A plain brown paper lent its decent gloom; But here the eye, in glancing round, survey'd A small recess that seem'd for china made; Such pleasing pictures seem'd this pencill'd ware, That few would search for nobler objects there - Yet, turn'd by chosen friends, and there appear'd His stern, strong features, whom they all revered; For there in lofty air was seen to stand The bold Protector of the conquer'd land; Drawn in that look with which he wept and swore, Turn'd out the Members, and made fast the door, Ridding the House of every knave and drone, Forced, though it grieved his soul, to rule alone. The stern still smile each friend approving gave, Then turn'd the view, and all again were grave. There stood a clock, though small the owner's need, For habit told when all things should proceed; Few their amusements, but when friends appear'd, They with the world's distress their spirits cheer'd; The nation's guilt, that would not long endure The reign of men so modest and so pure: Their town was large, and seldom pass'd a day But some had fail'd, and others gone astray; Clerks had absconded, wives eloped, girls flown To Gretna-Green, or sons rebellious grown; Quarrels and fires arose;--and it was plain The times were bad; the Saints had ceased to reign! A few yet lived, to languish and to mourn For good old manners never to return. Jonas had sisters, and of these was one Who lost a husband and an only son: Twelve months her sables she in sorrow wore, And mourn'd so long that she could mourn no more. Distant from Jonas, and from all her race, She now resided in a lively place; There, by the sect unseen, at whist she play'd, Nor was of churchman or their church afraid: If much of this the graver brother heard, He something censured, but he little fear'd; He knew her rich and frugal; for the rest, He felt no care, or, if he felt, suppress'd: Nor for companion when she ask'd her Niece, Had he suspicions that disturb'd his peace; Frugal and rich, these virtues as a charm Preserved the thoughtful man from all alarm; An infant yet, she soon would home return, Nor stay the manners of the world to learn; Meantime his boys would all his care engross, And be his comforts if he felt the loss. The sprightly Sybil, pleased and unconfined, Felt the pure pleasure of the op'ning mind: All here was gay and cheerful--all at home Unvaried quiet and unruffled gloom: There were no changes, and amusements few; - Here all was varied, wonderful, and new; There were plain meals, plain dresses, and grave looks - Here, gay companions and amusing books; And the young Beauty soon began to taste The light vocations of the scene she graced. A man of business feels it as a crime On calls domestic to consume his time; Yet this grave man had not so cold a heart, But with his daughter he was grieved to part: And he demanded that in every year The Aunt and Niece should at his house appear. "Yes! we must go, my child, and by our dress A grave conformity of mind express;