former deliverances, of which some were exceedingly remarkable, and none more so than that which I am now going to relate. Being a soldier in the parliament's army, at the siege of Leicester, 1645, he was drawn out to stand centinel, but another soldier voluntarily desired to go in his room; which Mr. BUNYAN consenting to, he went; and as he stood centinel there, was shot in the head with a musket bullet, and died. This was a deliverance that Mr. BUNYAN Would often mention, but never without thanksgiving to God.

He was a man of a piercing judgment, and had a great insight into things, as appeared in the late reign; when liberty of conscience was so unexpectedly given by King James II. to dissenters of all persuasions. He saw it was not out of kindness to dissenters that they were so suddenly set at liberty, and freed from the hard persecutions that had long lain so heavy upon them.

He acknowledged that liberty of conscience was good, and was every man s birth-right by a divine charter; but he could not believe it was then given out of a good end: and thought that the bright sunshine of the present liberty was but to introduce a black cloud of slavery upon us, when once the designs, then laying, were ripe for execution; and therefore exhorted his congregation at Bedford, and others also, to make use of the Ninevites' remedy to avert the impending storm.

In

It was his constant practice, when he had his liberty, to come up once a year to London, and to preach in several places there, but more particularly in Southwark, near the Falcon; and his labours met with a general acceptance from all his auditors. And from London, he used to ride his circuit in the country, visiting the saints, and strengthening their hands in the ways of God. his family he kept up a daily and constant course of prayer, reading and exhortation; instructing his children, and exhorting them to walk in the ways of God. He had the blessing of "neither poverty nor riches; " but God always gave him food convenient. I once told him

of a gentleman in London, a wealthy citizen, that would take his son Joseph apprentice without money, which might be a great means to advance him: but he replied to me, God did not send him to advance his family, but to preach the gospel.'

The last act of his life was a labour of love and charity; for a young gentleman who was Mr. BUNYAN'S neighbour, having fallen under the displeasure of his father, he desired Mr. BUNYAN to be the instrument of making up the breach; which he both undertook and happily effected: but on his return to London, being overtaken with excessive rains, and coming to his lodgings very wet (which was at Mr. STRADDOCK's, a grocer, upon Snow-hill,) he fell ill of a violent fever, which he bore with much constancy and patience, resigning himself to the will of God, and desiring to be dissolved, that he might be with Christ. He looked upon this life as a delay of that blessedness which his soul was aspiring to, and thirsting after; and in this holy longing frame of spirit, after a sickness of ten days, he breathed out his soul into the hands of his blessed Redeemer, following his happy Pilgrim, from the City of Destruction to the Heavenly Jerusalem.

A few days after his decease, his remains were interred in Bunhill-fields burying ground, and a handsome tomb erected to his memory.

He married his

Mr. BUNYAN was twice married. By his first wife Elizabeth, he had four children, one of whom, named Mary, was blind, and died before him. second wife about 1658, and she survived him only about four years, dying in 1692. It does not appear that she had any children. Nor have we any farther account of his children by his former wife.

As to his temper and person, his character is thus delineated, In countenance he appeared to be of a stern and rough temper, but in his conversation mild and affable,-not given to much discourse in company, unless some urgent occasion required it; observing never

to boast of himself, or his parts, but rather submit himself to the judgment of others;-abhorring lying and swearing, being just in all that lay in his power to his word;-not seeming to revenge injuries,-loving to reconcile differences, and make friendship with all. In person, he was tall of stature, strong boned, though not corpulent, somewhat of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes, wearing his hair upon his upper lip after the old British fashion :-his hair reddish, but in his latter days time had sprinkled it with gray;-his nose well set, but not declining or bending, and his mouth moderately large, his forehead something high, and his habit always plain and modest.'

POSTSCRIPT

TO THE

LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN.

BY DR. ADAM CLARKE.

I HAD intended to write a life of John Bunyan, but was prevented by hindrances which put it completely out of my power. I then desired a friend, who I was well assured could do the subject justice, to undertake it; and he has done it, in the main, much to my satisfaction, and I hope to the satisfaction of every intelligent and candid reader. The work itself, though it contains some sentiments which are not consistent with my creed, I can most cordially recommend for its good sense, deep and unaffected piety, generally correct description of the plan and way of salvation by Christ Jesus, and its opposition to Antinomianism, which, as a system, was most cordially reprobated by the pious author; and I am glad to see the work appear, in the present edition, in a dress worthy of its great excellence.

The Pilgrim's Progress, in its invention and plan, has been generally supposed to have been the child of John Bunyan's own fancy; and he has, in his advertisement to the "Holy War," strongly vindicated his claim to it. The necessity of this vindication at least proves that the matter was called in question in his own times; and the following extract contains at once his defence, and his own account of the origin and execution of the work:

"Some say the Pilgrim's Progress is not mine,
Insinuating as if I would shine,

In name and fame, by the work of another;
Like some made rich by robbing of their brother
Or that, so fond I am of being sire,

I'll father bastards, or, if need require,
I'll tell a lie in print to get applause.

I scorn it; John such dirt-heap never was,
Since God converted him.

Let this suffice

To shew why I my Pilgrim patronise.

It came from mine own heart; so to my head,
And then into my fingers trickled;

Then to my pen, from whence immediately
On paper I did dribble it daintily.

Manner and matter too were all my own;
Nor was it unto any mortal known,
Till I had done it. Nor did any then

By books, by wits, by tongues, or hands, or pen,
Add five words to it, or write half a line;
Therefore the whole, and every whit, is mine.
Also for this, thine eye is now upon,

The matter in this manner came from none
But the same heart, and head, fingers, and pen,
As did the others. Witness, all good men:
For none in all the world, without a lie,
Can say that this is mine, excepting I."

Notwithstanding these declarations, concerning the general truth of which I feel no doubt, his whole plan, both in this and his "Holy War," the latter especially, being so very similar to Barnard's religious allegory, called "The Isle of Man, or Proceedings in Manshire," first published in 1627, and which was so well received by the public, that it ran through seven editions in two years; and also to that most beautiful allegorical poem by Mr. Edmund Spenser, oddly called the " Faery Queen," there is much reason to believe that one or other, if not both, gave birth to the work in question. This must be granted, unless it could be rationally supposed, which is not likely, that Mr. Bunyan never saw either the work of Spenser, or that of Barnard. But, although the general idea should be allowed to be sug

The Holy War.