rude enough, therefore, to slacken his pace as he approached, and at
last to make a full stop at the gentleman's back, who was just then
expressing his compassion for the beggar, and regretting that he had
not a farthing of change about him. At saying this, he looked
piteously on the fellow: there was something in his physiognomy
which caught Harley's notice: indeed, physiognomy was one of
Harley's foibles, for which he had been often rebuked by his aunt in
the country, who used to tell him that when he was come to her years
and experience he would know that all's not gold that glitters: and
it must be owned that his aunt was a very sensible, harsh-looking
maiden lady of threescore and upwards. But he was too apt to forget
this caution and now, it seems, it had not occurred to him.
Stepping up, therefore, to the gentleman, who was lamenting the want
of silver, "Your intentions, sir," said he, "are so good, that I
cannot help lending you my assistance to carry them into execution,"
and gave the beggar a shilling. The other returned a suitable
compliment, and extolled the benevolence of Harley. They kept
walking together, and benevolence grew the topic of discourse.

The stranger was fluent on the subject. "There is no use of money,"
said he, "equal to that of beneficence. With the profuse, it is
lost; and even with those who lay it out according to the prudence
of the world, the objects acquired by it pall on the sense, and have
scarce become our own till they lose their value with the power of
pleasing; but here the enjoyment grows on reflection, and our money
is most truly ours when it ceases being in our possession.

"Yet I agree in some measure," answered Harley, "with those who
think that charity to our common beggars is often misplaced; there
are objects less obtrusive whose title is a better one."