not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet shall sound." The Pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of a depth. They said, "No;" yet they could not help them in that case; "for," said they, "you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe in the King of the place."

They then addressed themselves to the water; and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, "I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head, all His waves go over me.

Then said the other, "Be of good cheer, my brother : I feel the bottom, and it is good." Then said Christian, "Ah! my friend, 'the sorrows of death have compassed me about;' I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey." And with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of mind and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again

C

half dead. Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, saying, " Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us;" but Christian would answer, "It is you, it is you, they wait for you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you." "And SO have you," said he to Christian. Ah, brother!" said he, "surely if I was right, He would now arise to help me; but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me." Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked, 'There are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued like other men.' These troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters are no signs that God hath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you have received of His goodness, and live upon Him in your distresses."

Then I saw in my dream that Christian was as in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added this word, "Be of good cheer: Jesus Christ maketh thee whole;" and with that Christian broke out with a loud voice, "Oh, I see Him again! and He tells me, 'When thou passeth through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee."" Then they both took courage; and the enemy was, after that, as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian, therefore, presently found ground to stand upon; and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow. Thus they got over. Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them. Wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, "We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation." Thus they went along towards the gate.

And, lo! as they entered at the gate, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put upon them that shone like gold. There were also some that met

them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them— the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream, that all the bells in the City rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, "Enter ye into the joy of your Lord." I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, "Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold the City shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal. There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another, without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord." And after that, they shut up the gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

MILTON'S COMUS.

[COMUS is a lyrical drama, written by Milton for performance by the family of the Earl of Bridgewater, and was founded on the simple circumstance of the Lady Alice Egerton being lost in a wood. The following is the story as the poet presents it :

A monster, Comus, son of Bacchus and Circe, dwells in a certain wood, and practises enchantment, which he learned from his mother. He has become so expert in the art that he has learned to compound a draught, which, looking like crystal, has the effect, when drunk, of giving the victim the face of some wild beast, his other parts remaining as before. In the wood where he dwells two brothers and their sister chance to be overtaken by night, and wander to and fro, unable to find their way. The brothers, finding her worn out with fatigue, cause her to rest on a bank, while they go forward in search of berries for her to eat. Whilst they are gone, Comus finds her. Let the poet now speak for himself.] Enter COMUS, with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in

the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.

Comus. The star that bids the shepherd fold, Now the top of heaven doth hold;

And the gilded car of day

His glowing axle doth allay

In the steep Atlantick stream;

And the slope sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole,

Pacing toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the East.
Meanwhile welcome Joy and Feast,
Midnight Shout, and Revelry,

Tipsy Dance, and Jollity.

Braid your locks with rosy twine,1
Dropping odours, dropping wine.
Rigour now is gone to bed,

And Advice with scrupulous head.
Strict Age and sour Severity,

With their grave saws,2 in slumber lie.
We that are of purer fire,

Imitate the starry quire,

Who, in their nightly watchful spheres,
Lead in swift round the months and years.
The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,
Now to the moon in wavering morrice3 move;
And, on the tawny sands and shelves,
Trip the pert4 faëries and the dapper" elves.
By dimpled brook and fountain-brim,
The Wood-Nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep;
What hath Night to do with Sleep?
Night hath better sweets to prove ;
Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.
Come, let us our rites begin;
'Tis only day-light that makes sin.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground

In a light fantastick round.

[They dance.

Break off, break off, I feel the different pace

Of some chaste footing near about this ground.

Run to your shrouds," within these brakes and trees;
Our number may affright.-Some virgin sure
(For so I can distinguish by mine art)

Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains; I shall ere long
Be well stock'd with as fair a herd as grazed
About my mother Circe.

[He throws some of his enchanted dust into the air.] Thus I hurl

1 Wreaths of roses. 2 Sayings. 6 Hiding-places.

5 Smart.

3 Moorish dance.
7 Thickets.

4 Lively.

8 Artifices.