Christiana's Journey

The Author Sends His Second Pilgrim into the World

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 invite you in, then enter now,
With all your boys; and then, as you know how,
Tell who they are, and also whence they came;
Perhaps they know them by their looks or name.
But if they do not, ask them yet again
If formerly they did not entertain
One Christian, a pilgrim? If they say
They did, and were delighted in his way,
Then let them know that those related were
To him; indeed, his wife and children are.

Tell them that they have left their house and home,
Have turned to pilgrims, seek a world to come;
That they have met with hardships on the way,
That they still meet with troubles night and day;
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils,
Have also overcome so many evils.
Yes, tell them also of the next, who have,
For love of pilgrimage, been stout and brave
Defenders of that way, and how they still
Reject this world to do their Father’s will.

Go, tell them also of those lovely things
That pilgrimage to every pilgrim brings.
Let them know, too, how dearly loved they are
By their own King, and sheltered by his care;
What splendid mansions for them he provides,
Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides;
How fine a calm they will enjoy at last,
Who to their Lord and to his ways hold fast.

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace
You, as they did my firstborn, and will grace
You and your fellows with such cheer and fare
As shows how much they love the pilgrims there.

Objection 1:

But what if they will not believe of me
That I am truly yours, since some there be
Who counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name,
And seek, disguised, to seem the very same;
And by that means have worked themselves into
The hands and houses of I know not who?

Answer:

It’s true, some have of late, to counterfeit
My Pilgrim, on their own my title set;
Yes, others, half my name and title too
Have stitched onto their books, to make them do;
But yet their features plainly do declare
They are not mine, whoever’s books they are.

If such you meet with, then your only way,
Before them all, is to say out your say,
In your own native language, which no man
Now uses, nor with ease dissemble can.
If, after all, they still of you shall doubt,
Thinking that you, like Gypsies, go about
In wicked ways, the country to defile,
Or that you seek good people to beguile
With things unwarranted, then send for me,
And I will testify you pilgrims be.
Yes, I will testify that only you
Are my own Pilgrims; that alone will do.

Objection 2:

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

Answer:

Fright not yourself, my book, for such bugbears
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears.
My Pilgrim’s book has traveled sea and land,
Yet I have never come to understand
That it was slighted or turned out of door
By any kingdom, whether rich or poor.

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother.

In Holland too, it’s said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is to some worth more than gold.

Highlanders and wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be.

’Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives there so much loving countenance,
As to be trimmed, new-clothed, and decked with gems
That it may show its features and its limbs,
Yet more, so comely does my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk.

If you draw nearer home, it will appear,
My Pilgrim has no cause for shame or fear;
City and country will him entertain
With “Welcome, Pilgrim!” They cannot refrain
From smiling if my Pilgrim is but by,
Or shows his head in any company.

Brave gallants hug my Pilgrim with their love,
Esteem it much, and value it above
Things of a greater bulk; and with delight
Say, “My lark’s leg is better than a kite.”

Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too,
My Pilgrim no small kindness show and do.
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts
My Pilgrim has, for he to them imparts
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains
As yield them profit double to their pains
Of reading; yes, I think I may be bold
To say some prize him far above their gold.

The very children walking down the street,
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,
Will greet him, wish him well, and gladly say,
“He is the only youngster of the day.”

Those who 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.

Yes, some who did not love him at the first,
But called him fool and simpleton, say they must,
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend,
And to the ones they love, they now him send.

Therefore, my Second Part, you need not be
Afraid to show your head; none can hurt thee
Who wish him well who journeyed on before,
Since you come after with a second store
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable,
For young, for old, for wavering, and for stable.

Objection 3:

But some there are who say, “He laughs too loud,”
And some who say, “His head is in a cloud.”
Some say his words and stories are so dark
They cannot use them to discern his mark.

Answer:

One may, I think, say both his laughs and cries
May well be guessed at by his wat’ry eyes.
Some things are of a kind that they can make
One’s fancy chuckle while one’s heart can ache.
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep,
He did at the same time both kiss and weep.

When some say that a cloud is in his head,
That only shows how wisdom’s covered
With its own mantles, and to stir the mind
To search for what it wishes it could find.
Things that seem hidden in language obscure
Do all the more the godly mind allure
To study what those sayings may contain
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.

I also know a dark similitude
Will on the fancy more itself intrude,
And will stick faster in the heart and head
Than things from similes not borrowed.

Therefore, my book, let no discouragement
Hinder your travels. See, you have been sent
To friends, not foes; to friends who will give place
To you, your pilgrims, and your words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left concealed,
You, my brave second Pilgrim, have revealed;
What Christian left locked up, then went his way,
Sweet Christiana opens with her key.

Objection 4:

But some dislike the method of your first;
They call it fiction, throw it out as dust.
If I should meet with such, what should I say?
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?

Answer:

My Christiana, if with such you meet,
By all means, in a loving spirit greet;
Do not give back reviling for revile;
But if they frown, I prithee, on them smile;
Perhaps their nature, or some bad report,
Has made them thus despise or thus retort.

Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some
Love not their friends, nor their own house or home.
Some shrink from pork, scorn chicken, love no fowl
More than they love a cuckoo or an owl.
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice,
And seek out those who’ll find you and rejoice.
By no means quarrel, but in humble guise,
Present yourself as pilgrim to their eyes.

Go then, my little book, and show to all
Who welcome you and entertain you shall
What you will keep concealed from all the rest;
And wish that what you show them may be blessed
For their own good, may make them choose to be
Pilgrims better by far than you or 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
Who now are on this pilgrimage with thee;
Say, “Here’s my neighbor Mercy; she is one
Who long with me a pilgrim’s way has gone.”
Come, see her in her virgin face, and learn
’Twixt idle ones and pilgrims to discern.
Yes, let young maidens learn from her to prize
The world which is to come, in any wise.
When young, light-stepping maidens follow God,
And leave old foolish sinners to his rod,
It’s like those days in which the young ones cried
“Hosanna!” and the old ones did deride.

Next, tell them of old Honest, whom you found,
White-haired, and walking on the pilgrim’s ground.
Yes, tell them how sincere this good man was,
How, following his good Lord, he bore his cross.
Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail
To fall in love with Christ, and sin bewail.

Tell them also how Master Fearing went
On pilgrimage, and how his time he spent
In solitude, with many 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 does life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also,
Who, not ahead, but still behind would go.
Show them, too, how he had nearly been slain,
And how one Great-heart did his life regain.
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace;
One might read true godliness 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
Loved one another, and in views 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 everyone his spirit was so stout
No man could ever make him turn about;
And how Great-heart and he could not forbear,
But brought 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
To 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 you have 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 hidden in your breast,
Freely present, explain; and for the rest
Of your mysterious lines, let them remain
For those whose lively minds their sense shall gain.

Now may this little book a blessing be
To those who love this little book and me;
And may its buyer have no cause to say
His money is but lost or thrown away.
Yes, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit
As may with each good pilgrim’s fancy suit;
And may it persuade some who go astray
To turn their feet and heart to the right way.

This is the heartfelt prayer of the author, John Bunyan.

News of Christian’s Family

Courteous companions,

Some time ago, I enjoyed telling you my dream about Christian the Pilgrim and his dangerous journey toward the Celestial Country, and you benefited from hearing it. I also told you what I saw of his wife and children, and how unwilling they were to join him on pilgrimage. He had to make his journey without them. He did not dare risk the destruction he feared would come if he stayed with them in the City of Destruction. So, as I showed you then, he left them and went away.

Since then, my many obligations have interrupted my usual travels into the region he left. Until now, I have had no opportunity to inquire further about those he left behind and give you an account of them. But recently some business took me that way, and I went down there again. I found lodging in a wood about a mile from the city. As I slept, I dreamed again.

In my dream, an elderly gentleman came past the place where I lay. Since he was going part of the way I was traveling, I seemed to get up and go with him. As we walked, we fell into conversation, as travelers usually do. Our talk turned to Christian and his travels, for I began by asking the old man:

“Sir, what is that town down there, to the left of our road?”

“It is the City of Destruction,” said Mr. Sagacity, for that was his name. “A populous place, but full of very ill-tempered, idle people.”

“I thought that was the city,” I said. “I once went through it myself, so I know your account of it is true.”

“Too true,” said Sagacity. “I wish I could speak better of the people who live there and still tell the truth.”

“Well, sir,” I said, “then I see you are a man of good intentions, who takes pleasure in hearing and telling what is good. Tell me, have you ever heard what happened to a man from this town some time ago? His name was Christian, and he went on pilgrimage toward the higher regions.”

“Heard of him!” said Sagacity. “Yes, and I also heard about the harassment, troubles, battles, imprisonments, cries, groans, terrors, and fears he encountered on his journey. Besides, I must tell you, our whole country is talking about him. Almost every household that has heard of him and what he did has sought out and obtained the account of his pilgrimage. Indeed, I think I can say that his dangerous journey has won many admirers for his way of life.

“While he was here, everyone called him a fool. Now that he is gone, everyone praises him highly. They say he lives splendidly where he is. Even many who are determined never to face his dangers find their mouths watering at what he has gained.”

“They have good reason to think he lives well where he is, if they think anything that is true,” I said. “He now lives at and in the Fountain of Life. What he has comes without labor or sorrow, with no grief mixed into it.”

“Talk!” said Sagacity. “People say extraordinary things about him. Some say he now walks in white (Rev 3:4; Rev 6:11), with a gold chain around his neck and a gold crown set with pearls on his head. Others say the Shining Ones, who sometimes appeared to him on his journey, have become his companions. He is as familiar with them where he is as one neighbor is with another here.

“Besides, people confidently declare that the King of that place has already given him a very rich and delightful home at court (Zech 3:7). Every day he eats (Luke 14:15), drinks, walks, and talks with the King, and receives the smiles and favor of the one who is Judge of everyone there.

“Some also expect his Prince, the Lord of that country, to come into these parts soon. He will demand to know, if his neighbors can give any reason, why they thought so little of Christian and treated him with such contempt when they saw he meant to become a pilgrim (Jude 14-15). They say Christian is now so dear to his Prince, and his Sovereign cares so much about the insults Christian suffered when he became a pilgrim, that he will regard them all as insults to himself. No wonder, for Christian faced those dangers out of love for his Prince (Luke 10:16).”

“I can certainly say I am glad of it,” I replied. “I am glad for the poor man’s sake, because he now rests from his labor (Rev 14:13), and now reaps with joy the fruit of his tears (Ps 126:5-6). He has passed beyond his enemies’ gunfire and is out of reach of those who hate him. I am also glad that news of these things is spreading through this country. Who knows what good it may do some of those left behind? But tell me, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, have you heard anything about his wife and children? Poor souls! I wonder how they are getting on.”

“Who? Christiana and her sons?” said Sagacity. “They are likely to do as well as Christian himself. At first they all acted foolishly. Neither Christian’s tears nor his pleas could persuade them. But their change of heart has worked wonders in them. They have packed up and gone after him.”

“Better and better!” I said. “But what? His wife, the children, all of them?”

“It is true,” said Sagacity. “I can tell you what happened, for I was there at the time and knew all about it.”

“Then,” I said, “a person can report this as the truth?”

“You need not hesitate to affirm it,” said Sagacity. “I mean that they have all gone on pilgrimage, the good woman and her four boys. And since we seem to be going quite a distance together, I will tell you the whole story.”

Christiana’s Awakening

“Christiana took that name on the day she and her children began a pilgrim’s life,” Mr. Sagacity continued. “After her husband had crossed the river and she could hear no more of him, her thoughts began to stir. First, she thought about having lost her husband, and about the loving bond of their marriage being completely broken.

“You know,” he said to me, “how naturally the loss of loved ones fills those who remain with many sorrowful thoughts. So the loss of her husband cost her many tears. But that was not all. Christiana also began to wonder whether her shameful behavior toward him was one reason she saw him no more, and why he had been taken from her in that way. Then memories of all her unkind, heartless, and ungodly treatment of her dear companion came swarming into her mind. They weighed on her conscience and burdened her with guilt.

“She was also deeply distressed as she remembered her husband’s restless groans, his salty tears, and his cries of misery. She remembered how she had hardened her heart against all his pleas and loving efforts to persuade her and her sons to go with him. Everything Christian had said to her or done in her presence while his burden hung on his back came back like a flash of lightning, tearing her heart open. His bitter cry, ‘What shall I do to be saved?’ rang most sorrowfully in her ears.

“Then she said to her children, ‘My sons, we are all ruined. Through my sin, I have lost your father, and he is gone. He wanted us with him, but I would not go myself. I have also kept you from life.’

“At that, all the boys burst into tears and cried out to go after their father.

“‘Oh,’ said Christiana, ‘if only we had gone with him! Then things would have gone well for us, far better than they are likely to go now. I once foolishly imagined that your father’s troubles came from some foolish notion he had, or from being overwhelmed by melancholy. But now I cannot shake the thought that they came from another cause: the Light of light had been given to him (Jas 1:23-25). With its help, I now see, he escaped the snares of death.’

“Then they all wept again and cried, ‘Oh, what a dreadful day!’

“The next night, Christiana had a dream. She seemed to see a broad sheet of parchment opened before her, recording the whole course of her life (Luke 18:13). To her, those times looked very dark indeed. Then she cried aloud in her sleep, ‘Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner!’ Her little children heard her.

“After this, she thought she saw two very sinister figures standing beside her bed and saying, ‘What shall we do with this woman? She cries for mercy whether she is awake or asleep. If she is allowed to continue as she has begun, we will lose her as we lost her husband. Somehow we must turn her thoughts away from what is to come hereafter. Otherwise, nothing in the world can stop her from becoming a pilgrim.’

“She awoke sweating heavily and trembling. After a while, though, she fell asleep again. Then she thought she saw her husband Christian in a place of bliss among many immortals. He stood with a harp in his hand, playing before someone seated on a throne, with a rainbow around his head. She also seemed to see Christian bow his head, his face toward the pavement beneath the Prince’s feet, saying, ‘I thank my Lord and King with all my heart for bringing me into this place.’

“Then a company of those standing around shouted and played their harps. No living person could tell what they said; only Christian and his companions knew.

“The next morning, after she had risen, prayed to God, and talked with her children for a while, someone knocked hard at the door. She called out, ‘If you come in God’s name, come in.’

“He said, ‘Amen,’ opened the door, and greeted her with, ‘Peace be to this house.’

“Then he said, ‘Christiana, do you know why I have come?’

“She blushed and trembled, and her heart began to glow with a desire to know where he had come from and what his errand was.

“‘My name is Secret,’ he told her. ‘I live with those who dwell on high. Where I live, people are saying that you wish to go there. We have also heard that you recognize the evil you once did to your husband by hardening your heart against his way and keeping these children of yours in ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell you that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he delights in pardoning offenses again and again. He also wants you to know that he invites you into his presence and to his table. He will feed you with the richness of his house, and with the “heritage of Jacob thy father.”

“‘Christian, who was your husband, is there with legions of companions. They gaze continually on the face that gives life to those who behold it. They will all be glad when they hear your footsteps cross your Father’s threshold.’

“Christiana felt deeply ashamed and bowed her head to the ground. The visitor went on: ‘Christiana, here is a letter for you as well. I have brought it from your husband’s King.’

“She took it and opened it. It smelled like the finest perfume (Song 1:3), and it was written in gold letters. The letter said that the King wanted her to do as her husband Christian had done. That was the way to reach his city and live joyfully in his presence forever.

“The good woman was completely overwhelmed. She cried out to her visitor, ‘Sir, will you take me and my children with you, so that we too may go and worship this King?’

“‘Christiana,’ the visitor said, ‘the bitter comes before the sweet. You must pass through troubles to enter this Celestial City, just as the one who went before you did. So I advise you to do as your husband Christian did. Go to the wicket gate over there, across the plain. It stands at the beginning of the road you must take. I wish you every success.

“‘I also advise you to tuck this letter inside your clothes, against your chest. Read it to yourself and your children until you have learned it by heart. It is one of the songs you must sing while you live in this house of your pilgrimage (Ps 119:54). You must also hand it in at the gate at the far end.’”

Now I saw in my dream that the old gentleman himself seemed deeply moved as he told me this story. He went on:

“Then Christiana called her sons together and began to speak to them: ‘My sons, as you can see, I have lately been deeply troubled in my soul about your father’s death. I have no doubt at all about his happiness, for I am now satisfied that all is well with him. But I have also been deeply troubled by thoughts of my own condition and yours. I truly believe that by nature our condition is miserable. The way I treated your father in his distress also weighs heavily on my conscience. I hardened both my own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage.

“‘These thoughts would kill me outright if it were not for the dream I had last night and the encouragement this stranger gave me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up and go to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country. Then we may see your father and live in peace with him and his companions, according to the laws of that land.’

“Her children burst into tears of joy because their mother’s heart was so willing. Their visitor said farewell, and they began preparing to set out on their journey.”

The Neighbors’ Counsel

While they were getting ready to leave, two women who were Christiana’s neighbors came to her house and knocked at the door. She answered as before, “If you come in God’s name, come in.”

The women were stunned. They were not used to hearing language like this, especially from Christiana’s lips. Still, they came in and found the good woman preparing to leave her house.

“Neighbor,” they began, “please tell us what this means.”

“I’m preparing for a journey,” Christiana answered the older woman, whose name was Mrs. Timorous. This Timorous was the daughter of the man who had met Christian on Hill Difficulty and tried to persuade him to turn back for fear of the lions.

“What journey, may I ask?” said Timorous.

“To follow my good husband,” Christiana said, and began to weep.

“I hope not, good neighbor! For your poor children’s sake, please don’t throw your life away in a way unworthy of a woman.”

“No, my children will go with me. Not one of them wants to stay behind.”

“I wonder, from the bottom of my heart, what or who has put this idea into your head.”

“Oh, neighbor, if you knew as much as I do, I have no doubt you would go with me.”

“Please tell me what new knowledge you’ve gained that turns your thoughts away from your friends and tempts you to go nobody knows where.”

“I’ve suffered terribly since my husband left me,” Christiana replied, “especially since he crossed the river. But what troubles me most is how harshly I treated him when he was in distress. Besides, I’m now as he was then. Nothing will satisfy me but going on pilgrimage.

“Last night I dreamed that I saw him. Oh, if only my soul were with him! He lives in the presence of the King of that country and sits and eats with him at his table. He has become a companion of immortals, and he has now been given a house to live in. Compared with it, the finest palaces on earth seem to me no better than a dunghill (2 Cor 5:1-4).

“The Prince of that place has also sent for me, promising to welcome me if I come to him. His messenger was here just now and brought me a letter inviting me to come.”

With that, she took out her letter, read it, and said to them, “Now what do you say to this?”

“Oh, the madness that has taken hold of you and your husband, driving you to plunge into such difficulties!” said Timorous. “Surely you’ve heard what your husband encountered almost as soon as he took his first step on the road. Our neighbor Obstinate can still testify to it, since he went along with him. So did Pliable, until, like sensible men, they were afraid to go any farther.

“We’ve also heard how he faced the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. And you must not forget the danger he faced at Vanity Fair. If he had such a hard time, even though he was a man, what can you do, a poor woman?

“Remember, too, that these four sweet little ones are your children, your own flesh and blood. So even if you’re rash enough to throw your own life away, stay home for the sake of the children you’ve brought into the world.”

“Don’t tempt me, neighbor,” Christiana said. “I’ve now been given money with which to make a profit, and I would be the greatest fool alive if I had no desire to seize the opportunity. As for all these troubles you tell me I’m likely to meet along the way, they are so far from discouraging me that they show me I’m on the right path. ‘The bitter must come before the sweet,’ and that will make the sweet still sweeter. So, since you did not come to my house in God’s name, as I said, please leave and stop troubling me.”

Then Timorous insulted her, too, and said to her companion, “Come, neighbor Mercy. Let’s leave her to her own devices, since she scorns our advice and our company.”

But Mercy hesitated. She could not so readily agree with her neighbor, for two reasons. First, her heart ached for Christiana. She said to herself, “If my neighbor insists on leaving, I’ll go a little way with her and help her.” Second, her heart ached for her own soul, because Christiana’s words had taken some hold on her mind. So she said to herself again, “I’ll talk more with Christiana. If I find truth and life in what she says, I too will go with her, with all my heart.”

Mercy then began to answer her neighbor Timorous.

“Neighbor, I did come with you to see Christiana this morning. Since, as you can see, she is saying her final farewell to her country, I intend to walk a little way with her on this sunny morning and help her along.” But she did not tell Timorous her second reason. She kept that to herself.

“Well, I see you’re inclined to go and play the fool, too,” said Timorous. “But take warning while there’s time, and be wise. As long as we’re out of danger, we’re out; but once we’re in, we’re in.”

So Mrs. Timorous returned home, and Christiana set out on her journey. When Timorous reached her house, she sent for some of her neighbors: Mrs. Bat’s-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. Once they arrived, she began telling them about Christiana and her intended journey. This was how she began her story:

“Neighbors, I had little to do this morning, so I went to visit Christiana. When I reached her door, I knocked, as you know we usually do. She answered, ‘If you come in God’s name, come in.’ So I went in, thinking everything was well.

“But when I got inside, I found her preparing to leave town with her children. I asked what she meant by that. She told me, in short, that she had now decided to go on pilgrimage, as her husband had. She also told me about a dream she’d had, and how the King of the country where her husband was had sent her a letter inviting her to come there.”

“What!” said Mrs. Know-nothing. “Do you think she’ll go?”

“Yes, she’ll go, whatever comes of it,” Timorous answered. “And I think I can tell by this. My strongest argument for persuading her to stay home, the troubles she would likely meet along the way, is one of her strongest arguments for setting out. She told me in so many words, ‘The bitter goes before the sweet.’ And because it does, it makes the sweet still sweeter.”

“Oh, this blind, foolish woman!” said Mrs. Bat’s-eyes. “Won’t she take warning from her husband’s sufferings? For my part, I can see that if he were here again, he would be content to keep his skin intact and would never run so many risks for nothing.”

“Away with such fanciful fools from the town!” Mrs. Inconsiderate replied. “Good riddance to her, I say. If she stayed where she lives and kept thinking this way, who could live peacefully beside her? She would either be gloomy or unneighborly, or talk about things no sensible person can bear to hear. So I, for one, will never be sorry she’s gone. Let her go, and let someone better take her place. The world has never been a good place since these foolish dreamers came to live in it.”

Then Mrs. Light-mind added, “Come, let’s put this kind of talk aside. Yesterday I was at Madam Wanton’s, where we were as merry as young girls. And who do you think was there? I was, along with Mrs. Love-the-flesh and three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. We had music, dancing, and everything else suited to making the pleasure complete. And I must say, my lady herself is an admirably well-mannered gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is just as charming a fellow.”