The parable of the pilgrim written to a friend by Symon Patrick ...

CAP. I.

The occasion and intention of this Pilgrimage, with the time when it was undertaken.

IT will contribute so little either to the profit or delight which I design you in the reading this History, to know the punctual years and daies wherein every thing therein contained was done; that it will be a commendable thrift, to spare my self the labour of that accuracy. It will be sufficient to let you understand, that no great number of years have passed, since a man who now calls himself PHILOTHEUS, but by others is called

THEOPHILUS, being weary of the Country where he dwelt, and finding no satisfaction in any thing that he enjoyed, took a resolution to shift his seat, and to seek for that, of which he felt as great a desire as he did a want, in some other Land.

Many strange Countries there were which he vi∣sited in pursuance of this purpose; many steep hills he climbed, and many dangerous praecipices he narrowly escaped; he committed himself not once or twice to the anger of the Sea, expecting to be brought to the Port which he so much wished: But still he was as far from the accomplishment of his de∣sires, as when he first launched out, and found all his pains rewarded with nothing but weariness and ti∣red spirits. If it was the intention of this Paper to re∣count all his adventures, and the several issues of them (which are enough to fill a volume) the story, I believe, would not be altogether useless, nor with∣out that pleasure which such relations are wont to yield to those that read them. But having resolved for divers causes to begin the History of his life there, where he began to enjoy a taste of happiness; I shall reflect no further upon the former part of it, than on∣ly to tell you in what case that blessed hour found him. You must know then, that after many tedious journeys, and as many disappointments, his leggs be∣ginning quite to fail him, and to deny him so much as their support; he sate down upon the ground in a deep melancholy, and such a great heaviness of mind, that it was feared he would sink lower, and go no further to seek a grave. His countenance was so al∣tered, that there were very few marks remaining of the same man he was before: His looks were dejected, his eyes grew hollow, his complexion turned sal∣low;

and in short, his blood was so impoverished of spirits, that his flesh fell to the very bone, and his cheeks, in a despair of any other comfort, seemed to desire to meet and kiss, and so bid the world farewel. In this dismal estate he continued but too many daies; and according to the nature of that thoughtful hu∣mour, which now had gained the supreme power over him, he mused on divers things, and contrived several new journeys in his fancy, which yet he saw at the same moment, would only contribute more to his af∣fliction, and nothing at all to the amendment of his condition. But at last, as if he had been admonished by some courteous Angel which he fancied then flew by him, and gave him a small touch with his wing, he felt a thought stir in his soul, remembring him of a place called Jerusalem, which he had totally forgot in all his travels, and never so much as dreamed of di∣recting his course unto. His heart, you may easily think, leapt at this sudden stroke, and his pulse beat at no ordinary rate; for having heard by some means or other in times past, very much discourse of the beauty, and the pleasant situation of that City; of the sweet temper of the Inhabitants, and the many good∣ly things that were to be seen and enjoyed there above all other places; he was instantly possessed with a strong desire to remove his seat thither, and to seek his fortune (as we commonly speak) in another world. And pondering seriously with himself the little or no contentment which he had taken in his best condition here, together with the hopes which fluttered in his soul of bettering himself there; his present weakness could not hinder him from being inspired with a conceit that he should be able to tra∣vel thither, nor repress his desires from growing into

a kind of passion to be at that place, whither his thoughts did run before him without his leave, and could not be perswaded to stand still for one moment. Such is the nature of any excellent good, when it pre∣sents it self to us, and fanns our souls with any hopes of obtaining it, that our desires think to waft us as fast as they can unto it; and growing continually in strength and swiftness by their own motion, the gale proves so stiff; that our hearts are swelled therewith, and leave no room for any other thoughts, nor can be at any rest, till they be possessed of it. Thus would this poor man have taught those who now beheld him, though they had never read a word in their own souls; for his mind was so impressed with the happiness which he heard dwelt at Jerusalem, that he was not able to discharge his soul at any time of those thoughts and desires which lifted him up from the ground, and told him they would carry him thither. When he did eat or drink, Jerusalem would still be in his mouth; when he was in company, Jerusalem stole away his heart from them; nay in his very sleep it would not stay away, but he was wont to dream fine things of Je∣rusalem. But that which makes the story of this person the more remarkable is, that it was toward the latter end of the year, and in the decay of all things, when these good thoughts began to spring up in his soul. When the earth had removed it self a great way from the Sun, when all the gallantry of the fields had re∣signed its place to Ice and Snow, when charity grew cold, and Christian virtue seemed to be gone back to its root, when the waies were untrod, and few or no Travellers upon the road; then did these zealous de∣sires begin to bud in the heart of this honest Country∣man, and he felt such a vehement heat urging and

stimulating his breast, that he could remain in no quiet for thinking of his journey to that fair place, which had been so much commended to his love, as the most flourishing and glorious that ever eye beheld.