings,

which He has prepared for the care of His pilgrims,

there is sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever.


as I said,

He will be asked of by them,

to do it for them.


'tis 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.


Then said Mercy,

"What a sudden blank is here!

I made account we had been past all danger,

and that we should never see sorrow more."


"Thy innocence,

my sister,"

said Christiana to Mercy,

"may excuse thee much;

but as for me,

fault is so much the greater,

for that I saw the 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."


Then said Mercy,

"How knew you this before you came from home?


open to me this riddle."



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 methought 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."


you know,

might have made me take heed,

and have provided when provision might have been had.



said Mercy,

"as by this neglect we have been made 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."





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);


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 more pleasing to them,

because they had heard she was Christian's wife,

that woman who was some time ago so unwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage.



they stood still,

and heard the good people within commending her,


they little thought,

stood at the door.

At last Christiana knocked,

as she had done at the gate before.


when she had knocked,

there came to the door a young maiden,

and opened the door and looked;



two women were there.



Then said the maid to them,

"With whom would you speak in this place?"


Christiana answered,

"We understand that this is a place prepared for those that are become pilgrims,

and we now at this door are such;

wherefore we pray that we may be partakers of that for which we at this time are come;

for the day,

as thou seest,

is very far spent,

and we are loth to-night to go any farther."



what may I call your name,

that I may tell it to my lord within?


My name is Christiana: I was the wife of that pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way;

and these be his four children.

This young woman is my companion,

and is going on pilgrimage too.


Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name,) and said to those within,

"Can you think who is at the door?

There are 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,

"Art thou that Christiana whom Christian the good man left behind him,

when he betook himself to a pilgrim's life?"


I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's troubles,

and then left him to go on his journey alone;

and these are his four children.

But now also I am come,

for I am convinced that no way is right but this.


Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the man that said to his son,


work to-day in my vineyard;"

and he said to his father,

"I will not;"

but afterwards he repented,

and went.


Then said Christiana,

"So be it: Amen.

God make it a true saying upon me,

and grant that I may be found at the last of Him in peace,

without spot and blameless!"


But why standest thou thus at the door?

Come in,

thou blessed one.

We were talking of thee but now;

for tidings have come to us before how thou art become a pilgrim.



come in;



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 the 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.



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 seen and thought of 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 to give 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 the 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?"


"Thou hast said the right,"

said he;

"and his muck-rake doth show his worldly mind.

And whereas thou seest 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 a fable to some,

and that things here are counted the only things substantial.


whereas it was also showed thee that the man could look no way but downwards;

it is to let thee know that earthly things,

when they are with power upon men's minds,

quite carry their hearts away from God."


Then said Christiana,


deliver me from this muck-rake!"


"That prayer,"

said the Interpreter,

"has lain by till it is almost rusty.

'Give me not riches' is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand.


and sticks,

and dust,

with most,

are the great things now looked after."

With that,

Mercy and Christiana wept,

and said,

"It is,


too true."


When the Interpreter had showed 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 anything 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.


Then said Mercy,


I see nothing."

But Christiana held her peace.



said the Interpreter,

"look again."

She therefore looked again,

and said,

"Here is not anything 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 mind;

and she said,


my lord;

there is here more than one;


and spiders whose venom is far more destructive than that which is in her."

The Interpreter then looked pleasantly upon her,

and said,

"Thou hast said the truth."

This made Mercy blush and the boys to cover their faces;

for they all began now to understand the riddle.

Then said the Interpreter again,

"The spider taketh hold with her hands (as you see),

and is in kings' palaces.

And wherefore is this recorded,

but to show you that,

how full of the venom of sin soever you be,

yet you may,

by the hand of faith,

lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to the king's house above."


"I thought,"

said Christiana,

"of something of this;

but I could not imagine it all.

I thought that we were like spiders,

and that we looked like ugly creatures,

in what fine rooms soever we were: but that by this spider,

this venomous and ill-favored creature,

we were to learn how to act faith,

that came not into my mind;

and yet she has taken hold with her hands,


as I see,

dwelleth in the best room in the house.

God has made nothing in vain."

Then they seemed all to be glad,

but the water stood in their eyes;

yet they looked one upon another,

and also bowed before the Interpreter.

He had them then into another room,

where 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 toward heaven.


said he,

"what this little chick doth;

and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come,

by receiving them with looking up.

Yet again,"

said he,

"observe and look."

So they gave heed,

and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold method towards her chickens.


she had a common call,

and that she hath all day long.


she had a special call,

and that she had but sometimes.


she had a brooding note.


fourthly she had an outcry.



said he,

"compare this hen to your King,

and these chickens to His obedient ones: for,

answerable to her,

He Himself hath His methods which He walketh in toward His people.

By His common call,

He gives nothing;

by His special call,

He always has something to give;

He also has a brooding voice for them that are under His wing;

and He hath an outcry,

to give the alarm when He seeth the enemy come.

I chose,

my darlings,

to lead you into the room where such things are,

because you are women,

and they are easy for you."




said Christiana,

"pray let us see some more."

So he had them into the slaughter-house,

where the butcher was killing a sheep;



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;


without objecting,

she suffereth her skin to be pulled over her ears.

Your King doth call you His sheep."

After this,

he led them into his garden,

where was great variety of flowers;

and he said,

"Do you see all these?"

So Christiana said,


Then said he again,


the flowers are diverse in stature,

in quality,

and color,

and smell,

and virtue,

and some are better than others;


where the gardener has set them,

there they stand,

and quarrel not one with another."


he had them into his field,

which he had sowed with wheat and corn;

but when they beheld,

the tops of all were cut off,

and only the straw remained.

He said again,

"This ground was made rich,

and was ploughed,

and sowed;

but what shall we do with the crop?"

Then said Christiana,

"Burn some,

and make muck of the rest."

Then said the Interpreter again,


you see,

is that thing you look for;


for want of that,

you send it to the fire,

and to be trodden under foot of men.

Beware that in this you condemn not yourselves."


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-redbreast is;

he being also a bird above many,

that loveth to maintain a kind of sociableness with man!

I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of bread,

or upon other such harmless matter.

I like him worse than I did."

The Interpreter then replied,

"This robin is an emblem very apt,

to set forth some people by;

for to sight they are as this robin,

pretty of note,


and conduct.

They seem also to have a very great love for those that are sincere followers of Christ;

and above all other 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,


that therefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly and the appointments of the Lord;


when they are by themselves,

as the robin,

they can catch and gobble up spiders,

they can change their diet,

drink wickedness,

and swallow down sin like water."


when they were come again into the house,

because supper as yet was not ready,

Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either show,

or tell of,

some other things that were 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 thoughtlessly he goes to the slaughter;

and the more healthy the lusty man is,

the more prone he is unto evil.

There is a desire in women to go neat and fine;

and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that which in God's sight is of great price.

'Tis easier watching a night or two than to sit up a whole year together;


'tis easier for one to begin to profess well than to hold out as he should to the end.

Every ship-master,

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 feareth not God.

One leak will sink a ship,

and one sin will destroy a sinner.

He that forgets his friends is ungrateful unto him but he that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself.

He that lives in sin,

and looks for happiness hereafter,

is like him that soweth weeds,

and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley.

If a man would live well,

let him bring before him his last day,

and make it always his company-keeper.


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 commendeth!

If the life that is attended with so many troubles is so loth to be let go by us,

what is the life above!

Everybody will cry up the goodness of men;

but who is there that is,

as he should be,

affected with the goodness of God?"

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 doth me feed;

How can I then want anything Whereof I stand in need?"


When the song and music were ended,

the Interpreter asked Christiana what it was that first did move her to betake herself to a pilgrim's life.

Christiana answered,


the loss of my husband came into my mind,

at which I was heartily grieved;

but all that was but natural affection.


after that,

came the troubles and pilgrimages of my husband into my mind,

and also how unkindly I had behaved to him as to that.

So guilt took hold of my mind,

and would have drawn me into the pond,

to drown myself,

but that,

just at the right time,

I had a dream of the well-being of my husband,

and a letter sent 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."


But met you with no opposition afore you set out of doors?



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 all-to-be-fooled me for,

as she called it,

my intended desperate adventure;

she also urged what she could to dishearten me from it --the hardship 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-looked ones,

that I thought did plot how to make me fail in my journey,

that hath troubled me much: yea,

it still runs in my mind,

and makes me afraid of every one that I meet,

lest they should meet me to do me a mischief,

and to turn me out of my way.


I may tell my Lord,

though I would not have everybody know it,


between this and the gate by which we got into the way,

we were both so sorely attacked that we were made to cry out "murder;"

and the two that made this attack upon us were like the two that I saw in my dream.

Then said the Interpreter,

"Thy beginning is good;

thy latter end shall greatly increase."

So he addressed himself to Mercy,

and said unto her,

"And what moved thee to come hither,


Then Mercy blushed and trembled,

and for a while continued silent.


Then said he,

"Be not afraid;

only believe,

and speak thy mind."


So she began,

and said,



my lack of knowledge is that which makes me wish 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 advice of those that were good relations."


What was it,


dear heart,

that hath prevailed with thee to do as thou hast done?



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 wonderful place,

among immortals,

wearing a crown,

playing upon a harp,

eating and drinking at his Prince's table,

and singing praises to Him for bringing him thither,

and so on.


methought while she was telling these things unto us,

my heart burned within me.

And I said in my heart,

If this be true,

I will leave my father and my mother,

and the land of my birth,

and will,

if I may,

go along with Christiana.

So I asked her further of the truth of these things,

and if she would let me go with her;

for I saw now that there was no dwelling but with the danger of ruin any longer in our town.

But yet I came away with a heavy heart;

not for that I was unwilling to come away,

but for that so many of my relations were left behind.

And I am come with all the desire of my heart,

and will go,

if I may,

with Christiana,

unto her husband and his King.


Thy setting out is good,

for thou hast given credit to the truth: thou art a Ruth,

who did,

for the love she bare to Naomi and to the Lord her God,

leave father and mother,

and the land of her birth,

to come out and go with a people that she knew not heretofore.

The Lord bless thy work,

and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel,

under whose wings thou art come to trust.

Now supper was ended,

and preparation was made for bed: the women were laid singly alone,

and the boys by themselves.


when Mercy was in bed,

she could not sleep for joy,

for that now her doubts of missing at last were removed farther from her than ever they were before.

So she lay blessing and praising God,

who had 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:


said he,

"you must orderly go from hence."

Then said he to the maid 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 have gathered by traveling."

Then Innocent the maid took them and had them into the garden,

and brought them to the bath;

so she told them 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,


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.


when they came in,

they looked fairer a deal than when they went out to the washing.

When they were returned out of the garden from the bath,

the Interpreter took them,

and looked upon them,

and said unto them,

"Fair as the moon."

Then he called for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed that were washed in this bath.

So the seal was brought,

and he set his mark upon them,

that they might be known in the places whither they were yet to go;

and the mark was set between their eyes.

This seal added greatly to their beauty,

for it was an ornament to their faces.

It also added to their glory,

and made their countenances more like those of angels.


Then said the Interpreter again to the maid 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 afraid one of the other,

for that they could not see that glory each one had in herself,

which they could see in each other.



they began to esteem each other better than themselves.

For "You are fairer than I am,"

said one;

and "You are more beautiful than I am,"

said another.

The children also stood amazed,

to see into what fashion they were brought.

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his,

one Great-heart,

and bid him take sword,

and helmet,

and shield,

and "Take these my daughters,"

said he,

"and conduct them to the house called Beautiful,

at which place they will rest next."

So he took his weapons,

and went before 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 hath 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,



The Chicken,


to me Have taught a lesson: let me then Conformèd to it be.

"The Butcher,


and the Field,

The Robin and his bait,

Also the Rotten Tree,

doth yield Me argument of weight: To move me for to watch and pray,

To strive to be sincere,

To take my cross up day by day,

And serve the Lord with fear."




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.



they made a pause,

and here also they blessed God.


said Christiana,

"comes to my mind what was said to us at the gate,

to wit,

that we should have pardon by word and deed: by word,

that is,

by the promise;

by deed,

that is,

in the way it was obtained.

What the promise is,

of that I know something;

but what it is to have pardon by deed,

or in the way that it was obtained,

Mr. Great-heart,

I suppose you know;


if you please,

let us hear you speak thereof."



Pardon by the deed done,

is pardon obtained by some one for another that hath need thereof;

not by the person pardoned,

but in the way,

saith another,

in which I have obtained it.

So then,

to speak to the question at large,

the pardon that you,

and Mercy,

and these boys have obtained,

was obtained by another;

to wit,

by Him that let you in at the gate.

And He hath obtained it in this double way: He has shown righteousness to cover you,

and spilt His blood to wash you in.


This is brave!

Now I see that there was something to be learnt by our being pardoned by word and deed.

Good Mercy,

let us labor to keep this in mind;


my children,

do you remember it also.



was not this it that made my good Christian's burden fall from off his shoulders,

and that made him give three leaps for joy?



it was the belief of this that cut off those strings that could not be cut by other means;

and it was to give him proof of the virtue of this that he was suffered to carry his burden to the Cross.


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,


if the most burdened man in the World was here,

and did see and believe as I now do,

it would make his heart merry and blithe.


There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us by the sight and consideration of these,

but an endeared love born in us by it;

for who can,

if he doth but once think that pardon comes,

not only by promise,

but thus,

but be affected with the way and means of his redemption,

and so love the Man that hath wrought it for him?


True: methinks it makes my heart bleed,

to think that He should bleed for me.


Thou loving One!


Thou blessed One!

Thou deservest to have me: Thou hast bought me.

Thou deservest to have me all: Thou hast paid for me ten thousand times more than I am worth.

No marvel that this made the water stand in my husband's eyes,

and that it made him trudge so nimbly on.

I am persuaded he wished me with him;


vile wretch that I was!

I let him come all alone.



that thy father and mother were here!


and Mrs. Timorous also!


I wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton too.



their hearts would be affected;

nor could the fear of the one,

nor the powerful passions of the other,

prevail with them to go home again,

and refuse to become good pilgrims.


You speak now in the warmth of your affections: will it,

think you,

be always thus with you?


this is not given 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 His 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 a peculiar feeling made by a thinking upon what I have spoken to you.

This you have,


by a special grace.

[Sidenote: SIMPLE,




I saw still in my dream,

that they went on till they were come to the place that Simple,

and Sloth,

and Presumption lay and slept in,

when Christian went by on pilgrimage;



they were hanged up in irons a little way off on the other side.


Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor,

"What are those three men?

and for what are they hanged there?"


These three men were men of very bad qualities: they had no mind to be pilgrims themselves,

and whomsoever they could they hindered.

They were for sloth and folly themselves,

and whomsoever they could persuade with,

they made so too,

and withal taught them to presume that they should do well at last.

They were asleep when Christian went by;


now you go by,

they are hanged.


But could they persuade any to be of their opinion?



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.


they brought up an ill report of your Lord,

persuading others that He was a hard task-master.

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 speak falsely about His servants,

and to count the very best of them meddlesome,

troublesome busy-bodies.


they would call the bread of God,


the comforts of His children,


the travel labor of pilgrims,

things to no purpose.



said Christiana,

"if they were such,

they never shall be bewailed by me: they have but what they deserve;

and I think it is well that they hang so near the highway,

that others may see and take warning.

But had it not been well if their crimes had been engraven on some plate of iron or brass,

and left here where they did their mischiefs,

for a caution to other bad men?"


So it is,

as you well may perceive,

if you will go a little to the wall.



no: let them hang,

and their names rot,

and their crimes live for ever against them.

I think it a high favor that they were hanged afore we came hither who knows,


what they might have done to such poor women as we are?

Then she turned it into a song,




you three,

hang there,

and be a sign To all that shall against the truth combine;

And let him that comes after fear this end,

If unto pilgrims he is not a friend.

And thou,

my soul,

of all such men beware That unto holiness opposers are."

Thus they went on till they came at the foot of the Hill Difficulty,

where again their good friend Mr. Great-heart took an occasion to tell them of what happened there when Christian himself went by.

So he had them first to the spring.


saith 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."

Thereat Mercy said,

"And why are they so envious,

I wonder?"

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."



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,


and a ditch,

yet there are that will choose to adventure here,

rather than take the pains to go up this hill."


The way of transgressors is hard.

It is a wonder that they can get into those ways without danger of breaking their necks.


They will venture: yea,

if at any time any of the King's servants doth happen to see them,

and doth call unto them,

and tell them that they are in the wrong ways,

and do bid them beware the danger,

then they will railingly return them answer,

and say,

"As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the King,

we will not hearken unto thee;

but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our own mouth."


if you look a little farther,

you shall see that these ways are warned against enough,

not only by these posts,

and ditch,

and chain,

but also by being hedged up;

yet they will choose to go there.


They are idle: they love not to take pains: up-hill way is unpleasant to them.

So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written,

"The way of the slothful man is a hedge of thorns."


they will rather choose to walk upon a snare than 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.


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.



said Great-heart,

"sit not down here,

for a little above is the Prince's arbor."

Then took he the little boy by the hand,

and led him up thereto.


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,

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;


as I have heared,

for that it cost poor Christian dear."

Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones,


my pretty boys,

how do you do?

what think you now of going on pilgrimage?"


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,


'That the way to heaven is as up a ladder,

and the way to hell is as down a hill.'

But I rather go up the ladder to life,

than the hill to death."

Then said Mercy,

"But the proverb,


'To go down the hill is easy.'"

But James said (for that was his name),

"The day is coming when,

in my opinion,

going down-hill will be the hardest of all."

"That's a good boy,"

said his master;

"thou hast given her a right answer."

Then Mercy smiled,

but the little boy did blush.



said Christiana,

"will you eat a bit,

a little to sweeten your mouths,

while you sit here to rest your legs?

for I have here a piece of pomegranate,

which Mr. Interpreter put in my hand just when I came out of his doors: he gave me also a piece of a honeycomb,

and a little bottle of spirits."

"I thought he gave you something,"

said Mercy,

"because he called you aside."


so he did,"

said the other;



it shall still be as I said it should,

when at first we came from home;

thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I have,

because thou so willingly didst become my companion."

Then she gave to them,

and they did eat,

both Mercy and the boys.

And said Christiana to Mr. Great-heart,


will you do as we and take some refreshment?"

But he answered,

"You are going on pilgrimage,

and presently I shall return;

much good may have do to you: at home I eat the same every day."


when they had eaten and drunk,

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.


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;


for want of doing so,

ofttimes 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 the raising up of that stage in that place rendered.

The verses were these:

"Let him that sees this stage take heed Unto his heart and tongue;


if he do not,

here he speed As some have,

long agone."

The words underneath the verses were,

"This stage was built to punish such upon,


through timorousness or mistrust,

shall be afraid to go farther on pilgrimage.

Also on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the tongue with a hot iron,

for endeavoring to hinder Christian in his journey."

Then said Mercy,

"This is much like to the saying of the Beloved,

'What shall be given unto thee,

or what shall be done unto thee,

thou false tongue?

Sharp arrows of the mighty,

with coals of juniper.'"

So they went on till they came within sight of the lions.


Mr. Great-heart was a strong man,

so he was not afraid of a lion.

But yet,

when they were come up to the place where the lions were,

the boys,

that went before,

were glad to cringe behind,

for they were afraid of the lions so they stepped back,

and went behind.

At this their guide smiled,

and said,

"How now,

my boys!

do you love to go before when no danger doth approach,

and love to come behind so soon as the lions appear?"


as they went up,

Mr. Great-heart drew his sword,

with intent to make a way for the pilgrims in spite of the lions.

Then there appeared one that,

it seems,

had taken upon him to back the lions;

and he said to the pilgrims' guide,

"What is the cause of your coming hither?"


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.


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 thee and the lions."


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.



to say truth,

by reason of the fierceness of the lions,

and of the grim carriage of him that did back them,

this way had of late lain much unoccupied,

and was almost all grown over with grass.


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.'"


Then he swore by the lions,

"But it should,"

and therefore bid them turn aside,

for they should not passage there.

But Great-heart their guide made first his approach unto Grim,

and laid so heavily at him with his sword,

that he forced him to a retreat.


Then said he that attempted to back the lions,

"Will you slay me upon mine own ground?"


It is the King's highway that we are in,

and in His way it is that thou hast placed thy lions;

but these women,

and these children,

though weak,

shall hold on their way in spite of thy lions.


with that,

he gave him again a downright blow,

and brought him upon his knees.

With this blow he also broke his helmet,

and with the next he cut off an arm.

Then did the giant roar so hideously,

that his voice frighted the women,

and yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground.


the lions were chained,

and so of themselves could do nothing.


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.




they were within sight of the Porter's lodge,

and they soon came up unto it;

but they made the more haste after this to go thither,

because it is dangerous travelling there in the night.


when they were come to the gate,

the guide knocked,

and the Porter cried,

"Who is there?"

But as soon as the guide had said "It is I,"

he knew his voice,

and came down,

for the guide had oft before that come thither as a conductor of pilgrims.

When he was come down he opened the gate;


seeing the guide stand just before it (for he saw not the women,

for they were behind him),

he said unto him,

"How now,

Mr. Great-heart!

what is your business here so late to-night?"

"I have brought,"

said he,

"some pilgrims hither,


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 hither in safety."


Will you not go in,

and stay till morning?



I will return to my Lord to-night.




I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage: you have been so faithful and so loving to us,

you have fought so stoutly for us,

you have been so hearty in counselling of us,

that I shall never forget your favor towards us.


Then said Mercy,

"Oh that we might have thy 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?"


Then said James,

the youngest of the boys,



be persuaded to go with us,

and help us,

because we are so weak,

and the way so dangerous as it is."


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.


at present I must withdraw;

and so,

good Christiana,


and my brave children,


Then the Porter,

Mr. Watchful,

asked Christiana of her country and of her kindred.

And she said,

"I come from the City of Destruction.

I am a widow woman,

and my husband is dead: his name was Christian,

the pilgrim."


said the Porter,

"was he your husband?"



said she,

"and these are his children,

and this" (pointing to Mercy) "is one of my townswomen."

Then the Porter rang his bell,

as at such times he is wont,

and there came to the door one of the maids,

whose name was Humble-mind;

and to her the Porter said,


tell it within that Christiana,

the wife of Christian,

and her children,

are come hither on pilgrimage."

She went in,


and told it.

But oh,

what a noise for gladness was there within when the maid did but drop that word out of her mouth!

So they came with haste to the Porter,

for Christiana stood still at the door.

Then some of those within said unto her,

"Come in,


come in,

thou wife of that good man;

come in,

thou blessed woman;

come in,

with all that are with thee."

So she went in,

and they followed her that were her children and her companions.


when they were gone in,

they were had into a very large room,

where they were bidden to sit down.

So they sat down,

and the chief of the house 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,


ye that bear the grace of God;

welcome to us,

your friends!"


because it was somewhat late,

and because the pilgrims were weary with their journey,

and also made faint with the sight of the fight,

and of the terrible lions,

therefore they desired,

as soon as might be,

to prepare to go to rest.


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,

for the Porter had heard before of their coming,

and had told it to them within.


when they had supped,

and ended their prayer with a psalm,

they desired they might go to rest.

"But let us,"

said Christiana,

"if we may be so bold as to choose,

be in that chamber that was my husband's when he was here."

So they had them up thither,

and they lay all in a room.

When they were at rest,

Christiana and Mercy entered into discourse about things that were convenient.


Little did I think once,

when my husband went on pilgrimage,

that I should ever have followed.


And you as little thought of lying in his bed,

and in his chamber to rest,

as you do now.


And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort,

and of worshipping the Lord the King with him;

and yet now I believe I shall.



don't you hear a noise?



it is,

as I believe,

a noise of music,

for joy that we are here.



Music in the house,

music in the heart,

and music also in heaven,

for joy that we are here!

[Sidenote: MERCY'S DREAM]

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 to-night?

I suppose you were in a dream."


So I was,

and a sweet dream it was;

but are you sure I laughed?



you laughed heartily;




tell me thy dream.


I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place,

and was bemoaning of the hardness of my heart.


I had not sat there long,

but methought many were gathered about me to see me,

and to hear what it was that I said.

So they hearkened,

and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart.

At this,

some of them laughed at me,

some called me fool,

and some thrust me about.

With that,

methought I looked up,

and saw one coming with wings towards me.

So he came directly to me,

and said,


what aileth thee?"


when he had heard me make my complaint,

he said,

"Peace be to thee;"

he also wiped mine eyes with his handkerchief,

and clad me in silver and gold.

He put a chain about my neck,

and ear-rings in mine ears,

and a beautiful crown upon my head.

Then he took me by the hand,

and said,


come after me."

So he went up,

and I followed,

till we came to a golden gate.

Then he knocked;

and when they within opened,

the man went in,

and I followed him up to a throne upon which One sat;

and He said to me,



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?




and well you might,

to see yourself so well.

For you must give me leave to tell you,

that I believe it was a good dream;

and that,

as you have begun to find the first part true,

so you shall find the second at last.

"God speaks once,



yet man perceiveth it not;

in a dream,

in a vision of the night,

when deep sleep falleth upon men,

in slumberings upon the bed."

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,

or by signs and similitudes,

as well as if one was awake.



I am glad of my dream;

for I hope ere long to see it fulfilled,

to the making of me laugh again.


I think it is now high time to rise,

and to know what we must do.



if they invite us to stay,

a while,

let us willingly accept of the proffer.

I am the willinger to stay a while here,

to grow better acquainted with these maids.

Methinks Prudence,


and Charity have very lovely and sober countenances.


We shall see what they will do.


when they were up and ready,

they came down;

and they asked one another of their rest,

and if it was comfortable or not.


"Very good,"

said Mercy;

"it was one of the best nights' lodging 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."



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.



by that these pilgrims had been at this place a week,

Mercy had a visitor that pretended some good-will unto her;

and his name was Mr. Brisk;

a man of some breeding,

and that pretended to religion,

but a man that stuck very close to the world.

So he came once or twice,

or more,

to Mercy,

and offered love unto her.


Mercy was a fair countenance,

and therefore the more alluring.

Her mind also was,

to be always busying of herself in doing;


when she had nothing to do for herself,

she would be making of hose and garments for others,

and would bestow them upon them that had need.

And Mr. Brisk,

not knowing where or how she disposed of what she made,

seemed to be greatly taken,

for that he found her never idle.

"I will warrant her a good housewife,"

quoth he to himself.

Mercy then told the matter 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 serve the Lord,

but was,

as they feared,

a stranger to the power of that which is good.



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 great matter of discouragement to be given to him;

her continuing so as she had begun to do for the poor would quickly cool his courage."


the next time he comes,

he finds her at her old work,

a-making of things for the poor.

Then said he,


always at it?"


said she,

"either for myself or for others."

"And what canst thou earn a day?"

quoth 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."



what doest thou 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 too much working for others."


When he had left her,

Prudence said,

"Did I not tell thee that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee?


he will raise up an ill report of thee;


notwithstanding his pretence to serve bad and his seeming love to Mercy,

yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different,

that I believe they will never come together."


I might have had husbands afore now,

though I spake not of it to any;

but they were such as did not like my ways,

though never did any of them find fault with my person.

So they and I could not agree.


Mercy in our days is little set by,

any further than as to its name: the practice,

which is set forth by thy works,

there are but few that can abide.



said Mercy,

"if nobody will have me,

I will die a maid,

or my works shall be to me as a husband;

for I cannot change my nature;

and to have one that 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 selfish people;

but he and she could never agree;


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 in public,

and then turned her out of his doors."


And yet he was a church-member,

I warrant you?



such a one as he was;

and of such as he the world is now full;

but I am for none of them at all.


Now Matthew,

the eldest son of Christiana,

fell sick,

and his sickness was sore upon him for he was much pained in his bowels;

so that he was with it,

at times,

pulled as it were both ends together.

There dwelt also not far from thence one Mr. Skill,

an ancient and well-approved physician.

So Christiana desired it and they sent for him,

and he came.

When he was entered the room,

and had a little observed the boy,

he concluded that he was sick of the gripes.

Then he said to his mother,

"What diet has Matthew of late fed upon?"


said Christiana,

"nothing but that which 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."


Then said Samuel,


what was that which my brother did gather up and eat,

so soon as we were come from the gate that is at the head of this way?

You know that there was an orchard on the left hand,

on the other side of the wall,

and some of the trees hung over the wall,

and my brother did pull down the branches and did eat."



my child,"

said Christiana,

"he did take thereof and did eat;

naughty boy as he was,

I did chide him,

and yet he would eat thereof."


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.


Then Christiana began to cry,

and she said,


naughty boy!

and oh,

careless mother!

What shall I do for my son?"



do not be too much dejected;

the boy may do well again,

but he must purge and vomit.




try the utmost of your skill with him,

whatever it costs.



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 an heifer,

and with some of the juice of hyssop,


When Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too weak,

he made him one to the purpose.

It was made [the name was written in Latin] _ex carne et sanguine Christi_;[8] (you know physicians give strange medicines to their patients) --and it was made up into pills,

with a promise or two,

and a proportionable quantity of salt.


he was to take them three at a time,


in half a quarter of a pint of the tears of sorrow.

[8] That is,

"of the body and blood of Christ."

When this potion was prepared and brought to the boy,

he was loth to take it,

though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces.



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.



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.

"O Matthew,"

said she,

"this potion is sweeter than honey.

If thou lovest thy mother,

if thou lovest thy brothers,

if thou lovest Mercy,

if thou lovest thy life,

take it."


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 rest quietly;

it put him into a fine heat and breathing sweat,

and did quite rid him of his gripes.


in a little time he got up,

and walked about with a staff,

and would go from room to room,

and talk with Prudence,


and Charity,

of his sickness,

and how he was healed.


when the boy was healed,

Christiana asked Mr. Skill,



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,

according to the rules made in that case and provided."




said she,

"what is this pill good for else?"


It is an universal pill: it is good against all the diseases that pilgrims are troubled with;

and when it is well prepared,

it will keep good time out of mind.




make me up twelve boxes of them;

for if I can get these,

I will never take other physic.


These pills are good to prevent diseases,

as well as to cure when one is sick.


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.


good Christiana,

thou must give these pills no other way than as I have prescribed;

for if you do,

they will do no good.

So he gave unto 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,

if at any time they would,

they should ask her some questions that might be profitable,

and she would say something to them.


Then Matthew,

who had been sick,

asked her,


for the most part,

physic should be bitter to our palates?"


To show how unwelcome the Word of God,

and the effects thereof,

are to a sinful heart.


Why does physic,

if it does good,

purge and cause that we vomit?


To show that the Word,

when it works effectually,

cleanseth the heart and mind.

For look,

what the one doth to the body,

the other doth to the soul.


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?


By the going up of the fire,

we are taught to ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires.

And by the sun's sending his heat,


and sweet influences downwards,

we are taught that the Saviour of the world,

though high reaches down with His grace and love to us below.


Where have the clouds their water?


Out of the sea.


What may we learn from that?


That ministers should fetch their teaching from God.


Why do they empty themselves upon the earth?


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


Why is the rainbow caused by the sun?


To show that the promise of God's grace is made sure to us in Christ.


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


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


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


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.


Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle-wick?


To show that,

unless grace doth kindle upon the heart,

there will be no true light of life in us.


Why is the wick,

and tallow,

and all,

spent to maintain the light of the candle?


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.


Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast with her bill?


To nourish her young ones with her blood,

and thereby to show that Christ the Blessed so loveth His young (His people),

as to save them from death by His blood.


What may one learn by hearing the cock to crow?


Learn to remember Peter's sin and Peter's sorrow.

The cock's crowing shows also that day is coming on: let,


the crowing of the cock put thee in mind of that last and terrible day of judgment.


about this time,

their month was out;

wherefore they signified to those of the house that it was convenient for them to be up and going.

Then said Joseph to his mother,

"It is convenient that you forget not to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter,

to pray him to grant that Mr. Great-heart should be sent unto us,

that he may be our conductor the rest of our 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,


when it was come,

and he had seen the contents of the petition,

said to the messenger,


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 unto Christiana,

"And shall we not show thee something,


as our custom is to do to pilgrims,

on which thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the way?"


So they took Christiana,

her children,

and Mercy,

into the closet,

and showed them one of the apples that Eve did eat of,

and that which 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.

Then they had her to a place,

and showed her Jacob's ladder.


at that time there were some angels ascending upon it.

So Christiana looked and looked,

to see the angels go up,

and 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 pleasing a prospect.

After this they had them into a place where did hang up a golden anchor.

So they bid Christiana take it down;


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,

and stand steadfast,

in case you should meet with turbulent weather."

So they were glad thereof.

Then they took them,

and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father had offered up Isaac his son,

and showed them the altar,

the wood,

the fire,

and the knife;

for they remain to be seen to this very day.

When they had seen it,

they held up their hands,

and blessed themselves,

and said,


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 the dining-room,

where stood a pair of excellent virginals;[9] so she played upon them,

and turned what she had showed them into this excellent song,


"Eve's apple we have showèd you -- Of that be you aware;

You have seen Jacob's ladder too,

Upon which angels are.

An anchor you receivèd have: But let not these suffice,

Until with Abra'm,

you have gave Your best a sacrifice."

[9] An instrument of music,

used in the time of John Bunyan,

somewhat like a very small piano.



about this time,

one knocked at the door.

So the Porter opened,

and behold,

Mr. Great-heart was there;

but when he was come in,

what joy was there!

For it came now fresh again into their minds,


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 at the gate,

Christiana asked the Porter if any one of late went by.

He said,


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 he saith the thieves are taken,

and will shortly be tried for their lives."

Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid;

but Matthew said,


fear nothing as long as Mr. Great-heart is to go with us,

and to be our conductor."

Then said Christiana to the Porter,


I am much obliged to you for all the kindnesses that you have shown me since I came hither,

and also for that you have been so loving and kind to my children.

I know not how to gratify your kindness;



as a token of my respects to you,

accept of this small mite."

So she put a gold angel[10] in his hand;

and he made her a low obeisance,

and said,

"Let thy garments be always white,

and let thy head want no ointment.

Let Mercy live and not die,

and let not her works be few."

And to the boys he said,

"Do you flee youthful passions,

and follow after godliness with them that are grave and wise,

so shall you put gladness into your mother's heart,

and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded."

[10] An old English coin,

bearing the figure of an angel.

So they thanked the Porter,

and departed.

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,


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 Thy favor is So frankly showed to me,

That in Thy house for evermore My dwelling-place shall be."

And listening still,

she thought she heard another answer it,


"For why?

the Lord our God is good;

His mercy is for ever sure;

His truth at all times firmly stood,

And shall from age to age endure."

So Christiana asked Prudence what it was that made those curious notes.

"They are,"

said she,

"our country birds: they sing these notes but seldom,

except it be at the spring,

when the flowers 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 ofttimes 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 thee a plan of all those things that thou hast seen at our house,

upon which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful,

and call those things again to remembrance for thy teaching 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 given the pilgrims unto the care of their guide,

he went forward,

and they went after.


Then said Mr. Great-heart,

"We need not to be so afraid of this valley,

for here is nothing to hurt us,

unless we procure it to ourselves.

It is true that 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 a one in such a place,

are of an opinion that that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit;



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 James said to his mother,


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 hither,

and the battles that he met with in this place,

be a warning to those that come after."


said their guide,

"did not I tell you that there was something hereabouts that would give intimation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place?"

Then turning himself to Christiana,

he said,

"No disgrace to Christian,

more than to many others whose hap and loss his was;

for it is easier going up than down this hill;

and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world.

But we will leave the good man: he is at rest;

he also had a brave victory over his enemy.

Let Him that dwelleth above grant 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 these parts.

It is fat ground,


as you see,

consisteth much in meadows;

and if a man was to come here in the summer-time,

as we do now,

if he knew not anything before thereof,

and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes,

he might see that that would be delightful to him.

Behold how green this valley is,

also how beautified with lilies!

I have also known many laboring men that have got good estates in this valley of Humiliation;


'God resisteth the proud,

but giveth grace to the humble.'


it is a very fruitful soil,

and doth bring forth by handfuls.

Some also have wished that the next way to their Father's house were here,

that they might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go over;

but the way is the way,

and there's an end."


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 sang.


said Mr. Great-heart,

"to what the shepherd's boy saith."

So they hearkened,

and he said:

"He that is down needs fear no fall He that is low,

no pride;

He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide.

"I am content with what I have Little be it or much: And,


contentment still I crave Because Thou savest much.

"Fulness to such a burden is,

That go on pilgrimage;

Here little,

and hereafter bliss,

Is best from age to age."

Then said their 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 account of this valley.

"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.


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 thoughts 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 into a brisk encounter,

yet I must tell you that in former times men have met with angels here,

have found pearls here,

and have in this place found the words of life.

"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 to tread these grounds,

He has left a yearly sum of money,

to be faithfully paid them at certain seasons,

for their support by the way,

and for their further encouragement to go on their pilgrimage."



as they went on,

Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart,


I perceive that in this valley my father and Apollyon had their battle;

but whereabout was the fight?

for I perceive this valley is large."



Your father had that battle with Apollyon at a place yonder before us,

in a narrow passage just beyond Forgetful Green.



that place is the most dangerous place in all these parts.


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 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.


Then said Mercy,

"I think that I am as well in this valley as I have been anywhere else in all our journey: the place,


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 trouble,

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 in Heshbon.

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.

This valley is that from whence 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."


"'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,'

saith the King,

'even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit,

and that trembleth at my word.'"

Now they were 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 --did not I tell you?

--here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day.



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.


Christian did here play the man,

and showed himself as stout as could,

had he been there,

even Hercules himself.

When Apollyon was beat,

he made his retreat to the next valley,

that is called the Valley of the Shadow of Death,

unto which we shall come soon.


yonder also stands a monument,

on which is engraven this battle,

and Christian's victory,

to his fame throughout all ages."



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 sought Each other to subdue.

"The man so bravely played 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 entered upon this valley,

they thought that they heard a groaning,

as of dead men --a very great groaning.

They thought also that they did hear words of moaning spoken,

as of some in extreme torment.

These things made the boys to quake;

the women also looked pale and wan;

but their guide bid them be of good comfort.

So they went on a little farther,

and they thought that they felt the ground begin to shake under them,

as if some hollow place was there;

they heard also a kind of 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 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,

"Methinks I see something yonder upon the road before us,

a thing of such a shape as I have not seen."

Then said Joseph,


what is it?"

"An ugly thing,


an ugly thing,"

said she.



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!"




said Mr. Great-heart,

"let them that are most afraid keep close to me."

So the fiend came on,

and the conductor met it;


when it was just come to him,

it vanished to all their sights.

Then remembered they what had been said some time ago,

"Resist the devil,

and he will flee from you."

They went therefore on,

as being a little refreshed.

But they had not gone far before Mercy,

looking behind her,


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 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.


when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be made,

he also drew back,

and came no farther.

They then went on again,

and their conductor did go 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 darkness fell upon them,

so that they could not see.

Then said the pilgrims,


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 it themselves.

'The heart knoweth its own bitterness,

and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.'

To be here is a fearful thing."


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.

For my part,

as I have told you already,

I have gone often through this valley,

and have been much harder put to it than now I am;

and yet,

you see,

I am alive.

I would not boast,

for that I am not mine own saviour;

but I trust we shall have a good deliverance.


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 hindrance in their way,


not there where but now they were stopped with a pit.

Yet they were not got through the valley;

so they went on still;

and behold,

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."



said one of the boys,

"it is not so bad to go through here as it is to abide here always;


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,


quoth the guide;

"thou hast now spoke like a man."


if ever I get out here again,"

said the boy,

"I think I shall prize light and good way better than ever I did in all my life."

Then said the guide,

"We shall be out by-and-by."

So on they went,

and Joseph said,

"Cannot we see to the end of this valley as yet?"


Then said the guide,

"Look to 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.


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 is 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 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 by deceiving them;

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,

and knew not what to do.

Quoth the giant,

"You rob the country,

and rob it with the worst of thefts."

"These are but random words,"

said Mr. Great-heart;

"tell what robberies I have done,


Then said the giant,

"Thou practicest 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 turn to God.

I am commanded to do my best to turn men,


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;


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 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.



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 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 the children rejoiced,

and Mr. Great-heart also praised God for the deliverance He had wrought.

When this was done,

they amongst them erected a pillar,

and fastened the giant's head thereon,

and wrote under it 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,



The pilgrims' guide to be;

Until that I did him oppose That was their enemy."


I saw that they went to the high ground that was a little way off,

cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims.

That was the place from whence Christiana 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,


save a little on my flesh;

yet that also shall be so far from being to my harm 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."


But were you not afraid,

good sir,

when you saw him come out with his club?


"It is my duty,"

said he,

"to mistrust my own ability,

that I may have trust in Him who is stronger than all."


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



I thought,"

replied he,

"that so my Master Himself was served;

and yet He it was that conquered at the last."


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 proof of His love as this.

[Sidenote: OLD HONEST]

Then they got up and went forward.


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?

what are you,

and what is your business here?"




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."

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."



what would or could you have done to have helped yourself,

if we indeed had been of that company?




I would have fought as long as breath had been in me;


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.


"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."


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.




now we are so happily met,

pray let me crave your name,

and the name of the place you came from.


My name I cannot;

but I came from the town of Stupidity;

it lieth about four degrees beyond the City of Destruction.



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,

but Honest is my name;

and I wish that my nature may agree to what I am called.



said the old gentleman,

"how could you guess that I am such a man,

since I came from such a place?"


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.



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 should rise upon him,

his frozen heart shall feel a thaw;

and thus it hath been with me.


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 love,

and asked them their names,

and how they had fared since they had set out on their pilgrimage.


Then said Christiana,

"My name I suppose you have heard of: good Christian was my husband,

and these 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,



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,

have made his name famous.

Then he turned him to the boys,

and asked of them their names,

which they told him.

Then he said unto them,


be thou like Matthew the publican,

not in vice,

but in virtue.


said he,

"be thou like Samuel the prophet,

a man of faith and prayer.


said he,

"be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house,


and one that flees from temptation.

And James,

be thou like James the Just,

and like James the brother of our Lord."

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 attack thee in thy way,

till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt look the Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort."

All this while the guide,

Mr. Great-heart,

was very well pleased and smiled upon his companion.



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.



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."


I perceive you knew him,

for you have given a very right character of him.


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.


I was his guide from my master's house to the gates of the Celestial City.


Then you knew him to be a troublesome one?


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.




pray let us hear a little of him,

and how he managed himself under your conduct.



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,

if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it.

I hear that he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for above a month together;

nor durst he,

for all he saw several go over before him,


though they,

many of them,

offered to lend him their hand.

He would not go back again neither.

The Celestial City,

he said,

he should die if he came not to it;

and yet was discouraged at every difficulty,

and stumbled at every straw that anybody cast in his way.


after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great while,

as I have told you,

one sunshine morning,

I don't know how,

he ventured,

and so got over;


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 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 here 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 hanged 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 down to the ground.

He that spoke to him wondered to see him so faint;

so He said to him,

"Peace be to thee: up,

for I have set open the door to thee;

come in,

for thou are blessed."

With that,

he got up,

and went in trembling;

and when he was in,

he was ashamed to show his face.


after he had been entertained there a while,

as you know how the manner is,

he was bid go on his way,

and also told the way he should take.

So he came till he came to our house;

but as he behaved himself at the gate,

so he did at my master the Interpreter's door.

He lay thereabout in the cold a good while before he would venture to call: yet he would not go back;

and the nights were long and cold then.


he had a note of need 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,


poor man,

he was almost starved;


so great was his fear,

though he had seen 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;


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 things 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 wonderful lovingly to him.

There were but 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.


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 heart,

specially to them that are afraid;

wherefore he carried it so towards him as might tend most to his encouragement.


when he 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 the place 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.


I confess,

he desired to stay a little to look;

and he seemed,

for a little while after,

to be a little cheery.

When we came at the Hill Difficulty,

he made no stick at that,

nor did he much fear the lions,

for you must know that his trouble was not about such things as those;

his fear was about his acceptance at last.

I got him in at the House Beautiful,

I think,

before he was willing.


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 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,


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 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.


I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that valley and him;

for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than when he was in that valley.

Here he would lie down,

embrace the ground,

and kiss the very flowers that grew in this valley.

He would now be up every morning by break of day,

tracing and walking to and fro in this valley.

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of Death,

I thought I should have lost my man: not for that he had any inclination to go back --that he always abhorred;

but he was ready to die for fear.


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,


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 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,

I will therefore only mention a passage or two more.

When he was come at Vanity Fair,

I thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair.

I feared there we should both have been knocked on the head,

so hot was he against their fooleries.

Upon the Enchanted Ground he was also very wakeful.


when he was come at the river where was no bridge,

there again he was in a heavy case.



he said,

he should be drowned for ever,

and so never see that face with comfort that he had come so many miles to behold.

And here also I took notice of what was very 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.


Then it seems he was well at last?




I never had a doubt about him.

He was a man of choice spirit;

only he was always kept very low,

and that made his life so burthensome to himself and so troublesome to others.

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.


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


There are two sorts of reasons for it.

One is,

the wise God will have it so;

some must pipe,

and some must weep.

Now Mr. Fearing was one that played upon this bass.

He and his fellows sound the sackbut,

whose notes are more doleful than the notes of other music are;



some say the bass is the ground of music.


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 here was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing: he could play upon no other music but this till toward his latter end.

I make bold to talk thus in figures,

for the ripening of the wits of young readers,

and because,

in the book of the Revelation,

the saved are compared to a company of musicians,

that play upon their trumpets and harps,

and sing their songs before the throne.


He was a very zealous man,

as one may see by the relation which you have given of him.



or Vanity Fair he feared not at all;

it was only sin,


and hell that were to him a terror,

because he had some doubts about his interest in that Celestial Country.


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 would 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.


Then said Christiana,

"This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me good.

I thought nobody had been like me;

but I see there was some semblance betwixt this good man and I: only we differed in two things.

His troubles were so great 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."


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.


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!


Then said Matthew,

"Fear was one thing that made me think that I was far from having that within me which makes me sure of being saved.

But if it were so with such a good man as he,

why may it not also go well with me?"


"No fears,

no grace,"

said James,

"Though there is not always grace where there is the fear of hell,


to be sure,

there is no grace where there is no fear of God."


Well said,


thou hast hit the mark.

For the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom;


to be sure,

they that want the beginning have neither middle nor end.

But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearing,

after we have sent after him this farewell:


Master Fearing,

thou didst fear Thy God,

and wast afraid Of doing anything while here That would have thee betrayed.

"And didst thou fear the lake and pit?

Would others did so too!


as for them that want thy wit,

They do themselves undo."


Now I saw that they still went on in their talk;


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."


Had you ever any talk with him about it?



more than once or twice;

but he would always be like himself,


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.



what principles did he hold?

for I suppose you can tell.


He held that a man might follow the sins as well as the virtues of pilgrims;

and that,

if he did both,

he should be certainly saved.



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;



we are free from no sin absolutely,

but on condition that we watch and strive.

But this,

I perceive,

is not the thing;


if I understood you right,

your meaning is that he was of opinion that it was allowable so to be.




so I mean,

and so he believed and acted.


But what grounds had he for his so saying?



he said he had the Scripture for his warrant.




Mr. Honest,

present us with a few particulars.


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 lied,

and so did 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 cheating;

and therefore he could do so too.


Highly base,


And you are sure he was of this opinion?


I have heard him plead for it,

bring Scripture for it,

bring argument for it,

and so on.


An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world!


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.


But what more false than such a conclusion?

For this is as much as to say that,

because good men heretofore have sinned through weakness or forgetfulness,

therefore he had an allowance to do it of a purpose;

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 the mire,

therefore he might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein.

Who could have thought that any one could so far have been blinded by the power of sin.

But what is written must be true: they "stumble at the Word,

being disobedient;

whereunto also they were appointed."

His supposing that such may have the godly man's virtues,

who accustom themselves to their vices,

is also a delusion as strong as the other.

To eat up the sin of God's people as a dog licks up filth,

is no sign of one that is possessed with their virtues.

Nor can I believe that one who is of this opinion can have faith or love in him.

But I know you have made strong objections against him: prithee,

what can he say for himself?



he says,

"To do this openly and by way of opinion,

seems abundantly more honest than to do it and yet hold contrary to it in opinion."


A very wicked answer.


though to let loose the bridle to lusts while our opinions are against such things is bad;

yet to sin,

and plead a toleration so to do,

is worse.

The one stumbles beholders accidentally,

the other _pleads_ them into the snare.


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.


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.


There are strange opinions in the world.

I know one that said it was time enough to turn from sin when they come to die.


Such are not overwise.

That man would have been loth,

might he have had a week to run twenty miles in for his life,

to have deferred that journey to the last hour of that week.


You say right;

and yet the most 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 afore them,

who yet have,

in a few days,

died as they in the wilderness,

and so never got sight of the promised land.

I have seen some that have promised nothing at first,

setting out to be pilgrims,

and that one would have thought could not have lived a day,

that have yet proved very good pilgrims.

I have seen some that 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,


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,


when they have been almost there,

have come back again,

and said there is none.

I have heard some boast 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.


as they were thus in their way,

there came one running to meet them,

and said,


and you of the weaker sort,

if you love life,

shift for yourselves,

for the robbers are before you."


"They be the three that set upon Little-Faith heretofore.


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.