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Great-heart. I perceive you know him, for you have given very right character of him. Hon. Knew him! I was a great companion of his; I as with him mot an end : when he first began to think
what would come upon us hereafter I was with him. Great-heart. I was his guide from my maiter's house to Te vare of the cele al cier.
aus. Then you knew him to be a troublefome one. Great beart. I did so, but I could very well bear it ; for en of my calling are of entimes intrufted with the cona act of such as he was.
Hon. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and ow he managed himself under your conduct.
Great-beart. Why, he was always afraid hat he thould come fort whiiher he had a Mr. Fearing's esre to go. Every thing frightened him troublesome pila hat he heard any body speak of, that had grimage. he least appearance of oppofi:ion in it. I hear that he lay roaring at the flough of Der. His behaviour pond for a month together; nor durft he, at the fough of or all he saw several go over before him, Defpond. Penture, tho'many of them offered to lend him their hands. He would not go back neither. The celestial city he said, he fhould die if he came rot to it, and yet was dejected at every dificulty, and tumbled as every Atraw that any body call in his way. Well, after he had lain the fough of Defpond a great while, as I hava told you, one sunshine morning, I don't know how, he ventured, and so got over : But when he was over he would fcarce believe it. He had, I think, a llough of Defpond in his mind, a soagh that he carried every where with him, or else he could never have been as he was. So he cams up to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the head of this way, and there he food a good while before he would venture to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back and His bebaviour, ai give place to others, and say that he was the gate. not worthy : For all he got before some to the gate, yet many of them went in before him. There the poor man would fand making and shrinking, I dare say it would have pived one's heart to have seen bim; 'nor would hc go back agaia. At laf he took the hammer that
· hanged hanged at the gate in his hand, and gave a small rap de tivo ; then one opened to him, but he thrunk back as bed fore. He that opened step out after him, and said, Thor trembling one, what wanielt thou with that he fell dow
o the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him in faint. Hc said to him, Peace be to thee, op, for I have let open the door to thee; come in, for thou art With that he got up, and went in trembling; and whca he was in, he was alhamd to ihsw his face. Well, after he had been cntertained there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was bidden to go on his way, and alle told the way he should take. So he went till he came to
our house; but as he behaved himself a Ilis bebaviour at the gate, so he did at my master the Inter the Interpreter's preter's door. He lay thereabouts in the door,
cold a good while, before he would adven:
ture to call, .yet he would not venture to go back: And the nights were long and cold then. Nagi be had a note of necessity in his bosem to my mafter to re ceire him, and grant him the comfort of his house, and also to allow him a lout 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 tho' he saw several othen for knocking got in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I think, I looked out of the window; and perceiving a man to go up and down about the door, I went to him, and asked what he was ; but, poor man, the water stood in his eyes; fo I perceived what he wanted. I went there fore in, and told it in the house, and we shewed the things to our Lord; so he sent me out again to entreat him to come in; but indeed I had hard work to do it. Ar last he came in, and I will say that for my Lord, he carried it
I wonderful loving to him. There were but How he was en- a few good bits at the table, but some of it tertained there. was laid upon his trencher. Then he pre
... sented the note, and my Lord looking thereon, said his defire should be granted. So when he had be n there a good while he feemed to get some heart, and to be a little more comforted. For my matter, you muf know, is one of very tender bowels, especially to
hem that are afraid ;. wherefore he carried it so towards im, as might tend most to his encouragehent. Well, when he bad a sight of the He is a little on. hings of the place, and was ready to take couraged at the
journey to go to the city, my Lord, as Interpreter's did to Chriftian before, gave him a bot. house. le of spirits, and fome comfortable things eat.' Thus we set forward, and I went before him; but se man was but of few words, only he would figh aloud. When we were come to where three fellows were hang1, he said, That he doubled that that ould be his end alio; only he seemed Ho rvas frighra lad when he saw the cross and the sepula ened at the Gibo hre. There I confess he desired to stay a bet, comforted itle to look ; and he seemed for a while at the cross. ster to be a little cornforted. When he ime at the hill Difficulty he made no stick at ebat, nor diu
much fear the lions : For you must know that his troustes were not about such things as these : bis fear was abous !Is acceptance at lait,
I got him in at the house Beautiful, I Dumpish at the hink before he was willing; also when he house Beautiful. yas in I brought him acquaioted with the lamsels that were of the place, but he was ashamed to make aimself much for company; he desired much to be alone, yet he always loved good talk, and often would be hind the skreen to hear it: He also loved much to lee ancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told me afterwards that he loved to be in those two houses from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the Interpreter; but that he urit not be fo boid as to ako
When we went from the house Beautiful down the hill into the valley of Humilia. He went down tion, he went down as well as, ever I saw a into, and was man in my life, for he cared not how.mean very pleasant in he was, fo he might be happy at lalt. Yea, the valley of I think there was a kind of symp. thy be. Humiliation. twixt the valley and him ; for I never faw him better in all his pilgrimage than he was in that valley,
Here he would lay down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew
in this valley. He would now be up every morning by break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the vailey.
But when he came to the entrance or the La. 3. valley of the Shadow of Death, I though 29.
I should have loft my man; not for that!
had any inclination to go back, shat he at Much perplexed ways abhorrod, but he was ready to die · in the valley of fear. O! the hobgoblins will have me
rbe Shadow of the hobgoblins will have me, cried he; an Death. I could not beat him out on't. He mad
such a noise, and such an outcry here, thy had they but heard him, 'twas enough to encourage the so came and fall upon us.
But this I took very great notice of, that this valley w as quiet when we went through it, as ever I knew ii befor or since. I fuppose those enemies there had now a specia check from our Lord, and a command not to meddle an shat Mr. Fearing was passed over it. It would be too, tedious to tell of all; we will therefor
only mention a passage or two more His behaviour at. When he was come to Vanity-Fair, Vanity Fair, thought he would have fought with all the
men in the fair, I feared there we doel have both been knocked on the head, so hot was he again! fooleries. Upon that inchanted ground he was also very wakeful : But when he was come at the river, where wa no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case : Now, now he said, he should be drowned for ever, and fo neve! fee that face with comfort, that he had come so many miles to behold.
And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable; the water of that river was lower at this cime chan ever! • faw is in all my life ; so he went over at last, not much
above wet-thod. When he was going up to the gate, Mr.
Hon. Then it seems he was well at last.
Behold Vanity-Fair! the pilgrims there
Even so it was our Lord país'd here,
was a man of choice fpirit, only he was always kept very low, and that made his life fo burdensome to himielf, and so very troublesome to others. He was above many tender of fin; he was af: aid of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny himself of that which was lawful, because he would not offend.
Hon. But what thould be the reason that such a good man should be all his days fo much in the dark ?
Great beart. There are two sorts of reafons for it; one is, the wife God will have Reasons why have it so, some must pipe, and some must good men are so weep: Now Mr. Fearing 'was one that in tbe dark. played upon the bass. He and his fellows Mat. 11.16,17 found the fackbut, whose notes are more 18. doleful than' notes of other music are ; though indeed fome say the bass is the ground of mufic: And for my part, I care not at all for that profeslion that begins not in heaviness of mind. The firrt itring that the musician 'usually touches is the bass, when he intends to put all in tune; God also plays upon this fring firit, whe when he sets the fcul in tune for himself; only there was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing, he could play wpón na other music but this, vill towards his latter-end.
I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the ripening of the wits of young re:ders, and because, in the books of the revelations, the faved are compared to a company of muhcians that play apon 'Rev. 8. cbapo their trumpets ani tarps, and fing their 14. 2, 3. songs before the thione
How. He was a very zealous wan, as one 'may see by what relation you have given of nim; difficulties, lioni, or Vanity, he feared not at all; it was only fin, death, and hell star was to hiin a terror; becaule he had some doubts about his interest in that crieitial country.
Great heart. You say right; thofe tvere the things that were his troubis; and they as you have will observed, arose from weakn ís of spirit; as to cae practical part of a pilgrim's lite, lasíte beiseve that, as the proverb is, he could have bit a firenrand, A cinje about had iz ilove in his way: Bur chole things him. with which ié was oppreilid no twaa svel yet could Thake off with casc.