_Ignorance._ Gentlemen, you are strangers to me; be content to follow the religion of your country, and I will follow that in which I was born and bred. I won’t leave the church. As for the gate you talk of, all the world knows, it is a great way off our country. I cannot think that any men in all our parts do so much as know the way to it; nor need they matter, since we have a fine green lane, as you see, that comes straight down into the way. _Christian._ This man is wise in his own conceit. There is more hope of a fool than of him. _Hopeful._ Perhaps we should not say all to him at once, let us pass on, and speak to him again by and by. So they went on, and _Ignorance_ came after. When they had past him a little way, they came into a very dark lane, where they met a man whom seven devils had bound with seven strong cords, and were carrying back to the door on the side of the hill. On his back was a paper with this inscription, _The just shall live by faith; but if he draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him_. This puts me in mind, said _Christian_, of what happened to a pilgrim here, whose name was _Little-faith._ At the entrance of this passage there comes down, from _Broad-way Gate_, a lane, called _Deadman’s-Lane_. This _Little-Faith_ chanced to sit down there, and fell asleep. Three brothers, _Faintheart_, _Mistrust_, and _Guilt_, were just then coming down that lane as he awaked, and was getting up to go on his journey. They immediately called to him to stand, and bid him deliver what he had; which he not doing readily, _Faintheart_ and _Mistrust_ stepped up and took it from him. He then cried out, Thieves; on which _Mistrust_, with a great club, struck him on the head, and felled him to the ground: but just then hearing some that were upon the road, and fearing it might be one _Great-Grace_, they left _Little-Faith_ to shift for himself, and fled away with all speed. _Hopeful._ Doubtless these three fellows were mere cowards, or they would not so soon have run away. Methinks _Little-Faith_ might have stood one brush with them, if he had yielded at last. _Christian._ Few have found them cowards. They once set upon _me_; and though I was cloathed in armour of proof, I found it hard work to quit myself like a man. No man knows what a combat that is, but he that has been engaged in it himself. _Hopeful._ Well, but they ran away as soon as they only supposed that _Great-Grace_ was a coming. _Christian._ No marvel; for he is the King’s champion. But all the King’s subjects are not his champions; nor can they, in the day of trial, do such feats of war as he. _Hopeful._ I would I had been _Great-Grace_ for their sakes. _Christian._ If it had been he, he might have had his hands full. For I must tell you, although he can deal with them as long as he keeps them at sword’s point; yet if ever they get within him, it will go hard but they will give him a sore fall.