Chapter VIII

Now I saw that they went to the ascent that was a little way off, cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims (that was the place from whence Christian had the first sight of Faithful his brother;) (See Part I. p. 78.) Wherefore here they siit down, and rested; they also here did eat and drink, and made merry; for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide, if he had caught no hurt in the battle f Then said Mr. Great-heart, No, save a little on my flesh; yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment, that it is at present a proof of my love to my Master and you, and shall be a means, by grace, to increase my reward at last.

But was you not afraid, good Sir, when you saw him come with his club?

It is my duty, said he, to mistrust my own ability, that I may have reliance on him that is stronger than all. But what did you think, when he fetched you down to the ground at the first blow? Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master himself was served, and yet he it was that conquered at last (a).

Matt. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonderfully good unto us, both in brmging us out of this valley, and in delivering us out of the hand of this enemy; for my part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God any more, since he has now, and in such a

place as this, given us such testimony of his lote as this.

Then they got np, and went forward: now a Rule before them stood an oak, and under it, when they came to it, they found an o!d pilgrim fast asleep: they knew that he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and his «r,iff, and his girdle.

So the guide, Mr. Great-he.irt, awaked him ; and -the old gentleman, as he lift up his eyes, cried out, What's the matter? Who are you i And what is your business here?

Great-heart. Come, man, be not so hot; here is none but friends: yet the old man gets up, ami stands upon his guard, and will know of them what they were. Then said the ginde, my name is Greatheart, I am the guide of these pilgrims, which are going to the coelestial country.

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

Great-heart. Why, what would, or could you have done, or have helped yourself, if we indeed had been of that company?

Hon. Done! why I would have fought as long as breath had been in me; and had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst ou't; for a christian can never be overcome unless he shoidd yield of himself.

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

Hon. And by this also 1 know that thou knowest what true pilgrimage is; for all others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any.

Great-heart. Well, now we are happily met, pray let me crave your name, and the name oi tiie place you came from?

lion. My name I cannot, but I came from ih» town of Stupidrtv; it lietb about four degrees beyond the city of Destruction.

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

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

Great-/teart. I had heard of you before, by my Master; for he knows all tilings that are done on the earth: But I have ofu:n wondered that any should come from your place, for your town is worse than is the city of Destruction itself.

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

Great-heart. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it; for I know the thing is true.

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

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

Hon. I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars, whicn he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your hu»buud rings ..11 over these parts oi tne world; his faiti», his courage, his cnuuring, aud'his sincerity under all, has made Lis name famous. Then he turned to the boys, and a>ked them of their names, which they tol l him: and then said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue (6). S.imhel, s.tiih tic, be thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and praver (c). Joseph, saith he, be thou like Josepli in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flies from temptation (d)." Aiid James, be thou like James the just, and like James the brother of our Lord (e). Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left lier town and her kindred 10 come along with Christiana, and with her sons. At that the old V honest man said, Mercy is thy name; by mercy shah thou be sustained, and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in the way, till thou shah come thither, where thou shalt look "the Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort."

All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon his companion.

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

Hon. Yes, very well, said he. Jrle was a man that had the root of the matter in him, but he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that I ever met with in ail my days.

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

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

Great-heart. I was his guide from my Master's house to the gate of the ccelestial city.

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

(A) Matt. x. 3. (c) Ps. xcix. 6.

(4) Gen. xxxix. (*') Acts, i, 13, 14.

Great-heart. I did so, but I could very well bear it: for n.en of my calling iire oftentimes entrusted with the conduct of such as he wa*.

Hon. Well, then, pray let us hear a little of lii:n, • nd how he managed himself under your conduct.

Great-heart. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short whither he had a desire to go. Every thing frightened hitn that he heard any body speak of, that had but the least appearance of opposition in it.

I hear that lie lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for above a mouth together ; nor durst he, lor all he saw several go over before him, venture, though they, many ol them, offered to lend him their bands. He would not go back neither. The ccelestiai city, he said, he should die if he came not to it, and yet was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that any body cast m his way.. Well, after he had Iain at the Slough of Despond a great while, as 1 have told you, one sun-shiny morning, I don't know how, he ventured, and so got over: but when he was over, he would scarce believe it. He had I think a Slough of Despond in I. s mind, a slough that he carried every where with him, or else he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the head of this way, and there also he stood a good while before he would venture to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back and give place to others, and say, that he was not worthy: for all he got before some to the gate, yet many cf tliem went in before him. Thtre the poor man would stand shaking and shrinking ; I daresay it would have pitied one's beast to have seen him: ~ nor wotild he go back again. At last he took the hammer that hanged at the gate m his hand, and gave a small rap or two; then one opened to him, but he shrunk baik as before. He that opened stept out after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what wautest thou? with that he fell down to the ground.

He that spoke to him wondered to see him so faint. He eaid to him, Peace be to thee; up, for I have set open the door to thee; come in, for thou art blest. With that he got up, and went in trembling; and when that he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been entertained there awhile, as you know how the manner is, he was hid go on his way, and also told the way he should take. So he came till he came to our house; but as he behaved himself at the guio, so he did at my Master, the Interpreter's door, lie lay thereabouts in the cold a gi o i w hile, before he would adventure to cal'; yet lie would not go hack. And the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master to receive him, and grant him toe comtbtts of his house, and also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because ha was himself so chicken-hearted a man; and yet for all that he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, poor man; he was almost starved ; 3'ea, so great was his dejection, th..t though he saw se veral others for knocking got in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I think I looked out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down about the door, I went out to him, and asked what he was; but, poor man, the water stood in his eyes: so I perceived what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the things to our Lord: so he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in, but I dare say, I had hard work to do it. At last he came in, and I will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonderfully !oving"^iiim. There were but few good bits at the table, but soiweof it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented the not:", and my Lord, looking thereon, said, his desire should be granted. So when he had been there a good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to be a little more comforted. For my Master, you must know, is one of very tender bowels, especially to them thjtare afraid j wherefore he carried it so towards him, as might tend most to his encomagement. Well, when he had a sight of the things of the place, and was ready to take hisjoumey to go to the city, my Lord, as he cLd to Christian before, gave him a bottle of spirits, and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went before him; but the man was hut of few words, only he would sigh aloud.

When we were come to w here the three fellows were hanged, he said, That he doubted that that would be his end also. Only lie seemed glad when he saw the cross, and the sepulchre. There I confess he desired to stav a little to look ; and he seemed for awhile «fter to be a little comforted. W!;eu we Came to -the lull Diificuhy, be made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions: foryau must know, 'J ii it his troubl; s were not about such tilings as these ; ins U.ar wis about his acceptance at list.

I {.'(•: hi n in at the house Beautiful, I think, before he w..s fillmg; also when he was in, I brought him acquamted with the dam-els that were ot the place, but he was ashamed to make himself much for company; he desired much to be alone, yet he always loved good talk, «nd often would get behind 'the skreen to hear it: he also loved much to see ancient things, and to he pondering them in his mind. He told me afterwards, that he loved to be in those two houses from which he cams last, to wit, at the ga'e, and that of the Interpreter, hut that he durst not he so bold as to ask.

When he went aho from the house Beautiful, down the hill, into the Val'ey of Humiliation, he went down as well as tver I saw a man it) my life, for he eared not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that valley and him, for 1 never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than he was in that Valley.

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

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have lost my man; not for that he had any inclination to go back, that he always abhorred, but he was ready to die for fear. O! the hobgoblins will hare me, the hobgoblins will have me, cried he; and I could not beat him out on't. He made sucha noi&e, and such an out-cry here, that had they but heard him, 'twas enough to encourage them to come and fall upon u«.

Bht this I took very great notice of, That this valley was as quiet when we went through it, as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had a special check from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr. Fearing w,:s passed over it.

It would be too tedious to tell you of all; we will, therefore, only mention a passage or two more. When he Was come to Vanity-Fair, I thought he would have fought with all the men in the fair; I feared there we should both have been knocked on the head, so hot was he against fooleries: Upon the Enchanted Ground he was also very wakeful. But when he was come at the river, where was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case: Now, now, he said, he should be drowned for ever, and so never see that face vr.th comfort that he had come so many miles to behold.

And here also I took notice of what was very re* mai kabfe; the water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life; so he went over at last, not much above wet-shod. When he was going up to the gate, Mr. Great-heart began to take his kav<; of him, and to wish him a good re*

ccption above ; so he said " I shall, I shall." Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more.

Hon. Then it seems he was well at last.

Great-heart. Yes, yes, I never had doubt about him; lie was a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept very low, and that made his life so bur, (lensome to hin:*elf, and so very troublesome to others (e). He was, altove many, tender of sin : he was so afraid of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny himself of that which was lawful, because he would not offend.

Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all his day* so much in the dark?

Xrreat-htart. Tlieve are two sorts of reasons for it; one is, The wise God will have it so; so.uc. must pipf, and some must weep : Now Mr. Fearing was one th it played upon the buss. He and his fellows sound the sackl ut, who-e notes are more doleful than notes of other music are : though indeed some Buy, the bass is the ground of music. And for my part, I care not at all for that profession that begins net in- Leavim ss of mind. The first stringth-.fr the musician usually touches is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune: God also plays upon this string first, when he sets the soul in tune for himself. Only there was the imperfection of Mr. Feiring, he coulif play upon no other music but this till towards his latter end.

I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the ripening of the wits of young readers; and because, in the book of the Revelation, the saved are comp ired to a company of musicians, that play upou their trumpets and harps, and sing their songs before the throne (A).

(g) Psalm Ixxiii. Kom. .xiv. 21. 1 Cor. viii. 13.
(h) Rev. viii. chap. xiv. 9, 3..

Hon., He was a very zealous man, as one may see by what relation you have given of him; difficulties, lions, or Vanity-Fair, he feared not at all; it was Only sin, deuth, and hell, that was to him a terror;' because he had soma doubts about his interest in that cctle.st'al country.

Great-heart. You say right; those were the things that were his troubles; and they, as you have well observed, arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout; not from weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe, that, as the proverb is, "he could have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his way :" but those things with which he was oppressed, no man ever yet could shake off with ease.

Christ. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me good: I thought nobody had been like me; but I see there was some semblance 'twixt this good man and I, only we differ in two things: his troubles were so great, that they brake out, but mine I kept within: his also lay so hard upon him, they made him that he could not knock at the houses provided for entertainment; but my troubles were always such, as made me knock the louder.

Mercy. If 1 might also speak my mind, I must say, that something of him has also dwelt in me. For 1 have ever been more afraid of the lake, and the loss of a place in paradise, than I have been at the loss of other tilings. () ! thought I, may I have the happiness to have a habitation there! 'tis enough, though I part with all the world to win it.

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

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

Great-heart. Well said, James, thou hast hit the mark: for the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ; and to be sure, they that Wihtthe beginning, have neither middle nor end. But we wdl here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearitig, after we have sent him his furwell.

Their farewell about him.

Whilst, Master Fearing, thou didst fear

Thy God, and W3st afraid
Of doing any thing, while here,

That would have thee betray'd.

And didst thou fear Jhe lake and pit?

Would others do so too!
For, as for them, that want thy wit,

They do themselves undo.

ExpLJxaTtitr Notes.

IN a world like this, the true pilgrim entertains a holy suspicion of every thing about him. Hence good Mr. Honest was afraid to associate with our heavenly travellers, till he was fully persuaded of their real character. How natural is it for real christians to wish to know what God has done for the souls of their companions; and how willing are they to give a reason and an account of the hope that is in them, with meekness and fear. All such will humble themselvei as the vilest sinners, while they exalt that powerful grace which can thaw even a mountain of ice.

The character of Mr. Fearing is well drawn, and wisely adapted to comfort the feebV-minded. He was full of gloomy apprehensions that he should come short at last—was a long time at the Slough of Despond—was terribly afiaid to knock at the gate, and terrified almost to death in the dark valley. Yet with all his fears and doubts, he possessed the essentials of Christianity. He came in, aseveiy believer does, by Christ, the gate: He could never be prevailed on to turn back; he loved to gaze at therms and sepulchre; he loved to meditate in the Valley of Humiliation ; he was exceedingly bold in his opposition to the sinful vanities of the world; his

conscience was tender, and much afraid of sin; he was also scrupulously exact in all his dealings with men. Such a character as this, with all its imperfections, is abundantly wore honourable than that of the proud antinomian boaster, whose unholy life, unsanctified tempers, dishonest practices, and wordly compliance?, give the lie diri ct to all his splendid pretensions. Poor Mr. Fearing held on his way; his dear Lord was very tender of him—gave him the choicest hits at his table, and graciously supported him in the last hour. Many a timid soul dies easily and comfortably, who, through fear of death, had all his life-time been subject to bondage. Let this relation encourage the fearful saint, who thinks himself the most weak and unworthy of all his Lord's disciples. The part assigned to some, in the music of the earthly tabernacle, is-the bass, which, as our author says, is the ground of music. But such shall soon unite with the heavenly chorus.

When they arrive in yonder cloud,

With all his favourd throng;
Then will they sing more sweet, mors lead,

And Christ shall be- the song.