upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the mid-way to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbor, made by the Lord of the hill, for the refreshment of weary travellers; thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his Roll out of his bosom and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was given to him as he stood by the Cross. Thus pleasing himself a while, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his Roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise;" and with that, Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hill.

Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men running to meet him amain; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust; to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter? you run the wrong way. Timorous answered that they were going to the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult place; but said he, The farther we go, the more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back again.

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of Lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know not; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but they would presently pull us in pieces.

Then said Christian, You make me afraid; but whither shall I flee to be safe? If I go back to my own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there; if I can get to the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there. I must venture: to go back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it: I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill and Christian went on his way. But, thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he felt in his bosom for his Roll that he might read therein and be comforted; but he felt and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do: at last he bethought himself that he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill; and, falling down upon his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that foolish fact, and then went back to look for his Roll. But all the way back who can Sometimes sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart? he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for

being so foolish to fall asleep in that place which was erected only for a little refreshment for his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find his Roll that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. He went thus till he came again within sight of the arbor where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that I am! that I should sleep in the daytime! that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so indulge the flesh as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims!

Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for a while he sat down and wept; but at last, looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his Roll; the which he with trembling and haste catched up and put into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his Roll again! for this Roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journey. But O how nimbly did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet, before he got up, the sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance. I must walk without the sun, darkness must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures because of my sinful sleep! Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him, of how they were frighted with the sight of the Lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the night for their prey, and if they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? How should I escape being by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on; but while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful; and it stood just by the highway side.

So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward that, if possible, he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage which was about a furlong off of the porter's lodge; and, looking very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Then he was afraid, for he thought nothing but death was before him; but the Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him saying, Is thy strength so small? Fear not the Lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for a trial of faith

where it is, and for discovery of those that have none; keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee.

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the Lions; but, taking good heed to the directions of the Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this? and may I lodge here to-night? The Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and he built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. Porter also asked whence he was and whither he was going.

The

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion; but, because the sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night.

Por. But how doth it happen that you come so late? The sun is set. Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am, I slept in the arbor that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had notwithstanding that been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my Evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill; and then feeling for it and not finding it, I was forced, with sorrow of heart, to go back to the place where I slept my sleep; where I found it, and now am come.

Por. Well, I will call out one of the Virgins of this place who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the house. So Watchful, the Porter, rang a bell, at the sound of which came out of the door of the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called.

The Porter answered, This man is on a journey from the city of Destruction to Mount Zion, but, being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to-night.

Then she asked him whence he was and whither he was going; and he told her. She asked him also how he got into the way; and he told her. Then she asked him what he had seen and met with in the way; and he told her. And at last she asked his name. So he said, It is Christian; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes; and, after a little pause, she said, I will call forth two or three more of the family. So she ran to the door and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him in to the family; and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this house was built by the Lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and followed them into the house.

LESSON 33.

Milton's Hymn on the Nativity.

It was the winter wild,

While the heaven-born child

All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
Nature, in awe to him,

Had doffed her gaudy trim,

With her great Master so to sympathize:
It was no season then for her

To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour.

Only with speeches fair

She woos the gentle air

To hide her guilty front with innocent snow;
And, on her naked shame,

Pollute with sinful blame,

The saintly veil of maiden, white to throw; Confounded, that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.

But he, her fears to cease,

Sent down the meek-eyed Peace;

She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere,

His ready harbinger,

With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;
And, waving wide her myrtle wand,

She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.

No war or battle's sound

Was heard the world around;

The idle spear and shield were high uphung;
The hooked chariot stood

Unstained with hostile blood;

The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng;
And kings sat still with awful eye,

As if they surely knew their sovran' Lord was by.

1 Sovereign.

But peaceful was the night
Wherein the Prince of Light

His reign of peace upon the earth began.
The winds, with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kissed,

Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,

While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave.

The stars, with deep amaze,
Stand fixed in steadfast gaze,

Bending one way their precious influence;
And will not take their flight,

For all the morning light,

Or Lucifer1 that often warned them thence;
But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.

And, though the shady gloom

Had given day her room,

The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed,

And hid his head for shame,

As his inferior flame

The new-enlightened world no more should need;
He saw a greater Sun appear

Than his bright throne or burning axletree could bear.

The shepherds on the lawn,

Or ere the point of dawn,

Sat simply chatting in a rustic row:

Full little thought they than

That the mighty Pan3

Was kindly come to live with them below;
Perhaps their loves or else their sheep
Were all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.

When such music sweet

Their hearts and ears did greet

As never was by mortal fingers strook;

The morning star.

2 Then.

3 The pastoral god of Grecian mythology.