AS thus our Pilgrims travell'd hand in hand,
With sweet discourse towards th' heav'nly land,
Another traveller appear'd in view—

One Talkative-a man that Christian knew,*
(He knew his aged father Saywell too,
The family long liv'd in Prating-row;)
He'd talk of heav'n and hell, and law and grace,
With a smooth tongue, and sanctimonious face;
A saint he seem'd, to those who heard him talk,
But a vile wretch, to those who knew his walk.
To any company his words could suit-

With saints a saint, and with the brutes a brute;
With one, devoutly, psalms and hymns he sung;
With others, songs obscene defil'd his tongue.

The character of Talkative is too common; such men abound in the present day; they can talk fluently about religion; but there is no true godliness in their hearts or houses.

Go to his house there's no religion there,

No fear of God at all, no praise, no prayer!

He'd swear and whore, and drink, and lie, and cheat,
The moral people shunn'd him in the street.
His character o'er all the town was such

That for his sake, the gospel bore reproach.
With him the Pilgrims talk'd a little while,
But soon discover'd all his heart and guile—
Dealt freely with him, told him what they thought—
And what reproach upon the cause he brought-
'Twas such as he that made religion stink,

While he himself was on Destruction's brink.
But faithful words with him would never do,
He blush'd, turn'd back, and bade them both adieu.
From such the Scriptures bid us turn away,

Our holy Pilgrims do so, while they say,
'How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes!
How bravely does he speak! How he presumes
'To drive down 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 rid of Talkative they forward went;
With good discourse their time was sweetly spent.
'But who comes here,' says Faithful,' Christian see,'
"O'tis my friend EVANGELIST!" cries he: