right and wrong; that he ought to despise their opinions, and he despised
them with all his might for two or three hours, as he walked up and down
his room with unremitting energy. At length our peripatetic philosopher
threw himself upon his bed, determined that his repose should not be
disturbed by such trifles: he had by this time worked himself up to such
a pitch of magnanimity, that he thought he could with composure meet the
disapproving eyes of millions of his fellow-creatures; but he was alone
when he formed this erroneous estimate of the strength of the human mind.
Wearied with passion and reason, he fell asleep, dreamed that he was
continually presenting flowers, which nobody would accept; awakened at
the imaginary repetition of Archibald's laugh, composed himself again to
sleep, and dreamed that he was in a glover's shop, trying on gloves, and
that, amongst a hundred pair which he pulled on, he could not find one
that would fit him. Just as he tore the last pair in his hurry, he
awakened, shook off his foolish dream, saw the sun rising between two
chimneys many feet below his windows, recollected that in a short time he
should be summoned to breakfast, that all the lady-patronesses were to be
at this breakfast, that he could not breakfast in gloves, that Archibald
would perhaps again laugh, and Flora perhaps again shrink back. He
reproached himself for his weakness in foreseeing and dreading this
scene: his aversion to lady-patronesses and to balls was never at a more
formidable height; he sighed for liberty and independence, which he
persuaded himself were not to be had in his present situation. In one of
his long walks he remembered to have seen, at some miles' distance from
the town of Edinburgh, a gardener and his boy, who were singing at their
work. These men appeared to Forester to be yet happier than the cobbler,
who formerly was the object of his admiration; and he was persuaded that
he should be much happier at the gardener's cottage than he could ever be
at Dr. Campbell's house.