Matson shook his whole frame with convulsive laughter
at poor Osborne's expense, and Benjamin joined him with a keen relish.
Never was a fellow in a more mortifying predicament than this would-be
critic, since it was now perfectly manifest that he was influenced by
blind prejudice in his criticisms of Ralph's poetry. For now, disarmed
of prejudice, he had given it his most emphatic endorsement.
A few years later, Matson died in Benjamin's arms, much lamented by
all of his companions, who regarded him as "the best of their set."
Osborne removed to the West Indies, where he became an eminent lawyer,
but died just past middle life. Of the others we shall have occasion
to speak hereafter.
Benjamin always spoke well of that literary club. It was an excellent
way of using leisure time. It contributed much to his self-advancement,
as it did to that of his companions. Such an arrangement converts spare
moments into great blessings.
The time was drawing near for Benjamin to leave for England; and there
was one thing above all others, that he wished to do, viz.: to be
betrothed to Deborah Read. They had fallen in love with each other,
but were not engaged. He had not opened the subject to her parents;
but he must, if he would win her hand before going to England. So he
ventured.
"Both of you are too young," replied Deborah's mother.
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