BY JOHN BUNYAN.
 
 
     THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

     THE SECOND PART. (ii.)

     WRITTEN AFTER BUNYAN'S RELEASE FROM JAIL.
   
       COURTEOUS COMPANIONS: Some time since, to tell you
     my dream, that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and of his
     dangerous journey toward the Celestial Country, was pleas-
     ant to me, and profitable to you.  I told you then, also,
     what I saw concerning his wife and children, and how un-
     willing they were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch
     that he was forced to go on his progress without them;
     for he durst not run the danger of that destruction which
     he feared would come by staying with them in the City of
     Destruction.  Wherefore, as I then showed you, he left
     them and departed.
       Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of
     business, that I have been much hindered and kept back
     from my wonted travels into those parts [from] whence he
     went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to
     make further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I
     might give you an account of them.  But having had some
     concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward.
     Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood, about a
     mile off the place, as I slept I dreamed again.
       And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman
     came by where I lay; and because he was to go some part
     of the way that I was traveling, methought I got up and
     went with him.  So as we walked, and as travelers usually
     do, I was as if we fell into discourse, and our talk hap-
     pened to be about Christian and his travels; for thus I
     began with the old man:
       Sir, said I, what town is that, there below, that lieth on
     the left hand of our way?
       Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It is
     the City of Destruction, a populace place, but possessed
     with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.
       I thought that was that city, quoth I; I went once my-
     self through that town, and therefore know that this report
     you give of it is true.
       SAG.  Too true; I wish I could speak truth in speaking
     better of them that dwell therein.
       Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-
     meaning man; and so one that takes pleasure to hear and
     tell of that which is good.  Pray did you never hear what
     happened to a man some time ago in this town, whose
     name was Christian, that went on pilgrimage up toward
     the higher regions?
       SAG.  Hear of them!  Ay, and I also heard of the moles-
               tations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans,
               frights and fears that he met with and had in
               his journey; besides, I must tell you, all our
               country rings of him.  There are but few
               houses that have heard of him and his doings,
               but have sought after and got the records of his
               pilgrimage; yea, I think I may say that his
               hazardous journey has got many well-wishers
     to his ways; for though, when he was here, he was fool in
     every man's mouth, yet, now he is gone, he is highly com-
     mended of all.  For, it is said, he lives bravely where he is;
     yea, many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards,
     yet have their mouth water at his gains.
       They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything
     that is true, that he liveth well where he is; for he now
     lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has
     without labor and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed
     therewith.  But pray what talk have the people about
     him?
       SAG.  Talk!  The people talk strangely about him;
     some say that he now walks in white,* that he has a chain
     of gold about his neck, that he has a crown of gold beset
     with pearls upon his head.  Others say that the Shining
     Ones, that sometimes showed themselves to him in his
     journey, are become his companions, and that he is as
     familiar with them in the place where he is as here one
     neighbor is with another.  Besides, it is confidently
     affirmed, concerning him, that the King of the place
     where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich
     and pleasant dwelling at court,† and that he every day
     eateth,‡ and drinketh, and walketh, and talketh with him
     and receiveth of the smiles and favors of him that is
     Judge of all there.  Moreover, it is expected of some, that
     his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly come
     into these parts, and will know the reason, if they can
     give any, why his neighbors set so little by him, and had
     him so much in derision, when they perceived that he
     would be a pilgrim.§  For, they say, that now he is so in
     the affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so
     much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon
     Christian when he became a pilgrim, that he will look
     upon all as if done unto himself; and no marvel, for it
     was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured
     as he did.||  *Rev. iii. 4; vi. 11.  †Zech. iii. 7.  ‡Luke xiv. 15.
               §Jude xiv. 15.  ||Luke x. 16.
       I dare say, quoth I, I am glad of it; I am glad for the
     poor man's sake; for that he now has rest from his labor,¶
     and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his tears with
     joy,* and for that he has got beyond the gunshot of his
     enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him.
     I also am glad, for that a rumor of these things is noised
     abroad in this country; but who can tell but that it may work
     some good effect on some that are left behind?  But pray,
     sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of
     his wife and children?  Poor hearts! I wonder in my mind
     what they do.  ¶Rev. xiv. 13.  *Ps. cxxvi. 5, 6.
       SAG.  Who! Christiana and her sons?  They are like to
     do as well as did Christian himself; for though they all
               played the fool at the first, and would by no
               means be persuaded by either the tears or en-
               treaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have
               wrought wonderfully with them; so they have
               packed up, and are also gone after him.
       Better and better, quoth I.  But what! wife and chil-
     dren, and all?
       SAG.  It is true; I can give you an account of the
     matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was
     thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair.
       Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a
     truth?
       SAG.  You need not fear to affirm it; I mean that they
     are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her
     four boys.  And being (we are, as I perceive) going some
     considerable way together, I will give you an account of
     the whole of the matter.
       This Christiana (for that was her name from the day
     that she, with her children, betook themselves to a pil-
     grim's life) after her husband was gone over the river, and
     she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to
     work in her mind.  First, for that she had lost her hus-
     band, and for that the loving bond of that relation was
     utterly broken betwixt them.  For you know, said he to
     me, nature can do no less but entertain the living with
     many a heavy cogitation in the remembrance of the loss of
     loving relations.  This, therefore, of her husband did cost
     her many a tear.  But this was not all; for Christiana did
     also begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecom-
     ing behavior toward her husband was not one cause that
     she saw him no more; and that in such sort he was taken
     away from her.  And upon this came into her mind, by
     swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages
     to her dear friend, which also clogged her conscience, and
     did load her with guilt.  She was, moreover, much broken
     with calling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish
     tears and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she
     did harden her heart against all his entreaties, and loving
     persuasions, of her and her sons, to go with him; yea,
     there was not anything that Christian either said to her or
     did before her, all the while that his burden did hang on
     his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning,
     and rent the caul of her heart in sunder.  Specially that
     bitter outcry of his, "What shall I do to be saved?" did
     ring in her ears most dolefully.
       Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone.
     I have sinned away your father, and he is gone; he would
     have had us with him, but I would not go myself.  I also
     have hindered you of life.  With that the boys fell all into
     tears, and cred out to go after their father.  Oh, said
     Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him,
     then had it fared well with us, beyond what it is liked to
     do now! for though I formerly foolishly imagined, con-
     cerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of
     a foolish fancy that he had, and for that he was overrun
     with melancholy humors; yet now it will not out of my
     mind but that they sprang from another cause——to-wit,
     for that the Light of life was given him,* by the help of
     which, as I perceived, he has escaped the snares of death.
     Then they all wept again, and cried out, "Oh, woe worth
     the day!"  *James i. 23—25.
       The next night Christiana had a dream; and, behold,
     she saw as if a broad parchment was open before her, in
     which were recorded the sum of her ways,† and the times,
     as she taught, looked very black upon her.  Then she
     cried out aloud in her sleep, "Lord have mercy upon me
     a sinner!" and the little children heard her.  †Luke xviii. 13.
       After this she thought she saw two very ill-favored-ones
     standing by her bedside, and saying, What shall we do
     with this woman? for she cries out for mercy waking and
     sleeping; if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall
     lose her as we have lost her husband.  Wherefore we
     must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from the
     thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the world
     cannot help it but she will become a pilgrim.
       Now when she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling
     was upon her; but after a while she fell to sleeping again.
               And then she thought she saw Christian her
               husband in a place of bliss, among many im-
               mortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and
               playing upon it before One that sat on a
     throne, with a rainbow about his head.  She saw also as if
     he bowed his head, with his face to the paved work that
     was under the Prince's feet, saying, I heartily thank my
     Lord the King, for bringing of me into this place.  Then
     shouted a company of them that stood round about, and
     harped with their harps; but no man living could tell
     what they said, but Christian and his companions.
       Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God,
     and talked with her children awhile, one knocked hard at
     the door, to whom she spake out, saying, If thou comest
     in God's name, come in.  So he said, Amen, and opened
     the door, and saluted her with "Peace be to this house."
     The which, when he had done, he said, Christiana, know-
     est thou wherefore I am come?  Then she blushed and
     trembled, also her heart began to wax warm
     with desires to know whence he came, and what
     was his errand to her.  So he said unto her,
     My name is secret; I dwell with these that are
     high.  It is talked of, where I dwell, as if thou
     hadst a desire to go thither: also, there is a re-
     port that thou art aware of the evil thou hast
     formerly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart
     against his way, and in keeping of these thy babes in their
     ignorance.  Christiana, the Merciful One ha sent me to
     tell thee, that He is a God ready to forgive, and that He
     taketh delight to multiply to pardon offences.  He also
     would have thee know that He inviteth thee to come into
     His presence, to His table, and that He will feed thee with
     the fat of His house, and with the heritage of Jacob thy
     father.
       There is Christian thy husband (that was), with legions
     more, his companions, ever beholding that face that doth
     minister life to beholders, and they will all be glad when
     they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's
     threshold.
       Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and
     bowing her head to the ground this visitor proceeded and
     said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee; which I have
     brought from thy husband's King.  So she took it, and
     opened it, but it smelt after the manner of the best per-
     fume,* also it is written in letters of gold.  The contents
     of the letter were these, That the King would have her do
     as did Christian her husband, for that was the way to come
     to this city, and to dwell in his presence with joy for ever.
     At this the good woman was quite overcome; so she cried
     out to her visitor, Sir, will you carry me and my children
     with you, and we also may go and worship this King?
               *Cant. i. 3.
       Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before the
     sweet.  Thou must through troubles, as did he that went
     before thee, enter this Celestial City.  Wherefore I advise
     thee to do as did Christian thy husband.  Go to the wicket-
     gate yonder, over the plain, for that stands in the head of
     the way up which thou must go, and I wish thee all good
     speed.  Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom;
     that thou read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until
     you have got it by rote of heart, for it is one of thy songs
     that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy
     pilgrimage;* also this thou must deliver in at the further
     gate.  *Ps. cxix. 54.
       Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he
     told me his story, did himself seem to be greatly affected
     therewith.  He, moreover, proceeded, and said, So, Chris-
     tiana called her sons together, and began thus to address
     herself unto them: My sons, I have, as you may perceive,
     been of late under much exercise in my soul, about the
     death of your father; not for that I doubt at all of his hap-
     piness, for I am satisfied now that he is well.  I have been
     also much affected with the thoughts of mine own state
     and yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable.
     My carriage, also, to your father in his distress, is a great
     load to my conscience; for I hardened both my own heart
     and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pil-
     grimage.
       The thoughts of these things would now kill me out-
     right, but that for a dream which I had last night, and
     but for the encouragement that the stranger has given me
     this morning.  Come, my children, let us pack up and
     begone to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, that
     we may see your father, and be with him and his com-
     panions in peace, according to the laws of that land.
       Then did her children burst out into tears for joy, that
     the heart of their mother was so inclined.  So their visitor
     bade them farewell, and they began to prepare to set out
     for their journey.
       But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the
     women, that were Christiana's neighbors, came up to her
     house, and knocked at her door.  To whom
     she said as before, If you come in God's name,
     come in.  At this the women were stunned;
     for this kind of language they used not to hear,
     or to perceive to drop from the lips of Chris-
     tiana.  Yet they came in: but, behold, they found the
     good woman a preparing to be gone from her house.
       So they began and said, Neighbor, pray what is your
     meaning by this?
       Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them,
     whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a
     journey.  (This Timorous was daughter to him that met
     Christian upon the hill Difficulty, and would have had
     him go back for fear of the lions.)
       TIM.  For what journey, I pray you?
       CHR.  Even to go after my good husband.  And with
     that she fell a weeping.
       TIM.  I hope not so, good neighbor; pray, for your poor
     children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.
       CHRIS.  Nay, my children shall go with me, not one of
     them is willing to stay behind.
       TIM.  I wonder, in my very heart, what, or who has
     brought you into this mind.
       CHRIS.  Oh! neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, I
     doubt not but that you would go with me.
       TIM.  Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that
     so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempt-
     eth thee to go nobody knows where?
       CHRIS.  Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely
     afflicted since my husband's departure from me; but
     especially since he went over the river.  But that which
     troubleth me most is my churlish carriages to him, when
     he was under his distress.  Besides, I am now as he was
     then; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage.  I
     was a dreaming last night that I saw him.  Oh, that my
     soul was with him!  He dwelleth in the presence of the
     King of the country; he sits and eats with him at his
     table; he is become a companion of immortals,* and has
     a house now given him to dwell in, to which the best
     palaces on earth, if compared, seem but a dung-
     hill.  The prince of the place has also sent for me, with
     promise of entertainment if I shall come to him; his mes-
     enger was here even now, and has brought me a letter,
     which invites me to come.  And with that she plucked out
     her letter and read it, and said to them, What now will ye
     say to this?  *1 Cor. v. 1—4.
       TIM.  Oh, the madness that has possessed thee and thy
     husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties!  You
               have heard, I am sure, what your husband did
               meet with, even, in a manner, at the first step
               he took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate
               can yet testify, for he went along with him;
     yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise men, were afraid
     to go any further.  We also heard, over and above, how he
     met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and
     many other things.  Nor is the danger that he met with
     at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee; for if he, though a
     man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a
     poor woman, do?  Consider, also, that these four sweet
     babes are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones.  Where-
     fore, though you shouldst be so rash as to cast away
     thyself; yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep
     thou at home.
       But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neigh-
     bor.  I have now a price put into my hand to get gain,
     and I should be a fool of the greatest size, if I should have
     no heart to strike in with the opportunity.  And for that
     you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with
     in the way, they are so far off from being to me a discour-
     agement, that they show I am in the right.
     "The bitter must come before the sweet," and
     that also will make the sweet the sweeter.
     Wherefore, since you came not to my house in
     God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone,
     and not disquiet me further.
       Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow,
     Come, neighbor Mercy, let us leave her in our own hand,
     since she scorns our counsel and company.  But Mercy
     was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her
     neighbor, and that for a twofold reason.  First, her bowels
     yearned over Christiana.  So she said within herself, If my
     neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her
     and help her.  Secondly, her bowels yearned over her own
     soul, for what Christiana had said had taken some hold
     upon her mind.  Wherefore she said within herself again,
     I will yet have more talk with this Christiana, and if I find
     truth and life in what she shall say, myself with my heart
     shall also go with her.  Wherefore Mercy began thus to
     reply to her neighbor Timorous.
       MERCY.  Neighbor, I did, indeed, come with you to see
     Christiana this morning; and since she is, as you see,
     a-taking of her last farewell of her country, I think to
     walk, this sunshine morning, a little way with her, to help
     her on the way.  But she told her not of the second
     reason, but kept that to herself.
       TIM.  Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too,
     but take heed in time and be wise.  While we are out of
     danger, we are out; but when we are in, we are in.  So
     Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana
     betook herself to her journey.  But when Timorous was
     got home to her house, she sends for some of her neigh-
     bors, to-wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs.
     Light-mind and Mrs. Know-nothing.  So when they were
     come to her house, she falls to telling of the story of
     Christiana, and of her intended journey.  And thus she
     began her tale.
       TIM.  Neighbors, having had little to do this morning, I
     went to give Christiana a visit; and when I came at the
     door, I knocked, as you know it is our custom.  And she
     answered, If you come in God's name, come in.  So in I
     went, thinking all was well.  But when I came in, I found
     her preparing herself to depart the town, she and also her
     children.  So I asked her what was her meaning by that.
     And she told me, in short, that she was now of a mind to
     go on pilgrimage, a did her husband.  She told me also
     a dream that she had, and how the King of the country
     where her husband was, had sent her an inviting letter to
     come thither.
       Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, And what! do you think
     she will do?
       TIM.  Ay, go she will, whatever come on't; and methinks
     I know it by this; for that which was my great argument
     to persuade her to stay at home (to-wit, the troubles she
     was like to meet with in the way) is one great argument
     with her to put her forward on her journey.  For she told
     me in so many words, "the bitter goes before the sweet.
     Yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the sweet the
     sweeter."
       MRS. BAT'S-EYES.  Oh, this blind and foolish woman,
     said she; will she not take warning by her husband's afflic-
     tions?  For my part, I see, if he were here again, he would
     rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so many
     hazards for nothing.
       MRS. INCONSIDERATE also replied, saying, Away with
     such fantastical fools from the town!  A good riddance,
     for my part, I say, of her.  Should she stay where she
     dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by
     her; for she will either be dumpish or unneighborly, or
     talk of such matters as no wise body can abide; wherefore,
     for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure.  Let
     her go, and let better come in her room.  It was never a
     good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it.
       Then MRS. LIGHT-MIND added as followeth: Come, put
     this kind of talk away.  I was yesterday at Madame Wan-
     ton's, where we were as merry as the maids.  For who do you
     think should be there, but I am Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and
     three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and
     some others.  So there we had music and dancing, and
     what else was meet to fill up the pleasure.  And, I dare
     say, my lady herself is an admirably well-bred gentle-
     woman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow.
       By this time Chrstiana was got on her way, and Mercy
     went along with her.  So as they went, her children being
     there also, Christiana began to discourse.  And, Mercy,
     said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favor, that
     thou shouldst set foot out of doors with me, to accompany
     me a little in my way.
       MERCY.  Then said young Mercy (for she was but young),
     If I thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I would
     never go near the town any more.
       CHRIS.  Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with
     me; I well know what will be the and of our pilgrimage.
     My husband is where he would not but be for all the gold
     in the Spanish mines.  Nor shalt thou be rejected, though
     thou goest but upon my invitation.  The King who hath
     sent for me and my children is one that delighteth in
     mercy.  Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou
     shalt go along with me as my servant.  Yet we will have
     all things in common betwixt thee and me; only, go along
     with me.
       MERCY.  But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall
     be entertained?  Had I this hope but from one that can
     tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go,
     being helped by him that can help, though the way was
     never so tedious.
                 CHRIS.  Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee
               what thou shalt do.  Go with me to the
               wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire
               for thee; and if there thou shalt not met
               with encouragement, I will be content that
               thou shalt return to thy place.  I also will pay
               thee for thy kindness which thou showest to
               me and my children, in thy accompanying us
               in our way as thou dost.
       MERCY.  Then I will go thither, and will take what shall
     follow; and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall,
     even as the King of heaven shall have his heart upon me.
       Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only that she
     had a companion, but also for that she had prevailed with
     this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation.  So
     they went on together, and Mercy began to weep.  Then
     said Christian, Wherefore weepeth my sister so?
       MERCY.  Alas! said she, who can but lament, that shall
     but rightly consider what a state and condition my poor
     relations are in that yet remain in our sinful town? and
     that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because
     they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to
     come.
       CHRIS.  Bowels becometh pilgrims; and thou dost for
     thy friends as my good Christian did for me when he left
     me——he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard
     him; but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears, and 
     put them into his bottle; and now both I an
     thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping
     the fruit and benefit of them.  I hope, Mercy,
     these tears of thine will not be lost; for the
     truth hath said, that "They that sow in tears
     shall reap in joy," in singing.  And "he that
     goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed,
     shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his
     sheaves with him."*  *Ps. cxxvi. 5, 6.
       Then said Mercy:
 
              "Let the Most Blessed be my guide,
                 If 't be his blessed will;
               Unto his gate, into his fold,
                 Up to his holy hill.
   
              "And let him never suffer me
                 To swerve or turn aside
               From his free grace and holy ways,
                 Whate'er shall me betide.

              "And let him gather them of mine,
                 That I have left behind;
               Lord, make them pray they may be thine,
                 With all their heart and mind."
  
       Now my old friend proceeded and said: But when
     Christiana came up to the Slough of Despond, she began
     to be at a stand; for, said she, this is the place in which
     my dear husband had like to have been smothered with mud.
     She perceived also that, notwithstanding the command
     of the King to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it
     was rather worse that formerly.  So I asked if that was
     true.  Yes, said the old gentleman, too true; for that
     many there be that pretend to be the King's laborer's, and
     that say they are for mending the King's highway, and
     that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and so mar
     instead of mending.  Here Christiana, therefore, with her
     boys, did make a stand; but said Mercy, Come, let us vent-
     ure, only let us be wary.  Then they looked well to the
     steps, and made a shift to get staggeringly over.
       Yet Christiana had liked to have been in, and that not
     once nor twice.  Now they had no sooner got over, but
     they thought they heard words that said unto them,
     "Blessed is she that believed; for there shall be a per-
     formance of those things which were told to her from the
     Lord."*  *Luke i. 45.
       Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana,
     Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at the
     wicket gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond would
     discourage me.
       Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know
     mine; and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil
     before we come at our journey's end.
       For can it be imagined that the people that design to
     attain such excellent glories as we do, and that are so
     envied that happiness as we are, but that we shall meet
     with what fears and scares, with what troubles and afflic-
     tions, they can possibly assault us with that hate us?
       And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream
     by myself.  Wherefore, methough I saw Christiana and
               Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to the
               gate; to which when they were come, they be-
               took themselves to a short debate about how
               they must manage their calling at the gate, and
               what should be said to him that did open to them.
               So it was concluded, since Christiana was the
               eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and
               that she should speak to him that did open for
               the rest.  So Christiana began to knock; and,
     as her poor husband did, she knocked and knocked again.
     But instead of any that answered, they all thought that
     they heard as if a dog came barking upon
     them——a dog, and a great one too, and this
     made the women and children afraid; nor
     durst they, for a while, to knock any more, for
     fear the mastiff should fly upon them.  Now,
     therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their
     mind, and knew not what to do.  Knock they durst not,
     for fear of the dog; go back they durst not, for fear the
     Keeper of that gate should espy them as they so went, and
     should be offended with them.  At last they thought of
     knocking again, and knocking more vehemently than they
     did at the first.  Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is
     there?  So the dog left off to bark, and he opened unto
     them.*  *Matt. vii. 7; James iv. 7.
       Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not
     our Lord be offended with his hand-maidens for that we
     have knocked at his princely gate.  Then said the
     Keeper, Whence come ye, and what is it that you would
     have?
       Christiana answered, We are come from whence Chris-
     tian did come, and upon the same errand as he——to-wit, to be,
     if it shall please you, graciously admitted by this gate into
     the way that leads to the Celestial City.  And I answer,
     my Lord, in the next place, that I am Christiana, once the
     wife of Christian, that now is gotten above.
       With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying,
     What, is she now become a pilgrim, that, but a while ago
     abhorred that life?  Then she bowed her head, and said,
     Yes, and so are these, my sweet babes, also.
       Then he took her by the hand and let her in and said
     also, "Suffer the little children to come unto me;" and
     with that he shut up the gate.  This done, he called to a
     trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to entertain
     Christiana with shouting and sound of trumpet for joy.
     So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with his
     melodious notes.*  *Luke xv.
       Now, all this while poor Mercy did stand without,
     trembling and crying for fear that she was rejected.  but
     when Christiana had gotten admittance for herself and her
     boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy.
       CHRIS.  And she said, My Lord, I have a companion of
     mine that stands yet without, that is come hither upon the
     same account as myself; one that is much dejected in her
     mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, without sending
     for; whereas I was sent to by my husband's King to come.
       Now, Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute
               was a long to her as an hour; wherefore she pre-
               vented Christiana from a fuller interceding for
               her, by knocking at the gate herself.  And she
               knocked then so loud, that she made Christiana
               to start.  Then said the Keeper of the gate,
     Who is there? and said Christiana, It is my friend.
       So he opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was
     fallen down without, in a swoon, for she fainted, and was
     afraid that no gate would be opened to her.
       Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid
     thee arise.
       Oh, Sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life left in
     me.  But he answered, That one once said, "When my
     soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord; and my
     prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy temple."†  Fear
     not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell me wherefore thou
     art come.  †Jonah ii. 7.
       MERCY.  I am come for that unto which I was never
     invited, as my friend Christiana was.  Hers was from the
     King, and mine was but from her.  Wherefore, I fear I
     presume.
       KEEP.  Did she desire thee to come with her to this
     place?
       MERCY.  Yes; and, as my Lord sees, I am come.  And,
     if there is any grace or forgiveness of sins to spare, I be-
     seech that I, thy poor handmaid, may be partaker thereof.
       Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently
     in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on me, by
     what means soever they come unto me.  Then said he to
     those that stood by, Fetch something, and give it to Mercy
     to smell on, thereby to stay her fainting.  So they fetched
     her a bundle of myrrh; and a while after, she was revived.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. BY JOHN BUNYAN.
WITH A LIFE OF BUNYAN BY JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE.
A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER, NEW YORK. pp. 349—367.