The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan Every Child Can Read
time that the battle did last.
When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again;
and Mr. Great-heart with a blow fetched the giant down to the ground.
"Nay, hold, and let me recover," quoth he. So Mr. Great-heart fairly let
him get up: so to it they went again; and the giant missed but little of
breaking Mr. Great-heart's skull with his club.
Mr. Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit,
and pierceth him under the fifth rib. With that the giant began to
faint, and could hold up his club no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart
seconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his shoulders.
Then the women and the children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart also
praised God for the deliverance He had wrought.
When this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar, and fastened the
giant's head thereon, and wrote under it in letters that passengers
might read:
"He that did wear this head, was one
That pilgrims did misuse;
He stopped their way, he spared none,
But did them all abuse;
Until that I, Great-heart, arose,
The pilgrims' guide to be;
Until that I did him oppose
That was their enemy."
Now, I saw that they went to the high ground that was a little way off,
cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims. That was the place from whence
Christiana had the first sight of Faithful his brother. Wherefore here
they sat down and rested. They also here did eat and drink and make
merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an
enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he
had caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great-heart, "No, save a
little on my flesh; yet that also shall be so far from being to my harm
that it is at present a proof of my love to my Master and you, and shall
be a means, by grace, to increase my reward at last."
CHR. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come out with
his club?
GREAT. "It is my duty," said he, "to mistrust my own ability, that I may
have trust in Him who is stronger than all."
CHR. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at
the first blow?
GREAT. "Why, I thought," replied he, "that so my Master Himself was
served; and yet He it was that conquered at the last."
MATT. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been
wonderful good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in
delivering us out of the hand of this enemy. For my part, I see no
reason why we should distrust our God any more, since He has now, and in
such a place as this, given us such proof of His love as this.
[Sidenote: OLD HONEST]
Then they got up and went forward. Now, a little before them stood an
oak; and under it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast
asleep. They knew that he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and his staff,
and his girdle.
So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him; and the old gentleman, as he
lifted up his eyes, cried out, "What's the matter? what are you, and
what is your business here?"
GREAT. Come, man, be not so hot; here are none but friends.
Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, and will know of
them what they are. Then said the guide, "My name is Great-heart; I am
the guide of these pilgrims, that are going to the Celestial Country."
HONEST. Then said Mr. Honest, "I cry you mercy: I feared that you had
been of the company of those that some time ago did rob Little-Faith of
his money; but now I look better about me I perceive you are honester
people."
GREAT. Why, what would or could you have done to have helped yourself,
if we indeed had been of that company?
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.
GREAT. "Well said, Father Honest," quoth the guide; "for by this I know
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.
[Sidenote: CONVERSES WITH HONEST]
GREAT. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and
the name of the place you came from.
HON. My name I cannot; but I came from the town of Stupidity; it lieth
about four degrees beyond the City of Destruction.
GREAT. Oh! are you that countryman? then I deem I have half a guess of
you: your name is old Honesty, is it not?
HON. So the old gentleman blushed, and said, "Not Honesty, 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. I had heard of you before by my Master; for He knows all things
that are done on the earth. But I have often wondered that any 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 were a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of
Righteousness should rise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw;
and thus it hath been with me.
GREAT. 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
love, and asked them their names, and how they had fared since they had
set out on their pilgrimage.
CHR. Then said Christiana, "My name I suppose you have heard of: good
Christian was my husband, and these 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:
HON. 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: his faith, his
courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, have made his name
famous. Then he turned him to the boys, and asked of them their names,
which they told him. Then he said unto 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. Joseph," said
he, "be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, pure, and one that flees
from temptation. And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James
the brother of our Lord." 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 and carried through all those difficulties that
shall attack 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 companion.
[Sidenote: THEY DISCUSS MR. FEARING]
Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentleman if
he did not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his
parts.
HON. "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. 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. 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. I did so; but I could very well bear it, for men of my calling
are oftentimes entrusted with the conduct of such as he was.
HON. Well, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed
himself under your conduct.
GREAT. Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he
had a desire to go. Everything frightened him that he heard anybody
speak of, if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I hear
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 hand. He would not go back
again neither. The Celestial City, he said, he should die if he came not
to it; and yet was discouraged at every difficulty, and stumbled at
every straw that anybody 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 everywhere 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 here also he
stood a good 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 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 shrank 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 are blessed." With that, he got up, and
went in trembling; and when 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 came 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 venture to call: yet
he would not go back; and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he
had a note of need 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 fear, though he had seen 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,
and asked what he was; but, poor man, the water stood in his eyes; so I
perceived what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in the
house, and we showed the things to our Lord: so he sent me out again, to
entreat him to come in; but I dare say I had hard work to do it. At last
he came in; and I will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonderful
lovingly to him. There were but few good bits at the table, but some of
it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented the note; and my Lord
looked thereon, and said his desire should be granted. So, when he had
been there a good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to be a little
more comfortable. For my master, you must know, is one of very tender
heart, specially to them that are afraid; wherefore he carried it so