to make a trade of the gospel, and though never hesitating to avail himself of the apostolic privilege to “live of the gospel,” he, like the apostle of the Gentiles, would never be ashamed to “work with his own hands,” that he might “minister to his own necessities,” and those of his family.  But from the time of his release he regarded his ministerial work as the chief work of his life.  “When he came abroad,” says one who knew him, “he found his temporal affairs were gone to wreck, and he had as to them to begin again as if he had newly come into the world.  But yet he was not destitute of friends, who had all along supported him with necessaries and had been very good to his family, so that by their assistance getting things a little about him again, he resolved as much as possible to decline worldly business, and give himself wholly up to the service of God.”  The anonymous writer to whom we are indebted for information concerning his imprisonment and his subsequent life, says that Bunyan, “contenting himself with that little God had bestowed upon him, sequestered himself from all secular employments to follow that of his call to the ministry.”  The fact, however, that in the “deed of gift” of all his property to his wife in 1685, he still describes himself as a “brazier,” puts it beyond all doubt that though his ministerial duties were his chief concern, he prudently kept fast hold of his handicraft as a certain means of support for himself and those dependent on him.  On the whole, Bunyan’s outward circumstances were probably easy.  His wants were few and easily supplied.  “Having food and raiment” for himself, his wife, and his children, he was “therewith content.”  The house in the parish of St. Cuthbert’s which was his home from his release to his death (unhappily demolished fifty years back), shows the humble character of his daily life.  It was a small cottage, such as labourers now occupy, with three small rooms on the ground floor, and a garret with a diminutive dormer window under the high-pitched tiled roof.  Behind stood an outbuilding which served as his workshop.  We have a passing glimpse of this cottage home in the diary of Thomas Hearne, the Oxford antiquary.  One Mr. Bagford, otherwise unknown to us, had once “walked into the country” on purpose to see “the study of John Bunyan,” and the student who made it famous.  On his arrival the interviewer—­as we should now call him—­met with a civil and courteous reception from Bunyan; but he found the contents of his study hardly larger than those of his prison cell.  They were limited to a Bible, and copies of “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” and a few other books, chiefly his own works, “all lying on a shelf or shelves.”  Slight as this sketch is, it puts us more in touch with the immortal dreamer than many longer and more elaborate paragraphs.