Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbor Christian, where are you now?

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.

Pli. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of?  If we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect between this and our journey’s end?  May I get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me.  And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next to his own house:  so away he went, and Christian saw him no more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone:  but still he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was furthest from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back:  but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked him, “What he did there?”

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come.  And as I was going thither I fell in here.

Help. But why did not you look for the steps?

Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in.

Help. Then said he, Give me thine hand; so he gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and he set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, “Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder gate, is it, that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with more security?” And he said unto me, “This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended:  it is the descent whither the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond; for still as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place:  and this is the reason of the badness of this ground.

“It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad.  His laborers also have, by the direction of his Majesty’s surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended:  yea, and to my knowledge,” said he, “here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions, of wholesome instructions, that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the King’s dominions—­and they that can tell, say, they are the best materials to make good ground of the place—­if so be it might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when they have done what they can.