untarily gave large and bountiful
supplies of light, such as in common seasons never could have been
expected: always proportioning the quantity to the necessity of the
case; "as their day was, such was their light and strength."

Though many chose to depend entirely on their own original lamp, yet
it was observed that this light was apt to go out if left to itself.
It was easily blown out by those violent gusts which were
perpetually howling through the wilderness; and indeed it was the
natural tendency of that unwholesome atmosphere to extinguish it,
just as you have seen a candle go out when exposed to the vapors and
foul air of a damp room. It was a melancholy sight to see multitudes
of travelers heedlessly pacing on boasting they had light enough of
their own, and despising the offer of more.

But what astonished me most of all was, to see many, and some of
them too accounted men of first rate wit, actually busy in blowing
out their own light, because while any spark of it remained, it
only served to torment them, and point out things which they did not
wish to see. And having once blown out their own light, they were
not easy till they had blown out that of their neighbors also; so
that a good part of this wilderness seemed to exhibit a sort of
universal _blindman's buff_, each endeavoring to catch his neighbor,
while his own voluntary blindness exposed him to be caught himself;
so that each was actually falling into the snare he was laying for
another till at length, as selfishness is the natural consequence of
blindness, "catch he that catch can," became the general motto of
the wilderness.

Now I saw in my vision, that there were some others who were busy in
strewing the most gaudy flowers over the numerous bogs, and
precipices, and pitfalls with which the wilderness abounded; and
thus making danger and death look so gay, that poor thoughtless
creatures seemed to delight in their own destruction. Those pitfalls
did not appear deep or dangerous to the eye, because over them were
raised gay edifices with alluring names. These were filled with
singing men and singing women, and with dancing, and feasting, and
gaming, and drinking, and jollity, and madness. But though the
scenery was gay, the footing was unsound. The floors were full of
holes, through which the unthinking merry-makers were continually
sinking. Some tumbled through in the middle of a song; more at the
end of a feast; and though there was many a