I never in my life saw a figure that prepossessed me more favourably.

His locks of silver grey venerably shaded his temples, and his green old age seemed to be the result of health and benevolence.
However, his presence did not interrupt our conversation; my friend and I discoursed on the various turns of fortune we had met: the Whistonean controversy, my last pamphlet, the archdeacon's reply, and the hard measure that was dealt me.

But our attention was in a short time taken off by the appearance of a youth, who, entering the room, respectfully said something softly to the old stranger.

'Make no apologies, my child,' said the old man, 'to do good is a duty we owe to all our fellow creatures: take this, I wish it were more; but five pounds will relieve your distress, and you are welcome.' The modest youth shed tears of gratitude, and yet his gratitude was scarce equal to mine.

I could have hugged the good old man in my arms, his benevolence pleased me so.