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Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan, [1678], at

 Section V.
      Now when I had got about halfway up, I looked behind me, and saw one
 coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the place
 where the Settle stands.
      Chr. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me; but being
 overcome with sleep, I there lost this Roll out of my bosom.
      Faith. But good Brother hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he
 was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But
 when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me
 so? He said, Because of my secret inclining to Adam the First: and with that
 he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward, so
 I lay at his foot as dead as before. So when I came to myself again I cried
 him mercy; but he said, I know not how to shew mercy; and with that knocked me
 down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by, and bid
 him forbear?
      Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear?
      Faith. I did not know him at first, but as he went by, I perceived the
 holes in his hands and in his side; then I concluded that he was our Lord. So
 I went up the Hill.
      Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses: He spareth none, neither
 knoweth he how to shew mercy to those that transgress his Law.
      Faith. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he has met
 with me. 'Twas he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told
 me, He would burn my house over my head if I staid there.
      Chr. But did you not see the house that stood there on the top of that
 Hill, on the side of which Moses met you?
      Faith. Yes, and the Lions too, before I came at it: but for the Lions, I
 think they were asleep, for it was about Noon; and because I had so much of
 the day before me, I passed by the Porter, and came down the Hill.
      Chr. He told me indeed that he saw you go by, but I wish you had called
 at the house, for they would have shewed you so many Rarities, that you would
 scarce have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, Did you
 meet nobody in the Valley of Humility?
      Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded
 me to go back again with him; his reason was, for that the Valley was
 altogether without honour. He told me moreover, that there to go was the way
 to disobey all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-conceit, Worldly -
 glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would be very much offended, if I
 made such a Fool of myself as to wade through this Valley.
      Chr. Well, and how did you answer him?
      Faith. I told him, That although all these that he had named might claim
 kindred of me, and that rightly, (for indeed they were my Relations according
 to the flesh) yet since I became a Pilgrim they have disowned me, as I also
 have rejected them; and therefore they were to me now no more than if they had
 never been of my lineage. I told him moreover, that as to this Valley, he had
 quite misrepresented the thing; for before Honour is Humility, and a haughty
 spirit before a fall. Therefore said I, I had rather go through this Valley to
 the honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than chose the way which he
 esteemed most worthy our affections.
      Chr. Met you with nothing else in that Valley?
      Faith. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men that I met with in my
 Pilgrimage, he I think bears the wrong name. The other would be said nay,
 after a little argumentation, (and somewhat else) but this boldfaced Shame
 would never have done.
      Chr. Why, what did he say to you?
      Faith. What! why he objected against Religion itself; he said it was a
 pitiful low sneaking business for a man to mind Religion; he said that a
 tender conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch over his
 words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that hectoring liberty that the
 brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him the
 ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but few of the Mighty, Rich, or
 Wise, were ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before they were
 persuaded to be Fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss
 of all, for nobody else knows what. He moreover, objected the base and low
 estate and condition of those that were chiefly the Pilgrims of the times in
 which they lived; also their ignorance, and want of understanding in all
 Natural Science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also, about a great
 many more things than here I relate; as, that it was a shame to sit whining
 and mourning under a Sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning home;
 that it was a shame to ask my Neighbour forgiveness for petty faults, or to
 make restitution where I had taken from any. He said also that Religion made a
 man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices (which he called by
 finer names) and made him own and respect the base, because of the same
 Religious Fraternity. And is not this, said he, a shame?
      Chr. And what did you say to him?
      Faith. Say! I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to
 it, that my blood came up in may face; even this Shame fetched it up, and had
 almost beat me quite off. But at last I began to consider, That that which is
 highly esteemed among Men, is had in abomination with God. And I thought
 again, this Shame tells me what men are; but it tells me nothing what God or
 the Word of God is. And I thought moreover, that at the day of doom, we shall
 not be doomed to death or life according to the hectoring spirits of the
 world, but according to the Wisdom and Law of the Highest. Therefore thought
 I, what God says is best, is best, though all the men in the world are against
 it. Seeing then that God prefers his Religion, seeing God prefers a tender
 Conscience, seeing they that make themselves Fools for the Kingdom of Heaven
 are wisest; and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the
 greatest man in the world that hates him; Shame depart, thou art an enemy to
 my Salvation: shall I entertain thee against my Sovereign Lord? How then shall
 I look him in the face at his coming? Should I now be ashamed of his ways and
 Servants, how can I expect the blessing? But indeed this Shame was a bold
 villain; I could scarce shake him out of my company; yea, he would be haunting
 of me, and continually whispering me in the ear, withsome one or other of the
 infirmities that attend Religion; but at last I told him, 'Twas but in vain to
 attempt further in this business; for those things that he disdained, in those
 did I see most glory; and so at last I got past this importunate one. And when
 I had shaken him off, then I began to sing:
 The tryals that those men do meet withal,
 That are obedient to the Heavenly call,
 Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,
 And come, and come, and come again afresh;
 That now, or some time else, we by them may
 Be taken, overcome, and cast away.
 Oh, let the Pilgrims, let the Pilgrims then,
 Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men.
      Chr. I am glad, my Brother, that thou didst withstand this Villain so
 bravely; for of all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is
 so bold as to follow us in the Streets, and to attempt to put us to shame
 before all men; that is, to make us ashamed of that which is good: but if he
 was not himself audacious, he would never attempt to do as he does; but let us
 still resist him; for notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoteth the Fool
 and none else. The Wise shall inherit glory, said Solomon, but shame shall be
 the promotion of Fools.
      Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame, that would have
 us to be valiant for Truth upon the Earth.
      Chr. You say true; but did you meet nobody else in that Valley?
      Faith. No not I; for I had Sun-shine all the rest of the way through
 that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
      Chr. 'Twas well for you; I am sure it fared for otherwise with me; I had
 for a long season, as soon almost as I entred into that Valley, a dreadful
 Combat with that foul Fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he would have
 killed me, especially when he got me down and crushed me under him, as if he
 would have crushed me to pieces; for as he threw me, my Sword flew out of my
 hand; nay, he told me, He was sure of me: But I cried to God, and he heard me,
 and delivered me out of all my troubles. Then I entred into the Valley of the
 Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the way through it. I
 thought I should have been killed there, over and over; but at last day brake,
 and the Sun rose, and I went through that which was behind with far more ease
 and quiet.
      Moreover, I saw in my Dream, that as they went on, Faithful, as they went
 on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name is
 Talkative, walking at a distance besides them; (for in this place there was
 room enough for them all to walk). He was a tall man, and something more
 comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in
 this manner.
      Faith. Friend, Whither away? Are you going to the Heavenly Country?
      Talk. I am going to the same place.
      Faith. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company.
      Talk. With a very good will will I be your Companion.
      Faith. Come on then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in
 discoursing of things that are profitable.
      Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with you
 or with any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so
 good a work; for to speak the truth, there are but few that care thus to spend
 their time (as they are in their travels), but chose much rather to be
 speaking of things to no profit; and this hath been a trouble to me.
      Faith. That is indeed a thing to be lamented; for what things so worthy
 of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on Earth as are the things of the
 God of Heaven?
      Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your saying is full of conviction;
 and I will add, What thing so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of
 the things of God? What things so pleasant? (that is, if a man hath any
 delight in things that are wonderful) for instance, if a man doth delight to
 talk of the History or the Mystery of things; or if a man doth love to talk of
 Miracles, Wonders, or Signs, where shall he find things recorded so
 delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture?
      Faith. That's true; but to be profited by such things in our talk should
 be that which we design.
      Talk. That's it that I said; for to talk of such things is most
 profitable; for by so doing, a man may get knowledge of many things; as of the
 vanity of earthly things; and the benefit of things above: (Thus in general)
 but more particularly. By this a man may learn the necessity of the New -
 birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, &c.
 Besides, by this a man may learn by talk, what it is to repent, to believe, to
 pray, to suffer, or the like; by this also a man may learn what are the great
 promises and consolations of the Gospel, to this own comfort. Further, by this
 a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to
 instruct the ignorant.
      Faith. All this is true, and am I glad to hear these things from you.
      Talk. Alas! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need
 of faith, and the necessity of a work of Grace in their Soul, in order to
 eternal life; but ignorantly live in the works of the Law, by which a man can
 by no means obtain the Kingdom of Heaven.
      Faith. But by your leave, Heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God;
 no man attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the talk of them.
      Talk. All this I know very well; for a man can receive nothing, except it
 be given him from Heaven: all is of Grace, not of Works: I could give you a
 hundred Scriptures for the confirmation of this.
      Faith. Well then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall at
 this time found our discourse upon?
      Talk. What you will. I will talk of things Heavenly, or things Earthly;
 things Moral, or things Evangelical; things Sacred or things Prophane; things
 past or things to come; things foreign or things at home; things more
 Essential or things Circumstantial; provided that all be done to our profit.
      Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and stepping to Christian (for
 he walked all this while by himself) he said to him, (but softly) what a brave
 Companion have we got! Surely this man will make a very excellent Pilgrim.
      Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man with whom you
 are so taken, will beguile with this tongue of his, twenty of them that know
 him not.
      Faith. Do you know him then?
      Chr. Know him! Yes, better than he knows himself.
      Faith. Pray what is he?
      Chr. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our Town: I wonder that you
 should be a stranger to him, only I consider that our Town is large.
      Faith. Whose Son is he? And whereabout doth he dwell?
      Chr. He is the son of one Say-well; he dwelt in Prating Row; and is
 known of all that are acquainted with him, by the name of Talkative in Prating
 Row; and notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow.
      Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.
      Chr. That is, to them who have thorough acquaintance with him, for he is
 best abroad, near home he is ugly enough: Your saying that he is a pretty man,
 brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the Painter, whose
 Pictures shew best at a distance, but very near, more unpleasing.
      Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.
      Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter, or
 that I should accuse any falsely: I will give you a further discovery of him:
 This man is for any company, and for any talk; as he talketh now with you, so
 he will talk when he is on the Ale-bench; and the more drink he hath in his
 crown, the more of these things he hath in his mouth; Religion hath no place
 in his heart, or house, or conversation; all he hath lieth in his tongue, and
 his Religion is to make a noise therewith.
      Faith. Say you so! Then am I in this man greatly deceived.
      Chr. Deceived! you may be sure of it; remember the Proverb, They say and
 do not: but the Kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. He talketh of
 Prayer, of Repentance, of Faith, and of the New-birth; but he knows but only
 to talk of them. I have been in his Family, and have observed him both at home
 and abroad; and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty
 of Religion as the white of an Egg is of savour. There is there neither
 Prayer, nor sign of Repentance for sin; yea, the brute in his kind serves God
 better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of Religion, to all
 that know him; it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the Town
 where he dwells through him. Thus say the common people that know him, A Saint
 abroad, and a Devil at home. His poor Family finds it so; he is such a churl,
 such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his Servants, that they neither
 know how to do for, or speak to him. Men that have any dealings with him, say
 'tis better to deal with a Turk than with him; for fairer dealing they shall
 have at their hands. This Talkative (if it be possible) will go beyond them,
 defraud, beguile, and over-reach them. Besides he brings up his Sons to
 follow his steps; and if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness,
 (for so he calls the first appearance of a tender conscience) he calls them
 fools and blockheads and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to
 their commendations before others. For my part I am of opinion that he has by
 his wicked life caused many to stumble and fall; and will be, if God prevent
 not, the ruine of many more.
      Faith. Well, my Brother, I am bound to believe you; not only because you
 say you know him, but also because like a Christian, you make your reports of
 men. For I cannot think that you speak these things of ill will, but because
 it is even so as you say.
      Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps have thought of
 him as at the first you did; yea, had he received this report at their hands
 only that are enemies to Religion, I should have thought it had been a
 slander: (a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's names
 and professions;) but all these things, yea and a great many more as bad, of
 my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of
 him; they can neither call him Brother, nor Friend; the very naming of him
 among them, makes them blush, if they know him.
      Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I
 shall better observe this distinction.
      Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse as are the Soul and
 the body; for as the Body without the Soul is but a dead Carcass, so Saying,
 if it be alone, is but a dead Carcass also. The Soul of Religion is the
 practick part: Pure Religion and undefiled, before God and the Father, is
 this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep
 himself unspotted from the world. This Talkative is not aware of; he thinks
 that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his
 own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the Seed; talking is not sufficient
 to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life; and let us assure
 ourselves, that at the day of Doom men shall be judged according to their
 fruits. It will not be said then, Did you believe? but Were you Doers, or
 Talkers only? and accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is
 compared to our Harvest, and you know men at Harvest regard nothing but fruit.
 Not that anything can be accepted that is not of Faith; but I speak this to
 shew you how insignificant the profession of Talkative will be at that day.
      Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he describeth the
 beast that is clean. He is such an one that parteth the Hoof and cheweth the
 Cud: not that parteth the Hoof only, or that cheweth the Cud only. The Hare
 cheweth the Cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the Hoof. And this
 truly resembleth Talkative; he cheweth the Cud, he seeketh knowledge, he
 cheweth upon the Word; but he divideth not the Hoof, he parteth not with the
 way of sinners; but as the Hare, he retaineth the foot of a Dog or Bear, and
 therefore is unclean.
      Chr. You have spoken, for ought I know, the true Gospel sense of those
 Texts: And I will add another thing; Paul calleth some men, yea and those
 great Talkers too, sounding Brass and tinkling Cymbals; that is, as he
 expounds them in another place, Things without life, giving sound. Things
 without life, that is, without the true Faith and Grace of the Gospel; and
 consequently things that shall never be placed in the Kingdom of Heaven among
 those that are the Children of life; though their sound, by their talk, be as
 if it were the tongue or voice of an Angel.
      Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick
 of it now. What shall we do to be rid of him?
      Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he will
 soon be sick of your company too, except God shall touch his heart, and turn
      Faith. What would you have me to do?
      Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the
 power of Religion; and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that
 he will) whether this thing be set up in his Heart, House, or Conversation.
      Faith, Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, Come
 what chear? How is it now?
      Talk. Thank you, well. I thought we should have had a great deal of talk
 by this time.
      Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and since you left it
 with me to state the question, let it be this; How doth the saving Grace of
 God discover itself, when it is in the heart of man?
      Talk. I perceive then that our talk must be about the power of things:
 Well, 'tis a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you. And
 take my answer in brief thus: First, Where the Grace of God is in the heart,
 it causeth there a great out-cry against sin. Secondly -
      Faith. Nay hold, let us consider of one at once: I think you should
 rather say, It shews itself by inclining the Soul to abhor its sin.
      Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, and
 abhorring of sin?
      Faith. Oh! a great deal; a man may cry out against sin, or policy; but he
 cannot abhor it, but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it: I have heard
 many cry out against sin in the Pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in
 the heart, house, and conversation. Joseph's Mistress cried out with a loud
 voice, as if she had been very holy; but she would willingly, notwithstanding
 that, have committed uncleanness with him. Some cry out against sin, even as
 the Mother cries out against her Child in her lap, when she calleth it slut
 and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it.
      Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive.
      Faith. No, not I; I am only for setting things right. But what is the
 second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of Grace in the
      Talk. Great knowledge of Gospel Mysteries.
      Faith. This sign should have been first; bur first or last, it is also
 false; for knowledge, great knowledge may be obtained in the mysteries of the
 Gospel, and yet no work of Grace in the Soul. Yea, if a man have all
 knowledge, he may yet be nothing; and so consequently be no child of God. When
 Christ said, Do you know all these things? and the Disciples had answered,
 Yes; he added Blessed are ye if ye do them. He doth not lay the blessing in
 the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that
 is not attended with doing; He that knoweth his Master's will, and doth it
 not. A man may know like an Angel, and yet be no Christian, therefore your
 sign of it is not true. Indeed to know is a thing that pleaseth Talkers and
 Boasters; but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can be good
 without knowledge; for without that the heart is naught. There is therefore
 knowledge and knowledge. Knowledge that resteth in the bare speculation of
 things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the Grace of faith and love,
 which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart; the first of
 these will serve the Talker; but without the other the true Christian is not
 content. Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy Law; yea I shall observe
 it with my whole heart.
      Talk. You lie at the catch again, this is not for edification.
      Faith. Well, if aou please propound another sign how this work of Grace
 discovereth itself where it is.
      Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree.
      Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it?
      Talk. You may use your liberty.
      Faith. A work of Grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to him that
 hath it, or to standers-by.
      To him that hath it thus: It gives him conviction of sin, especially of
 the defilement of his nature and the sin of unbelief (for the sake of which he
 is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand by faith in Jesus
 Christ). This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and shame for
 sin; he findeth moreover revealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the
 absolute necessity of closing with him for life, at the which he findeth
 hungrings and thirstings after him, to which hungrings, Ec. the promise is
 made. Now according to the strength or weakness of his Faith in his Saviour,
 so is his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to
 know him more, and also to serve him in this World. But though I say it
 discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able to
 conclude that this is a work of Grace; because his corruptions now, and his
 abused reason, make his mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore in him that
 hath this work, there is required a very sound Judgment before he can with
 steadiness conclude that this is a work of Grace.
      To others it is thus discovered:
      1. By an experimental confession of his Faith in Christ.
      2. By a life answerable to that confession, to wit, a life of holiness,
 heart-holiness, family-holiness, (if he hath a Family) and by
 conversation-holiness, in the World; which in the general teacheth him,
 inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself for that in secret, to suppress it in
 his Family, and to promote holiness in the World; not by talk only, as an
 Hypocrite or Talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection, in Faith
 and Love, to the power of the Word: And now Sir, as to this brief description
 of the work of Grace, and also the discovery of it, if you have ought to
 object, object; if not, then give me leave to propound to you a second
      Talk. Nay my part is not now to object, but to hear, let me therefore
 have your second question.
      Faith. It is this. Do you experience the first part of this description
 of it? and doth your life and conversation testify the same? or standeth your
 Religion in Word or in Tongue, and not in Deed and Truth? Pray, if you incline
 to answer me in this, say no more than you know the God above will say Amen
 to; and also nothing but what your conscience can justify you in; for, not he
 that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to
 say I am thus and thus, when my Conversation and all my Neighbors tell me I
 lye, is great wickedness.
      Talk. Then Talkative at first began to blush, but recovering himself,
 thus he replied, You come now to Experience, to Conscience, and God; and to
 appeal to him for justification of what is spoken: This kind of discourse I
 did not expect; nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because
 I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a Catechiser,
 and, though you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my Judge. But I
 pray will you tell me why you ask me such questions?
      Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you
 had ought else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of
 you that you are a man whose Religion lies in talk, and that your conversation
 gives this your Mouth-profession the lye. They say you are a spot among
 Christians, and that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly Conversation,
 that some have already stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in
 danger of being destroyed thereby; your Religion, and an Ale-house, and
 Covetousness, and Uncleanness, and Swearing and Lying, and vain
 Company-keeping, Etc... will stand together. The Proverb is true of you which
 is said of a Whore, to wit, That she is a shame to all Women; so you are a
 shame to all Professors.
      Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as
 you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit
 to be discoursed with; and so adieu.
      Chr. Then came up Christian, and said to his Brother, I told you how it
 would happen; your words and his lusts could not agree; he had rather leave
 your company than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said; let him go, the
 loss is no man's but his own, he has saved us the trouble of going from him;
 for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a
 blot in our company: besides, the Apostle says, From such withdraw thyself.
      Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him, it may happen
 that he will think of it again; however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so
 am clear of his blood, if he perisheth.
      Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. There is but
 little of this faithful dealing with men now a days, and that makes Religion
 to stink so in the nostrils of many, as it doth; for they are these Talkative
 Fools whose Religion is only in word, and are debauched and vain in their
 Conversation, that (being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly)
 do puzzle the World, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that
 all men would deal with such as you have done: then should they either be made
 more conformable to Religion, or the company of Saints would be too hot for
 them. Then did Faithful say,
 How Talkative at first lifts up his Plumes!
 How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes
 To drive all before him! But so soon
 As Faithful talks of Heart-work, like the Moon
 That's past the full, into the wane he goes.
 And so will all, but he that Heart-work knows.
      Thus they went on talking of what they had seen by the way, and so made
 that way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to them; for
 now they went through a Wilderness.
      Now when they were got almost quite out of this Wilderness, Faithful
 chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after them, and he knew
 him. Oh! said Faithful to his Brother, Who comes yonder? Then Christian
 looked, and said, It is my good friend Evangelist. Ay, and my good friend too,
 said Faithful, for 'twas he that set me the way to the Gate. Now was
 Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted them:
      Evan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and peace be to your helpers.
      Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the sight of thy countenance
 brings to my remembrance thy antient kindness and unwearied laboring for my
 eternal good.
      Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful: Thy company, O
 sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor Pilgrims!
      Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you my friends, since
 the time of our last parting? What have you met with, and how have you behaved
      Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to
 them in the way; and how, and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that
      Evan. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met with
 trials, but that you have been victors; and that you have (notwithstanding
 many weaknesses) continued in the way to this very day.
      I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and
 yours: I have sowed, and you have reaped; and the day is coming, when both he
 that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together; that is, if you hold
 out: for in due time ye shall reap, if you faint not. The Crown is before you,
 and it is an incorruptible one; so run that you may obtain it. Some there be
 that set out for this Crown, and after they have gone far for it, another
 comes in, and takes it from them; hold fast therefore that you have, let no
 man take your Crown. You are not yet out of the gun-shot of the Devil; you
 have not resisted unto blood, striving against sin; let the Kingdom be always
 before you, and believe steadfastly concerning things that are invisible. Let
 nothing that is on this side the other world get within you; and above all,
 look well to your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof, for they are deceitful
 above all things, and desperately wicked; set your faces like a flint; you
 have all power in Heaven and Earth on your side.
      Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but told him withal,
 that they would have him speak farther to them for their help the rest of the
 way, and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a Prophet, and could
 tell them of things that might happen unto them, and also how they might
 resist and overcome them. To which request Faithful also consented. So
 Evangelist began as followeth:
      Evan. My Sons, you have heard, in the words of the truth of the Gospel,
 that you must through many tribulations enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. And
 again, that in every City bonds and afflictions abide in you; and therefore
 you cannot expect that you should go long on your Pilgrimage without them, in
 some sort or other. You have found something of the truth of these testimonies
 upon you already, and more will immediately follow; for now, as you see, you
 are almost out of this Wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into a
 Town that you will by and by see before you; and in that Town you will be
 hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they will kill you; and be
 ye sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you hold, with
 blood; but be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a Crown of
 life. He that shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his
 pain perhaps great, he will yet have the better of his fellow; not only
 because he will be arrived at the Coelestial City soonest, but because he will
 escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his Journey.
 But when you are come to the Town, and shall find fulfilled what I have here
 related, then remember your friend, and quit yourselves like men, and commit
 the keeping of your souls to your God in well-doing, as unto a faithful
      Then I saw in my Dream, that when they were got out of the Wilderness,
 they presently saw a Town before them, and the name of that Town is Vanity;
 and at the Town there is a Fair kept, called Vanity Fair: it is kept all the
 year long; it beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the Town where 'tis
 kept is lighter than Vanity; and also because all that is there sold, or that
 cometh thither, is Vanity. As is the saying of the wise, All that cometh is

Next: Pilgrim's Progress: Part One, Section VI.