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his crutches and his good wishes, therefore thus he said: These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may prove better than I have been.
Then he thanked Mr. Great heart for his conduct and kindness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came to the brink of the river, he said, Now, I shall have no more need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on. The last works he was heard to say were, "Welcome life!" So he went his way.
His last words.
After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought Feeble-mind sumhim, that the Post sounded his horn at his chamber moned. door. Then he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee; and that, in a very little time, thou must behold his face in brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of my message: "Those that look out at the windows shall be darkened."
Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told them what errand had been brought unto him, and what token he had received of the truth of the message. Then he said, since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make a will?
As for my feeble-mind, that I will leave behind me, He makes his will.
for that I shall have no need of in the place whither
I go; nor is it worth bestowing upon the poorest Pilgrims; wherefore when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury it in a dunghill. This done, and the day being come on which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His last words were, "Hold out, faith and patience!" So he went over to the other side.
His last words.
When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was sent for; for a Post was come, and brought this message to him: "Trembling man, these are to summon thee Mr. Despondency's to be ready with the King by the next Lord's day, summons. to shout for joy for thy deliverance from all thy doubtings."
And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take this for a proof; so he gave him " a grasshopper to be a burden unto him." "Now, Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose His daughter goes name was Much-afraid, said, when she heard what too.
was done, that she would go with her father. Then Mr. Despondency said to his friends, Myself and my daughter, you know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves
Eccl. xii. 5.
in every company; my will and my daughter's is, that our desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received from the day of our departure for ever; for I know that after my death, they will offer themselves to others. For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts which we entertained when we first began to be Pilgrims, and could never shake them off after; and they will walk about, and seek entertainment of the Pilgrims; but, for our sakes, shut the doors upon them.
His last words.
When the time was come for them to depart, they went up to the brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency were, "Farewell night, welcome day!” His daughter went through the river singing, but none could understand what she said.
Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a Post in the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he came to the house where Mr. Honest sum- he was, and delivered to his hand these lines: "Thou art commanded to be ready against this day seven-night, to present thyself before the Lord at his Father's house." And for a token that my message is true, "All the daughters of music shall be brought low."* Then Mr. Honest called for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go with me; let him that comes after be told of this.
He makes no will.
When the day that he was to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now the river at that time overflowed its banks in some places; but Mr. Honest, in his lifetime, had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there; the which he also did, and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr. HonGrace reigns;" so he left the world.
Good-conscience helps Mr. Honest over the river.
After this, it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was Mr. Valiant-for- taken with a summons by the same Post as the truth summoned. other, and had this for a token that the summons was true, "That his pitcher was broken at the fountain." When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I am going to my Father's; and though with great difficulty I have got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles, who now will be my rewarder. When
Eccl. xii 4. † Eccl. xii. 6.
His last words.
the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the river-side; into which as he went, he said, "Death where is thy sting?" And as he went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy victory?" So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand
Mr. Standfast is fast. This Mr. Standfast was he that the rest of summoned. the Pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground. And the Post brought it him open in his hands. The contents thereof were, "That he must prepare for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from him any longer." At this Mr. Standfast was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger, you need not doubt of the truth of my message, for here is a token of the truth thereof, " Thy wheel is broken at the cistern.”* Then he called to him Mr. Great-heart, who was He calls for Mr. their guide, and said unto him, Sir, although it Great-heart. was not my hap to be much in your good company during the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I knew you, His speech to him. you have been profitable to me. When I came
from home, I left behind me a wife and five small children; let me entreat you, at your return, (for I know that you will go and return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may yet be a conductor to more of the holy Pilgrims,) that you send to my family, and let them be acquainted with all that hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them, moreover, of my happy arrival at this His errand to his place, and of the present and late blessed condition family.
I am in. Tell them also of Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and her children came after her husband. Tell them also of what a happy end she made, and whither she is gone. I have little or nothing to send to my family, unless it be prayers and tears for them; of which it will suffice that you acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail.
His last words.
When Mr. Standfast had thus set things in order, and the time being come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the river. Now there was a great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr. Standfast, when he was about half-way in, stood a while and talked with his companions that had waited upon him thither; and he said, This river, has been a terror to many; yea, the thoughts of it also have often frighted me; but now methinks I stand easy, my foot is fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests that bare the Ark of the Covenant stood, while Israel went over this Jordan.† The waters in
⚫ Eccl. xii. 6. t Josh. iii. 17.
deed are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey; my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that Head that was crowned with thorns, and that face that was spit upon, for me. I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too. His name has been to me as a civet-box; yea, sweeter than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most sweet, and his countenance I have more desired than they that have most desired the light of the sun. His words I did use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held me, and hath kept me from mine iniquities; yea, my steps hath he strengthened in his way. Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed under him; and after he had said, "Take me, for I come unto thee," he ceased to be seen of them.
But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players upon stringed instruments, to welcome the Pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the Beautiful Gate of the City!
As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Christiana brought with her, with their wives and children, I did not stay where I was till they were gone over. Also, since I came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so would be, for the increase of the church in that place where they were, for a time.
Should it be my lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it an account of what I here am silent about. Meantime I