Hon. Done! why I would have fought as long as breath had been in me; and, had I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on 't; for a Christian can never be overcome, unless he shall yield of himself.

Well said, father Honest, quoth the Guide; for by this I know that thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.

Hon. And by this also I know, that thou knowest what true Pilgrimage is; for all others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any.

Great-heart. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and the name of the place you came from.

WHENCE MR.

Hon. My name I cannot, but I came from the town of Stupidity; it lieth about HONEST came. four degrees beyond the City of Destruction.

Great-heart. Oh! are you that countryman? Then I deem I have half a guess of you; your name is Old Honesty, is it not? So the old Gentleman blushed, and said, not Honesty in the abstract, but Honest is my name; and I wish that my nature may agree to what I am called.

But, Sir, said the old Gentleman, how could you guess that I am such a man, since I came from such a place?

Great-heart. I had heard of you before by my Master; for he knows

STUPIFIED ONES
ARE WORSE THAN

all things that are done on the earth. THOSE MERELY But I have often wondered that any

CARNAL.

should come from your place, for your town is worse than is the city of Destruction itself.

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and senseless; but was a man in a mountain of ice, yet, if the Sun of Righteousness will arise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw; and thus it hath been with me.

Great-heart. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it; for I know the thing is true.

Then the old Gentleman saluted all the Pilgrims with a holy kiss of charity, and asked them of their names, and how they had fared since they had set out on their Pilgrimage.

OLD HONEST AND'

Then said Christiana, My name, I CHRISTIANA TALK suppose, you have heard of; good Christian was my husband, and these four are his children. But can you think how the old Gentleman was taken, when she told him who she was! He skipped, he smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying;

his faith, his

I have heard much of your husband, and of his travels and wars which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your Husband rings all over these parts of the world; courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, have made his name famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked them of their names, which they told OLD MR. HONEST'S him; and then said he unto them, BLESSING ON THEM. Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue. Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and prayer.9 Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one that flies from tempta

tion.1 And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James the brother of our Lord.2 Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and her kindred to come along with Christiana, and with her sons. At that the old Honest man said, Mercy is thy name? by mercy shalt thou be sustained, HE BLESSEth and carried through all those difficulties MERCY. that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither, where thou shalt look the Fountain of mercy in the face with comfort.

All this while the guide, Mr. Great-heart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon his companions.

Now, as they walked along together, TALK OF ONE the Guide asked the old Gentleman, if MR. FEARING. he did not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on Pilgrimage out of his parts?

Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had the root of the matter in him; but he was one of the most troublesome Pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days.

Great-heart. I perceive you knew him; for you have given a very right character of him.

Hon. Knew him! I was a great companion of his ; I was with him most an end; when he first began to think upon what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him.

Great-heart. I was his guide from my Master's house to the Gates of the Celestial City.

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome

one.

Great-heart. I did so, but I could very well bear

it; for Men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the conduct of such as he was.

Hon. Why, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed himself under your conduct.

MR. FEARING'S

TROUBLESOME
PILGRIMAGE.

HIS BEHAVIOUR
AT THE SLOUGH
OF DESPOND.

Great-heart. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he had a desire to go. Every thing frightned him that he heard any body speak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I heard that he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for above a month together; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before him, venture, though they, many of them, offered to lend him their hands. He would not go back again neither. The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he came not to it; and yet he was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that any body cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you, one sunshine morning, I don't know how, he ventured, and so got over; but when he was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a slough of despond in his mind; a slough that he carried every where with him, or else he could never have been as he was. So he came up to the Gate (you know what I mean) that stands at the head of this Way, and there also he stood a great while before he would venture to knock. When the Gate was opened, he would give back and give place to others, and say that he was not worthy: for, for all he got before some to the Gate, yet many of them went in before him. There the poor man would stand shaking and shrinking; I

HIS BEHAVIOUR

AT THE GATE.

dare say it would have pitied one's heart to have seen him; nor would he go back again. At last he took the hammer that hanged on the Gate in his hand, and gave a small rap or two; then one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. He that opened stepped out after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what wantest thou? With that he fell down to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him so faint. So he said to him, " Peace be to thee; up, for I have set open the door to thee; come in, for thou art blessed." With that he got up, and went in trembling; and when that he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been entertained there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way he should take. So he went on till he came to our House; but as he behaved himself at the Gate, so he did at my Master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in the cold a good while, before he would adventure to call; yet he would not go back; and the nights were long and cold then. a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master to receive him, and grant him the comfort of his House, and also to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself so chicken-hearted a man ; and yet, for all that, he was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved; yea, so great was his dejection, that though he saw several others, for knocking, get in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I think, I looked out of the window; and, perceiving a man to be up and down about the door, I went out to him,

HIS BEHAVIOUR

AT THE INTER

PRETER'S DOOR,
Nay, he had