And her, his friend, distinguish’d from the rest, } By grandeur in her look, and state that she possess’d. } He pass’d not one; his grateful mind o’erflow’d With sense of all he felt, and they bestow’d. He spake of every office, great or small, } Within, without, and spake with praise of all— } So pass’d the happy Boy that Day at Silford Hall. } TALE II. _THE FAMILY OF LOVE._ In a large town, a wealthy, thriving place, Where hopes of gain excite an anxious race; Which dark, dense wreaths of cloudy volumes cloak, And mark, for leagues around, the place of smoke; Where fire to water lends its powerful aid, And steam produces—strong ally to trade— Arrived a Stranger, whom no merchant knew, Nor could conjecture what he came to do. He came not there his fortune to amend; He came not there a fortune made to spend; 10 His age not that which men in trade employ; The place not that where men their wealth enjoy; Yet there was something in his air that told Of competency gain’d, before the man was old. He brought no servants with him; those he sought Were soon his habits and his manners taught— His manners easy, civil, kind, and free; His habits such as aged men’s will be, To self indulgent; wealthy men like him Plead for these failings—’tis their way, their whim. 20 His frank good-humour, his untroubled air, His free address, and language bold but fair, Soon made him friends—such friends as all may make, Who take the way that he was pleased to take. He gave his dinners in a handsome style, And met his neighbours with a social smile; The wealthy all their easy friend approved, Whom the more liberal for his bounty loved; And ev’n the cautious and reserved began To speak with kindness of the frank old man, 30 Who, though associate with the rich and grave, Laugh’d with the gay, and to the needy gave What need requires. At church a seat was shown, That he was kindly ask’d to think his own. Thither he went, and neither cold nor heat, Pains or pretences, kept him from his seat. This to his credit in the town was told, And ladies said, “’Tis pity he is old; Yet, for his years, the Stranger moves like one Who, of his race, has no small part to run.” 40 No envy he by ostentation raised, And all his hospitable table praised. His quiet life censorious talk suppress’d, And numbers hail’d him as their welcome guest. ’Twas thought a man so mild, and bounteous too, A world of good within the town might do; To vote him honours, therefore, they inclined; But these he sought not, and with thanks resign’d; His days of business, he declared, were past, And he would wait in quiet for the last; 50 But for a dinner and a day of mirth He was the readiest being upon earth. Men call’d him Captain, and they found the name