them, they returned him an equivalent in praise; and this was all he
wanted. The same ambition that actuates a monarch at the head of his army
influenced my father at the head of his table: he told the story of the
ivy-tree, and that was laughed at; he repeated the jest of the two scholars
and one pair of breeches, and the company laughed at that; but the story of
Taffy in the sedan chair was sure to set the table in a roar. Thus his
pleasure increased in proportion to the pleasure he gave; he loved all the
world, and he fancied all the world loved him.

"As his fortune was but small, he lived up to the very extent of it; he had
no intention of leaving his children money, for that was dross; he resolved
they should have learning, for learning, he used to observe, was better
than silver or gold. For this purpose he undertook to instruct us himself,
and took as much care to form our morals as to improve our understanding.
We were told that universal benevolence was what first cemented society; we
were taught to consider all the wants of mankind as our own; to regard the
_human face divine_ with affection and esteem; he wound us up to be
mere machines of pity, and rendered us incapable of withstanding the
slightest impulse made either by real or fictitious distress. In a word, we
were perfectly instructed in the art of giving away thousands before we
were taught the necessary qualifications of getting a farthing."

In the Deserted Village we have another picture of his father and his
father's fireside:

"His house was known to all the vagrant train,
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;
The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast;
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud