other, derived from him. One of the most popular preachers in his
day, in his little treatises, as well as in his longer allegories, he
preaches to countless thousands still. The cause of this unexampled
popularity is a question of great practical moment.

And, first of all, Bunyan speaks to the whole of man,--to his
imagination, his intellect, his heart. He had in himself all these
ingredients of full-formed humanity, and in his books he lets all of
them out. French writers and preachers are apt to deal too
exclusively in the one article--fancy; and though you are amused for
the moment with the rocket-shower of brilliant and many-tinted ideas
which fall sparkling around you, when the exhibition is ended, you
are disappointed to find that the whole was momentary, and that from
all the ruby and emerald rain scarcely one gem of solid thought
remains. {5} Scottish writers and preachers are apt to indulge the
argumentative cacoethes of their country, and cramming into a tract
or sermon as much hard-thinking as the Bramah-pressure of hydrostatic
intellects can condense into the iron paragraphs, they leave no room
for such delicate materials as fancy or feeling, illustration,
imagery, or affectionate appeal; {6} whilst Irish authors and pulpit-
orators are so surcharged with their own exuberant enthusiasm, that
their main hope of making you think as they think, is to make you
feel as they feel. The heart is their Aristotle; and if they cannot
win you by a smile or melt you by a tear, they would think it labour
lost to try a syllogism. Bunyan was neither French, nor Scotch, nor
Irish. He embodied in his person, though greatly magnified, the
average mind of England--playful, affectionate, downright. His
intellectual power comes chiefly out in that homely self-commending
sense--the brief business-like reasoning, which might be termed Saxon
logic, and of which Swift in one century, and Cobbett in another, are