estimate Bunyan or his influence: whereas, the Bench knew, at least, the worth of popular talent.

Mr. Ivimey, in his zeal to deprive Dr. Barlow of all credit, has sanctioned a view of the case, which Dr. Southey justly says, is "fraudulent." A "cautionary bond," it is said, was required, which pledged the prisoner to "conform in half a year." John Bunyan conform, or allow his friends to give any such bond for him! "Nay, verily," he would have lain till the moss grew upon his eye-brows, rather than accept of, or accede to, deliverance on any such terms. Twelve years of imprisonment had not shaken his principles; and his friends knew him too well to set their hearts against his conscience in this matter, even if their own consciences would have allowed them to sign such a bond. Neither Bishop nor Chancellor, to a certainty, ever saw or heard of a pledge for Bunyan's conformity. Dr. Southey is wrong, however, in saying that the bond proposed to him when he was first arrested, would have been “less objectionable" to him than the fraudulent one in question. He would have spurned both alike, because both forbad his preaching.

By whatever means he came forth, therefore, he came forth in the character he went into the Jail,-as a preacher of the everlasting Gospel. His Church also held a day of Thanksgiving about this time "for present liberty," and soon built a Chapel for him; plain proofs that he was under no bond, whoever released him. The record in the Church Book is, "August, 1672, the ground on which the Meeting House stands was bought by subscription."-Ivimey. I have seen the original Agreement for this ground. It is between J. Ruffhead, Shoemaker, and John Bunyan, Brazier, both of Bedford, for 50%. lawful money.

CHAPTER XLII.

BUNYAN'S CALUMNIATORS.

1678.

Ir is not generally known, that an attempt was made to implicate Bunyan in a charge of murder and seduction. He himself, very properly, does not mention it, because the Coroner fully acquitted the accused party: for it is not in reference to her, that he made the solemn protestations of purity, which are so well known by all who have read his "Grace abounding." That work was written in prison: whereas the case of Agnes Beaumont occurred some years after his release. Unfortunately, her own Narrative of the horrible conspiracy bears no date. It appears, however, from the Tablet erected to her memory in the Baptist Chapel at Hitchin, that she became a member of Bunyan's Church in 1672, and that she died in 1720, aged 68 years. She herself mentions the name of the Minister of Hitchin, Mr. Wilson, in her Narrative; and Ivimey gives 1677, as the date of his settlement there. The Editor also of her history says, that Mr. Wilson became the first pastor of Hitchin, in that year. I have, therefore, ventured to assign the event to the next year. On this supposition, Agnes Beamont would be about 25 years of age, when she was charged with murdering her father, at the instigation of Bunyan. He, it was said, furnished her with poison to make away with the old man, in order to obtain the property with her.

It is painful to relate, that this fama clamosa arose out of a slander, set on foot by a Clergyman who resided in Bedford;

Lane of Edworth, who knew both parties well! It was, however, a Lawyer who added the charge of murder to the clerical calumny; and he did it from revenge. He had marked her out, three years before, for his wife, and then persuaded her father to leave the bulk of his property to her, and to cut off her sister with a shilling. Her piety, however, defeated Farry's purpose. She could not bear him, because he was ungodly; and he avenged himself, because he was disappointed.

But this extraordinary affair will be best told by herself. Her own Manuscript was transcribed by the Rev. William Coles of Ampthill, and given to his daughter, the wife of the venerable Andrew Fuller. It was first published by the Rev. Samuel James, A. M., of Hitchin, in 1760, somewhat abridged; and in 1824, it was republished by his son, with additions. Mr. Fuller said to him when enlarging it from the copy of the original, "I think your father abridged too much, and I fear the son will abridge too little." Mr. Isaac James, of Bristol, judged better when he said, "I hope the reader will not be of the same opinion." I, for one, am not; and, therefore, I have given the substance of the Narrative, so far as it bears upon the character of Bunyan: not, however, without first ascertaining in Bristol, that this would not be deemed a trespass upon the literary property of the family.

Agnes Beaumont having become a member of Bunyan's Church at Bedford, had thus a right to communicate in all the places where he administered the Sacrament. Gamlingay was one of his stations; and by accompanying him there, against his will, she involved herself in unspeakable trouble, and Bunyan in calumny, for a time.

"There was a Church-Meeting at Gamlingay," she says, "and about a week before it, I was much in prayer, especially for two things: the one, that the Lord would incline the heart of my father to let me go, which he sometimes refused; and,

in those days, it was like death to me to be kept from such a meeting. I have found by experience, that to pray hard was the most successful method of obtaining my father's consent; for when I have not thus prayed, I have found it very difficult to prevail. The other request was, that the Lord would go with me, and that I might enjoy his presence there, at his table, that, as in many times past, it might be a sealing ordinance to my soul, and that I might have such a sight of a bleeding and dying Saviour, as might melt my heart, and enlarge it in love to his name.

"The Lord was pleased to grant me my requests. Upon asking my father, the day before, he seemed unwilling at first, but pleading with him, and telling him that I would do all my work in the morning before I went out, and return home at night, I gained his consent. Friday being come, I prepared every thing ready to set out. My father inquired who carried me? I told him I thought Mr. Wilson of Hitchin, as he had told my brother, the Tuesday before, he should call; to which he said nothing. I went to my brother's and waited, expecting to meet Mr. Wilson; but he not coming, it cut me to the heart, and fearing I should not go, I burst into tears, for my brother had told me that his horses were all at work, and that he could not spare one more than what he and my sister were to ride on, and it being the depth of winter I could not walk thither.

"Now I was afraid that all my prayers on this account were lost; my way seemed to be hedged up with thorns. I waited with many a longing look, and with a sorrowful heart, under my sad disappointment. O, thought I, that the Lord would but put it into the heart of some person to come this way. Thus I still waited, but with my heart full of fears. At last, quite unexpected, came Mr. Bunyan. The sight of him caused a mixture both of joy and of grief. I was glad to see him, but afraid he would not be willing to take me up behind him, and how to

ask him I knew not. At length I desired my brother to do it, which he did. But Mr. Bunyan answered, with some degree of roughness, 'No; I will not carry her.' These words were cutting indeed, and made me weep bitterly. My brother perceiving my trouble, said, Sir, if you do not carry her, you will break her heart: but he made the same reply, adding, 'Your father would be grievous angry if I should.' (A certain person in the neighborhood, one Mr. Farry, who is often referred to afterwards in this relation, had slandered Mr. Bunyan, and set her father against him, endeavoring to make his vile calumnies pass for truth.) I will venture that, said I. And thus, with much entreaty, he was prevailed on; and O how glad was I to think I was going.

"Soon after we set out, my father came to my brother's, and asked his men who his daughter rode behind? They said Mr. Bunyan. Upon hearing this his anger was greatly inflamed; he ran down the close, thinking to overtake me and pull me off the horse, but we were gone out of his reach.

"I had not rode far before my heart began to be lifted up with pride at the thoughts of riding behind this servant of the Lord, and was pleased if any looked after us as we rode along. Indeed I thought myself very happy that day: first, that it pleased God to make way for my going; and then, that I should have the honor to ride behind Mr. Bunyan, who would sometimes be speaking to me about the things of God. My pride soon had a fall, for in entering Gamlingay, we were met by one Mr. Lane, a clergyman, who lived at Bedford, and knew us both, and spoke to us, but looked very hard at us as we rode along; and soon after, raised a vile scandal upon us, though, blessed be God, it was false. (This clergyman usually preached at Edworth, the place where he dwelt.)

"The meeting began not long after we got thither; and the Lord made it a sweet season to my soul indeed. O it was a