Perhaps, too, she thought my expectations
not so well founded as I imagined them to be.
My chief acquaintances at this time were Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson,
and James Ralph, all lovers of reading. The two first were clerks
to an eminent scrivener or conveyancer in the town, Charles Brogden;
the other was clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious, sensible
young man, of great integrity; the others rather more lax in their
principles of religion, particularly Ralph, who, as well as Collins,
had been unsettled by me, for which they both made me suffer.
Osborne was sensible, candid, frank; sincere and affectionate
to his friends; but, in literary matters, too fond of criticising.
Ralph was ingenious, genteel in his manners, and extremely eloquent;
I think I never knew a prettier talker. Both of them great
admirers of poetry, and began to try their hands in little pieces.
Many pleasant walks we four had together on Sundays into the woods,
near Schuylkill, where we read to one another, and conferr'd on what
we read.
Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study of poetry, not doubting
but he might become eminent in it, and make his fortune by it,
alleging that the best poets must, when they first began to write,
make as many faults as he did. Osborne dissuaded him, assur'd him
he had no genius for poetry, and advis'd him to think of nothing
beyond the business he was bred to; that, in the mercantile way,
tho' he had no stock, he might, by his diligence and punctuality,
recommend himself to employment as a factor, and in time acquire
wherewith to trade on his own account.
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