Tales and Novels, vol 1 | Page 7

that, but
that the watch was not his property; it was Sir Philip Gosling's, who
would call for it, he expected, in a quarter of an hour."
At the name of Sir Philip Gosling, Archibald quickly changed his tone:

he had a great ambition to be of Sir Philip's acquaintance, for Sir Philip
was a young man who was to have a large fortune when he should
come of age, and who, in the meantime, spent as much of it as possible,
with great spirit and little judgment. He had been sent to Edinburgh for
his education; and he spent his time in training horses, laying bets,
parading in the public walks, and ridiculing, or, in his own phrase,
quizzing every sensible young man, who applied to literature or science.
Sir Philip, whenever he frequented any of the professor's classes, took
care to make it evident to every body present, that he did not come
there to learn, and that he looked down with contempt upon all who
were obliged to study; he was the first always to make any disturbance
in the classes, or, in his elegant language, to make a row.
This was the youth of whose acquaintance Archibald Mackenzie was
ambitious. He stayed in the shop, in hopes that Sir Philip would arrive:
he was not disappointed; Sir Philip came, and, with address which lady
Catherine would perhaps have admired, Archibald entered into
conversation with the young baronet, if conversation that might be
called, which consisted of a species of fashionable dialect, devoid of
sense, and destitute of any pretence to wit. To Forester this dialect was
absolutely unintelligible: after he had listened to it with sober contempt
for a few minutes, he pulled Henry away, saying, "Come, don't let us
waste our time here; let us go to the brewery that you promised to show
me."
Henry did not immediately yield to the rough pull of his indignant
friend, for at this instant the door of a little back parlour behind the
watchmaker's shop opened slowly, and a girl of about seven years old
appeared, carrying, with difficulty, a flower-pot, in which there was a
fine large geranium in full flower. Henry, who saw that the child was
scarcely able to carry it, took it out of her hands, and asked her, "Where
she would like to have it put?"
"Here, for to-day!" said the little girl, sorrowfully; "but to-morrow it
goes away for ever."
The little girl was sorry to part with this geranium, because "she had
watched it all the winter," and said, "that she was very fond of it; but
that she was willing to part with it, though it was just come into flower,
because the apothecary had told her, that it was the cause of her
grandmother's having been taken ill. Her grandmother lodged," she said,

"in that little room, and the room was very close, and she was taken ill
in the night--so ill, that she could hardly speak or stir; and when the
apothecary came, he said," continued the little girl, "it was no wonder
any body was ill, who slept in such a little close room, with such a
great geranium in it, to poison the air. So my geranium must go!"
concluded she with a sigh: "but, as it is for grandmother, I shall never
think of it again."
Henry Campbell and Forester were both struck with the modest
simplicity of this child's countenance and manner, and they were
pleased with the unaffected generosity with which she gave up her
favourite geranium. Forester noted this down in his mind as a fresh
instance in favour of his exclusive good opinion of the poor. This little
girl looked poor, though she was decently dressed; she was so thin, that
her little cheek-bones could plainly be seen; her face had not the round,
rosy beauty of cheerful health: she was pale and sallow, and she looked
in patient misery. Moved with compassion, Forester regretted that he
had no money to give where it might have been so well bestowed. He
was always extravagant in his generosity; he would often give five
guineas where five shillings would have been enough, and by these
means he reduced himself to the necessity sometimes of refusing
assistance to deserving objects. On his journey from his father's house
to Edinburgh, he lavished, in undistinguishing charity, a considerable
sum of money; and all that he had remaining of this money he spent in
purchasing the new violin for M. Pasgrave. Dr. Campbell absolutely
refused to advance his ward any money till his next quarterly allowance
should become due. Henry, who always perceived quickly what passed
in the minds of others, guessed at Forester's thoughts by his
countenance, and forebore to produce his own money, though he had