Tales and Novels, vol 1 | Page 3

of," said he to himself; but,
notwithstanding all his efforts to be and to appear at ease, he was
constrained and abashed. A young laird, Mr. Archibald Mackenzie,
seemed to enjoy his confusion with malignant, half-suppressed
merriment, in which Dr. Campbell's son was too good-natured, and too
well-bred, to participate. Henry Campbell was three or four years older
than Forester, and though he looked like a gentleman, Forester could
not help being pleased with the manner in which he drew him into
conversation. The secret magic of politeness relieved him insensibly
from the torment of false shame.
"It is a pity this lad was bred up a gentleman," said Forester to himself,
"for he seems to have some sense and goodness."
Dinner was announced, and Forester was provoked at being interrupted
in an argument concerning carts and coaches, which he had begun with
Henry Campbell. Not that Forester was averse to eating, for he was at
this instant ravenously hungry: but eating in company he always found
equally repugnant to his habits and his principles. A table covered with
a clean table-cloth; dishes in nice order; plates, knives, and forks, laid
at regular distances, appeared to our young Diogenes absurd
superfluities, and he was ready to exclaim, "How many things I do not
want!" Sitting down to dinner, eating, drinking, and behaving like other
people, appeared to him difficult and disagreeable ceremonies. He did
not perceive that custom had rendered all these things perfectly easy to
every one else in company; and as soon as he had devoured his food his
own way, he moralized in silence upon the good sense of Sancho Panza,
who preferred eating an egg behind the door to feasting in public; and
he recollected his favourite traveller Le Vaillant's[1] enthusiastic
account of his charming Hottentot dinners, and of the disgust that he
afterwards felt, on the comparison of European etiquette and African
simplicity.
[Footnote 1: Le Vaillant's Travels in Africa, vol. i. p. 114.]
"Thank God, the ceremony of dinner is over," said Forester to Henry
Campbell, as soon as they rose from table.

All these things, which seemed mere matter of course in society,
appeared to Forester strange ceremonies. In the evening there were
cards for those who liked cards, and there was conversation for those
who liked conversation. Forester liked neither; he preferred playing
with a cat; and he sat all night apart from the company in a corner of a
sofa. He took it for granted that the conversation could not be worth his
attention, because he heard Lady Catherine Mackenzie's voice amongst
others; he had conceived a dislike, or rather a contempt for this lady,
because she showed much of the pride of birth and rank in her manners.
Henry Campbell did not think it necessary to punish himself for her
ladyship's faults, by withdrawing from entertaining conversation; he
knew that his father had the art of managing the frivolous subjects
started in general company, so as to make them lead to amusement and
instruction; and this Forester would probably have discovered this
evening, had he not followed his own thoughts, instead of listening to
the observations of others. Lady Catherine, it is true, began with a silly
history of her hereditary antipathy for pickled cucumbers; and she was
rather tiresome in tracing the genealogy of this antipathy through
several generations of her ancestry; but Dr. Campbell said "that he had
heard, from an ingenious gentleman of her ladyship's family, that her
ladyship's grandfather, and several of his friends, nearly lost their lives
by pickled cucumbers;" and thence the doctor took occasion to relate
several curious circumstances concerning the effects of different
poisons.
Dr. Campbell, who plainly saw both the defects and the excellent
qualities of his young ward, hoped that, by playful raillery, and by
well-timed reasoning, he might mix a sufficient portion of good sense
with Forester's enthusiasm, might induce him gradually to sympathize
in the pleasures of cultivated society, and might convince him that
virtue is not confined to any particular class of men; that education, in
the enlarged sense of the word, creates the difference between
individuals more than riches or poverty. He foresaw that Forester
would form a friendship with his son, and that this attachment would
cure him of his prejudices against gentlemen, and would prevent him
from indulging his taste for vulgar company. Henry Campbell had
more useful energy, though less apparent enthusiasm, than his new
companion: he was always employed; he was really independent,

because he had learned how to support himself either by the labours of
his head or of his hands; but his independence did not render him
unsociable; he was always ready to sympathize with the pleasures of
his friends, and therefore he was beloved: following his father's
example, he did all