forced to go on his Progress without them; for he durst not run the danger of that destruction which he feared would come, by staying with them in the City of Destruction. Wherefore, as I then shewed you, he left them, and departed.

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he went; and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But having had some concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood, about a mile off the place, as I slept, I dreamed again.

And as I was in my dream, behold an aged Gentleman came by where I lay; and because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up, and went with him. So, as we walked, and as travellers usually do, I was as if we fell into a discourse, and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels: For thus I began with the old

man.

Sir, said I, what Town is that there below, that lieth on the left hand of our way?

Then said Mr. Sagacity, for that was his name, It is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.

I thought that was the City, quoth I: I went once myself through that Town, and therefore know that this report you give of it is true.

Sag. Too true; I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell therein.

Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a wellmeaning man, and so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what happened to a man some time ago of this town, (whose name was Christian,) that went on a Pilgrimage up towards the higher regions?

Sag. Hear of him! Ay; and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears, that he met with and had in his journey; besides, I must tell you, all our country rings of him. There are but few houses that have heard of him and his doings, but have sought after and got the Records of his Pilgrimage; yea, I think I may say, that his hazardous journey has got a many well-wishers to his ways: for though, when he was here, he was Fool in every man's mouth, yet, now he is gone, he is highly commended of all. For 't is said he lives

CHRISTIANS Are

WELL SPOKEN
OF WHEN GONE,
THOUGH CALLED

bravely where he is; yea, many of FOOLS WHILE them that are resolved never to run

THEY ARE HERE.

his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains.

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think any thing that is true, that he liveth well where he is for he now lives at, and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed therewith. But pray, what talk have the people about him?

Sag. Talk! the people talk strangely about him. Some say that he now walks in white; that he has

1 Rev. iii. 4.

a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others say, that the Shining Ones that sometimes shewed themselves to him in his journey are become his companions, and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is, as here one neighbour is with another. Besides, 'tis confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where he is, has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at Court, and that he every day eateth and drinketh, and walketh and talketh with him, and receiveth of the smiles and favours of him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that Country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours set so little by him, and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a Pilgrim.3 For they say that now he is so in the affections of WILL TAKE CHRIS- his Prince, that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian when he became a Pilgrim, that he will look upon all as if done unto himself; and no marvel, for 't was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did.

CHRISTIAN'S KING

TIAN'S PART.

I dare say, quoth I; I am glad on't: I am glad for the poor Man's sake, for that now he has rest from his labour, and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his tears with joy; and for that he is got beyond the gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him. I also am glad, for that a 2 Zech. iii. 7. 3 Jude, 14, 15. 4 Rev. xiv. 13. Psal. cxxvi. 5, 6.

rumour of these things is noised abroad in this Country; who can tell but that it may work some good effect on some that are left behind? But pray, Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear any thing of his Wife and Children? Poor hearts, I wonder in my mind what they do.

GOOD TIDINGS OF
CHRISTIAN'S WIFE

AND CHILDREN.

Sag. Who? Christiana and her sons! They are like to do as well as Christian did himself; for though they all played the fool at first, and would by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them; so they have packed up, and are also gone after him.

Better and better, quoth I; but what, Wife and Children and all?

Sag. "Tis true; I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair.

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a truth.

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it; I mean, that they are all gone on Pilgrimage, both the good Woman and her four boys. And being we are, as I perceive, going some considerable way together, I will give you an account of the whole of the matter.

This Christiana, (for that was her name from the day that she with her children betook herself to a Pilgrim's life,) after her husband was gone over the River, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind: First, for that she had lost her Husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt them. For

you know, (said he to me,) nature can do no less but entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation in the remembrance of the loss of loving relations. This, therefore, of her Husband did cost her many a tear. But this was not all: for Christiana THAT ARE CHURLS did also begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her Husband was

MARK THIS, YOU

TO YOUR GODLY
RELATIONS.

not one cause that she saw him no more; and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriage to her dear friend; which also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her Husband; and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties and loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with him; yea, there was not any thing that Christian either said to her, or did before her, all the while that his Burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her heart in sunder; specially that bitter outcry of his, "What shall I do to be saved!" did ring in her ears most dolefully.

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone! I have sinned away your Father, and he is gone; he would have had us with him, but I would not go myself; I also have hindered you of Life. With that the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after their Father. Oh! said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him, then had it fared well with us, beyond what 'tis like to do now. For though I for