cted to be 'roundly dealt with.' His indulgences
were withdrawn, and he was put into close confinement.

Sessions now followed sessions, and assizes, assizes. His detention
was doubtless irregular, for by law he should have been sent beyond
the seas. He petitioned to be brought to trial again, and complained
loudly that his petition was not listened to; but no legislator, in
framing an Act of Parliament, ever contemplated an offender in so
singular a position. Bunyan was simply trying his strength against the
Crown and Parliament. The judges and magistrates respected his
character, and were unwilling to drive him out of the country; he had
himself no wish for liberty on that condition. The only resource,
therefore, was to prevent him forcibly from repeating an offence that
would compel them to adopt harsh measures which they were so earnestly
trying to avoid.

Such was the world-famous imprisonment of John Bunyan, which has been
the subject of so much eloquent declamation. It lasted in all for more
than twelve years. It might have ended at any time if he would have
promised to confine his addresses to a private circle. It did end
after six years. He was released under the first declaration of
indulgence; but as he instantly recommenced his preaching, he was
arrested again. Another six years went by; he was again let go, and
was taken once more immediately after, preaching in a wood. This time
he was detained but a few months, and in form more than reality. The
policy of the government was then changed, and he was free for the
rest of his life.

His condition during his long confinement has furnished a subject for
pictures which if correct would be extremely affecting. It is true
that, being unable to attend to his usual business, he spent his
unoccupied hours in making tags for bootlaces. With this one fact to
build on, and with the assumption that the scene of his sufferings was
the Bridge Lockhouse, Nonconformist imagination has drawn a 'den' for
us, 'where there was not a yard or a court to walk in for daily
exercise;' 'a damp and dreary cell;' 'a narrow chink which admits a
few scanty rays of light to render visible the abode of woe;' 'the
prisoner, pale and emaciated, seated on the humid earth, pursuing his
daily task, to earn the morsel which prolongs his existence and his
confinement together. Near him, reclining in pensive sadness, his
blind daughter, five other distressed children, and an affectionate
wife,