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And with an Ornamental Wrapper. Each Number complete in itself.

This Series of Stories is issued to supply Sunday School Teachers with suitable Monthly Reward Books for their Scholars. Each number contains a complete Story illustrative of some important lesson or great truth, in subject and style adapted for the class of children for whom they are specially intended -OUR SUNDAY SCHOLARS.

The Editor makes it his constant aim to gain the attention and sympathy of the young for what is good and true; and, by clothing important lessons in a beautiful dress, to make that entertaining to the young mind which, if presented in a less attractive manner, might seem dull and uninteresting.

They are well written and well illustrated. We recommend the series to teachers and parents as one of the best sets of stories we have seen."-Baptist Magazine.

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THE APPEAL is intended to serve all the purposes of a tract, with all the advantages for interest and freshness of a periodical. It contains Addresses and Appeals on Personal Religion, written in simple earnest language; Narratives and Anecdotes illustrative of Important Truths and Daily Duties; Pages for the Young; a Social Page; Poetry, etc., etc.

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THE APPEAL is recommended to Christian workers generally as very useful for loan and distribution among the working classes; for its useful and entertaining articles, and cheerful, earnest style, it everywhere recommends itself to its readers, and is welcomed in thousands of working homes in the dense city and the scattered village. Being very little larger than the usual tract size, it stitches into an ordinary loan tract cover.

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Now ready, the Nineteenth Thousand, price 2d., or 148. per 100; or, in cloth, 4d., or 28s. per 100,


Containing 144 Hymns of Praise and Prayer, Missionary Hymns, Hymns on Christian Duty, Early Piety,
Religious Knowledge, Love to Christ, etc.

A sample copy sent post free for three stamps.


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EN at the first I took my pen in hand
as for to write, I did not understand

at I at all should make a little book
such a mode; nay, I had undertook

son make another; which, when almost done, ded fore I was aware, Ithis begun.

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d thus it was: I writing of the way race of saints, in this our gospel day, suddenly into an allegory

ut their journey, and the way to glory, more than twenty things which I set down: done, I twenty more had in my erowu; they again began to multiply,

sparks that from the coals of fire, do fly. then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, at you by yourselves, lest you at læst uld prove ad infinitum, and eat out book that I already am about.

, so I did; but yet I did not think

how to all the world my pen and ink

uch a mode; I only thought to make

hew not what: nor did I undertake

reby to please my neighbour: no, not I; id it my own self to gratify.

either did I but vacant seasons spend his my scribble: nor did I intend

to divert myself in doing this

a worser thoughts which make me do amiss. is I set pen to paper with delight,

quickly had my thoughts in black and white. having now my method by the end,

I pulled, it came; and so I penn'd

town; until it came at last to be,

length and breadth, the bigness which you see. Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, Towed them others, that I might see whether ey would condemn them, or them justify:"

d some said, Let them live; some, Let them die : me said, John, print it; others said, Not so; me said, It might do good; others said, No. Now was I in a strait, and did not see ich was the best thing to be done by me; last I thought, Since ye are thus divided, rint it will; and so the case decided.

r, thought I, some I see would have it done, ough others in that channel do not run; prove, then, who advised for the best,

us I thought fit to put it to the test.

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(further thought, if now I did deny
ose that would have it, thus to gratify;
ot know, but hinder them I might

that which would to them be great delight.

r those which were not for its coming forth,

aid to them, Offend you I am loth;

t si ce your brethren pleased with it be,

rbear to judge, till you do further see.

If at thou wilt not read, let it alone;

me love the meat, some love to pick the bone,

a, that I might them better palliate,

lid too with them thus expostulate :

May I not write in such a style as this? uch a method too, and yet not miss

y end-thy good? Why may it not be done? rk clouds bring waters, when the bright bring


ja, dark or bright, if they their silver drops
use to descend, the earth, by yielding crops,
ves praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
at treasures up the fruit they yield together;
ja, so commixes both, that in their fruit
one can distinguish this from that; they suit
er well when hungry; but if she be full,

le spews out both, and makes their blessings null.

You see the ways the fisherman doth take

> catch the fish; what engines doth he make!

thold how he engageth all his wits;

so his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets, it fish there be, that neither hook nor line, or snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine; ley must be groped for, and be tickled too, they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. How does the fowler seek to catch his game divers means! all which one cannot name; is guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell; e creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell fall his postures ? Yet there's none of these ill make him master of what fowls he please.


Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this;
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss.
If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell,
And may be found too in an oyster-shell;
If things that promise nothing do contain
Wha better is than gold; who will disdain,
That have an inkling of it, there to look,
That they may find it? Now my little book
(Though void of all these paintings that may make
It with this or the other man to take)

Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave, but empty notions dwell.
"Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,

That this your book will stand, when soundly tried." Why, what's the matter? "It is dark." What "But it is feigned." What of that? I trow [though P Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine, Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine. "But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. "They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind."


Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen
Of him that writeth things divine to men;
But must I needs want solidness, because
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws,
His gospel laws, in olden time held forth
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth
Will any sober man be to find fault
With them, lest he be found for to assault
The highest wisdom? No, he rather stoops,
And seeks to find out by what pins and loops,
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,
Ey birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,
God speaketh to him; and happy is he
That finds the light and grace that in them be,
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 parable 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, whoso 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 every where so full of all these things,
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs
From that same book, that lastre, 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 durst adventure ter,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling clothes, 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 imagination 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 no where doth 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 .et me propound; then I submit
To those that are my betters, as is fit.

1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse
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 0: 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 minds 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
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 counsels 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.

Art thou for something rare and profitable?
Wouldest thou see 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 was 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 thon 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 lau-b and weep?
Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself again without a charm ? [what,
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not
And yet know whether thou art lest or not,
By reading the same lies? Ob then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together






Go now, my little Book, to every place
Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face;
Call at their door: if any say, Who's there?
Then answer thou, Christiana is here.

If they bid thee come in, then enter thou,
With all thy boys: and then, as thou know'st how,
Tell who they are, also from whence they caine,
Perhap they'll know them by their looks or name:
But if they should not, ask them yet again,
If formerly they did not entertain

One Christian, a Pilgrim ? If they say
They did, and were delighted in this way;
Then let them know, that these related were
Unto him; yea, his wife and children are.

Tell them that they have left their house and home;
Are turned Pilgrims; seek a world to come;
That they have met with hardships in the way;
That they do meet with troubles night and day;
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils;
Have also overcome a many evils;

Yea, tell them also of the next who have,
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave
Defenders of that way; and how they still
Refuse this world, to do their Father's will.
Go tell them also of those dainty things
That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrims brings.
Let them acquainted be, too, how they are
Beloved of their King, under his care;
What goodly mansions he for them provides;
Though they meet with rough winds and swelling

How brave a calm they will enjoy at last,
Who to the Lord, and by his ways hold fast.
Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace
Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace
Thee and thy fellows with good cheer and fare,
As show well they of Pilgrims lovers are.


But how if they will not believe of me That I am truly thine? 'cause some there be That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same; And by that means have brought themselves into The hands and houses of I know not who,


'Tis true some have of late, to counterfeit
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set;
Yea, others half my name, and title too,
Have stitched to their books to make them do;
But yet they, by their features, do declare
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are.
If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way,
Before them all, is to say out thy say

In thine own native language, which no man
Now itseth, nor with ease dissemble can.
If, after all, they still of you shall doubt,
Thinking that you like gipsies go about,
In naughty wise the country to defile;
Or that you seek good people to beguile
With things unwarrantable-send for me,
And I will testify you pilgrims be;
Ken, I will testify that only you

My Pilgrims are, and that alone will do.


But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him Of those who wish him damned life and limb: What shall I do, when I at such a door For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?


Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. My Pilgrim's book has trave led sea and land, Yet could I never ceme to understand That it was slighted, or turned out of door, By any kingdoin, were they rich or poor.

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend. a brother. In Holland, too, 'tis said, as I am told, My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. Highl. nders and wild Irish can agree My Pilgrims should famiiar with them be. Tis New England under sugh advance, much loving countenance,

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As to be trimm'd, new cloth'd, and deck'd with "ems,
That it might show its features and its limbs.
Yet more, so comely doth my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk.
If you draw nearer home, it will appear
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear.
City and country will him entertain,
With, Welcome, Pilgrim; yea, they can't refrain
Froin smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by,
Or shows his nead in any company.

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love,
Esteem it much; yea, value it above
Things of a greater bulk; yea, with delight
Say, ny lark's leg is better than a kite.
Young ladies and young gentlewomen too
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show:
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts,
My Pilgrim has; 'cause he to them imparts
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains,
As yield them profit double to their pains
Of reading; yea, I think I may be bold
To say, some prize him far above their gold.
The very children that do walk the street,
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,
Salute him will; will wish him well, and say,
He is the only stripling of the day.

They that have never seen him, yet admire
What they have heard of him, and much desire
To have his company, and hear him tell
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.
Yea, some that did not love him at the first,
But call'd him fool and noddy, say they must
Now they have seen and heard him, hiin commend:
And to those whom they love, they do him send.

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be Afraid to show thy head; none can hurt thee, That wish but well to him that went before; 'Cause thou com'st after with a second store Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, For young, for old, for stagg'ring and for stable.


But some there be that say, He laughs too loud. And some do say, His head is in a cloud. Some say, His words and stories are so dark, They know not how by them to find his mark.


One may (I think) say, Both his laughs and cries
May well be guess'd at by his watery eyes.
Some things are of that nature as to make
One's fancy chuckle, whi'e his heart doth ache.
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep,
He did, at the same time, both kiss and weep.
Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head;
That doth but show his wisdom's covered
With his own mantle, and to stir the mind
To search well after what it fain would find.
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure
Do but the godly mind the more allure
To study what those sayings should contain
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.
I also know a dark similitude
Will on the curious fancy more intrude,
And will stick faster in the heart and head,
Than things from similes not borrowed.

Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement
Hinder thy travels: behold thou art sent
To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place
To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast revealed! What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, Sweet Christiana opens with her key.


But some loved not the method of your first: Romance they count it, throw 't away as dust. If I should meet with such, what should I say? Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?


My Christiana, if with such thou meet, By all means, in all loving wise them greet; Render them not reviling for revile: But if they frown, I pr'ythee on them smile:

Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report,
Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and so
Love not their friends, nor their own house or home
Some start at pig, sight chicken, love not fowl,
More than they love a cuckoo or an owl.
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice,
And seek those who to find thee wil rejoice;
By no means strive, but in most humble wise
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.

Go, then, my little book, and show to all
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall,
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest;
And wish what thou shalt show them may be bless
To them for good, and make them choose to be
Pilgrims by better far than thee and me.
Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art;
Say, I am Christiana, and my part

Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what
It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot.

Go also, tell them who and what they be
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee;
Say, Here's my neighbour, Mercy; she is one
That has long time with me a pilgrim gone:
Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn
'Twixt idle ones and pilgrims to discern.
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize,
The world which is to come, in any wise.
When little tripping maidens follow God,
And leave old doating sinners to his rod,
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried
Hosanna! when the old ones did deride.

Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found,
With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrim's groun
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was;
How after his good Lord he bare the cross.
Perhaps with some grey head this may prevail
With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail.
Tell them also how Master Fearing went
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent
In solitariness, with fears and cries;
And how at last he won the joyful prize.
He was a good man, though much down in spirit,
He is a good man, and doth life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also,
Who not before, but still behind would go:
Show them also how he had like been slain,
And how one Great-Heart did his life regain.
This man was true of heart, though weak in graa
One might true godliness read in his face.

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-Halt,

A man with crutches, but much without fault:
Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he
Did love, and in opinion much agree:

And let all know though weakness was their chance
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.
Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-Truth,
That man of courage, though a very youth.
Tell every one his spirit was so stout,
No man could ever ake him face about;
And how Great-heart and he could not forbear;
But put down Doubting Castle, slew Despair!
Overlook not Master Despondency,

Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie
Under such mantles as may make them look
(With some) as if their God had them forsook.
They softly went, but sure; and at the end,
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend.
When thou hast told the world of all these things
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings,
Which, if but touched, will such music make,
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.
These riddles, that lie couched within thy reast
Freely propound, expound! and for the rest
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain,
For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain.
Now may this little Book a blessing be
To those th t love this little book and me;
And may its buyer have no cause to say,
His money is but lost or thrown away.
Yea, may this second Pilgrim. yield that fruit
As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit;
And may it some persuade that go astray,
To turn their feet and heart to the right way,
Is the hearty prayer of
The Author,

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SI walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den, and 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 upon his back, Isa. Ixiv 6; Luke xiv. 33; Psa. xxxviii. 4. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept, and trembled; and not be. ing able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamen. table cry, saying, "What shall I do?" Acts ii. 37; xvi. 30; Hab. i. 2, 3. In this plight, therefore, he went home and restrained 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 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 certainly informed that this our city will be burnt with fire from heaen; 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 sleep. ing, 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 carriage to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes 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 read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, "What shall I do to be saved?" Acts xvi. 30, 31.

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as if
he would run; yet
he stood still, be-
cause (as I per
ceived) he could
not tell which way
I looked

to go.
then, and saw a
man named Evan-
gelist coming to
him, and asked,
Wherefore dost
thou cry?

He answered, Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment, Heb. ix. 27; and I find that I am not willing to do the first, Job xvi. 21, 22, nor able to do the second; Ezek. xxii, 14.

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since this life is attended with so many evils? The man answered, Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet, Isa. xxx. 33. And, sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence te execution; and the thoughts of these things make me cry.

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou still? He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, "Flee from the wrath to come," Matt. iii. 7.

The man, therefore, read it, and, looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I fly? Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very wide field), Do you see yonder wicket-gate? Matt. vii. 13, 14. The man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder shining light? Psa. cxix. 105; 2 Pet. i. 19. He said, I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now he had not run far from his own door, when his wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry after him to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life! life! eternal life! Luke xiv. 26. So he looked not behind him, Gen. xix. 17, but fled towards the middle of the plain.

The neighbours also came out to see him run, Jer. xx. 10; and as he ran some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return; and among those that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable. Now by this time the man was got a good distance from them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then said, the man, Neighbours, wherefore are ye come? They said, To persuade you to go back with us. But he said, That can by no means be; you dwell, said he, in the city of Destruction, the place also where I was born: I see it to be so; and dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone; be content, good neighbours, and go along with me.

OBST. What! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and comforts behind us!

that all which you forsake is not worthy to be compared with CHR. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), because a little of that I am seeking to enjoy, 2 Cor. iv. 18; and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there, where I go, is enough and to spare, Luke rv. 17. Come away, and prove my words.

OBST. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them?

CUR. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, 1 Pet. i. 4, and it is laid up in heaven, and safe there, Heb. xi. 16, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book. OBST. Tush! said Obstinate, away with your book; will you go back with us or no?

CHR. No, not I, said the other, because I have put my hand to the plough, Luke ix. 62.

OBST. Come, then, neighbour Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him; there is a company of these crazy. headed coxcombs, that when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a



PLI. Then, said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the good Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours: my heart inclines to go with my neighbour.

OBST. What! more fools still! Be ruled by me and go back, who knows whither such a brain sick fellow wilt lead you? Go back, go back, and be wise.

CHR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour, Pliable; there are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories besides. If you believe not me, read here in this book; and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it, Heb. ix.


PLI. Well, neighbour Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin ta


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