Then Christian wept and said, O how willingly would I have done it! But they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage. Charity replied, But you should have talked to them and endeavored to have shown them the danger of staying behind. So I did, said Christian, and told them also what God had shown to me of the destruction of our city. But I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them as charity? Yes, and that with much affection, said Christian, for you must think that my wife and four children are very dear unto me. Then said charity, but did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction? For I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you. Yes, over and over and over, said Christian. They might also see my fears and my countenance in my tears and also in my trembling. under the apprehension of the judgment that did hang over our heads. But all was not sufficient to prevail with them, to come with me. Then said Charity, But what could they say for themselves, why they came not? Why, my wife, said Christian, was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given to the foolish delights of youth. So what by one thing, and what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone. Then asked Charity, But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by words used by way of persuasion, to bring them away with you? Indeed, I cannot commend my life, said Christian, for I am conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know also that a man by his conversation, others for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things for their sakes, in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say that, if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbor." Indeed, said Charity, Cain hated his brother, because his own works were evil, and his brothers righteous. And if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good. Thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood. Now I saw in my dream that thus they sat talking together till supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to meet. Now the table was furnished with fat things and wine that was well refined. And all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill, as namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had built that house. And by what they said I perceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the power of death, but not without great danger to himself, which made me love him the more. Christ makes princes of beggars. For as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, He did it with the loss of much blood, but that which puts the glory of grace into all he did was that he did it out of pure love to this country. And besides, there were some of them in the household that said they had seen and spoke with him since he did die on the cross, and they have attested that they had it from his own lips that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims that the life is not to be found from the east to the west. They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that was, he had stripped himself of his glory, that he might do this for the poor, and that they had heard him say and affirm that he would not dwell in the mountains of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their original had been the dunghill. Thus they discoursed together till late at night, and after they had committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened toward the sun rising. The name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang, Where am I now? Is this the love and care of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are? Thus to provide that I should be forgiven, and dwell already the next door to heaven. So in the morning they all got up, and after some more discourse, They told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities of that place. And first they had him go into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity, in which, as I remember in my dreams, they showed him first the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that he was the son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an eternal generation. Here also were more fully recorded the acts that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had taken into his service. and how he had placed them in such habitations that could neither by length of days nor decays of nature be dissolved. Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had done, as how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens. They then read again in another part of the records of the house, where it was shown how willing their Lord was to receive into his favor any, even any, though they in time past had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also were several other histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had a view, as of things both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things that have their certain accomplishments, both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims. The next day they took him and had him into the armory, where they showed him all manner of furniture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the heaven for multitudes. They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod, the hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera, the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jawbone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him moreover the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with which the Lord will kill the man of sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They showed him besides many excellent things with which Christian was much delighted. This done, they went to their rest again. Then I saw in my dream that on the morrow he got up to go forward But they desired him to stay till the next day also. And then said they, We will, if the day be clear, show you the delectable mountains, which they said would yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was. So he consented and stayed. When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, at a great distance he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with wood, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Emmanuel's land. And it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the celestial city, as the shepherds that live there will make appear. Now he bethought himself of sitting forward, and they were willing he should. But first, said they, let us go again into the armory. So they did, and when he came there they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. He being, therefore, thus accoutred, walked out with his friends to the gate, and there he asked the porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by. Then the porter answered, Yes. Pray, did you know him?" said he. I asked his name, and he told me it was faithful. Oh, said Christian, I know him. He is my townsman, my near neighbor. He comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before?" the porter answered. He has gone by this time below the hill. Well, said Christian, good porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou hast showed to me. Then he began to go forward, but discretion, piety, charity and prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is, for it is a hard matter for a man to go down the valley of humiliation. as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way. Therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very warily, yet he caught a slip or two. Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins, and then he went on his way. Chapter 4 But now, in this valley of humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it. For he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him. His name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back, or to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might give him greater advantage, with ease to pierce him with his dart. Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground. For thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand. So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous to behold. He was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride. He had wings like a dragon and feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as a mouth of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance and thus began to question him. Whence come you, and whither are you bound? Christian replied, I am come from the city of destruction, which is the place of all evil, and am going to the city of Zion. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects, said Apollyon, for all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it then that thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not that I hoped that thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the ground. Christian answered, I was indeed born in your dominions, but your service was hard, and your wages, such as a man could not live on. For the wages of sin is death. Therefore, when I was come to years, I did as other considerate persons do, look out if perhaps I might mend myself. Apollyon's flattery. Apollyon replied, There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither will I yet lose thee. But, since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back, and what our country will afford I do here promise to give thee. But I have lent myself to another, said Christian, even to the king of princes, and how can I with fairness go back with thee? Apollyon undervalues Christ's service. Apollyon answered, Thou hast done in this, according to the Proverbs, changed a bad for a worse. But it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves his servants after a while to give him the slip and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well. I have given him my faith, said Christian, and sworn my allegiance to him. How then can I go back from this and not be hanged as a traitor? Apollyon. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet return and go back. What I promised thee was in my youth, said Christian, and besides, I count that the Prince, under whose banner I now stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon also what I did, as to my compliance with thee. O besides, O thou destroying Apollyon, to speak the truth, I like his service, his wages, his servants, his government, his company, and country better than thine. Therefore, leave off to persuade me further. I am his servant, and I will follow him." Apollyon pleads the grievous sins of Christians to dissuade Christian from persisting in his way. Apollyon replies, Consider again when thou art in cool blood, what thou art likely to meet with in the way thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most part his servants come to an ill end. because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How many of them have been put to shameful death? And besides, thou countest his service better than mine, whereas he never yet came from the place where he is, to deliver any that served him out of their hands. But as for me, how many times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his? so taken by them, and so I will deliver thee." Christian replies, His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave to Him to the end, and, as for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is the most glorious in their account. For, for present deliverance they do not much expect it, for they stay for their glory, and then they shall have it when their prince comes in his, in the glory of the angels. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him, said Apollyon, and how dost thou think to receive wages of him? Christian, wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to him? Apollyon pleads Christian's infirmities against him. Thou didst faint at first setting, said Apollyon, when thou wast almost choked in the gulf of Despond, Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till thy prince had taken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice things. Thou wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, thou art inwardly desirous of vain glory, in all that thou sayest or doest. All this is true, said Christian, and much more which thou hast left out. But the prince whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmities possessed me in thine own country. For there I suck them in, and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my prince. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am an enemy to this prince. I hate his persons, his laws, and his people. I am come out on purpose to withstand thee." Christian replies, Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the king's highway, the way of holiness. Therefore take heed to yourself. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way and said, I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die, for I swear by my infernal den that thou shalt go no further. Here will I spill thy soul. And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast. But Christian held a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. Christian wounded in his understanding, faith, and conversation. Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him. And Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail, by the which, notwithstanding, all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a little back. Apollyon, therefore, followed his work of mane, and Christian again took courage and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent. For you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall, and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now. And with that he had almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, O my enemy. When I fall, I shall arise." And with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one that had received his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, mated him again, saying, Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings and spread away. That Christian for a season saw him no more. In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight. He spake like a dragon, and on the other side what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword. Then, indeed, he did smile and look upward. But it was the dreadfulest sight that ever I saw. So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here give thanks to him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to him that did help me against Apollyon. And so he did, saying, Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, designed my ruin, therefore to this end he sent him harnessed out, and he with rage that hellish was, did fiercely me engage. But blessed Michael helped me and I by dint of sword did quickly make him fly. Therefore to him let me give lasting praise and thank and bless his holy name always. Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of life. The witch Christian took and applied to the wounds that he had received in the battle and was healed immediately. He also sat down in that place to eat bread and to drink of the bottle that was given to him a little before. So being refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey with his sword drawn in his hand. For he said, I know not but some other enemy may be at hand. But he met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this valley. Now at the end of this valley was another called the Valley of the Shadow of Death. And Christian must need go through it, because the way to the celestial city lay through the midst of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it, a wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought and of the shadow of death, a land that no man, but a Christian, passes through and where no man dwells. Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. I saw then in my dream that when Christian was thought to the borders of the shadow of death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of the good land, making haste to go back, to whom Christian spake as follows, Whither are you going? They said, Back, back, and we would have you to do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. Why, what's the matter? said Christian. Matter, they said. We are going that way as you are going, and went as far as we durst, and indeed we were almost past coming back. For had we gone a little further, we had not been here to bring the news to thee. But what have you met with, said Christian? Why, we were almost in the valley of the shadow of death, but that by good half we looked before us and saw the danger before we came to it. But what have you seen, said Christian? Seen? While the valley itself, which is as dark as pitch, we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit. We also heard in that valley a continual howling and yelling as of a people under unutterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons, and over that hung the discouraging clouds of confusion. Death also does always spread his wings over it. In a word, it is every wit dreadful, being utterly without order. Then said Christian, I perceive not yet by what you have said, but that this is my way to the desired haven. Be it thy way, said the men, we will not choose it for ours. So they parted and Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he should be assaulted. I saw then in my dream, as far as this valley reached, there was on the right hand a very deep ditch. That ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his foot to stand on. Into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt there been sluthered. had not he that is able plucked him out. The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good Christian was the more put to it. For when he sought in the dark to shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to trip over into the mire on the other. Also when he sought to escape the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on. And I heard him here sigh bitterly, for besides the danger mentioned above, The pathway was here so dark that oft times, when he lifted up his foot to go forward, he knew not where, or upon what, he should set it next. About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also hard by the wayside. Now thought Christian, what shall I do? And ever, end and on, the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises, things that cared not for Christian's sword, as Apollyon before, that he was forced to put up his sword and to take himself to another weapon called all prayer so he cried in my hearing oh Lord I beseech thee deliver my soul thus he went on a great while yet still the flames would be reaching towards him also he heard doleful voices and rushing to and fro so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces or trodden down like mire in the streets this frightful sight was seen And those dreadful noises were heard by him for several miles together. And coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopped and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back. Then again he thought he might be halfway through the valley. He remembered also how he had already vanquished many a danger, and that the danger of going back might be much more than going forward. So he resolved to go on. Yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But when they were come even almost to him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the strength of the Lord God. So they gave back and came no farther. Christian made believe that he spake blasphemies when it was Satan that suggested them into his mind. One thing I would not let slip, I took notice that now poor Christian was so confounded that he did not know his own voice and thus I perceived it, just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit. One of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more to it than anything he had met with before, even to think that he should now blaspheme him that he had so much love before. Yet if he could have helped it, he would not have done it. But he had not the discretion either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies came. When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. Then he was glad, and that for these reasons. because he gathered from thence that someone who feared God were in this valley as well as himself. Secondly, for that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark and dismal state. And why not thought he with me, though by reason of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it. Thirdly, for that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have company by and by. So he went on and called to him that was before. But he knew not what to answer, for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by and by the day broke. Then said Christian, He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning. Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see, by the light of day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other. Also how narrow the way was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar off. For after break of day they came not nigh, yet they were discovered to him according to that which is written, He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death. The second part of this valley very dangerous. Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of his solitary way, which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian. For you must note that, though the first part of the valley of the shadow of death was dangerous, yet the second part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far more dangerous For from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, jinns, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shovings down there, that had it now been dark as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason best been cast away. But as I said just now, the sun was rising. Then said he, His candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go through darkness. In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw in my dream that at the end of the valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly. And while I was musing what should be the reason, I aspired a little before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old time by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay there were cruelly put to death. But by this place Christian went without danger, whereat I somewhat wondered. But I have learnt since that Pavian has been dead many a day, and as for the other, though he be yet alive, he is by reason of age. Also, of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more than sit in the cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come at them. So I saw that Christian went on his way, yet at the sight of the old man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think, especially because he spoke to him, though he could not go after him, saying, You will never mend till more of you be burned. But he held his peace and set a good face on it, And so went by, and catch no hurt. Then sang Christian, O world of wonders, I can say no less, That I should be preserved in that distress, That I have met with here, O blessed be that hand, That from it hath delivered me. Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, Did compass me, while I this veil was in. Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets, Did lie my path about, that worthless silly eye, might have been catched and tangled and cast down but since I live let Jesus wear the crown. Chapter 5 Now as Christian went on his way he came to a little ascent which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them. Up therefore went Christian and looking forward he saw faithful before him upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud, Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Stay and I will be your companion. At that Faithful looked behind him, to whom Christian cried, Stay, stay till I come up to you. But Faithful answered, No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me. At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him. So the last was first. Then did Christian vaingloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother. But not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him. Christian's fall makes Faithful and he go lovingly together. Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage, and thus Christian began. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I have overtaken you and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions in this so pleasant a path. Faithful replies, I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from town, but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way alone. How long did you stay in the city of destruction, said Christian, before you set out after me on your pilgrimage? Till I could stay no longer, said Faithful, for there was great talk presently after you were gone, that our city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven, be burned down to the ground. What? Did your neighbors talk so? asked Christian. Yes, it was for a while, in everybody's mouth. What, said Christian, and did no more of them come but you, out to escape the danger? Faithful replies, Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, Yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. For in the heat of the discourse I heard some of them deridingly speak of you and of your desperate journey. For so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from above. And therefore I have made my escape. Did you hear no talk of neighbor pliable? asked Christian. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed Joe till he came to the slough of Despond, where as some said he fell in. But he would not be known to have so done, but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt. And what said the neighbors to him, said Christian? He hath, since his going back, been held greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of people. Some do mock and despise him, and scarce any will set him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city, says Christian. But why should they be so set against him since they also despise the way that he forsook? Oh, they say, hang him. He is a turncoat. He was not true to his profession. I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him and make him a proverb because he has forsaken the way. Had you no talk with him before you came out, asks Christian? Oh, I met with him once in the streets, but he lured away on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had done, so I spake not to him. Says Christian, Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of that man, but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city, for it has happened to him according to the true proverb, the dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire. Faithful says, These are my fears of him too, But who can hinder that which will be? Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now, what have you met with in the way as you came? For I know you have met with some things or else it may be writ for a wonder. I escaped this loft that I perceived you fell into, said Faithful, and got up to the gate without that danger. Only I met with one whose name was Wanton. that had liked to have done me a mischief. Christian, it was well you escaped her net. Joseph was hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did. But it had liked to have cost him his life. But what did she do to you? You cannot think, said Faithful, but that you know something. What a flattering tongue she had! She lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of content. Christian, Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience. You know what I mean, said Faithful, all carnal and fleshly content. Thank God you escaped her, said Christian. The abhorred of the Lord shall fall into her debt. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no, said Faithful. Christian replies, Why, I think you did not consent to her desires. No, said Faithful, not to defile myself. For I remembered an old writing that I had seen, which saith, Her steps take hold of hell. So I shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks. Then she railed on me, and I went on my way. Christian, did you meet with no other assault as you came? When I came to the foot of the hill, said Faithful, called difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and wither bound. I told him that I was a pilgrim going to the celestial city. Then said the old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow. Will thou be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall give thee? Then I asked him his name and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the first and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then what was his work and what the wages that he would give. He told me that his work was many delights and his wages that I should be his heir at last. I further asked him what house he kept and what other servants he had. So he told me that his house was maintained with all the dinkies of the world and that his servants were those of his own beginning. Then I asked him how many children he had. He said that he had but three daughters, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, and that I should marry them if I would. Then I asked How long a time he would have me live with him? And he told me, as long as he himself lived. Well, said Christian, and what conclusion came the old man and you two at last? Why, replied Faithful, at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spoke very fair. But looking in his forehead as I talked with him, I saw there written, Put off the old man with his deeds. Christian asked, And how then? Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me and told me that he would send such a one after me that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him, but just as I turned myself to go dance I felt him take hold of my flesh and give me such a deadly twitch back that I thought he had pulled a part of me after himself, and this made me cry, O wretched man! So I went up my way up the hill. Now when I had got about halfway up I looked behind me and saw one coming after me, swift as the wind. So he overtook me just about the place where the settle stands. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me. But being overcome with sleep, I there lost this role out of my bosom. Faithful, but good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked me and laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, because of my secret inclining to Adam the first, and with that he struck me another deadly blow on the breast. and beat me down backwards, so I lay at his feet as dead as before. So when I came to myself again I cried him for mercy, but he said, I know not how to show mercy, and with that he knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by and bid him forbear. Who was that that bid him forbear, asked Christian. I did not know him at first, But as he went by, I perceived the holes in his hands and his side. Then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill. Christian, that man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgresseth law. I know it very well, said Faithful. It was not the first time that he hath met with me. It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there. Christian, but did you not see the house that stood there on the top of that hill on the side of which Moses met you? Yes, said Faithful, and the lions too, before I came at it. But for the lions I think they were asleep, for it was about noon, and because I had so much of the day before me, I passed by the porter and came down the hill. He told me, said Christian, indeed, that he saw you go by, but I wished you had called at the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities that you would scarce have forgotten them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility? Yes, I met with one discontent, said Faithful, who would willingly have persuaded me to go back with him. His reason was for that the Valley was altogether without honour. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disoblige all my friends as pride, arrogance, self-conceit, worldly glory with others who he knew, as he said, would be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through this valley. Christian asked, Well, and how did you answer him? Faithful answered, I told him, although all these that he named might claim kindred of me, and that rightly, For indeed they were my relations according to the flesh. Yet since I became a pilgrim they have disowned me, and I also have rejected them. And therefore they were to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. I told him, moreover, that as to this valley he had quite misrepresented the thing. For before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a fall. Therefore said I, I had rather go through this valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, then choose that which he has deemed most worthy of our affections. Met you with nothing else in the valley? asked Christian. Yes, I met with shame, but of all the men that I met with in my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The other would be said, nay, after a little argumentation and somewhat else, but this bold-faced shame would never have done. Why, what did he say to you? asked Christian. What? Why, he objected against religion itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion. He said that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing, and that for a man to watch over his words and ways so as to tie up himself from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustomed themselves unto would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also that but a few of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my opinion, nor any of them neither, before they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture the loss of all, for nobody else knows what. He moreover objected the base and lowest state and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived, also their ignorance and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also about a great many more things than here I relate, as that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon and a shame to come sighing and groaning home, that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution where I had taken for many. He said also that religion made a man grow strange to the great because of a few vices, which he called by finer names, and made him own and respect the base because of the same religious fraternity. And did not this, said he, a shame? And what did you say to him, asked Christian? I could not tell what to say at first, yea, he put me so to it that my blood came up in my face, even this shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me quite off. But at last I began to consider that that which is highly esteemed among men is had in abomination with God. And I thought again, this shame tells me what men are, but it tells me nothing what God, or the word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, is best, though all the men in the world are against it. Seeing then that God prefers his religion, seeing God prefers a tender conscience, seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest, And that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest men in the world that hates him? Shame! Depart! Thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign Lord? How then shall I look him in the face at his coming? Should I now be ashamed of his way and servants? How can I expect the blessing? But indeed, this shame was a bold villain. I could scarce shake him out of my company. Yea, he would be haunting of me and continually whispering me in the ear, with some or other of the infirmities that attend religion. But at last I told him it was but in vain to attempt further in this business. For those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory. And so at last I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began to sing. The trials that those men do meet withal, that are obedient to the heavenly call, are manifold and suited to the flesh, and come and come and come again afresh, that now or sometime else we may by them may be overtaken, overcome, and cast away. O let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then be vigilant and quit themselves like men. Christian, I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villain so bravely, for of all as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name, for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets and to attempt to put us to shame before all men. That is, to make us ashamed of that which is good. But if he was not himself audacious, he would never attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him, for, notwithstanding as all his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. The wise shall inherit glory, said Solomon, but shame shall be the promotion of fools. Faithful replies, I think we must cry to him for help against shame, who would have us to be valiant for truth upon the earth. You say true, said Christian, but did you meet nobody else in the valley? No, not I, for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that, and also through the valley of the shadow of death. Christian, it was well for you. I am sure it fared far otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollyon. Yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especially when he got down and crushed me under him. as if he would have crushed me to pieces. For as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand. Nay, he told me he was sure of me, and I cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered into the valley of the shadow of death, and had no light for almost half the way through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and over, but at last daybreak, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet. Moreover, I saw in my dream that as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man, whose name is Talkative, walking at a distance beside them, for in this place there was room enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man and something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner, Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly country? Talkative, I am going to the same place. Faithful, that is well, then I hope we may have your good company. Talkative replies, with a very good will will I be your companion. Faithful replies, come on in and let us go together and let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable. Talkative, to talk of things that are good to me is very acceptable, with you or with any other. And I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so go to work, for to speak the truth there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they are in their travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit, and this has been a trouble to me. That is indeed, replied Faithful, a thing to be lamented, for what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth as are the things of the God of heaven? Talkative, I like you wonderfully well. For your saying is full of conviction, and I will add, what thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God? What thing so pleasant, that is, if a man hath any delight in the things that are wonderful? For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the history, or the mystery of things, or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he find things recorded so delightful, or so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture? That's true, replied Faithful, but to be profited by such things in our talk should be that which we design. Talkative, that is it that I said, for to talk of such things is most profitable, for by so doing a man may get knowledge of many things, as of the vanity of earthly things and the benefit of things above. Thus in general, but more particularly, by this a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like. By this also a man may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the gospel to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the ignorant. Faithful replies, All this is true, and glad am I to hear these things from you. Alas, replied Talkative, the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul in order to eternal life, but ignorantly live in the works of the law by which a man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven. Faithful. But by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God. No man attaineth to them by human industry or only by the talk of them. Talkative. All that I know very well, for a man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven. All is of grace, not of works. I could give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this." Well then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall at this time found our discourse upon? O brave Talkative. Talkative replies, What you will. I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly, things moral or things evangelical. things sacred or things profane, things past or things to come, things foreign or things at home, things more essential or things circumstantial, provided that all be done to our Prophet. Now did Faithful begin to wonder, and stepping to Christian, for he walked all this while by himself, he said to him softly, What a brave companion have we got! Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim. At this, Christian modestly smiled and said, This man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not. Faithful asked, Do you know him, men? Know him? said Christian. Yes, better than he knows himself. Pray, what is he? asked Faithful. His name is Talkative. He dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should be a stranger to him, only I consider that our town is large. Faithful, whose son is he, and whereabout doth he dwell? Christian replies, He is the son of one Saywell. He dwelt in Pratting Row, and is known to all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Pratting Row. And notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow. Well, said Faithful, he seems to be a very pretty man. That is, said Christian, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him. For he is best abroad. Near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but very near more unpleasing. But I am ready to think you do but jest, said Faithful, because you smiled. Christian, God forbid that I should jest, though I smiled, in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is for any company and for any talk. As he talketh now with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale bench. And the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, his house, or conversation. All he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise therewith. Faithful, say you so? Then am I in this man greatly deceived. Deceive, said Christian, you may be sure of it. Remember the proverb, they say and do not. But the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith and of the new birth. But he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family and have observed him both at home and abroad. And I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion. as the white of an egg is of savour. There is there neither prayer nor sign of repentance for sin. Yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him. It can hardly have a good word in all that end of the tongue where he dwells through him. Thus say the common people that know him, a saint abroad and a devil at home. His poor family finds it so, He is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. Men that have any dealings with him say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealing they shall have at their hands. This talkative, if it be possible, will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to follow his steps, And if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness, for so he calls the first appearance of a tender conscience, he calls them fools and blockheads, and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendation before others. For my part, I love opinion that he has by his wicked life caused many to stumble and fall, and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more. Well, my brother, said Faithful, I am bound to believe you, not only because you say you know him, but also because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. For I cannot think you speak these things of ill will, but because it is even so as you say. Christian, had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps have thought of him as at first you did. Yea, had he received this report at their hands only, that our enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a slander. a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's names and professions. But all these things, yea, and a great many more is bad, of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him. They can neither call him brother nor friend. The very naming of him among them makes them blush, if they know him. Well, said Faithful, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I shall better observe this distinction. They are two things indeed, said Christian, and are as diverse as the soul and the body. For as the body without the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion is the practical part. Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world. This, talkative, is not aware of. He thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed. Talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us assure ourselves that, at the day of doom, men shall be judged according to their fruits. It will not be said then, Did you believe? But were you doers or talkers only? And accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared to our harvest And you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted that is not fruit, but I speak this to show you how insignificant the profession of talkative will be at that day. Then said Faithful, This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he described the beast that is clean. He is such a one that parteth the hoof and cheweth the cud, not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. the hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth talkative. He cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth up the word, but he divideth not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners, but, as the hare, retaineth the foot of the dog or bear, and therefore is unclean. Christian, you have spoken, for aught I know, the two gospel synths of those texts. And I will add another thing. Paul calls some men, yea, and those great talkers too, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, that is, as he expounds them in another place, things without life giving sound. Things without life, that is, without the true faith and grace of the gospel, and consequently things that shall never be placed in the kingdom of heaven among those that are the children of life, though their sound, by their talk, Be as if it were the voice or tongue of an angel. Faithful, while I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him? Christian replies, take my advice and do as I bid, and you shall find that he will soon be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart and turn it. What would you have me to do? Asked Faithful. Why, said Christian, go to him and enter into some serious discourse about the power of religion, and ask him plainly, when he has approved of it, for that he will, whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation. Then Faithful stepped forward again and said to Talkative, Come, what cheer! How is it now? Thank you well, said Talkative. I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this time. Talkative's false discovery of a work of grace. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now. And since you left it with me to state the question, let it be this. How doth the saving grace of God discover itself when it is in the heart of men? Talkative. I perceive then that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it is a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you, and take my answer in brief thus. First, where the grace of God is in the heart, It causes there a great outcry against sin. Secondly, Nay, hold on a minute, said Faithful. Let us consider of one at once. I think you should rather say, It shows itself by inclining the soul to abhor its sin. Asked Talkative, Why, what difference is there between crying out against and abhorring of sin? To cry out against sin, no sign of grace. Oh, a great deal, said Faithful. A man may cry out against sin of policy, but he cannot abhor it but by virtue of a godly hatred against it. I have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very chaste, but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness with him. Some cry out against sin, Even as the mother cries out against her child in the lap when she calls it slut and naughty girl and then falls to hugging and kissing it. You lie at the catch I perceive, said Talkative. No, not I, said Faithful. I am only for setting things right. But what is the second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of the work of grace in the heart? Talkative. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. Great knowledge, no sign of grace. faithful replies, This sign should have been first, but first or last it is also false. For knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so consequently be no child of God. When Christ said, Do ye know all these things? And the disciples had answered, Yes. He added, Blessed are ye if you do them. He doth not lay the blessing in the knowledge of them, but in the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing. He that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not. A man may know like an angel, and yet be no Christian. Therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing that pleases talkers and boasters, but to do is that which pleases God. Not that the heart can be good without knowledge, for without that the heart is not. There is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge, knowledge that rests in the very speculation of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace and faith of love, which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart. The first of these will serve the talker, but without the other the true Christian is not content. Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law, yea, I shall observe it with all my heart. Talkative. You lie at the catch again. This is not for edification. Faithful. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace discovers itself where it is. Talkative. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. Faithful. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it? Talkative. You may use your liberty. So Faithful responds. A work of grace in the soul discovers itself either to him that hath it or to standers by. one good sign of grace. To him that hath it thus, it gives him conviction of sin, especially of the defilement of his nature, and the sin of unbelief, for the sake of which he is sure to be damned if he finds not mercy at God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ. This sight and sense of things works in him sorrow and shame for sin. He finds, moreover, revealed in him the Savior of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing with him for life. at the which he finds hungerings and thirstings after him, to which hungerings, etc., the promise is made. Now, according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his Savior, so are his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know him more and also to serve him in this world. But though I say it discovers itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace. because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make his mind to misjudge in this matter. Therefore in him that hath his work there is required a very sound judgment, before he can with steadiness conclude that this is a work of grace. To others it is thus discovered, 1. by an experimental confession of his faith in Christ, 2. by a life answerable to that confession, to wit, a life of holiness, heart holiness family holiness, if he has a family, and by conversation holiness in the world, which in the general teaches him inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret, to suppress it in his family, and to promote holiness in the world, not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to the power of the word. And now, sir, As to this brief description of the work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if you have ought to object, object. If not, then give me leave to propound to you a second question. Talkative. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear. Let me therefore have your second question. Another good sign of grace. Faithful. It is this. Do you experience the first part of this description of it? And do your life and conversation testify the same? or stands your religion in word or in tongue, and not in deed or truth? Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say no more than you know the God above will say Amen to, and also nothing but what your conscience can justify you in. For not he that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am thus and thus when my conversation and all my neighbors tell me I lie, is great wickedness. Then talkative at first began to blush, But recovering himself, thus he replied, You come now to experience, to conscience, and God, and to appeal to him for justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect, nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon me to be a catechizer. And though you should do so, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions? faithful, because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your mouth professional lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, and that religion fares the worse for your ungodly conversation. that some already have stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby. Your religion, and an ale-house, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said of a whore to wit, that she is a shame to all women. So you are a shame to all professors." Talkative replies. Since you are ready to take up reports and to judge so racially as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with. And so, adieu." Then came up Christian and said to his brother, "'I told you how it would happen. Your words and his lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your company than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said. Let him go. The loss is no man's but his own. He has saved us the trouble of going from Him. For He continuing, as I suppose He will do, as He is, He would have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the Apostle says, From such withdraw thyself. Faithful answers. But I am glad we had this little discourse with Him. It may happen that He will think of it again. However, I have dealt plainly with Him, and so am clear of His blood, if He perishes. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. There is but little of this faithful dealing with men nowadays, and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of many as it does. For they are these talkative fools, whose religion is only in word, and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly, do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done, Then should they be made more comfortable to religion, or the company of saints would be too hot for them. Then said Faithful, How talkative at first lifts up his plumes! How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes to drive down all before him! But so soon as Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon that's past the full, Into the wane he goes, and so will all but he who heart-work knows. Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made that way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to them, for now they went through a wilderness. Chapter 6 Now when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and despised one coming after him, and he knew him. O said Faithful to his brother, Who comes yonder? Then Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist. I and my good friend too, said Faithful, for it was he that sent me the way to the gate. Now was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted them. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers. Christian Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist. The sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwavering laboring for my eternal good. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful, By company, O sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims! Then said Evangelist, How has it fared with you, my friends, since the time of our last parting? What have you met with, and how have you behaved yourselves? Then Christian and faithful told him of all the things that had happened to them in the way, and how, and with what difficulty they had arrived at that place. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you met with trials, but that you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for my own sake and yours. I have sowed, and you have reaped, and the day is coming when both he that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together, that is, if you hold out, for in due season you shall reap if you faint not. The crown is before you, And it is an uncorruptible one, so run that you may obtain it. Some there be that set out for this crown, and after they have gone far for it, another comes in and takes it from them. Hold fast, therefore, that you have. Let no man take your crown. You are not yet out of the gunshot of the devil, and you have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin. Let the kingdom be always before you, and believe steadfastly concerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the other world get within you. And above all, look well to your own hearts and to the lust thereof, for they are deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. Set your faces like a flint. You have all power in heaven and earth on your side." Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but told him withal that they would have him speak further to them for their help the rest of the way. and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell them of things that might happen unto them, and also how they might resist and overcome them. To which request faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth, He whose lot it will be there to suffer will have the better of his brother. Evangelist replies, My sons You have heard in the words of the truth of the gospel that you must through much tribulations enter into the kingdom of heaven, and again that, in every city bonds and afflictions await you, and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage without them in some sort or other. You have found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will immediately follow. For now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, And therefore you will soon come into a town, that you will by and by see before you. And in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard, but they will kill you. And be sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you hold with blood. But be faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown of life. He that shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps great, he will yet have the better of his fellow. not only because he will be arrived at the celestial city soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves like men, and commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator. Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them. And the name of that town is Vanity. And at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter than Vanity, and also because all that is there sold, or that come hither, is Vanity. As in the saying of the wise, all that cometh is Vanity. This fair is no new erected business, but a thing of ancient standing. I will show you the original of it. Almost five thousand years ago there were pilgrims walking to the celestial city, as these Tuana's persons are, and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion with their companions. Perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made that their way to the city lay through this town of vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair, a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. Therefore at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures, and delights of all sorts as whores, bauds, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver and gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not. And, moreover, at this fair there are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind. Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false swears, and that of a blood-red color. And, as in all other fairs of less moment, there are several rows in streets under their proper names, where such and such wares are vended. So here likewise you have the proper places, rows, streets, namely countries and kingdoms, where the wares of this fare are soonest to be found. Here are the Britain row, the French row, the Italian row, the Spanish row, the German row, where several sorts of entities are to be sold. But as in other fares, some one commodity is as the chief of all the fare, So the ware of Rome and her merchandise are greatly promoted in this fair, only our English nation, which some others have taken dislike thereat. Now, as I said, the way to the celestial city lies just through this town where this lusty fair is kept. And he that would go to the city and yet not go through this town must needs go out of the world. The prince of princes himself, when here, went through this town to his own country. and that upon a fair day too, yea, and as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities. Yea, would have made him lord of the fair, would he but have done him reverence as he went to the town. Yea, because he was such a person of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if possible, allure that blessed one to cheapen and buy some of his vanities. But he had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the town without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities. This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long standing, and a very great fair. Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair. Well, so they did. But behold, even as they entered into the fair, All the people in the fair were moved, and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them, and that for several reasons. First, the pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. Well, so they did. But, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them, and that for several reasons. For first, the pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that traded in the fair. The people therefore of the fair made a great gazing upon them. Some said they were fools, some they were bedlams, and some they were outlandish men. Secondly, and as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at their speech, for few could understand what they said. They naturally spoke the language of Canaan, But they that kept the fair were the men of this world, so that from one end of the fair to the other they seemed barbarians each to the other. Thirdly, but that which did not allure amuse the merchandisers was, that these pilgrims sat very light by all their wares. They cared not so much as to look upon them, and if they called upon them to buy they would put their fingers in their ears and cry, Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity, and look upwards. signifying that their trade and traffic were in heaven. One chanced, mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say unto them, What will you buy? But they looking gravely upon him said, We buy the truth. At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more, some mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some calling on others to smite them. At last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair. in so much that all order was confounded. Now was word presently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came down and brought some of his most trusty friends to take these men into examination, about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men were brought to examination, and they that sat upon them asked them whence they came, whither they went, and what they did there in such unusual garb. The men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going to their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem, and that they had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, and to let them in their journey, except it was for that, when one asked them what they would buy, they said that they would buy the truth. But they that were appointed to examine them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There therefore they lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge, the great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. But the men were patient, and not rendering railing for railing, but contrarywise blessing, and giving good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done. Some men in the fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done them to the men. They therefore, in an angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. The others replied that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet and sober, and intended nobody any harm, and that there were many that traded in their fare that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. Thus, after divers' words had passed on both sides, the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them, They fell to some blows and did harm to one another. Then were these two poor men brought before their examiners again, and they are charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest any should speak in their behalf or join themselves unto them. But Christian and faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ridicule and shame that were cast upon him with so much meekness and patience that it won to their side, though but few in comparison of the rest, several of the men in the fair. This put the other party in yet a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of these two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they should die for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair. Then were they remanded to the cage again until further order should be taken with them. So they put them in and made their feet fast in the stocks. Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful friend evangelist and were more confirmed in their way and suffering by what he told them would happen to them. This Reformation audio track is a production of Stillwater's revival book. Swrb makes thousands of classic Reformation resources available, free and for sale, in audio, video, and printed formats. Our many free resources, as well as our complete mail-order catalog, containing thousands of classic and contemporary Puritan and Reform books, tapes, and videos at great discounts, is on the web at www.swrb.com. We can also be reached by email at swrb.com, by phone at 780-450-3730, by fax at 780-468-1096, or by mail at 4710-37A Edmonton, that's E-D-M-O-N-T-O-N Alberta, abbreviated capital A, capital B, Canada, T6L3T5. You may also request a free printed catalog. And remember that John Calvin, in defending the Reformation's regulative principle of worship, or what is sometimes called the scriptural law of worship, commenting on the words of God, which I commanded them not, neither came into my heart. From his commentary on Jeremiah 731, writes, God here cuts off from men every occasion for making evasions, since He condemns by this one phrase, I have not commanded them, whatever the Jews devised. There is then no other argument needed to condemn superstitions than that they are not commanded by God. For when men allow themselves to worship God according to their own fancies, and attend not to His commands, they pervert true religion. And if this principle was adopted by the papists, all those fictitious modes of worship in which they absurdly exercise themselves would fall to the ground. It is indeed a horrible thing for the Papists to seek to discharge their duties towards God by performing their own superstitions. There is an immense number of them, as it is well known, and as it manifestly appears. Were they to admit this principle, that we cannot rightly worship God except by obeying his word, they would be delivered from their deep abyss of error. The Prophet's words, then, are very important, when he says that God had commanded no such thing, and that it never came to his mind, as though he had said that men assume too much wisdom when they devise what he never required, nay, what he never knew.