s.

"Well, Christian borroweth the book of my friend--never to return it.
And being feeble and credulous, partly by reason of his simple wits,
and partly by reason of the sad condition a froward youth had reduced
him to, he accepts the whole book--from Apple to Vials--for truth. In
fact, 'he ate the little book,' as one of the legendary kings it
celebrates had done before him."

"Ay," broke in Cruelty wildly, "and has ever since gotten the gripes."

Atheist inclined his head. "Putting it coarsely, gentlemen, such was
the case," he said. "And away at his wit's end he hasteneth, waning
and shivering, to a great bog or quagmire--that my friend Pliable will
answer to--and plungeth in. 'Tis the same story repeated. He could be
temperate in nought. _I_ knew the bog well; but I knew the
stepping-stones better. Believe me, I have traversed the narrow way
this same Christian took, seeking the harps and pearls and the _elixir
vitae_, these many years past. The book inciteth ye to it. It sets a
man's heart on fire--that's weak enough to read it--with its pomp, and
rhetoric, and far-away promises, and lofty counsels. Oh, fine words,
who is not their puppet! I climbed 'Difficulty.' I snapped my fingers
at the grinning Lions. I passed cautiously through the 'Valley of the
Shadow'--wild scenery, sir! I visited that prince of bubbles also,
Giant Despair, in his draughty castle. And--though boasting be far
from me!--fetched Liveloose's half-brother out of a certain
charnel-house near by.

"_Thus far_, sir, I went. But I have not yet found the world so barren
of literature as to write a book about it. I have not yet found the
world so barren of ingratitude as to seek happiness by stabbing in the
back every friend I ever had. I have not yet forsaken wife and
children; neighbours and kinsmen; home, ease, and tenderness, for a
whim, a dream, a passing qualm. No, sir; 'tis this Christian's
ignorant hardness-of-heart that is his bane. Knowing little, he
prateth much. He would pinch and contract the Universe to his own
fantastical pattern. He is tedious, he is pragmatical, and--I affirm
it in all sympathy and sorrow--he is crazed. Malice, haply, is a
little sharp at times. And neighbour Obstinate dealeth full weight
with his opinions. But this Christian Flown-to-Glory, as the urchins
say, pinks with a bludgeon. He cannot endure an honest doubt. He
distorteth a mere difference of opinion into a roaring Tophet. And
because he is helpless, s