1s INTRODUCTORY NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.

‘Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage ;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage.

‘For though men keep my outward man
Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars.”

These were no meaningless sounds to him—no poetical expression of the feelings which he
supposed might be experienced—no rhapsodical or exaggerated description of what he actually felt.
Poctry apart, he elsewhere tells us of the glorious visions with which he was favored there. “O
the Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and God the judge
of all; Jesus the mediator, and the spirits of just men made perfect! I have seen here what I
never can express. I have felt the truth of that Scripture ‘Whom having not seen, ye love; in
Whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.’”
Most of the day was spent in “ tagging laces,” with his blind girl by his side—an employment which
he learned in prison, that thereby he might help to support his family. But when evening came,
and the child was dismissed to her home with a parting benediction, his soul, free to soar where it
listed, saw those glorious visions, and indulged in those pious meditations which are embodied in his
immortal work. He had but to close his eyes, and he was no more the prisoner, but the pilgrim
whose progress he so graphically describes. Bedford gaol fades away, and his unfettered soul stands
on some mount of vision where, from its commencement to its close, the course of his pilgrim lies
open to his view. There he sees the City of Destruction, and remembers how he left it with the
burden on his back—the Slough of Despond, and the overhanging hill near the house of Mr. Legality,
with its deep rifts and flashing fires. He recalls his entrance at the wicket-gate—his visit to the
Iinterpreter’s house—his rapture when, standing at the foot of the Cross and gazing on the Crucified,
his burden fell from his shoulders and he was free. Again he is entertained at the Palace Beautiful,
finds there refreshment and repose, and at break of day wakes up singing in the chamber whose
name is Peace. Or he wanders among the Delectable Mountains with the shepherds for his com-
panions ; and from the hill Clear, looking through the glass of faith, discerns in the distance the
pearly gates, and golden turrets, and jasper walls, that surround the City of the Blest. Or he dwells
in the land of Beulah, where, not in imagination only, but in reality, his soul summers even now,
ripening for the heaven which is so near that already he inhales its fragrance, and walks in its light,
and holds converse with its shining ones—where the sun shineth night and day, and the birds sing
continually, and the flowers are ever fresh and fair, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.
Or, the river crossed, he climbs the hill which leads up to the gate of the City, or rather glides
upward ; for the shining ones have clasped his hands, and the burden of mortality left in the river
no more clogs the movements of the ascending soul. The gates open at his approach—the trumpets
sound in honor of his coming. The bells of the city “ ring again for joy.” “ Angels meet him with
harp and crown, and give him the harp to praise withal and the crown in token of honor.” And
the hosts of the glorified standing round welcome him with acclamations to their exalted fellowship,
saying, “ Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”

All these are real to him—more real than the prison walls that surround him, or his prison
garb, or prison fare. These are but the illusions which shall vanish ; those the realities which shall
endure. And, being so vividly presented to his mind, he is constrained to imprint them on his page.
Rousing himself from his reverie, but with beaming eye and radiant countenance, for “he writes as