the cause after the ruin of his party, engaged in the insurrection of his loyal countrymen, for which he and eleven others were condemned to the gallows. On the night before the intended execution, his sister came to visit him: she found the sentinels who kept the door asleep, and she urged him to take the opportunity of escaping, which he alone of the prisoners was able to attempt, for his companions had stupified themselves with drink. Gifford passed safely through the sleeping guard, got into the field, lay there some three days in a ditch till the great search for him was over, then by help of his friends was conveyed in disguise to London, and afterwards into Bedfordshire, where as long as the danger continued he was harboured by certain royalists of rank in that county. When concealment was no longer necessary, he came as a stranger to Bedford, and there practised physic; for in those days they who took upon themselves the cure of bodies seem to have entered upon their practice with as little scruple concerning their own qualifications for it as they who undertook the cure of souls: if there was but a sufficient stock of boldness to begin with, it sufficed for the one that they were needy, for the others that they were enthusiastic.

Gifford was at that time leading a profligate and reckless life, like many of his fellow-sufferers whose fortunes had been wrecked in the general calamity; he was a great drinker, a gambler, and oaths came from his lips with habitual profaneness. Some of his actions are indeed said to have evinced as much extravagance of mind as wickedness of heart; and he hated the Puritans so heartily for the misery which they had brought upon the nation, and upon himself in particular, that he often thought of killing a certain Anthony Harrington, for no other provocation than because he was a leading man among persons of that description in Bedford. For a heart and mind thus diseased there is but one cure; and that cure was vouchsafed at a moment when his bane seemed before him. He had lost one night about fifteen pounds in gambling; a large sum for one so circumstanced: the loss made him furious: and 66 many desperate thoughts against God" arose in him, when looking into one of the books of Robert Bolton, what he read in it startled him into a sense of his own condition. He continued some weeks under the weight of that feeling; and when it passed away, it left him

in so exalted and yet so happy a state of mind, that from that time till within a few days of his death, he declared that "he lost not the light of God's countenance,-no, not for an hour." And now he inquired after the meetings of the persons whom he had formerly most despised; and "being naturally bold, would thrust himself again and again into their company, both together and apart." They at first regarded him with jealousy; nor, when they were persuaded that he was sincere, did they readily encourage him in his desire to preach; nor after he had made himself acceptable as a preacher, both in private and public trials, were they forward to form themselves into a distinct congregation under his care; "the more ancient professors being used to live, as some other good men of those times, without regard to such separate and close communion." At length, eleven persons, of whom Anthony Harrington was one, came to that determination, and chose him for their pastor; the principle upon which they entered into this fellowship one with another, and afterwards admitted those who should desire to join them, being faith in Christ and holiness of life, without respect to any difference in outward or circumstantial things.

The poor women whose company Bunyan sought after he had listened to their talk, were members of Gifford's little flock. The first effect of his conversation with them was, that he began to look into the Bible with new eyes, and "indeed was never out of it,” either by reading or meditation. He now took delight in St. Paul's Epistles, which before he "could not away with ;" and the first strong impression which they made upon him was, that he wanted the gifts of wisdom and knowledge of which the Apostle speaks, and was doubtful whether he had faith or not; yet this was a doubt which he could not bear, being certain that if he were without faith, he must perish. Being "put to his plunge" about this, and not as yet consulting with any one, he conceived that the only means by which he could be certified was by trying to work a miracle; a delusion which he says the Tempter enforced and strengthened, by urging upon him those texts of Scripture that seemed to look that way. One day as he was between Elstow and Bedford, the temptation was hot upon him that he should put this to the proof, by saying "to the puddles that were in the horse-pads, Be dry; and to the dry

places, Be ye puddles. And truly one time I was going to say so, indeed; but just as I was about to speak, this thought came in my mind, 'But go under yonder hedge, and pray first that God would make you able.' But when I had concluded to pray, this came hot upon me, that if I prayed, and came again, and tried to do it, and yet did nothing notwithstanding, then to be sure I had no faith, but was a cast-away, and lost. Nay, thought I, if it be so I will not try yet, but will stay a little longer."

About this time the happiness of his poor acquaintance whom he believed to be in a sanctified state, was presented to him, he says, in a kind of vision,—that is, it became the subject of a reverie, a waking dream,-in which the germ of the Pilgrim's Progress may plainly be perceived: "I saw," he says, 66 as if they were 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 mountain: now through this wall my soul did greatly desire to pass; concluding, that if I could, I would even go into the very midst of them, and there also comfort myself with the heat of their sun. About this wall I thought myself to go again and again, still prying as I went, to see if I could find some way or passage by which I might enter therein; but none could I find for some time. At the last I saw as it were a narrow gap, like a little door-way, in the wall, through which I attempted to pass. Now the passage being very strait and narrow, I made many offers to get in, but all in vain, even until I was well nigh quite beat out by striving to get in. At last, with great striving, methought I at first did get in my head; and after that, by a sideling striving, my shoulders, and my whole body: then I was exceeding glad, went and sat down in the midst of them, and so was comforted with the light and heat of their sun. Now the Mountain and Wall, &c., was thus made out to me. The Mountain signified the Church of the Living God; the Sun that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of his merciful Face on them that were within: the Wall, I thought, was the Word, that did make separation between the Christians and the World; and the Gap which was in the Wall, I thought, was Jesus Christ, who is the Way to God

the Father. But forasmuch as the passage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not but with great difficulty enter in thereat, it showed me that none could enter into life but those that were in downright earnest; and unless also they left that wicked World behind them; for here was only room for Body and Soul, but not for Body and Soul and Sin."

But though he now prayed wherever he was, at home or abroad, in the house or in the field, two doubts still assaulted him—whether he was elected, and whether the day of grace was not gone by. By the force and power of the first he felt, even when he " was in a flame to find the way to Heaven," as if the strength of his body were taken from him; and he found a stumbling-block in this text, * "It is neither in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth, but in God that sheweth mercy." It seemed to him, that though he should desire and long and labour till his heart broke, no good could come of it, unless he were a chosen vessel of mercy. "Therefore," he says, "this would stick with me, 'How can you tell that you are elected? and what if you should not?'-O Lord, thought I, what if I should not, indeed! It may be you are not, said the Tempter. It may be so indeed, thought I. Why then, said Satan, you had as good leave off, and strive no further." And then the text that disturbed him came again into his mind; and he knowing not what to say nor how to answer, was "driven to his wits' end, little deeming," he says, "that Satan had thus assaulted him, but that it was his own prudence which had started the question." In an evil hour were the doctrines of the Gospel sophisticated with questions which should have been left in the schools for those who are unwise enough to employ themselves in excogitations of useless subtlety. Many are the poor creatures whom such questions have driven to despair, and madness, and suicide; and no one ever more narrowly escaped from such a catastrophe than Bunyan.

After many weeks, when he was even "giving up the ghost of all his hopes," another text suddenly occurred to him: ""Look at the generations of old, and see; did ever any trust in the Lord, and was confounded ?Ӡ He went with a lightened heart to his Bible, fully expecting to find it there; but he found it not,

* Rom. ix. 16.

† Ecclesiasticus ii. 10.

and the "good people" whom he asked where it was, told him they knew of no such place. But in the Bible he was well assured it was; and the text which had "seized upon his heart with such comfort and strength," abode upon him for more than a year; when, looking into the Apocrypha, there* he met with it, and was at first, he says, somewhat daunted at finding it there,

not in the canonical books. “Yet,” he says, "forasmuch as this sentence was the sum and substance of many of the promises, it was my duty to take the comfort of it; and I blessed God for that word, for it was of good to me." But then the other doubt which had lain dormant, awoke again in strength-" How if the day of grace be past? What if the good people of Bedford who were already converted, were all that were to be saved in those parts?" he then was too late, for they had got the blessing before he came. "Oh that I had turned sooner!" was then his cry; "Oh that I had turned seven years ago! To think that I should trifle away my time, till my soul and Heaven were lost!"

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From these fears the recurrence of another passage in Scripture delivered him for a while, and he has remarked that it came into his mind just in the same place where he "received his other encouragement." The text was that in which the servant who had been sent into the streets and lanes to bring in the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind, to the supper from which the bidden guests absented themselves, returns and says to the master of the house,† "Lord, it is done as thou hast commanded, and yet there is room.” "These," says Bunyan, were sweet words to me: for truly I thought that by them I saw there was place enough in Heaven for me: and moreover, that when the Lord Jesus did speak these words, he then did think of me; and that he, knowing the time would come when I should be afflicted with fear that there was no place left for me in his bosom, did speak this word, and leave it upon record, that I might find help thereby against this vile temptation. This I then verily believed."

But then came another fear; None but those who are called can inherit the kingdom of heaven; . . and this he apprehended was not his case. With longings and breathings in his soul † Luke xiv. 22.

* Ecclesiasticus ii. 10.