contours of the elevation of the world's land.

Vast tracts lie very near the sea-level, of such are the interminable
outpourings of newspapers and novels and school books. And, as each
ascent from the sea-level is reached, less and less land attains to it,
and when the snow-line is approached only a very small proportion
indeed of the land aspires so high.

So among writers, those who climb to the snow-line are a slender band
compared to all the inhabitants of the lower slopes and plains.

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