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Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan, [1678], at sacred-texts.com

 
 
 Section X.
 
 
      Then they went on; and just at the place where Little-faith formerly
 was robbed, there stood a man with his Sword drawn, and his Face all bloody.
 Then said Mr Great-heart, What art thou? The man made answer, saying, I am
 one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a Pilgrim, and am going to the
 Coelestial City. Now as I was in my way, there were three men did beset me and
 propounded unto me these three things: 1. Whether I would become one of them?
 2. Or go back from whence I came? 3. Or die upon the place? To the first I
 answered, I had been a true man a long season, and therefore it could not be
 expected that I now should cast in my Lot with Thieves. Then they demanded
 what I would say to the second. So I told them that the place from whence I
 came, had I not found Incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at all; but
 finding it altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for me, I
 forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I
 told them, My life cost more dear far than that I should lightly give it away.
 Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to my Choice, wherefore at
 your Peril be it if you meddle. Then these three, to wit Wild-head,
 Inconsiderate and Pragmatick, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them.
 
 
      So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above three hours.
 They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their Valour, and
 have also carried away with them some of mine. They are but just now gone. I
 suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your Horse dash, and so they betook
 them to flight.
 
 
      Great-heart. But here was great odds, three against one.
 
 
      Valiant. 'Tis true, but little or more are nothing to him that has the
 Truth on his side. Tho' an Host encamp against me, said one, my heart shall
 not fear; tho' War should rise against me, in this will I be confident, &c.
 Besides, saith he, I have read in some Records, that one man has fought an
 Army; and how many did Samson slay with the Jaw-bone of an Ass?
 
 
      Great-heart. Then said the Guide, Why did you not cry out, that some
 might a come in for your succour?
 
 
      Valiant. So I did, to my King, who I knew could hear, and afford
 invisible help, and that was sufficient for me.
 
 
      Great-heart. Then said Great-heart to Mr Valiant-for-truth, Thou
 hast worthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy Sword. So he shewed it him. When
 he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while, he said, Ha, it is a
 right Jerusalem Blade.
 
 
      Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these Blades, with a Hand to
 wield it and Skill to use it, and he may venture upon an Angel with it. He
 need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edges will
 never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones and soul and spirit and all.
 
 
      Great-heart. But you fought a great while, I wonder you was not weary.
 
 
      Valiant. I fought till my Sword did cleave to my Hand; and when they were
 joined together, as if a Sword grew out of my Arm, and when the Blood ran
 through my Fingers, then I fought with most courage.
 
 
      Great-heart. Thou hast done well. Thou hast resisted unto Blood,
 striving against Sin. Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us, for
 we are thy Companions.
 
 
      Then they took him and washed his Wounds, and gave him of what they had
 to refresh him, and so they went on together. Now as they went on, because Mr
 Great-heart was delighted in him (for he loved one greatly that he found to
 be a man of his hands) and because there were with his Company them that was
 feeble and weak, therefore he questioned with him about many things, as first,
 what Country-man he was?
 
 
      Valiant. I am of Dark-land, for there I was born, and there my Father
 and Mother are still.
 
 
      Great-heart. Dark-land, said the Guide, doth not that lie upon the
 same Coast with the City of Destruction?
 
 
      Valiant. Yes it doth. Now that which caused me to come on Pilgrimage was
 this; we had one Mr Tell-true came into our parts, and he told it about what
 Christian had done, that went from the City of Destruction, namely, how he had
 forsaken his Wife and Children, and had betaken himself to a Pilgrim's life.
 It was also confidently reported how he had killed a Serpent that did come out
 to resist him in his Journey, and how he got through to whither he intended.
 It was also told what Welcome he had at all his Lord's Lodgings, especially
 when he came to the Gates of the Coelestial City, for there, said the man, he
 was received with sound of Trumpet by a company of Shining Ones. He told it
 also, how all the Bells in the City did ring for joy at his reception, and
 what Golden Garments he was cloathed with, with many other things that now I
 shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian
 and his Travels, that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him,
 nor could Father or Mother stay me: so I got from them, and am come thus far
 on my way.
 
 
      Great-heart. You came in at the Gate, did you not?
 
 
      Valiant. Yes, yes, for the same man also told us that all would be
 nothing, if we did not begin to enter this way at the Gate.
 
 
      Great-heart. Look you, said the Guide to Christiana, the Pilgrimage of
 your Husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near.
 
 
      Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife?
 
 
      Great-heart. Yes, that it is, and these are also her four Sons.
 
 
      Valiant. What, and going on Pilgrimage too?
 
 
      Great-heart. Yes verily they are following after.
 
 
      Valiant. It glads me at heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he
 shall see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the
 Gates into the City.
 
 
      Great-heart. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; for next to the
 joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his Wife and his
 Children.
 
 
      Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me hear your opinion about
 it. Some make a question, Whether we shall know one another when we are there?
 
 
      Great-heart. Do they think they shall know themselves then, or that
 they shall rejoice to see themselves in that Bliss? and if they think they
 shall know and do these, why not know others, and rejoice in their Welfare
 also?
 
 
      Again, since Relations are our second self, though that state will be
 dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally concluded that we shall be
 more glad to see them there than to see they are wanting?
 
 
      Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have you any
 more things to ask me about my beginning to come on Pilgrimage?
 
 
      Great-heart. Yes. Was your Father and Mother willing that you should
 become a Pilgrim?
 
 
      Valiant. Oh no. They used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at
 home.
 
 
      Great-heart. What could they against it?
 
 
      Valiant. They said it was an idle life, and if I myself were not inclined
 to Sloth and Laziness, I would never countenance a Pilgrim's condition.
 
 
      Great-heart. And what did they say else?
 
 
      Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way; yea, the most
 dangerous way in the World, said they, is that which the Pilgrims go.
 
 
      Great-heart. Did they shew wherein this way is so dangerous?
 
 
      Valiant. Yes, and that in many particulars.
 
 
      Great-heart. Name some of them.
 
 
      Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Dispond, where Christian was well
 nigh smothered. They told me that there were Archers standing ready in
 Beelzebub-castle to shoot them that should knock at the Wicket-gate for
 entrance. They told me also of the Wood and dark Mountains, of the Hill
 Difficulty, of the Lions, and also of the three Giants, Bloody-man, Maul and
 Slay-good. They said moreover that there was a foul Fiend haunted the Valley
 of Humiliation, and that Christian was by him almost bereft of Life. Besides,
 say they, you must go over the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where the
 Hobgoblins are, where the Light is Darkness, where the way is full of Snares,
 Pits, Traps, and Gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle
 and of the ruin that the Pilgrims met with there. Further, they said I must go
 over the Inchanted Ground, which was dangerous. And that after all this, I
 should find a River, over which I should find no Bridge, and that that River
 did lie betwixt me and the Coelestial Country.
 
 
      Great-heart. And was this all?
 
 
      Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full of Deceivers, and
 of persons that laid await there, to turn good men out of the Path.
 
 
      Great-heart. But how did they make that out?
 
 
      Valiant. They told me that Mr Worldly Wiseman did there lie in wait to
 deceive. They also said that there was Formality and Hypocrisy continually on
 the road. They said also that By-ends, Talkative or Demas would go near to
 gather me up, that the Flatterer would catch me in his Net, or that with green
 - headed Ignorance I would presume to go on to the Gate, from whence he always
 was sent back to the Hole that was in the side of the Hill, and made to go the
 By-way to Hell.
 
 
      Great-heart. I promise you this was enough to discourage, but did they
 make an end here?
 
 
      Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of many that had tried that way of
 old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find
 something of the Glory there that so many had so much talked of from time to
 time; and how they came back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot
 out of doors in that Path, to the satisfaction of all the Country. And they
 named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous,
 Turn-away and old Atheist, with several more, who, they said, had some of
 them gone far to see if they could find, but not one of them found so much
 advantage by going as amounted to the weight of a Feather.
 
 
      Great-heart. Said they anything more to discourage you?
 
 
      Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr Fearing who was a Pilgrim, and how
 he found this way so solitary that he never had comfortable hour therein. Also
 that Mr Dispondency had like to have been starved therein; yea, and also,
 which I had almost forgot, that Christian himself, about whom there has been
 such a noise, after all his ventures for a Coelestial Crown, was certainly
 drowned in the black River, and never went foot further, however it was
 smothered up.
 
 
      Great-heart. And did none of these things discourage you?
 
 
      Valiant. No, they seemed but as so many nothings to me.
 
 
      Great-heart. How came that about?
 
 
      Valiant. Why I still believed what Mr Tell-true had said, and that
 carried me beyond them all.
 
 
      Great-heart. Then this was your victory, even your Faith.
 
 
      Valiant. It was so; I believed, and therefore came out, got into the Way,
 fought all that set themselves against me, and by believing am come to this
 place.
 
 
 Who would True valour see,
 Let him come hither;
 One here will constant be,
 Come Wind, come Weather.
 There's no Discouragement
 Shall make him once relent
 His first avow'd intent
 To be a Pilgrim.
 
 
 Who so beset him round
 With dismal Stories,
 Do but themselves confound,
 His Strength the more is;
 No Lion can him fright,
 He'll with a Giant fight,
 But he will have a right
 To be a Pilgrim.
 
 
 Hobgoblin nor foul Fiend
 Can daunt his spirit;
 He knows he at the end
 Shall Life inherit.
 Then Fancies fly away,
 He'll fear not what men say,
 He'll labour night and day
 To be a Pilgrim.
 
 
      By this time they were got to the Inchanted Ground, where the air
 naturally tended to make one drowsy, and that place was all grown over with
 Briars and Thorns, excepting here and there where was an Inchanted Arbor, upon
 which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, 'tis a question, say some,
 whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this Forest
 therefore they went, both one with another, and Mr Great-heart went before
 for that he was the Guide, and Mr Valiant-for-truth he came behind, being
 there a Guard for fear lest peradventure some Fiend or Dragon or Giant or
 Thief should fall upon their Rear, and so do mischief. They went on here each
 man with his Sword drawn in his hand, for they knew it was a dangerous place.
 Also they cheered up one another as well as they could; Feeblemind, Mr Great -
 heart commanded should come up after him, and Mr Dispondency was under the eye
 of Mr Valiant.
 
 
      Now they had not gone far, but a great Mist and a Darkness fell upon them
 all, so that they could scarce for a great while see the one the other.
 Wherefore they were forced for some time to feel for one another by Words, for
 they walked not by Sight.
 
 
      But any one must think that here was but sorry going for the best of them
 all, but how much worse for the Women and Children, who both of feet and heart
 were but tender. Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that
 led in the front, and of him that brought them up behind, they made a pretty
 good shift to wag along.
 
 
      The way also was here very wearisome through Dirt and Slabbiness. Nor was
 there on all this ground so much as one Inn or Victualling-house therein to
 refresh the feebler sort. Here therefore was grunting and puffing and sighing.
 While one tumbleth over a Bush, another sticks fast in the Dirt; and the
 Children, some of them, lost their Shoes in the Mire. While one cries out, I
 am down; and another, Ho, where are you? and a third, The Bushes have got such
 fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them.
 
 
      Then they come at an Arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the
 Pilgrims; for it was finely wrought above head, beautified with Greens,
 furnished with Benches and Settles. It also had in it a soft Couch whereon the
 weary might lean. This you must think, all things considered, was tempting,
 for the Pilgrims already began to be foiled with the badness of the way, but
 there was not one of them that made so much as a motion to stop there. Yea,
 for ought I could perceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice
 of their Guide, and he did so faithfully tell them to Dangers, and of the
 nature of Dangers, when they were at them, that usually when they were nearest
 to them they did most pluck up their Spirits, and hearten one another to deny
 the Flesh. This Arbor was called the Slothful's Friend, on purpose to allure,
 if it might be, some of the Pilgrims there to take up their Rest when weary.
 
 
      I saw then in my Dream, that they went on in this their solitary ground,
 till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now tho' when
 it was light, their Guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that
 led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand; but he had in his Pocket a
 Map of all ways leading to or from the Coelestial City; wherefore he struck a
 Light (for he never goes also without his Tinder-box) and takes a view of
 his Book or Map, which bids him be careful in that place to turn to the right
 - hand way. And had he not here been careful to look in his Map, they had all
 in probability been smothered in the Mud, for just a little before them, and
 that at the end of the cleanest way too, was a Pit, none knows how deep, full
 of nothing but Mud, there made on purpose to destroy the Pilgrims in.
 
 
      Then thought I with myself, who that goeth on Pilgrimage but would have
 one of these Maps about him, that he may look when he is at a stand, which is
 the way he must take?
 
 
      They went on then in this Inchanted Ground till they came to where there
 was another Arbor, and it was built by the High-way side. And in that Arbor
 there lay two men whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went
 thus far on Pilgrimage, but here being wearied with their Journey, they sat
 down to rest themselves, and so fell asleep. When the Pilgrims saw them, they
 stood still, and shook their heads, for they knew that the sleepers were in a
 pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to go on and leave them
 in their sleep, or to step to them and try to awake them. So they concluded to
 go to them and awake them, that is, if they could; but with this caution,
 namely, to take heed that themselves did not sit down nor imbrace the offered
 benefit of that Arbor.
 
 
      So they went in and spake to the men, and called each by his name, (for
 the Guide it seems did know them) but there was no voice nor answer. Then the
 Guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb them. Then said one of
 them, I will pay you when I take my Mony. At which the Guide shook his Head. I
 will fight so long as I can hold my Sword in my hand, said the other. At that
 one of the Children laughed.
 
 
      Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? The Guide said, They
 talk in their Sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to
 them, they will answer you after this fashion; or as one of them said in old
 time, when the Waves of the Sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one upon
 the Mast of a Ship, When I awake I will seek it again. You know when men talk
 in their Sleeps they say anything, but their words are not governed either by
 Faith or Reason. There is an incoherency in their words now, as there was
 before betwixt their going on Pilgrimage and sitting down here. This then is
 the mischief on't, when heedless ones go on Pilgrimage 'tis twenty to one but
 they are served thus. For this Inchanted Ground is one of the last Refuges
 that the Enemy to Pilgrims has; wherefore it is, as you see, placed almost at
 the end of the Way, and so it standeth against us with the more advantage. For
 when, thinks the Enemy, will these Fools be so desirous to sit down, as when
 they are weary? and when so like to be weary, as when almost at their
 Journey's end? therefore it is I say, that the Inchanted Ground is placed so
 nigh to the Land Beulah, and so near the end of their Race. Wherefore let
 Pilgrims look to themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these,
 that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them.
 
 
      Then the Pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward; only they prayed
 their Guide to strike a Light, that they might go the rest of their way by the
 help of the Light of a Lanthorn. So he struck a Light, and they went by the
 help of that through the rest of this way, tho' the Darkness was very great.
 
 
      But the Children began to be sorely weary, and they cried out unto him
 that loveth Pilgrims to make their way more comfortable. So by that they had
 gone a little further, a Wind arose that drove away the Fog, so the Air became
 more clear.
 
 
      Yet they were not off (by much) of the Inchanted Ground, only now they
 could see one another better, and the way wherein they should walk.
 
 
      Now when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that
 a little before them was a solemn Noise, as of one that was much concerned. So
 they went on and looked before them; and behold they saw, as they thought, a
 man upon his Knees, with Hands and Eyes lift up, and speaking, as they
 thought, earnestly to one that was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell
 what he said; so they went softly till he had done. When he had done, he got
 up and began to run towards the Coelestial City. Then Mr Great-heart called
 after him, saying, Soho Friend, let us have your Company, if you go, as I
 suppose you do, to the Coelestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up
 to him. But so soon as Mr Honest saw him, he said, I know this man. Then said
 Mr Valiant-for-truth, Prithee, who is it? 'Tis one, said he, who comes
 from whereabouts I dwelt, his name is Stand-fast, he is certainly a right
 good Pilgrim.
 
 
      So they came upon to another; and presently Stand-fast said to old
 Honest, Ho Father Honest, are you there? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as
 you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr Stand-fast, that I have found you on
 this Road. And as glad am I, said the other, that I espied you upon your
 Knees. Then Mr Stand-fast blushed, and said, But why, did you see me? Yes,
 that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight. Why,
 what did you think? said Stand-fast. Think, said Old Honest, what should I
 think? I thought we had an honest man upon the Road, and therefore should have
 his Company by and by. If you thought not amiss [said Stand-fast] how happy
 am I, but if I be not as I should, I alone must bear it. That is true, said
 the other, but your fear doth further confirm me that things are right betwixt
 the Prince of Pilgrims and your Soul, for he saith, Blessed is the man that
 feareth always.
 
 
      Valiant. Well but Brother, I pray thee tell us what was it that was the
 cause of thy being upon thy Knees even now? Was it for that some special mercy
 laid obligations upon thee, or how?
 
 
      Stand-fast. Why we are, as you see, upon the Inchanted Ground, and as I
 was coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous Road the Road
 in this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on Pilgrimage had
 here been stopt and been destroyeth. I thought also of the manner of the Death
 with which this place destroyed men. Those that die here, die of no violent
 Distemper. The Death which such die is not grievous to them, for he that goeth
 away in a sleep begins that Journey with Desire and Pleasure; yea, such
 acquiesce in the will of that Disease.
 
 
      Hon. Then Mr Honest interrupting of him said, Did you see the two men
 asleep in the Arbor?
 
 
      Stand-fast. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there, and for ought
 I know, there they will lie till they rot. But let me go on in my Tale. As I
 was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old,
 who presented herself unto me, and offered me three things, to wit, her Body,
 her Purse and her Bed. Now the truth is, I was both a-weary and sleepy, I am
 also as poor as a Howlet, and that perhaps the Witch knew. Well I repulsed her
 once and twice, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. Then I began to be
 angry, but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she made offers again, and
 said, If I would be ruled by her, she would make me great and happy, for said
 she, I am the Mistress of the World, and men are made happy by me. Then I
 asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set me further from
 her, but she still followed me with Inticements. Then I betook me, as you see,
 to my Knees, and with hands lift up and cries, I pray'd to him that had said
 he would help. So just as you came up, the Gentlewoman went her way. Then I
 continued to give thanks for this my great Deliverance, for I verily believe
 she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my Journey.
 
 
      Hon. Without doubt her Designs were bad. But stay, now you talk of her,
 methinks I either have seen her, or have read some story of her.
 
 
      Stand-fast. Perhaps you have done both.
 
 
      Hon. Madam Bubble, is she not a tall comely Dame, something of a swarthy
 Complexion?
 
 
      Stand-fast. Right, you hit it, she is just such an one.
 
 
      Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a Smile at the end of
 a Sentence?
 
 
      Stand-fast. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very
 Actions.
 
 
      Hon. Doth she not wear a great Purse by her side, and is not her Hand
 often in it fingering her Mony, as if that was her heart's delight?
 
 
      Stand-fast. 'Tis just so; had she stood by all this while, you could
 not more amply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her
 Features.
 
 
      Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good Limner, and he that wrote
 of her said true.
 
 
      Great-heart. This woman is a Witch, and it is by vertue of her
 Sorceries that this ground is inchanted. Whoever doth lay their Head down in
 her Lap, had as good lay it down upon that Block over which the Ax doth hang;
 and whoever lay their Eyes upon her Beauty, are counted the Enemies of God.
 This is she that maintaineth in their splendor all those that are the Enemies
 of Pilgrims. Yea, this is she that hath bought off many a man from a Pilgrim's
 Life. She is a great Gossiper, she is always, both she and her Daughters, at
 one Pilgrim's heels or another, now commending and then preferring the
 excellencies of this Life. She is a bold and impudent Slut, she will talk with
 any man. She always laugheth poor Pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the
 rich. If there be one cunning to get Mony in a place, she will speak well of
 him from house to house. She loveth Banqueting and Feasting mainly well, she
 is always at one full Table or another. She has given it out in some places
 that she is a Goddess, and therefore some do worship her. She has her times
 and open places of Cheating, and she will say and avow it that none can shew a
 good comparable to hers. She promiseth to dwell with Children's Children, if
 they will but love and make much of her. She will cast out of her Purse Gold
 like Dust, in some places, and to some persons. She loves to be sought after,
 spoken well of, and to lie in the Bosoms of Men. She is never weary of
 commending her Commodities, and she loves them most that think best of her.
 She will promise to some Crowns and Kingdoms if they will but take her advice,
 yet many has she brought to the Halter, and ten thousand times more to Hell.
 
 
      Stand-fast. Oh, said Stand-fast, what a mercy is it that I did resist
 her, for whither might she a drawn me?
 
 
      Great-heart. Whither, nay, none but God knows whither. But in general
 to be sure, she would a drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful Lusts, which
 drown men in Destruction and Perdition.
 
 
      'Twas she that set Absalom against his Father, and Jeroboam against his
 Master. 'Twas she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and that prevailed
 with Demas to forsake the godly Pilgrim's Life. None can tell of the Mischief
 that she doth. She makes variance betwixt Rulers and Subjects, betwixt Parents
 and Children, 'twixt Neighbor and Neighbor, 'twixt a Man and his Wife, 'twixt
 a Man and Himself, 'twixt the Flesh and the Heart.
 
 
      Wherefore good Master Stand-fast, be as your name is, and when you have
 done all, stand.
 
 
      At this Discourse there was among the Pilgrims a mixture of Joy and
 Trembling, but at length they brake out, and sang,
 
 
 What danger is the Pilgrim in,
 How many are his Foes,
 How many ways there are to sin,
 No living mortal knows.
 
 
 Some of the Ditch shy are, yet can
 Lie tumbling on the Mire;
 Some tho' they shun the Frying-pan,
 Do leap into the Fire.
 
 
      After this I beheld until they were come unto the Land of Beulah, where
 the Sun shineth Night and Day. Here, because they was weary, they betook
 themselves a while to rest. And because this Country was common for Pilgrims,
 and because the Orchards and Vineyards that were here belonged to the King of
 the Coelestial Country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of
 his things. But a little while soon refreshed them here; for the Bells did so
 ring, and the Trumpets continually sound so melodiously, that they could not
 sleep; and yet they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their
 sleep never so soundly. Here also all the noise of them that walked the
 Streets, was, More Pilgrims are come to Town. And another would answer,
 saying, And so many went over the Water, and were let in at the Golden Gates
 to-day. They would cry again, There is now a Legion of Shining Ones just
 come to Town, by which we know that there are more Pilgrims upon the road, for
 here they come to wait for them, and to comfort them after all their Sorrow.
 Then the Pilgrims got up and walked to and fro; but how were their Ears now
 filled with Heavenly Noises, and their eyes delighted with Coelestial Visions!
 In this Land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing,
 tasted nothing, that was offensive to their Stomach or Mind; only when they
 tasted of the Water of the River over which they were to go, they thought that
 tasted a little bitterish to the Palate, but it proved sweeter when 'twas
 down.
 
 
      In this place there was a Record kept of the names of them that had been
 Pilgrims of old, and a History of all the famous Acts that they had done. It
 was here also much discoursed how the River to some had had its flowings, and
 what ebbings it has had while others have gone over. It has been in a manner
 dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for others.
 
 
      In this place the Children of the Town would go into the King's Gardens
 and gather Nosegays for the Pilgrims, and bring them to them with much
 affection. Here also grew Camphire with Spikenard and Saffron Calamus and
 Cinnamon, with all its Trees of Frankincense Myrrh and Aloes, with all chief
 Spices. With these the Pilgrim's Chambers were perfumed while they stayed
 here, and with these were their Bodies anointed, to prepare them to go over
 the River when the time appointed was come.
 
 
      Now while they lay here and waited for the good hour, there was a noise
 in the Town that there was a Post come from the Coelestial City, with matter
 of great importance to one Christiana the Wife of Christian the Pilgrim. So
 enquiry was made for her, and the house was found out where she was. So the
 Post presented her with a Letter, the contents whereof was, Hail, good Woman,
 I bring thee Tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou
 shouldest stand in his presence in Cloaths of Immortality, within this ten
 days.
 
 
      When he had read this Letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token
 that he was a true Messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone.
 The token was an Arrow with a point sharpened with Love, let easily into her
 heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her, that at the time
 appointed she must be gone.
 
 
      When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of
 this Company that was to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart her Guide,
 and told him how matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the
 News, and could have been glad had the Post come for him. Then she bid that he
 should give advice how all things should be prepared for her Journey. So he
 told her, saying, Thus and thus it must be, and we that survive will accompany
 you to the River-side.
 
 
      Then she called for her Children, and gave them her Blessing, and told
 them that she yet read with comfort the Mark that was set in their Foreheads,
 and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their Garments
 so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to the Poor that little she had, and
 commanded her Sons and her Daughters to be ready against the Messenger should
 come for them.
 
 
      When she had spoken these words to her Guide and to her Children, she
 called for Mr Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him, Sir, you have in all
 places shewed yourself true-hearted, be faithful unto Death, and my King
 will give you a Crown of Life. I would also entreat you to have an eye to my
 Children, and if at any time you see them faint, speak comfortably to them.
 For my Daughters, my Sons' Wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of
 the Promise upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr Stand-fast a Ring.
 
 
      Then she called for old Mr Honest, and said of him, Behold an Israelite
 indeed, in whom is no Guile. Then said he, I wish you a fair day when you set
 out for Mount Zion, and shall be glad to see that you go over the River dry -
 shod. But she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone, for however the
 Weather is in my Journey, I shall have time enough when I come there to sit
 down and rest me and dry me.
 
 
      Then came in that good man Mr Ready-to-halt to see her. So she said
 to him, Thy Travel hither has been with difficulty, but that will make thy
 Rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready, for at an hour when you think not,
 the Messenger may come.
 
 
      After him came in Mr Dispondency and his Daughter Much-afraid, to whom
 she said, You ought with thankfulness for ever to remember your Deliverance
 from the hands of Giant Despair and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that
 Mercy is, that you are brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful and cast
 away Fear, be sober and hope to the end.
 
 
      Then she said to Mr Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from the mouth of
 Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the Light of the Living for
 ever, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise thee to repent thee of
 thine aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness before he sends for thee, lest
 thou shouldest when he comes, be forced to stand before him for that fault
 with blushing.
 
 
      Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the Road was full of
 People to see her take her Journey. But behold all toe Banks beyond the River
 were full of Horses and Chariots, which were come down from above to accompany
 her to the City Gate. So she came forth and entered the River, with a beckon
 of Farewell to those that followed her to the River-side. The last word she
 was heard to say here was, I come Lord, to be with thee and bless thee.
 
 
      So her Children and Friends returned to their place, for that those that
 waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and
 called, and entered in at the Gate with all the Ceremonies of Joy that her
 Husband Christian had done before her.
 
 
      At her departure her Children wept, but Mr Greatheart and Mr Valiant
 played upon the well-tuned Cymbal and Harp for Joy. So all departed to their
 respective places.
 
 
      In process of time there came a Post to the Town again, and his business
 was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he enquired him out, and said to him, I am
 come to thee in the name of him whom thou hast loved and followed, tho' upon
 Crutches; and my Message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his Table to
 sup with him in his Kingdom the next day after Easter, wherefore prepare
 thyself for this Journey.
 
 
      Then he also gave him a Token that he was a true Messenger, saying, I
 have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy silver cord.
 
 
      After this Mr Ready-to-halt called for his fellow Pilgrims, and told
 them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also. So he
 desired Mr Valiant to make his Will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to
 them that should survive him but his Crutches and his good Wishes, therefore
 thus he said, These Crutches I bequeath to my Son that shall tread in my
 steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may prove better than I have done.
 
 
      Then he thanked Mr Great-heart for his Conduct and Kindness, and so
 addressed himself to his Journey. When he came at the Brink of the River he
 said, Now I shall have no more need of these Crutches, since yonder are
 Chariots and Horses for me to ride on. The last words he was heard to say was,
 Welcome Life. So he went his way.
 
 
      After this Mr Feeble-mind had Tidings brought him that the Post sounded
 his Horn at his Chamber-door. Then he came in and told him, saying, I am
 come to tell thee that thy Master has need of thee, and that in very little
 time thou must behold his Face in Brightness. And take this as a Token of the
 Truth of my Message, Those that look out at the Windows shall be darkened.
 
 
      Then Mr Feeble-mind called for his Friends, and told them what Errand
 had been brought unto him, and what Token he had received of the Truth of the
 Message. Then he said, Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what
 purpose should I make a Will? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind
 me, for that I have no need of that in the place whither I go. Nor is it worth
 bestowing upon the poorest Pilgrim; wherefore when I am gone, I desire that
 you, Mr Valiant, would bury it in a Dunghill. This done, and the day being
 come in which he was to depart, he entered the River as the rest. His last
 words were, Hold out Faith and Patience. So he went over to the other side.
 
 
      When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Dispondency was sent for. For
 a Post was come, and brought this Message to him, Trembling man, these are to
 summon thee to be ready with thy King by the next Lord's day, to shout for Joy
 for thy Deliverance from all thy Doubtings.
 
 
      And said the Messenger, That my Message is true take this for a Proof; so
 he gave him The Grasshopper to be a Burden unto him. Now Mr Dispondency's
 Daughter whose name was Much-afraid said when she heard what was done, that
 she would go with her Father. Then Mr Dispondency said to his Friends, Myself
 and my Daughter, you know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have
 behaved ourselves in every Company. My Will and my Daughter's is, that our
 Disponds and slavish Fears be by no man ever received from the day of our
 Departure for ever, for I know that after my Death they will offer themselves
 to others. For to be plain with you, they are Ghosts, the which we entertained
 when we first began to be Pilgrims, and could never shake them off after; and
 they will walk about and seek entertainment of the Pilgrims, but for our sakes
 shut ye the doors upon them.
 
 
      When the time was come for them to depart, they went to the Brink of the
 River. The last words of Mr Dispondency were, Farewell Night, welcome Day. His
 Daughter went through the River singing, but none could understand what she
 said.
 
 
      Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a Post in the town
 that enquired for Mr Honest. So he came to his house where he was, and
 delivered to his hand these lines, Thou art commanded to be ready against this
 day seven-night to present thyself before thy Lord at his Father's house.
 And for a Token that my Message is true, All thy Daughters of Musick shall be
 brought low. Then Mr Honest called for his Friends, and said unto them, I die,
 but shall make no Will. As for my Honesty, it shall go with me; let him that
 comes after be told of this. When the day that he was to be gone was come, he
 addressed himself to go over the River. Now the River at that time overflowed
 the Banks in some places, but Mr Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one Good
 - conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent him his hand,
 and so helped him over. The last words of Mr Honest were, Grace reigns. So he
 left the World.
 
 
      After this it was noised abroad that Mr Valiant-for-truth was taken
 with a Summons by the same Post as the other, and had this for a Token that
 the Summons was true, That his Pitcher was broken at the Fountain. When he
 understood it, he called for his Friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I
 am going to my Fathers, and tho' with great difficulty I am got hither, yet
 now I do not repent me of all the Trouble I have been at to arrive where I am.
 My Sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage
 and Skill to him that can get it. My Marks and Scars I carry with me, to be a
 witness for me that I have fought his Battles who now will be my Rewarder.
 When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the
 Riverside, into which as he went he said, Death, where is thy Sting? And as he
 went down deeper he said, Grave, where is thy Victory? So he passed over, and
 all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.
 
 
      Then there came forth a Summons for Mr Stand-fast, (This Mr Stand -
 fast was he that the rest of the Pilgrims found upon his Knees in the
 Inchanted Ground) for the Post brought it him open in his hands. The contents
 whereof, were, that he must prepare for a Change of Life, for his Master was
 not willing that he should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. Stand -
 fast was put into a muse. Nay, said the Messenger, you need not doubt of the
 truth of my Message, for here is a Token of the Truth thereof, Thy Wheel is
 broken at the Cistern. Then he called to him Mr Great-heart who was their
 Guide, and said, unto him, Sir, altho' it was not my hap to be much in your
 good Company in the days of my Pilgrimage, yet since the time I knew you, you
 have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left behind me a Wife and
 five small Children, let me entreat you at your return, (for I know that you
 will go and return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may yet be a
 Conductor to more of the holy Pilgrims) that you send to my Family, and let
 them be acquainted with all that hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them
 moreover of my happy Arrival to this place, and of the present late blessed
 condition that I am in. Tell them also of Christian and Christiana his Wife,
 and how she and her Children came after her Husband. Tell them also of what a
 happy end she made, and whither she is gone. I have little or nothing to send
 to my Family, except it be Prayers and Tears for them; of which it will
 suffice if thou acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail.
 
 
      When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and the time being
 come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the River. Now there was
 a great Calm at that time in the River; wherefore Mr Stand-fast, when he was
 about half-way in, he stood awhile, and talked to his Companions that had
 waited upon him thither. And he said,
 
 
      This River has been a Terror to many, yea, the thoughts of it also have
 often frighted me. But now methinks I stand easy, my Foot is fixed upon that
 upon which the Feet of the Priests that bare the Ark of the Covenant stood,
 while Israel went over this Jordan. The Waters indeed are to the Palate bitter
 and to the Stomach cold, yet the thoughts of what I am going to and of the
 Conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing Coal at my
 Heart.
 
 
      I see myself now at the end of my Journey, my toilsome days are ended. I
 am going now to see that Head that was crowned with Thorns, and that Face that
 was spit upon for me.
 
 
      I have formerly lived by Hear-say and Faith, but now I go where I shall
 live by sight, and shall be with him in whose Company I delight myself.
 
 
      I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and wherever I have seen the
 print of his Shoe in the Earth, there I have coveted to set my Foot too.
 
 
      His Name has been to me as a Civit-box, yea, sweeter than all Perfumes.
 His Voice to me has been most sweet, and his Countenance I have more desired
 than they that have most desired the Light of the Sun. His Word I did use to
 gather for my Food, and for Antidotes against my Faintings. He has held me,
 and I have kept me from mine iniquities, yea, my Steps hath he strengthened in
 his Way.
 
 
      Now while he was thus in Discourse, his Countenance changed, his strong
 man bowed under him, and after he had said, Take me, for I come unto thee, he
 ceased to be seen of them.
 
 
      But glorious it was to see how the open Region was filled with Horses and
 Chariots, with Trumpeters and Pipers, with Singers and Players on stringed
 Instruments, to welcome the Pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another
 in at the beautiful Gate of the City.
 
 
      As for Christian's Children, the four Boys that Christiana brought with
 her, with their Wives and Children, I did not stay where I was till they were
 gone over. Also since I came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive,
 and so would be for the Increase of the Church in that place where they were
 for a time.
 
 
      Shall it be my Lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it
 an account of what I here am silent about; mean-time I bid my Reader Adieu.
 
 
 The Author's Vindication Of His Pilgrim, Found At The End Of His "Holy War"
 
 
 Some say the Pilgrim's Progress is not mine,
 Insinuating as if I would shine
 In name and fame by the worth of another,
 Like some made rich by robbing of their Brother.
 Or that so fond I am of being Sire,
 I'll father Bastards; or if need require,
 I'll tell a lye in print to get applause.
 I scorn it: John such dirt-heap never was,
 Since God converted him. Let this suffice
 To show why I my Pilgrim patronize.
 
 
 It came from mine own heart, so to my head,
 And thence into my fingers trickled;
 Then to my pen, from whence immediately
 On paper I did dribble it daintily.
 
 
 Manner and matter too was all mine own,
 Nor was it unto any mortal known,
 Till I had done it. Nor did any then
 By books, by wits, by tongues, or hand, or pen,
 Add five words to it, or write half a line
 Thereof: the whole and every whit is mine.
 
 
 Also, for this thine eye is now upon,
 The matter in this manner came from none
 But the same heart and head, fingers and pen,
 As did the other. Witness all good men;
 For none in all the world, without a lye,
 Can say that this is mine, excepting I.
 I write not this of any ostentation,
 Nor' cause I seek of men their commendation;
 I do it to keep them from such surmise,
 As tempt them will my name to scandalize.
 Witness my name, if anagram'd to thee,
 The letters make, Nu hony in a B.
 
 
 John Bunyan.