The next morning I walked up Union Street just as the merchants and other business men were going to their offices and places of business. In a jeweler’s window was a standard clock, and I noticed more than one passer-by stop and take out his watch and compare the time. This gave me an opportunity to display my timepiece. So I took it out with a great deal of pride, and to my surprise and grief it was fifteen minutes slower than the clock. My head was hot, my eyes were misty and my heart beat violently. I put the watch to my ear, and lo! it had stopped. I walked up the street in a dazed condition, turned into a side street and sat down on a doorstep. I was at a loss what to do, but at last, having pulled myself together, I returned to the jeweler’s and, entering, handed him the watch and asked what the matter with it was. He opened it with an important air and examined it carefully and oh! so slowly.
His face was lighted by a faint smile as he said, “It will take ten days to repair it, and it will cost you fifteen dollars.”
An outlay of fifteen dollars on a watch that was not fit for an ashheap! I stammered some excuse and took my departure. All my faculties were now awake, and the course of procedure was plain. I made haste to the Quaker’s office. I stood out on the wharf and, looking through the window, saw him, apparently as placid as ever, at work at his desk. I had determined to give him a perfect blast, and, while I was trying to summon the language I proposed to use, some one spoke to me. It was my old friend, the shipkeeper. He saw that I was disturbed and asked the cause. I told him my story and finished by declaring that I was going into the office and upbraid the Quaker for his treatment of me.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said my companion, “until I had been to another jeweler. There are two things a man can buy and never know what he’s buying—one’s a horse and the other is a watch. Another jeweler may tell you a different story. Suppose you go to one.”
This advice had an excellent effect, and I followed it. I sought an old watchmaker and silversmith who had a long established record for skill and honesty. There was something fatherly about him, and his face always wore a pleasant expression. His examination was slow and thorough. When completed, a smile spread over his countenance, as he said:
“That’s a fine watch, and there is nothing the matter with it. The trouble is you forgot to wind it last night.”