some to others. They had need of great patience with him, and tenderness towards him. He carried a Slough of Despond in his mind, and was always foreboding evil to himself, especially when he saw the fall and ruin of others. When they came to where the three fellows were hanged, he said he doubted that that would be his end also; and he was always fearing about his acceptance at last. But it is very clear that he was a person described in that passage where God says, "To this man will I look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and who trembleth at my word." It is evident also that he would come under the saying of the Saviour, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Wherefore, says Bunyan, the Lord of the Way carried it wonderfully loving to him, for his encouragement. For thus saith the high and lofty One, that inhabiteth Eternity, whose name is Holy, I dwell in the high and holy place, with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.' This character of good Mr. Fearing, in the Second Part of the Pilgrim's Progress, stands in a striking and instructive contrast with the characters of Talkative and Ignorance in the First, as also with the character of Self-will as described by father Honest.

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In the pilgrimage of the Second Part Bunyan has introduced a most instructive variety and change in his treatment of the same subjects that came under his notice with Christian and Hopeful. The happiness of the Valley of Humiliation to a quiet and contented mind is described with great beauty. The timid pilgrims had daylight through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and yet they saw enough to convince them of the terrors of that place, and of the reality of Christian's fearful experience in passing through it. The ugly shapes that they saw were indistinct, but the rushing of the fiends, the roaring of flames, and the fire and smoke of the pit, were easy enough to be discerned, so that the place was a Vale of Horrors still. Among other things, Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something almost like a lion, and it came a great padding pace after; and it had a hollow voice of roaring; and at every roar that gave, it made the Valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up; and Mr. Great-heart went behind, and put the pilgrims all before him. The Lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great-heart addressed him to give him battle. But when he saw that it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew back and came no farther." The pilgrims might have thought of what Peter says concerning this Roaring Lion, "Whom resist steadfast in the faith; and also of that of James, Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.'

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There is also a very instructive variety in the delineation of the Enchanted Ground, a region which wears a very different aspect according to the varying condition, circumstances, and habits of the pilgrims. Christiana and her party did here encounter much mist and darkness, with mire underfoot, and a forest of briers and thorns entangling and painful. What made this the more dangerous was, the alluring and refreshing arbours, green, soft, and beautifully wrought, where the very weariness of the pilgrims did urge them to rest and sleep, though they might never again wake in this world. It has been thought that here are delineated the circumstances and temptations of those pilgrims who are deeply engaged in business, and perhaps became wealthy, and are ensnared by advantageous offices, schemes, and worldly connections, so that they are overwhelmed by the cares of life, the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things. arbours that are prepared for them by worldly prosperity, they are very apt to slumber in, to the great detriment if not ruin of their souls. Amidst the thorns and briers the word of God becomes unfruitful, and in the Arbour it will not take root. If real Christians are in this condition, and view their situation aright, they will be as much troubled as the pilgrims were on this Enchanted Ground, and will find it full of mire, perplexity, and vexation of spirit. But if worldly prosperity be hailed by them for enjoyment, as an arbour to sleep in, instead of being watched against as a snare, and employed for usefulness, then they are sleepers on the Enchanted Ground, nor can any tell if ever they will awake.

The

In the midst of their mist and darkness the pilgrims came to a place where a man is apt to lose his way. So Mr. Great-heart struck a light and examined his map; and well was it for them that he did so, for just at that point, a little before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too, there was a deep pit, none knows how deep, full of mud and mire, made there on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in. But Mr. Great-heart, by narrowly consulting his map, with the light that was lighted, by taking heed to God's

word, with earnest prayer for the teachings of the Holy Spirit, discovered at once what was the right way, and so they were saved from this danger.

So is the word of God a lamp unto our feet, and a light unto our paths, if we will walk thereby. And it becomes us diligently to pray with the Psalmist, "Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law." The word of God is a

precious, heavenly map, in which we have not only the right way, the way of salvation, clearly laid down, as a path that shineth more and more unto the perfect day, but also the cross-paths and the by-paths, which Satan and wicked men, and deceivers, have traced along this pilgrimage, and which they have sometimes made to look so much like the right way, that the pilgrims may easily be deceived, if they do not closely study this map, seeking at the same time the guidance of the Holy Spirit. In a place of darkness especially, like this Enchanted Ground, they must take heed to the word of God, as to a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day-star arise in their hearts. The watchful pilgrims did thus with Mr. Great-heart, and besides, they cried unto him that loveth pilgrims, that he would enlighten their darkness, and so a wind speedily arose that drove away the fog, and the air became more clear.

This was one of those blessed "gales of the Spirit," that do breathe upon the pilgrims in answer to prayer; and then, in what a sweet, clear atmosphere they travel on, in a pure air, in the light of heaven, with all the prospect distinct and fresh around them! Ah, it is not the word of God alone that we need, but the Spirit of God to go with it; and his precious influences and teachings will surely be granted to all who humbly seek for them. There is much meaning in these incidents, especially in that point, that it was the way which seemed to be the cleanest, that led in the end to a pit of mud and mire. This reminds us of the way of the Flatterer, whom the pilgrims, in the First Part, met with, and by whom their faces were turned away from the Celestial City, while they seemed to themselves to be going directly towards it. Can any thing be more plainly indicated by this than that pretence to sinless perfection, by which so many have been flattered and allured, and which in so many cases has led directly, in the end, to the deepest pollution. What seems the cleanest path leads to the pit; it leads pilgrims thither by pride, self-righteousness, and the pretence of a holiness superior to God's law, and releasing them from its obligations. It is not the way of Christ's righteousness, nor of reliance upon him; and so, though it may seem at first to be a morality and sanctification of the highest tone, it ends in licentiousness. The men that devised this path, and that lead unwary souls in it, are described by Peter. For when they speak great swelling words of vanity, they allure through the lusts of the flesh, through much wantonness, those that were clean escaped from them, who live in error. While they promise them liberty, they themselves are the servants of corruption, for of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he brought in bondage.'

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It was amidst this Enchanted Ground that good Mr. Standfast, whom the pilgrims there found upon his knees, was so hard beset and enticed by Madam Bubble; and indeed it is by her sorceries that the ground itself is enchanted. Madam Bubble is the world with its allurements and vanities; and whosoever, as Mr. Great-heart said, do lay their eyes upon her beauty are counted the enemies of God; for God hath said that the friendship of the world is enmity against God; and he hath said furthermore, "Love not the world, nor the things of the world; if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." So Mr. Standfast did well to betake him to his knees, praying to him that could help him. So if all pilgrims, when worldly proposals and enticements allure them, and they feel the love of the world tempting them and gaining on them, would thus go to more earnest prayer, and be made more vigilant against temptations, Madam Bubble would not gain so many victories.

"Set your affections on things above, and not on things on the earth." The spirit of the Pilgrim's Progress is every where in admirable accordance with this divine injunction. There is an incident recorded of Christiana's boys, which very beautifully inculcates an instructive lesson on this subject, and shows Bunyan's opinion as to the manner in which Christian parents should educate their children in regard to the pleasures of the world. There was, on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way of salvation, a garden, with fruit trees that shot their branches over the wall; and the fruit being very mellow and tempting, and hanging down into the way, would often allure passengers to pluck and eat. The boys did this, as boys are apt to do, and as older boys had done before them; and, though their careful mother did chide them for so doing, still they went on.

Now this was Beelzebub's orchard, and the fruit was his fruit; but Christiana at the time only knew that, being out of the way of salvation, it was none of theirs; for had she known to whom it belonged, she would have been ready to die with fear. The fruit pro

duced a serious illness in the boys, a good while after, which illness did not show itself indeed, till they had left the house of the Interpreter, and gone over the Hill Difficulty, and dwelt some time in the House Beautiful; and then Matthew, the eldest boy, who had eaten the fruit against the advice of his mother, fell grievously sick.

Now when Christiana learned from the Physician that it was Beelzebub's fruit that Matthew had eaten, she was sore afraid, and wept bitterly over her own carelessness, as well as her boy's naughtiness. And ever will the Christian mother have to bewail in her children the mistakes into which, through carelessness and want of prayer, she may have fallen, in their education, and the improper indulgences and amusements, in which, through a vain fondness to be fashionable, or through the example of worldly families and friends, she may have allowed her children. There are pleasures, amusements, and gratifications, which are so thoroughly and solely worldly, so entirely on the other side of the wall of salvation, that they must be considered as belonging to Beelzebub's orchard, and therefore the pilgrims and their families should have nothing to do with them. Nevertheless, the fruit hangs over so temptingly into the pilgrim's way, and so many are in the habit of considering Beelzebub's mellow apples as innocent amusements, that many pilgrim families do partake of them, to the injury of the cause of Christ, and to their own great spiritual harm. There is decision as well as affectionate kindness needed in every Christian parent, to keep his children from the fruit of those trees that grow on Beelzebub's side of the wall.

It is very instructive to see how long after the fruit was taken, the evil broke out in Matthew's system. Sin may be carelessly or wilfully committed, and yet at the time the conscience may be blinded or quiet in regard to it, even with those who are true believers; but such sin may be the cause of great darkness, discouragement, and distress, when the conscience, though late, is made to feel it; and it may be the cause of the withdrawal of the consolations of God's Spirit, and the cause of great gloom in the soul, even while the sin is not remembered, and the believer does not know why God is contending with him. In such a case the pilgrims must say with Jeremiah, "Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord."

The skilful Physician in this allegory proposed such questions to Matthew and his mother, that they soon discovered the cause of his illness, and when the cause was known, then by the medicines of Christ, by the blood of Christ, with the tears of faith and repentance, the cure was easy. But concealed sin must sooner or later work distress in the conscience, and so must every sinful habit, and every wrong worldly indulgence, however it may have been pleaded for and allowed under the guise of an innocent gratification. Forbidden fruit is dangerous fruit, and works ruin, whether children take it, or grown people. The heart of persons who live upon it becomes, in Bunyan's expressive phrase, good for nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box. Just so combustible are the passions even of children, where sin is not restrained.

There are two characteristics that reign both in the First and Second Parts of the Pilgrim's Progress; the most important, and the one which is diffused through the whole work, constituting its spirit, and pervading it like a warm, clear, sunny atmosphere, is the love of Christ and the Cross. This was the grand trait in Bunyan's Christian character, and all his writings are deeply penetrated with it. The blood of the slain Lamb is every where present; this is the precious hue that suffuses the work, and gives to all its colours such depth, such power and richness. The heart of the work is Christ; Christ's love, Christ's atoning sacrifice, Christ's righteousness, Christ's precious intercession, Christ's meekness and gentleness, Christ's ever-present grace, Christ's prevailing merits, Christ the victory over sin, Christ our wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. This secures to the book the ever-present influences of the Holy Spirit; this makes it a stream of the Water of Life, clear as crystal, flowing through the world; this makes it a book beloved by the heart of the pilgrim, just in proportion as every thought and feeling are brought into captivity to the love of Christ.

The second reigning trait of the whole work is its sober, practical, and affectionate wisdom. It is the wisdom that cometh from above, pure and peaceable, gentle and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and of good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. The views of the Christian life here inculcated are judicious; its trials and its dangers

not at all concealed, yet never overrated; its enjoyments tinged with a sober colouring, though rich; the King's highway often rough and beset with difficulties, yet passing through scenes of inexpressible loveliness, and provided here and there with deep springing wells of comfort. The practical spirit of this book is of indescribable value and importance. An allegory like this, one might suppose, would make rather an imaginative than a working pilgrim; and in some hands it would have tended to produce a dreaming mystic, instead of a sober, experienced Christian. But there is hardly a book of greater practical wisdom in the world, and certainly, with all its imagination, no more correct map of the Christian Pilgrimage. Its wisdom is that of dearly bought experience, heaven-taught and heaven-descended. Along with this wisdom there mingles at the same time, a vein of the purest, most genuine cheerfulness and humour. It is as a part of that wisdom, that Bunyan has introduced the domestic constitution so beautifully, so happily, so sacredly, in the course of the pilgrimage. It has made his pilgrims marry and give in marriage, in accordance with the inspired declaration that "marriage is honourable in all, and the bed undefiled," and in opposition to that asceticism and fanaticism of celibacy, which would proclaim a single state as the holiest, and which in the Roman Church has wrought such a frightful career of abominations. But Bunyan also makes his pilgrims marry acording to the Apostolic injunction, "only in the Lord."

In the course of this delineation in the Second Part there occurs a passage, which, for exquisite humour, quiet satire, and naturalness in the development of character, is scarcely surpassed in the language. It is the account of the courtship between Mercy and Mr. Brisk, which took place at the House Beautiful.

"Now by that these pilgrims had been in this place a week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some good-will unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk, a man of some breeding, and that pretended to religion; but a man that stuck very close to the world. So he came once or twice or more to Mercy, and offered love unto her. Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring. Her mind also was to be always busying of herself in doing; for when she had nothing to do for herself, she would be making of hose and garments for others, and would bestow them upon them that had need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing how or where she disposed of what she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that he found her never idle. I will warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to himself."

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that were of the house, and inquired of them concerning him, for they did know him better than she. So they told her that he was a very busy young man, and one that pretended to religion; but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power of that which is good.

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Nay, then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him; for I propose never to have a clog to my soul.

"Prudence then replied that there needed no great matter of discouragement to be given to him; for continuing so, as she had begun, to do for the poor, would quickly cool his courage.

"So the next time he comes, he finds her at her old work, a making of things for the poor. Then said he, What, always at it? Yes, said she, either for myself or for others. And what canst thou earn a day? quoth he. I do these things, said she, that I may be rich in good works, laying a good foundation against the time to come, that I may lay hold of eternal life. Why, prithee, what dost thou do with them? said he. Clothe the naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. So he forbore to come at her again. And when he was asked the reason why, he said that Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions.' Not a word of comment is necessary on this exquisitely humorous passage.

The snatches of poetry in this Second Part are certainly superior to those which are sprinkled in the pages of the First. The song of Mr. Valiant-for-truth is so much after the manner of our old English Melodists, and so valuable in itself, that it would make a gem, even in the pages of Shakspeare. There is an old melody to which this poetry is set, which has been said likewise to have been composed by Bunyan; how true this may be, we know not; but the spirit of the music is in excellent harmony with the stanzas, the melody being such an one as any cheerful, resolute pilgrim, fond of music, might hum to himself upon his journey, and greatly solace himself thereby.

Who would true valour see,

Let him come hither;

One here will constant be,
Come wind, come weather.
There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent
To be a Pilgrim.

Who so beset him round
With dismal stories,
Do but themselves confound;
His strength the more is.
No Lion can him fright,
He'll with a Giant fight,
But he will have a right
To be a Pilgrim.

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend
Can daunt his spirit;
He knows he at the end
Shall life inherit.
Then, fancies, fly away;
He'll not fear what men say,
He'll labour night and day
To be a Pilgrim.

This song brings into view another reigning trait of the pilgrimage as depicted by Bunyan, which is the passionate intensity and steadfastness of purpose requisite for its successful pursuit. In the experience of Bunyan's pilgrims, especially the most faithful among them, there is realized that holy thirsting for God, and that earnest effort after him, of which the Psalmist speaks in so many and such striking passages, but especially in the 63d and 42d Psalms. My soul followeth hard after thee; thy right hand upholdeth me. As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God!"

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The work of finding God is justly represented in this pilgrimage as being great and arduous; and the pilgrims are represented as pursuing it with a single eye, and a holy intensity of purpose. If a Christian would be at all successful in this great pursuit, there must be such a habit of intensity and perseverance; for God hath said, Ye shall seek me, and ye shall find me when ye shall search for me with all the heart." In this there is brought to view what ought to be the passion of the mind, its daily, unceasing, unbroken effort, the habitual bent of its energies, the struggle of its powers. This is just as necessary to a Christian's success in the Divine Life, as enthusiasm in any path of science, or of acquisition, is necessary to success in the pursuits of this life.

But it is not so common among Christians as it ought to be. In Bunyan's own experience, and in that of his favourite pilgrims, there was a holy fixedness of purpose, and a fervent breathing of the soul after the accomplishment of that purpose, and a perpetual return of the soul with undiminished freshness to its work, which are rarely beheld in exercise, and in the want of which it is to be feared that the piety of our own age is greatly defective. As an earthly enthusiasm it exists in men of the world; in the pursuits of this world you may find it; and the existence or the absence of this persevering intensity of effort is the great cause of the different success which men meet with in the pursuits of life.

The children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. And it is precisely this enthusiasm of soul, exhibited by men who have become great in particular occupations in this world, that we speak of, as essential to success in the search after God and eternal greatness. Look over the life, for example, of a man like Sir Isaac Newton, or Sir Humphrey Davy, and what intense devotion do you find to their particular pursuits. Day and night the thirst for knowledge occupies their souls. They despise weariness, temptations, the seductive allurements of the senses, even the natural calls of appetite. They undergo what in the pursuits of religion would be accounted martyrdom; but with their enthusiastic love of science, it is nothing, it is pleasure. They encounter dangers, and subject themselves to hazardous experiments and painful toils, all submitted to with ease and even delight, in prosecution of the ruling passion of the soul, the business to which the whole energies of the being have been devoted with so much enthusiasm, that it has become a second life and nature.

Now it is just this which is needed in the effort after God. It is this turning of the whole passion and power of the soul into the business of seeking God. It is this making