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Updated: July 25, 2025
Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected, nor could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home again, and to refuse to become good pilgrims." But it was not so much what she said herself that brought out the depth and tenderness of Christiana's heart, it was rather the way her heart loosened other people's tongues.
"Even to go after my good husband," the busy woman said, and with that she fell a-weeping. But you must read the whole account of that eventful morning in Christiana's memoirs for yourselves till you have it, as Secret said, by root-of-heart. On the understanding that you are not total strangers to that so excellently-written passage I shall now venture a few observations upon it.
Christiana's home, and the Home for Old Female Wimmen, and mentioned the fact in warm tones of how a good, noble-hearted woman had started that charity in the first on't. And Josiah, while I wuz talkin' about these wimmen, became meak as a lamb. They seemed to quiet him. He looked real mollyfied by the time Ardelia got there, which wuz anon. And then we sot sail for the Encampment.
Christiana's room door was open and a lamp was there. There were dainty knick-knacks on the dressing-table, a vase or two of faded flowers everything that denotes the presence of refined and gracious womanhood. Frank Littimer stood there looking round him for some little time. On a table by the bedside stood a photograph of a girl in a silver frame. Littimer pounced upon it hungrily.
But, all the more because of that, a spell of love and fear and reverence lay on Mercy's heart and mind all her after-days from that so solemn and so eventful morning when she first saw Christiana's haggard countenance and heard her remorseful cries. My so churlish carriages to him!
It was when Christiana's fearful thoughts began to work in her mind about her husband whom she had lost it was when all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages to her dear friend came into her mind in swarms, clogged her conscience, and loaded her with guilt it was then that Secret knocked at her door.
You can be yourself, your very worst self; nay, you must be, else you will not long pray in secret, and even if you did you would not be heard. I do not remember that very much is said in so many words in her after-history about Christiana's habits of closet-prayer.
And just when I was going to speak to her she turned and disappeared into Enid's bedroom. And there are other ghosts " "One at a time, please," Henson said, grimly. "So Christiana's ghost passed into her sister's bedroom. You come and sit quietly in the library whilst I investigate matters." Margaret Henson complied in her dull, mechanical way, and Enid flew like a flash of light to her room.
John Bunyan was well fitted to be Christiana's biographer, because his own life was as full as it could hold of these same secret and special providences. One day he was walking so he tells us in a good man's shop, bemoaning himself of his sad and doleful state when a mighty rushing wind came in through the window and seemed to carry words of Scripture on its wings to Bunyan's disconsolate soul.
Come, my children, let us pack up and be gone to the gate, that we may see your father and be with him, according to the laws of that land." I like that passage, I think, the best in all Christiana's delightful history that passage which begins with these words: "So she called her children together."
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