ana, her friend Mercy, and her children, commands sympathy at least as powerful as that of Christian himself, and it materially adds to the interest which we have taken in the progress of the husband, to trace the effects produced by similar events in the case of women and children.

"There is a pleasure," says the learned editor, "in travelling with another companion the same ground-a pleasure of reminiscence, neither inferior in kind or degree to that which is derived from a first impression. The characters are judiciously marked: that of Mercy, particularly, is sketched with an admirable grace and simplicity; nor do we read of any with equal interest, excepting that of Ruth in Scripture, so beautifully, on all occasions, does the Mercy of John Bunyan unfold modest humility regarding her own merits, and tender veneration for the matron Christiana."

The distinctions between the first and second part of the Pilgrim's Progress are such as circumstances render appropriate; and as John Bunyan's strong mother wit enabled him to seize upon correctly. Christian, for example, a man, and a bold one, is represented as enduring his fatigues, trials, and combats, by his own stout courage, under the blessing of Heaven: but to express that species of inspired heroism by which women are supported in the path of duty, notwithstanding the natural feebleness and timidity of their nature, Christiana and Mercy obtain from the Interpreter their guide, called Great-heart, by whose strength and valour their lack of both is supplied, and the dangers and distresses of the way repelled and overcome.

The author hints, at the end of the second part, as if "it might be his lot to go this way again;"

nor was his mind that light species of soil which could be exhausted by two crops. But he left to another and very inferior hand the task of composing a third part, containing the adventures of one Tender Conscience, far unworthy to be bound up, as it sometimes is, with John Bunyan's matchless parable.

Bunyan, however, added another work to those by which he was already distinguished: this was "The Holy War made by King Shaddai upon Diabolus for the regaining of the metropolis of the World; or, the losing and retaking of Mansoul." In this allegory the fall of man is figured under the type of a flourishing city, reduced under the tyranny of the giant Diabolus, or the Prince of Evil; and recovered, after a tedious siege, by Immanuel, the son of Shaddai, its founder and true lord. A late reverend editor of this work has said that "Mr Bunyan was better qualified than most ministers to treat this subject with propriety, having been himself a soldier, and knowing by experience the evils and hardships of war. He displays throughout his accurate knowledge of the Bible and its distinguished doctrines; his deep acquaintance with the human heart, and its desperate wickedness; his knowledge of the devices of Satan, and of the prejudices of the carnal mind against the Gospel." To this panegyric we entirely subscribe, except that we do not see that Bunyan has made much use of any military know

Burder's Edition of the Holy War, 1824.

ledge which he might possess. Mansoul is attacked by mounts, slings, and battering-rams-weapons out of date at the time of our civil wars; and we can only trace the author's soldierly experience in his referring to the points of war then performed, as "Boot and saddle,” “Horse and away," and so forth. Indeed, the greatest risk which he seems to have incurred, in his military capacity, was one somewhat resembling the escape of Sir Roger de Coverley's ancestor at Worcester, who was saved from the slaughter of that action by having been absent from the field. In like manner, Bunyan, having been appointed to attend at the siege of Leicester, a fellow-soldier volunteered to perform the service in his stead, and was there slain. Upon the whole, though the Holy War be a work of great ingenuity, it wants the simplicity and intense interest which are the charm of the Pilgrim's Progress.

Mr Burder (the editor last mentioned) remarks, that Bunyan maintains his allegory by assigning to his characters such significant names as introduce them with singular propriety. This was a qualification in great request among the authors of fictitious composition, whether narrative or dramatic, in Charles the Second's days; and, no doubt, many artificers of plays and novels in our own time would be inclined to join Falstaff, though rather in a different sense, in his earnest wish that he knew where “a commodity of good names was to be purchased." A happily christened list of dramatis personæ is a key-note for the easy introduction of

the story, and saves the author the trouble of tagging his characters with descriptions, always somewhat awkward, of person and disposition. In some respects it answers the purpose which Texier was wont to achieve in another way. Those who remember, like ourselves, that distinguished reader of the French comedians (and such treats are not easily forgotten), cannot but recollect, that on first reading over the list of characters, with the author's short description annexed, M. Texier assumed in each the voice and manner in which he intended to read the part; and so wonderful was his discrimination, that the most obtuse hearer had never afterwards the least difficulty in ascertaining who was speaking. A happy selection of names has somewhat the same effect in placing the characters who bear them before us in their original concoction.

It is no doubt true, that this may be coarsely and inartificially attempted, so as at once to destroy the reality of the tale. When the thrice noble, illustrious, and excellent princess, as the titlepage calls her, the Duchess of Newcastle, produces on the stage such personages as Sir Mercury Poet, the Lady Fancy, Sir William Sage, Lady Virtue, and Mimic the jest is as flat and dull as that of Snug, the joiner, when he acts the lion bare-faced. On the other hand, some authors produce names, either real or approaching to reality, which nevertheless possess that resemblance to the character which has all the effect of wit, and, by its happy coincidence with the narrative, greatly enhances the pleasure of the reader. Thus, in the excellent novel of

Marriage, an elderly dowager, who deals in telling her neighbours disagreeable truths, which she calls "speaking her mind," is very happily Mrs Downe Wright. Anstey, also, whose genius in this line was particular, gives us a list of company, of each of whom we form a distinct and individual idea from the name alone :

"With old Lady Towzer,

And Marshal Carouser,

Came the great Hanoverian Baron Panmouzer."

We might also mention the Widow Quicklackit, with "little Bob Jerome, old Chrysostom's son," or the parties in the country-dance, where the contrasts of stature, complexion, and age, are conveyed by little more than the names :—

"Miss Curd had a partner as black as Omiah;

Kitty Tit shook her heels with old Doctor Goliah ;
While little John Trot, like a pony just nicked,
With long Dolly Louderhead scampered and kicked."

Other, and those very distinguished authors, have not ventured to push this resemblance between the names and characters of their personages so far. An ominous and unpleasing epithet, a jarring and boding collocation of consonants, form the names of their villains; as, for instance, who could expect any thing good from a Blifil? The heroes and heroines, on the contrary, rejoice in the softest, and, at the same time, the most aristocratic names, --such as aspirants to the actual stage select for a first appearance.

Without permitting our remarks on this head to lead us further astray from the subject, we shall