Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 147: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE PROGRESS self. And through all the years of their wedded life, through happiness and sor- row, union and separation, she continued to keep his flame of inspiration aglow. There were tears in my eyes when I saw these two kneeling while the minister spoke the binding words—the great, shaggy John, his face wet and radiant, full of gratitude to God for the gift of this little Puritan maid whose. hand nestled in his. And there were tears, too, in the eyes of the lady who, as bridesmaid, knelt be- side me, the groomsman. I looked at sweet Joyce through my own happy, blurred eyes, and I-think she was conscious of my gaze and that somehow her hand was clasped in mine. In that moment, though I had not yet dared utter the great words which were to surge from my heart at a later time, it was as if the benediction was upon us, too. After the knot was tied Mistress Joyce kissed the bride, and so did I, and—I came very near to kissing the maid of honor, too. But I got no further than her slender white hand, for I was still afraid to be over- bold. ‘ And then we discovered, to the dismay -of Dame Bunyan, that John had disap- peared. Great was Ruth’s distress, and Joyce appealed to me for an explanation of the groom’s disappearance at such a time. I was at a loss myself, until over our heads burst out a crash of‘ bells! “IT know!” laughing I cried; and forth- with both the maids were deserted, and I rushed to the spiral stairway leading to the bell-tower. As I climbed it the brazen tongues sud- denly ceased their joyous chorus. At the entrance to the bell-chamber I stopped, and at the picture before my eyes I bowed my head in respect. 7 There .was John Bunyan—no longer the harum-scarum, red-haired trooper of the camps—John Bunyan, the man he was fast becoming, on his knees in that dim place under the still swaying bells. He was praying. His eyes were shut tight in that. old childlike fashion. His rugged face was uplifted and strangely soft —and wet with honest tears. raitized by GOogle OF J. BUNYAN. 653 ‘I was a poor pilgrim, floundering in the quagmire.” So he prayed. “ And then I saw an angel walking by my side, a candle of grace in her hand. And lo, to the right road she guided me, and along that we shall travel hand in hand a while. “Yet, O Lord, the pilgrimage is but begun. Give me strength to keep on and be worthy of Thy great condescending. Amen!” He was still kneeling, but now in a si- lence silvered by the twittering of birds in the bell-tower, when I tiptoed down the spiral stai-tvay. , This chronicle, of an almost unknown period in the life of my friend, I have written at a much later time which is comparatively undisturbed by political and religious differences. It was Mistress Joyce who bade me do it, she feeling that if-I set down this chap- ter concerning that period of John’s ‘“ wrastling ”’ with his devil, it might bring those in high authority to a better under- standing of the man and help win his re- lease from that prison in which he has now spent many years. ° . At any time he could have brought about his release himself, but being no “ Painted Hypocrite,” or ‘‘ Shedskin Lizard,” he would not agree to preach God’s Word in any other way than as he interpreted it himself; for thraugh all his life he has been the same hard-headed, opinionated John, suffering for his own reasoned convictions and recognizing no supreme authority other than the Most High God. And of late, to while away the tedium of jail, he, too, has written a book which he calls “ Pilgrim’s Progress.”’ It is indeed the story of himself and his great burden. - Joyce and I, frequently visiting Bedford jail, have been privileged to hear parts of it read to us. We have both urged him to print it, against the opinion of others of his many friends, who fear he may involve himself * In greater troubles if he does. But the only opinion John Bunyan sets - any store by is his own, once he has rea- soned that it is right. Last time we visited him he had made a rhyme for the front part FATE UGOTRY SG OOOK (A)