which was not shadowed out in his own first dreams. It only embodied fully, and emblazons a little, what disturbed the sleep of the lisping blasphemer of Elstow, when neither the fatigue nor the excitement of daring sports could put down the energies of his mind or conscience.

These energies, however, are not seen in all their early strength, in the current versions of his young dreams. I therefore subjoin another version of them, from the sketch of his Life, in the British Museum:

"He has often, since his conversion, confest with horror and detestation of himself, that when he was but a child, or at least a stripling youth, he had but few equals for lying, swearing, and blaspheming God's holy name, which became then to him as a second nature; not considering that he must die, and one day give an account before the dread tribunal of the God of all the earth; living, as it were, without God in the world; the thoughts of which, when, by the light of divine grace, he came to understand his dangerous condition, drew many showers of tears from his sorrowful eyes, and sighs from his groaning heart.

"The first thing that sensibly touched him in this his unregenerate state, were fearful dreams, and visions of the night, which often made him cry out in his sleep, and alarm the house, as if somebody had been about to murder him ; and being waked, he would start, and stare about him with such a wildness, as if some real apparition had yet remained; and generally these dreams were about evil spirits, in monstrous shapes and forms, that presented themselves to him in threatening postures, as if they would have taken him away, or torn him in pieces: at some times they seemed to belch flame, at other times a contagious smoke, with horrible noises and roaring.

"This continued for some time, and there came others somewhat of another nature, seemingly more pleasing and alluring to entice those sweet darling sins that so much bewitch the world, and carry men away to the pit of

destruction, as carnal concupiscential desires, thirst after rich and unlawful gain, vain-glory, and pomp, with many others of the same black stamp; yet, when he began somewhat seriously to consider, even these wrought darkness and confusion in his soul, and took him with unaccountable melancholy. Once he dreamt he saw the face of the heavens, as it were, all on fire, the firmament crackling and shivering as with the noise of mighty thunders, and an archangel flew in the midst of heaven sounding a trumpet, and a glorious throne was seated in the east, whereon sat one in brightness like the morning star; upon which he, thinking it was the end of the world, fell upon his knees, and, with uplifted hands towards heaven, cried, 'O Lord God, have mercy upon me! what shall I do! the day of judgment is come, and I am not prepared!' when immediately he heard a voice behind him exceedingly loud, saying, Repent;' and upon this he awoke, and found it but a dream. Yet, as he said, upon this he grew more serious, and it remained in his mind a considerable time.

"At another time he dreamed that he was in a pleasant place, jovial and rioting, banqueting and feasting his senses, when immediately a mighty earthquake rent the earth, and made a wide gap, out of which came bloody flames, and the figures of men tossed up in globes of fire, and falling down again with horrible cries, shrieks, and execrations, whilst some devils that were mingled with them laughed aloud at their torments; and whilst he stood trembling at this sight, he thought the earth sunk under him, and a circle of flame inclosed him ; but when he fancied he was just at the point to perish, one in white shining raiment descended and plucked him out of that dreadful place, whilst the devils cried after him to leave him with them, to take the just punishment his sins had deserved; yet he escaped the danger, and leaped for joy when he awoke and found it but a dream. Many others, somewhat to the same purpose, I might mention, as he at

sundry times related them; but, not to be tedious, these for a taste may suffice."

Under such circumstances, and in spite of such feelings, Bunyan grew up into a reckless lad; for, although wickedness of any kind in professors of religion would shock him even then, he himself was not afraid of sin: indeed, he feared nothing, when he could forget his dreams. He mentions one remarkable instance of fool-hardiness. "Being in the fields," he says, "with one of my companions, it chanced that an adder passed over the highway: so I, having a stick in my hand, struck her over the back and having stunned her, I forced open her mouth with my stick, and plucked her tongue out with my fingers; by which act, had not God been merciful to me, I might, by my desperateness, have brought myself to my end." Dr. Southey says, "If this were indeed an adder, and not a harmless snake, his escape from the fangs was more remarkable than he himself was aware of." No one, however, was more likely to know an adder from a snake than Bunyan; for no one was more amongst the hedges and bosky banks and although he was never, perhaps, fully aware of all the venom of an adder's fangs, he has certainly made his escape appear as remarkable as if it had been a miracle; for, what more could any one say of it than he did?

CHAPTER II.

BUNYAN IN THE ARMY.

THAT a young man of Bunyan's roistering habits and reckless spirit should have enlisted for a soldier, is only what might be expected; but it is somewhat strange (if true) that he should have preferred the Parliamentary to the Royal army. True; he seems never to have been a drunkard; and it is certain he never was licentious; but still, as he himself could not only "sin with delight and ease" in his own way, but also take "pleasure in the vileness of his companions," the Royalists were most suited to his moral tastes. His blasphemy and blackguardism would have pleased them, and their profligacy would not have offended him. He joined, however, the Parliamentary troops; and, whatever cant or hypocrisy, vulgarity or vice, was prevalent amongst them, it was not of Bunyan's kind, nor of the cavalier order and style. There were both sleek and sly villains in Cromwell's army; and some of them men of no mean rank. Bunyan says, that he himself overheard one of them tempting virtue "in Oliver's days," by proposing to ascribe the fruit of shame to a miracle. "I heard him say this, and it greatly afflicted me. I had a mind to have accused him before some magistrate; but he was a great man, and I was poor, so I let it alone; but it troubled me very much."-Badman's Life.

This revolting at crime, although an anomaly in Bunyan's character, was not a new thing with him, when the criminal professed godliness. Years before he entered the

army, such inconsistencies shocked him.

"I well remem

ber," he says, "that even when I could take pleasure in the vileness of my companions, wicked things by those who professed goodness, would make my spirit tremble. As once, above all the rest, when I was at the height of my vanity, yet hearing one swear that was reckoned godly, it had so great a stroke upon my spirit, that it made my heart ache."

He was not, of course, often shocked by swearing whilst amongst the Roundheads, whatever other vices he may have detected in some of them beneath the mask of religion. Hume himself being the judge, the character of the Parliamentary army was very high when Bunyan joined it in 1645. "The private soldiers," Hume says, "employed their vacant hours in prayer, in perusing the Holy Scriptures, in ghostly conferences, where they compared the progress of their souls in grace, and mutually stimulated each other to further advances in the great work of their salvation. When they were marching to battle, the whole field resounded, as well with psalms and spiritual songs adapted to the occasion, as with instruments of military music; and every man endeavoured to drown the sense of present danger, in the prospect of that crown of glory which was set before him. In so holy a cause, wounds were esteemed meritorious; death, martyrdom; and the hurry and dangers of action, instead of banishing their pious visions, rather strove to impress their minds more strongly with them."—Hume's England, vol. vii.

Such, in general, were the men with whom Bunyan associated, when he became a soldier. It was well for him. Had he joined the ranks commanded by Rupert, he might have become as vile as "dissolute Wilmot," or "licentious Goring," as Hume styles them. They are well designated. Such leaders would not have been allowed to follow Cromwell.

It is well known that Cromwell's own regiment was