Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude
That I want solidness-that I am rude;
All things solid in show not solid be;
All things in parables despise not we;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive,
And things that good are, of our souls bereave.
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.

The prophets used much by metaphors
To set forth truth; yea, who so considers
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see,
That truths to this day in such mantles be.
Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,

Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things-
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs
From that same book that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days.
Come, let my carper to his life now look,
And find there darker lines than in my book
He findeth any; yea, and let him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.
May we but stand before impartial men,

To his poor one I dare adventure ten,

That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.

Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find,
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind;
Pleases the understanding, makes the will
Submit; the memory too it doth fill
With what doth our imaginations please;
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use,
And old wives' fables he is to refuse ;
But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid
The use of parables; in which lay hid

That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.

Let me add one word more. O man of God,

Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had

Put forth my matter in another dress?

Or, that I had in things been more express?
Three things let me propound; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.

I. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse

The Author's Apology.

Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude
In handling figure or similitude,

In application; but, all that I may,
Seek the advance of truth this or that way
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave
(Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleased, by their words or ways,
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days)
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee that excellentest are.

2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight For writing so: indeed, if they abuse

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,

Which way it pleases God; for who knows how,
Better than he that taught us first to plough,
To guide our mind and pens for his design?
And he makes base things usher in divine.
3. I find that holy writ in many places

Hath semblance with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another;
Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.
And now before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book, and then
Commit both thee and it unto that Hand

That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.
This book it chalketh out before thine eyes

The man that seeks the everlasting prize;

It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes;
What he leaves undone, also what he does;

It also shows you how he runs and runs,

Till he unto the gate of glory comes.

It shows, too, who set out for life amain,
As if the lasting crown they would obtain ;
Here also you may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like fools do die.
This book will make a traveller of thee,
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be;
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand:
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

5

Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable?
Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New Year's day to the last of December?
Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs,
And may be, to the helpless, comforters.

This book is writ in such a dialect

As may the minds of listless men affect :
It seems a novelty, and yet contains

Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy?
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?
Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation !
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation?

Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep?
Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself again without a charm?

Wouldest read thyself, and read thou knowest not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not,

By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither,

And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.

JOHN BUNYAN.

S I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain

place where was a Den, and I

The Jail.

laid me down in that place to sleep and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden his back (Isa. lxiv. 6; Luke xiv. 33; Ps. xxxviii. 4; Hab. ii. 2; Acts xvi. 31). I looked, and saw him open the book and read therein; and, as he read, he wept, and trembled; and not being able longer to

upon

contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, His outery. saying, "What shall I do?" (Acts` ii. 37).

In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them. O my

This world.

He knows no way of escape as yet.

dear wife, said he, and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am for certain informed that this our city will be burned with fire from heaven, in which fearful overthrow both myself, with thee, my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered. At this his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing towards night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morning was come, they would know how he did. He told them, Worse and worse: he also set to talking to them again but they began to be hardened. They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriages to him; sometimes they would deride, Carnal physic sometimes they would chide, and sometimes for a sick soul. they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying: and thus for some days he spent his time.

Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he