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Coleridge, Stephen

"The Glory of English Prose Letters to My Grandson"


In these letters I do not intend to mistake a pedlar for a mountaineer,
nor a hearthstone for a granite peak. Time slowly buries deep in
oblivion the writings of the industrious and the dull.
Born fifteen years later than Jeremy Taylor, of whom I wrote in a
former letter, John Bunyan in 1660, being a Baptist, suffered the
persecution then the lot of all dissenters, and was cast into Bedford
gaol, where he lay for conscience' sake for twelve years. "As I walked
through the wilderness of this world," said he, "I lighted on a certain
place where was a den, and laid me down in that place to sleep; and as
I slept I dreamed a dream"; and the dream which he dreamed has
passed into all lands, and has been translated into all languages, and
has taken its place with the Bible and with the _Imitation of Christ_ as
a guide of life.
The force of simplicity finds here its most complete expression; the
story wells from the man's heart, whence come all great things:--
"Then said the Interpreter to Christian, 'Hast thou considered
all these things?'
"_Christian._ 'Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.'
"_Interpreter._ 'Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they
may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way
thou must go.'
"Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself
to his journey.


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