house, and his children like olive branches round his table; for so shall it be with the man that fears the Lord. And though by reason of the many losses he sustained by imprisonment and spoil, of his chargeable sickness, etc., his earthly treasure swelled not to excess, he always had sufficient to live decently and creditably. And with that he had the greatest of all treasures, which is content; for as the wise man says, That is a continual feast.
But where content dwells, even a poor cottage is a kingly palace; and this happiness he had all his life long—not so much minding this world as knowing he was here as a pilgrim and stranger, and had no tarrying city, but looked for one not made with hands, eternal in the highest heavens. But at length, worn out with sufferings, age, and often teaching, the day of his dissolution drew near, and death, that unlocks the prison of the soul, to enlarge it for a more glorious mansion, put a stop to his acting his part on the stage of mortality; heaven, like earthly princes, when it threatens war, being always so kind as to call home its ambassadors before it be denounced. And even the last act or undertaking of his was a labour of love and charity; for it so falling out that a young gentleman, a neighbour of Mr. Bunyan's, happening to be in the displeasure of his father, and being much troubled in mind upon that account, and also for that he heard his father purposed to disinherit him, or otherwise deprive him of what he had to leave, he pitched upon Mr. Bunyan as a fit man to make way for his submission, and prepare his father's mind to receive him; and he, as willing to do any good office as it could be requested, as readily undertook it; and so, riding to Reading in Berkshire, he there used such pressing arguments and reasons against anger and passion, as also for love and reconciliation, that the, father was mollified, and his bowels yearned to his son.
But Mr. Bunyan, after he had disposed all things to the best for accommodation, returning to London, and being
