rattle, fiends howl, and unseen monsters rush to and fro: it is the Valley of the Shadow of Death. He enters with drawn sword:

'I saw then in my dream, so far as this Valley reached, there was on the right hand, a very deep ditch: that ditch it is, 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.

The pathway was here also exceeding 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 tip 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 ofttimes, when he lifted up his foot to set forward, he knew not where, or upon what, he should set it next.

...

About the midst of the Valley, I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also hard by the way-side: Now, thought Christian, what shall I do? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises, that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer: so he cried in my hearing, O 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 rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn to pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard, by him for several miles together.'

Ahead,

The way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down there, that had it been dark, as it was when he came the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away.'

And at the end 'lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly.' He passes it, continues straight on till the towers of a distant town appear; and soon he is in the midst of the buyers and sellers, the . loungers and jugglers, of Vanity Fair. He walks by with lowered eyes, not wishing to take part in the festivities and deceits. The people beat him, imprison him, condemn him as a traitor, and burn his companion Faithful. Escaped from them, he advances by the little hill of the silver mine, through a meadow of lilies, along the bank of a pleasant river which is bordered on either side by fruit trees. Thinking to have easier going, he takes a by-path, and falls into the hands of Giant Despair, the keeper of Doubting Castle, the court-yard of which is paved with skulls of pilgrims. The giant beats him, leaves him in a poisonous dungeon without food, finally gives him daggers and cords and advises him to suicide. But Christian suddenly remembers a key in his bosom, called Promise, which will open any lock in the castle. Once more at liberty, he and Hopeful (who joined him

at Vanity Fair) come at last to the Delectable Mountains, from the summit of which they are shown, through a perspective glass, the desired haven. Thence the way lies through the fogs and briers of the Enchanted Ground, with here and there a bed of ease under an arbor of green. Beyond is the land of Beulah, where flowers bloom perpetually, where the songs of birds never cease, and where the sun never sets:

'Here they were within sight of the city they were going to; also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof: for in this land the shining-ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of Heaven. . . . Here they heard voices from out of the city, loud voices, saying, "Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold thy salvation cometh!"

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and, drawing nearer to the city yet, they had a more perfect view thereof: it was built of pearls and precious stones; also the streets thereof were paved with gold: so that, by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sun-beams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick, Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease: wherefore here they lay by it a while crying out, because of their pangs, "If you see my Beloved, tell him that I am sick of love."

But between them and the golden pavements a bridgeless river rolls its cold, black waters:

'At the sight, therefore, of this river, the pilgrims were much stunned; but the men that went with them said, You must go through, or you cannot come at the gate.

The pilgrims then (especially Christian) began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that; but no way could be found by them by which they might escape the river.

Then they addressed themselves to the waters, and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head, all the waters go over me.

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother; I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, Ah! my friend, the sorrow of death hath compassed me about; I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also here in a great measure he lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage.'

Faith sustains them, and they touch the farther shore, divested of their mortal garments:

'They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than the clouds; they, therefore, went up through the region of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they had got safely over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.

The talk they had with the shining ones was about the glory of the place; who told them that the beauty and the glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is "Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect." You are going now, said they, to the Paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; and, when you come there, you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity. . . . There came also out at this time to meet them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who,

with melodious and loud noises, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world, and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round about on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they went with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it, as if Heaven itself was come down to meet them. Now were these two men, as it were, in Heaven, before they came at it; being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing their melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view, and thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that for ever and ever: Oh! by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed! . . .

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate; and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave to them the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream, that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, "Enter ye into the joy of your Lord." I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, "Blessing, honour, and glory, and power, be to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever."

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold, the city shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord." And, after that, they shut up the gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.'1

Style. Simple, ingenuous, idiomatic. Ninety-three per cent of his vocabulary, it is estimated, is Saxon. Revealing, in its diction, an intimate acquaintance with Scripture, and, in its imagery, the fulness of supernatural impressions; often picturesque and poetical, and everywhere, like a nursery tale, level to the meanest capacity. The following is representative:

'Prayer is a sincere, sensible, and an affectionate pouring out of the soul to God. O the heat, strength, life, vigor, and affection, that is in right prayer! . . . Alas! the greatest part of men make no conscience at all of the duty; and as for them that do, it is to be feared that many of them are very great strangers to a sincere, sensible, and affectionate pouring out of their hearts or souls to God; but even content themselves with a little liplabor and bodily exercise, mumbling over a few imaginary prayers. When the affections are indeed engaged in prayer, then the whole man is engaged; and that in such sort, that the soul will spend itself to nothing, as it were, rather than it will go without that good desired, even communion and solace with Christ.'

This is rarely beautiful:

'The doctrine of the Gospel is like the dew and the small rain that distilleth upon the tender grass, wherewith it doth flourish, and is kept green.-Deut. xxxii, 2. Chris

1Parts I and II relate the celestial pilgrimage of Christian's wife and children. Part III opens: 'After the two former dreams, I dreamed another dream, and, behold, there appeared unto me a great multitude of people, in several distinct companies and bands, travelling from the city of Destruction, the town of Carnal-policy, the village of Morality, and from the rest of the cities, towns, villages, and hamlets, that belong to the Valley of Destruction.'

tians are like the several flowers in a garden, that have upon each of them the dew of heaven, which being shaken with the wind, they let fall their dew at each other's roots, whereby they are jointly nourished, and become nourishers of one another. For Christians to commune savourly of God's matters one with another, it is as if they opened to each other's nostrils boxes of perfume.'

Rank. In popular celebrity, the greatest name among the theological writers of the age. He has written the noblest example of allegory in English prose, as Spenser had done in English verse. Other allegories please the understanding or amuse the fancy; his alone touches the heart. Dr. Johnson, who hated to read a book through, wished this one longer; and thousands have loved it who were too simple to discern the significance of the fable.

The secret of this unique success is twofold,-the subject and the execution. Few have been so lucid; fewer still have had such power of representation. His abstractions are life-like. His personifications are men. His imaginary objects are as clear and complete as ordinary perceptions. What he describes he has seen vividly, and has the dramatic faculty of making others see.

We go no further. Although, if we apply the test of general attraction, the Pilgrim's Progress carries off the palm from the Fairy Queen and quite as decidedly from Paradise Lost, yet between the power which produced them and the power which produced it, there is a great distinction, not unlike that which exists between Robin Hood and Hamlet. Invention Bunyan

undoubtedly has in a high degree; but his adaptation of Scriptural incident and language has caused him to appear more creative than he really is. We do not insist upon the inconsistencies which it requires no careful scrutiny to detect,-notably those passages in which the disguise is altogether dropped, and figurative history is interrupted by religious disquisitions.

Character.-A visionary and an artist, poor in ideas, but full of images; ignorant, impassioned, inspired. His distinguishing quality was an ingenious, vivid, and shaping imagination, besieged and absorbed by the terrors of eternal fire.

In youth,

'Amid a round of vain delights he lived,

And took his fill of pleasure; never thought
That life had higher objects, nobler aims,
Than just to eat, and drink, and pass away
The precious hours in revelry and mirth.'

He was so profane that the profane were shocked. A wicked woman heard him, and protested:

'She was made to tremble to hear me; and told me farther that I was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that she ever heard in all her life; and that I, by thus doing, was enough to spoil all the youth in the whole town.'

In the strong terms of pious excitement, he

says:

'When it pleased the Lord to begin to instruct my soul, He found me one of the black sinners of the world. He found me making a sport of oaths, and also of lies; and many a soul-poisoning meal did I make out of divers lusts, as drinking, dancing, playingpleasure with the wicked ones of the world.'

When only a child—but nine or ten years old— he had fearful dreams:

For often, after I had spent this and the other day in sin, I have in my bed been greatly afflicted, while asleep, with the apprehensions of devils and wicked spirits, who still, as I then thought, labored to draw me away with them, of which I could never be rid.'

In a Sunday pastime, he had thrown his ball, and was about to begin again, when he heard a voice, 'Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?' One of the favorite sports was bell-ringing. When he had given it up, he would go into the belfry to watch the ringers:

'But quickly after, I began to think, "How if one of the bells should fall?" Then I chose to stand under a main beam, that lay overthwart the steeple, from side to side, thinking here I might stand sure: but then I thought again, should the bell fall with a swing, it might first hit the wall, and then rebounding upon me, might kill me for all this beam. This made me stand in the steeple-door; and now, thought I, I am safe enough, for if a bell should then fall, I can slip out behind these thick walls, and so be preserved notwithstanding. So after this I would yet go to see them ring, but would not go any farther than the steeple-door: but then it came into my head, "How if the steeple itself should fall?" And this thought (it may, for aught I know, when I stood and looked on) did continually so shake my mind that I durst not stand at the steeple-door any longer, but was forced to flee, for fear the steeple should fall upon my head.'

Once he saw the heavens on fire. Again, in the midst of a banquet, the earth opened, and tossed up figures of men in bloody flames, falling back with shrieks and execrations, whilst intermingled devils laughed; and just as he was himself sinking, one in shining raiment plucked him from the circling flame. From the City of Destruction, through the Slough of Despond and the Valley of the Shadow, he presses to the fruitful and happy region of Beulah.

'About this time, the state and happiness of these poor people at Bedford was thus, in a dream or vision, represented to me. I saw as if they were set on the sunny side of some high mountain, there refreshing themselves with the pleasant beams of the sun, while I was shivering and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with frost, snow, and dark clouds. Methought also, betwixt me and them, I saw a wall that did compass about this