From Boyhood to Manhood: Life of Benjamin Franklin (2025)

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Beth Trapaga, and Project

Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders

LIFE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

By William M. Thayer

Author of "From Farm House to White House," "From Log Cabin to White
House," "From Pioneer Home to White House," "From Tannery to White
House," etc., etc.

ILLUSTRATED

1889.

The life of Benjamin Franklin is stranger than fiction. Its realitiessurpass the idealities of novelists. Imagination would scarcely ventureto portray such victories over poverty, obscurity, difficulties, andhardships. The tact, application, perseverance, and industry, that hebrought to his life-work, make him an example for all time. He met withdefeats; but they inspired him to manlier efforts. His successesincreased his desire for something higher and nobler. He was satisfiedonly with going up still higher. He believed that "one to-day isworth two to-morrows"; and he acted accordingly, with the candle-shopand printing office for his school-room, and Observation for histeacher. His career furnishes one of the noblest examples of successfor the young of both sexes to study. We offer his life as one of thebrightest and best in American history to inspire young hearts withlofty aims.

The first and principal source of material for this book was Franklin's"Autobiography." No other authority, or treasure of material, can takethe place of that. Biographies by Sparks, Sargent, Abbott, and Partonhave freely consulted together with "Franklin in France," and variouseulogies and essays upon his life and character.

That Franklin was the real father of the American Union, is the viewwhich the author of this biography presents. It is the view ofBancroft, as follows:—

"Not half of Franklin's merits have been told. He was the true fatherof the American Union. It was he who went forth to lay the foundationof that great design at Albany; and in New York he lifted up his voice.Here among us he appeared as the apostle of the Union. It was Franklinwho suggested the Congress of 1774; and but for his wisdom, and theconfidence that wisdom inspired, it is a matter of doubt whether thatCongress would have taken effect. It was Franklin who suggested thebond of the Union which binds these States from Florida to Maine.Franklin was the greatest diplomatist of the eighteenth century. Henever spoke a word too soon; he never spoke a word too much; he neverfailed to speak the right word at the right season."

The closing years of Franklin's life were so identified with the Unionof the States, and the election and inauguration of Washington as thefirst President, that his biography becomes a fitting companion to theWHITE HOUSE SERIES.

CONTENTS

I.FROM OLD ENGLAND TO NEW ENGLAND.

Persecution Driving Franklin and Others Away—Discussion about
Emigrating—Josiah Franklin—His Trade—Benjamin Franklin—Doctor
Franklin's Account of His Ancestors—Meetings of Dissenters Broken
Up—Why Josiah Decided to Go—Account of Their Family Bible—The Final
Decision—The Franklin Family Influential—Thomas Franklin—The
Franklin Poet—Doctor Franklin about His Father—What Boston was Then
and Now—Exploring the Wilderness—Influence of Franklins in Boston.

II.THE FIFTEENTH GIFT.

Birth of Benjamin Franklin on Sunday—The Fifteenth Child—God's
Gift—Proposition to Baptize Him the Same Day—Discussion over
It—Baptized on That Day by Doctor Willard—The Church Record—House
in Which He was Born—Josiah's Children—Death of Wife and Second
Marriage—The Folger Family—Name for Uncle Benjamin—Personal
Beauty—Words of Parton—Josiah Took Up Trade of Tallow-chandler—The
Business and Place Described—Sons Apprenticed—Josiah a Good
Musician—Condition of the World When Benjamin was Born in 1706.

III.PAYING TOO DEAR FOR THE WHISTLE.

Seven Years Old—First Money to Spend as He Pleased—Advice Gratis—Boywith Whistle—Benjamin Buys a Whistle—Going into the ConcertBusiness—Scene in the Family—Tormented by John for Paying All HisMoney—Ben Breaks Down—Father and Mother Takes His Part—The LessonHe Learned—What He Wrote about It at Seventy-two Years of Age—WhenBoys Pay Too Dear for the Whistle—Dickens—Keeping the Secret—Howthe Secret Came Out.

IV.IN SCHOOL.

Uncle Benjamin and His Poetry—His Family—His Letter about Ben—Plansfor School and Doctor Willard—Goes to School at Eight Years ofAge—Description of His Father—Of His Mother—Inscription on TheirMonument—Nathaniel Williams, Teacher—Description of School-house—HisScholarship High—His Teacher Praises Him—Led the School—Propheciesabout Him—Webster—Rittenhouse—Stephenson.

V.OUT OF SCHOOL.

Poverty Forces Him to Leave School—His Mother's View—Hard Time for
Ministers—Brownell's School of Penmanship—How Ben Could Help His
Father—Boys Put to Work Young Then—His Obedience—A Well-Disciplined
Boy—Incident of His Manhood to Rebuke a Landlord—Robert Peel and
Harry Garland—The Eight Hall Brothers—His Progress.

VI.FROM SCHOOL TO CANDLE-SHOP.

Arrival of Uncle Benjamin—Opposed to Taking His Nephew Out of School—
Thinks Ben is Very Talented—Prospects of the Business—Benjamin's
Talk with His Mother—Blessings of Industry—Doctor Franklin's
Proverbs—Became Wiser Than His Father—Tallow-Chandler at Ten Years
of Age—His Father Saw His Dissatisfaction—Josiah, the Runaway Son,
Returns—Wanted to Go to Sea—The Proposition Vetoed—Uncle Benjamin
Against It.

VII.CHOOSING A TRADE AND STEALING SPORT.

Love of a Trade Necessary to Success—Following "Natural Bent"—Square
Boys in Round Holes—Smeaton—Benjamin Pleased with a New Plan—
Examining Different Trades—The Cutler, Brazier, etc.—Chooses Cutler's
Trade—Enters Shop on Trial—Disagreement on Terms—The Good It Did
Him—Sport on the Water—An Evil Proposition—Stealing Stones—The
Wharf Built—The Thieves Detected—How Benjamin's Father Found Him
Out—Benjamin's Confession and Promise—The End.

VIII.BECOMING PRINTER-BOY.

James Franklin Returns from England a Printer—His Father's Talk About
Learning That Trade—Benjamin Likes It—Arrangement with James—
Printing in Its Infancy Then—Censorship over Printing—Bound to
His Brother—Form of Indenture—William Tinsley—White Slavery—Poor
Children Sold at Auction—A Printer-boy and How He Liked—Time for
Reading—Budget!—The Printing-office, Where and What—Being on
Time—After a Book Before Breakfast—Washington's Punctuality—
Franklin's Like It.

IX.TABLE-TALK EDUCATION.

What Franklin Said of Table-talk—What Heard at Table Now—ItsMoulding Influence—That of His Grandfather—The Franklins Good inConversation—Extract from Parton—Letter of Franklin to His Wife in1758—Pythagoras—Cicero—Josiah Franklin—His Wise Counsels—Originof His Temperance Principles—No Temperance Cause Then—The WashburneFamily—The Way the Twig is Bent.

X.LEADER OF SPORTS AND THOUGHTS.

Love of Reading and Fun—The Best Swimmer, etc.—Invention to Promote
Swimming—His Secret of Success—The Trial of the Apparatus—Hard on
the Wrists—Another Experiment Proposed—Swimming Promoted by a
Kite—Delight of the Boys—What Franklin Said of It in Manhood—The
Seed Thought of Drawing Lightning from a Cloud with a Kite—His
Experiment and Joy—What He Wrote about It—Advocate of Liberal Female
Education—Correspondence with Collins—His Father's Opinion—How
Benjamin Tried to Improve—How He Gained Time—Wise Maxims in
Age—Maxims—C.G. Frost and One Hour a Day—What Spare Moments Did
for Benjamin.

XI.STARTING A NEWSPAPER.

Only Three Newspapers in America—Created a Stir—What Newspaper
Business is in Boston Now—How to Estimate It—Benjamin Manages the
Printing of It—His Interest in It—Its Warm Reception—Proposition
to Board Himself—What He Gained by It—His Object Self-improvement—
James Selfish, Benjamin Generous—Their Talk about the Plan—What His
Bill-of-Fare Was—How Come to Adopt Vegetable Diet—More Maxims—
Cocker's Arithmetic—His Success.

XII.THE RUSE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

What Parton Says of Courant—The Knot of Liberals—Ben's First
Anonymous Article, and His Ruse—Discussion over It by the Courant
Club—Decided to Publish It—Benjamin Puts It in Type—It Created a
Sensation—The Second Article, Better Than First—Excitement over It
Still Greater—Ben's Exultation—James' Astonishment—Surprise of the
"Knot"—Ben a Favorite Now—How the Autobiography Tells the Story—
Decided Ben's Career—Canning and Microcosm—Examples of Industry,
Tact, etc.—Boy without a Name.

XIII.BOOKS OF HIS BOYHOOD.

Four Classes of Readers—Ben after Diamonds—Hungry Mind—Words ofThomas Hood—What Franklin Said—First Book Pilgrim's Progress—Talkwith His Father—What Franklin Said of Narrative—Plutarch's Lives—Easyto Do Good—What They Were—Incident by Parton—Plan to Buy Burton'sHistorical Collections—Describes Them—Boyle's Lectures—Kind Offerof Matthew Adams—Borrowing Books of Booksellers' Clerks—GreatFavor—Books Very Scarce Then—Greenwood's English Grammar—Talk withCollins—Other Books Read—Habit of Taking Notes—Letter of Franklinabout It—Professor Atkinson's Words—Garfield Had Same Habit.

XIV.LEARNING THE ART OF COMPOSITION.

Began to Write Poetry at Seven—Had Practised Putting Thoughts
Together—James Praised His Pieces—Proposition to Write, Print,
and Sell Verses—Wrote Two—Sold Well—His Father's Severe Rebuke—
After-talk with James—Best Writers Deficient at First—Reporting to
James—Benefit to Ben—One of His Verses Preserved—What Franklin
Said of It in Manhood—How He Used the Spectator—Determined to
Improve—His Own Description of His Literary Work—How He Acquired
Socratic Method—Rhetoric and Logic—How a Single Book Made Wesley,
Martin, Pope, Casey, Lincoln, and Others What They Were—A Striking
Case.

XV.THE "COURANT" IN TROUBLE.

The Startling News from the Assembly—A Discussion—A Sarcastic Letter
the Cause—James and Benjamin Summoned before the Council—James
Defiant—Benjamin Dismissed—How Mather Assailed the Courant—How
James Answered Him—James in Prison—Benjamin Editing the Paper—
Quotation from Parton—Persecution of Printers in the Old Country—A
Horrible Case—James Released, and Still Defiant—Inoculation a Remedy
for Small Pox—The Mercury Denouncing James' Imprisonment—James
Still for Freedom of the Press—Secured It for All Time.

XVI.THE BOY EDITOR.

Attacking the Government—The Council Exasperated—Action of the
Courant Club—Plan to Evade Order of the Council—Benjamin, the
Boy-editor—His Address in Courant—Quotations from Courant of
January 14, 1723—Not Libelous—Extract from Parton's Life—When
Newspapers Ceased to be Carried Free—How Long Ben Was in Printing
Office—Remarks by Mr. Sparks—What He Says of General Court—How the
Experience Developed Benjamin—Right Boy in Right Place—Extract from
Courant about Bears.

XVII.THE YOUNG SKEPTIC.

Reading Shaftesbury's Work—Discussion with Collins—Ben's Orthodoxy in
Peril—Benjamin a Thinker—Saying Grace over the Pork Barrel—Reading
from Collins—Several Paragraphs Repugnant to Orthodoxy—Shaftesbury
Attacking Miracles—Ben's Influence over John—Charged with Being
Atheist—His Confession—Letter to His Father—Letter to Sister—Seeing
His Folly—His Prayer—Sad Experience with Infidel Books—Similar to
Lincoln's and Garfield's—Lincoln's Farewell.

XVIII.HOW HE QUIT BOSTON.

Decision to Leave James—Cruelty of the Latter—The Indenture—
Discussion over It with Collins—Advised to Get Place in Another
Printing Office in Boston—James Had Warned Them against Hiring
Him—Discloses His Decision to James—Unfair Use of Indenture—What
Benjamin Said of It Afterwards—Resolved to Run Away—Planned The
Method With Collins—Why Go by Water—How He Obtained Money—Collins
Engages His Passage—Collins' Deliberate Lie—On the Road to
Ruin—Collins' Report to Benjamin—Final Arrangements—Boarding the
Sloop—Scene off Block Island—Ben Converted to Flesh—Benjamin
Franklin's Experience Like William Hutton's.

XIX.TRIALS OF A RUNAWAY.

Applies for Work in New York—Bradford's Advice and Kindness—Starts
for Philadelphia—The Drunken Dutch man—Driven on Shore by a Squall—
A Fearful Night—At Amboy—Benjamin Sick—A Young Man Travelling in
Maine—Advantage of Reading—Sir Walter Scott's Advice—Going in
Rain to Burlington—Landlord Suspected He Was a Runaway—At Doctor
Brown's—A Fine Time with the Doctor—Buying Gingerbread of Old
Woman—His Disappointment—Way out of It—Unexpected Deliverance—His
Skill at Rowing Again Useful—Finally Reaches Philadelphia.

XX.THE WALKING COMEDY.

Meeting a Boy Eating—Buys Three Loaves—His Surprise—A Walking
Comedy—Sees His Future Wife—His Generosity to Mother and Child—A
Trait of His Life—Back to the Boat—On the Street Again and in Quaker
Church—Sleeping in Church—The Kind Quaker—The Crooked Billet—
Suspected of being a Runaway—Meeting the New York Bradford—Interview
with Young Bradford—Interview with Keimer—Showing His Skill at
Type-setting—Senior Bradford's Ruse—Giving Account of His Boston
Life—Doing Things Well—Case of Budgett—What Parton Said to Maydoll.

XXI.GETTING ON.

Repairing the Old Printing Press—Caution to Keep Secrets—Repairingfor Bradford—Conversation with Bradford about Work in Boston—Unbelief—Changing Boarding-place—Talk with Boarding-master Read—Study and Companions There—High Rank of Printing Then—Letter fromCollins—Found by His Brother-in-law, Captain Homes—Letter fromthe Captain—Benjamin's Reply—His Letter Read by Governor Keith—HisHistory Told Keith—The Latter's Promise—Colonel French—Two Traitsof Ben's Character, Observation and Humility.

XXII.GOING UP HIGHER.

Governor Keith and Colonel French Call on Benjamin—Keimer's
Surprise—Benjamin's Interview with Them—Proposition to Establish
Printing House—Keith Proposed He Should See His Father—Keimer Very
Inquisitive about the Interview—Waiting for Vessel to Boston—Letter
to Collins—How Long Take to Start Printing House—Tells Keimer He is
Going to Boston—Sails for Boston—A Great Storm—Experience in
Reaching Boston.

XXIII.THE SURPRISE, AND ITS RESULTS.

Hastens to See His Parents—Joyful Meeting—Account of Correspondence
with Homes—Going to See James—Delight of Journeymen—Many Inquiries—
Proposition to Treat Them—Report of James' Treatment to Parents—His
Mother's Counsel—Meets Collins—The Latter Intemperate—Counsels Him
to Let Strong Drink Alone—His Father's Opinion of Keith's Letter—
Arrival of Captain Homes—Approves Plans of Benjamin—Calling on
Friends—Seeing Doctor Mather—An Incident and Its Lesson—Collins
Decides to Go to Philadelphia—Benjamin's Father Declines to Help
Him—About Courant—Bidding Parents Farewell and Returning.

XXIV.HIS RETURN, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

Leaves Boston for New York—Collins to Meet Him There—Calls at Newportto See His Brother John—Takes a Debt to Collect—Finds Collins Drunkin New York—Talk with Landlord—Governor Burnett Sends for Him—Benjamin's Words about It—Rebukes John Drunk—Arrival in Philadelphia—Called on Governor Keith—The Governor Proposes to Set Him up—AmusingTalk with Keimer—Collins Can Not Get Work—Trouble with Collins onthe Delaware—End of Collins—Governor Keith Sends for Him—Going toEngland to Buy Outfit.

XXV.WORKING, READING, AND COURTING.

Keimer's Religious Creed—Argument with Benjamin—Establishing a New
Sect and Foregoing a Good Dinner—Benjamin's Three Literary
Associates—Literary Club Formed—Discussion on Ralph as a
Poet—Benjamin's Views—Each One Writing Poetry—Paraphrase of 18th
Psalm—Benjamin Reading Ralph's—Plan to Outwit Osborne—Its
Success—Osborne's Mortification—The Club a Good One—Benjamin and
Deborah Read—The Result.

XXVI.A BOGUS SCHEME.

Ralph Going to England with Benjamin—Time to Sail—Governor Keith
Promises Letters—No Suspicion of Keith—Letters Not Ready as
Promised—Second Application for Letters—Final Promise—Bag of Letters
Come on Board—Looked over Letters in English Channel—The Revelation
of Rascality—Benjamin's Situation Alone in London—Ralph Discloses
that He Has Abandoned His Wife—Rebuked by Benjamin—Advice of
Denham—Governor Keith a Fraud—Finds Work at Palmer's Printing
House—Had Ralph to Support—Ralph a Schoolmaster—Accepting Trouble
Philosophically.

XXVII."OUR WATER DRINKER."

Letter from Ralph to Benjamin—Ralph's Epic Poem—Assisted Ralph's
Wife—How He and Ralph Separated—Kindness of Wilcox, the Bookseller—
Loaning Books—Benjamin Reviews "Religion of Nature"—Talk with Watts,
and His Opinion of It—Interview with Doctor Lyons—Doctor Pemberton—
Lived to See His Folly—Interview with Sir Hans Sloane—Benjamin's
Attack on Beer Drinking—His Sound Argument—Jake, the Ale Boy—Called
"A Water Drinker"—Discussion with Watts—Refused to Treat the Company—
Visits His Old Press Forty Years After.

XXVIII.AT HOME AGAIN.

What Became of Ralph—Benjamin Teaching Two Companions to Swim—Who Was
Wygate?—The Excursion to Chelsea—Benjamin Swims Four Miles—Antics in
the Water—Sir W. Wyndham Proposes He Should Open a Swimming School—
Wygate's Proposition to Travel—Denham's Advice—Cheaper Board—Incident
Showing Denham's Character—Denham Offers to Employ Him as Clerk in
Philadelphia—Leaves Printing House for Warehouse—Returns to
Philadelphia.

XXIX.UPS AND DOWNS OF LIFE.

Visits Keimer's Printing Office—Calls on Deborah Read—Her Marriage to
Rogers, and Divorce—Visit to Deborah Leads to Re-engagement—Now a
Merchant's Clerk—Denham and Benjamin Both Sick—Denham Died and Left
Legacy to Benjamin—Arrival of Captain Homes—Working for Keimer
Again—The Latter Making Trouble—Benjamin Leaves Him—Interview with
Meredith—Proposition to Go into Company in Printing Business—Meredith's
Father Loans Capital.

XXX.THE LEATHERN APRON CLUB.

Reflecting on His Religious Belief—Rules He Wrote on the Berkshireand Introduction to Them—The Leathern Apron Club—Patterned afterCotton Mather's—The Questions Asked—Benjamin's Explanation—TheCompact Signed—Bringing in Books They Owned—Establishing the FirstLibrary in the Land—Questions Discussed by the Club—No Improvementon This Club—Benjamin's View of It in Age—Organizing Other Clubs—Studying the Languages—Benjamin's Success.

XXXI.BRIGHTER DAYS.

Proposition from Keimer—Discussion of It with Meredith—Returns to
Keimer—Printing Money for New Jersey at Burlington—The Surveyor
General's Life—His Talk with Benjamin—Starting New Firm, Franklin
and Meredith—The First Job—Predictions of Its Failure by Nickle
and Merchants' Club—Doctor Baird Differed—A Proposition from a
Stationer—Interview with Webb—Plan for Starting a Paper Made Known—
Keimer's Paper—Benjamin's Articles in Mercury—Buys Keimer's
Paper—Dissolves Partnership—Rum the Cause—The Gazette a Success.

XXXII.NO LONGER A SKEPTIC.

Time is Money—The Lounger Rebuked—Maxims—Avoiding Slander and
Abuse—Revising His Religious Belief—Articles of Belief—Code of
Morals Adopted—Creed for "United Party of Virtue "—Letters to
Friends—Proposed Prayers in Congress and Speech—Epitaph for His
Tombstone Written at Twenty-three.

XXXIII.POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC.

Publishing an Almanac—Discussion about It—When It Was Started—
Maxims Found in It—Very Popular, and Great Circulation—Franklin's
Fame Spreading—The Junto Pleased—Franklin's Account of Success—
How He Conducted His Paper—The Libeller Suppressed—Success of His
Stationer's Shop—Visit to Boston—Visits His Brother James—
Reconciliation—Takes His Son Home—He Buries a Child—His Defense
of Rev. George Whitefield—Building a House of Worship for Him.

XXXIV.MORE HONORS AND MORE WORK.

Clerk of the Assembly—Postmaster—Night-watch Discussed in theJunto—Plan of a Fire Department—Many Fire Companies Formed—Planto Pave the Streets—Paper on Smoky Chimneys—Franklin Invents aStove—Gives Away the Patent—Franklin Founds the University ofPhiladelphia—Its Great Success—Franklin Organized Militia—Influenceof Quakers against It—Eighty Companies Formed—Franklin Secured FastDay—Peace.

XXXV.PHILOSOPHER AND STATESMAN.

Entering into Partnership with Hall—His Large Income—Time for Study
and Research—Rapid Progress in Science—His Fame in Both Hemispheres—
What Mignet Said of His Labors—Kimmersley on His Lightning Rod—
Called Again to Political Life—List of Offices He Filled—Drafting
Declaration of Independence—Hanging Separately—Anecdote—His First
Labors at Court of England—Minister to England—Source of Troubles—
Hatred of Tories—Firm before House of Commons—Death of Mrs. Franklin—
Famous Letter to Strahan—The Eight Years' War—Franklin Author of the
Union—First Name in History—Library and Letters of Franklin, Mass.—
His Death—Bequest to Washington.

BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD.

I.

FROM OLD ENGLAND TO NEW ENGLAND.

"I am tired of so much persecution under the reign of our corrupt king,"said a neighbor to Josiah Franklin, one day in the year 1685, in theusually quiet village of Banbury, England, "and I believe that I shallpull up stakes and emigrate to Boston. That is the most thriving portin America."

"Well, I am not quite prepared for that yet," replied Franklin. "Ourking is bad enough and tyrannical enough to make us all sick of ournative land. But it is a great step to leave it forever, to live amongstrangers; and I could not decide to do it without a good deal ofreflection."

"Nor I; but I have reflected upon it for a whole year now, and the moreI reflect the more I am inclined to emigrate. When I can't worship Godhere as my conscience dictates, I will go where I can. Besides, I thinkthe new country promises much more to the common people than the old inthe way of a livelihood."

"Perhaps so; I have not given the subject much attention. Dissentershave a hard time here under Charles II, and we all have to work hardenough for a livelihood. I do not think you can have a harder time inBoston."

Josiah Franklin was not disposed to emigrate when his neighbor firstopened the subject. He was an intelligent, enterprising, Christianman, a dyer by trade, was born in Ecton, Leicestershire, in 1655, butremoved to Banbury in his boyhood, to learn the business of a dyer ofhis brother John. He was married in Banbury at twenty-two years of age,his wife being an excellent companion for him, whether in prosperity oradversity, at home among kith and kin, or with strangers in NewEngland.

"You better consider this matter seriously," continued the neighbor,"for several families will go, I think, if one goes. A little colony ofus will make it comparatively easy to leave home for a new country."

"Very true; that would be quite an inducement to exchange countries,several families going together," responded Franklin. "I should enjoyescaping from the oppression of the Established Church as much asyou; but it is a too important step for me to take without muchconsideration. It appears to me that my business could not be as goodin a new country as it is in this old country."

"I do not see why, exactly. People in a new country must have dyeingdone, perhaps not so much of it as the people of an old country; butthe population of a new place like Boston increases faster than theolder places of our country, and this fact would offset the objectionyou name."

"In part, perhaps. If Benjamin could go, I should almost feel that Imust go; but I suppose it is entirely out of the question for him togo."

Benjamin was an older brother of Josiah, who went to learn the trade ofa dyer of his brother John before Josiah did. The Benjamin Franklin ofthis volume, our young hero, was named for him. He was a very piousman, who rendered unto God the things that are God's with full as muchcare as he rendered unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's. He was avery intelligent, bright man, also quite a poet for that day, and heinvented a style of short-hand writing that he used in taking downsermons to which he listened. In this way he accumulated severalvolumes of sermons, which he held as treasures.

"I have not spoken with your brother about the matter," replied theneighbor. "I think it would be more difficult for him to arrange to gothan for most of us, at least for the present. I intend to speak withhim about it."

"He will not want me to go if he can not," added Josiah, "and I shallthink about it a good while before I should conclude to go without him.We have been together most of our lives, and to separate now, probablynever to meet again, would be too great a trial."

"You will experience greater trials than that if you live long, nodoubt," said the neighbor, "but I want you should think the matterover, and see if it will not be for your interest to make this change.I will see you again about it."

While plans are being matured, we will see what Doctor Franklin said,in his "Autobiography," about his ancestors at Ecton:

"Some notes, which one of my uncles, who had the same curiosity incollecting family anecdotes, once put into my hands, furnished me withseveral particulars relative to our ancestors. From these notes I learnedthat they lived in the same village, Ecton, in Northamptonshire, on afreehold of about thirty acres, for at least three hundred years, andhow much longer could not be ascertained. This small estate would nothave sufficed for their maintenance without the business of a smith[blacksmith] which had continued in the family down to my uncle'stime, the eldest son being always brought up to that employment, acustom which he and my father followed with regard to their eldestsons. When I searched the records in Ecton, I found an account oftheir marriages and burials from the year 1555 only, as the registerskept did not commence previous thereto. I, however, learned from itthat I was the youngest son of the youngest son for five generationsback. My grandfather, Thomas, who was born in 1598, lived in Ectontill he was too old to continue his business, when he retired toBanbury, Oxfordshire, to the house of his son John, with whom myfather served an apprenticeship. There my uncle died and lies buried.We saw his grave-stone in 1758. His eldest son, Thomas, lived in thehouse at Ecton, and left it with the land to his only daughter, who,with her husband, one Fisher, of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Ioted,now lord of the manor there. My grandfather had four sons, who grewup, viz.: Thomas, John, Benjamin, and Josiah."

"I do not know how you like it, but it arouses my indignation to haveour meeting broken up, as it was last week," remarked Josiah Franklinto the aforesaid neighbor, a short time after their previous interview."If anything will make me exchange Banbury for Boston it is suchintolerance."

"I have felt like that for a long time, and I should not have thoughtof leaving my native land but for such oppression," replied theneighbor, "and what is worse, I see no prospect of any improvement;on the other hand, it appears to me that our rights will be infringedmore and more. I am going to New England if I emigrate alone."

"Perhaps I shall conclude to accompany you when the time comes. Theredo not appear to be room in this country for Dissenters and theEstablished Church. I understand there is in New England. I mayconclude to try it."

"I am glad to hear that. We shall be greatly encouraged if you decideto go. I discussed the matter with Benjamin since I did with you, andhe would be glad to go if his business and family did not fasten himhere. I think he would rather justify your going."

"Did he say so?"

"No, not in so many words. But he did say that he would go if hiscircumstances favored it as much as your circumstances favor yourgoing."

"Well, that is more than I supposed he would say. I expected that hewould oppose any proposition that contemplated my removal to Boston.The more I think of it the more I am inclined to go."

The Franklins, clear back to the earliest ancestors, had experiencedmuch persecution. Some of them could keep and read their Bible only byconcealing it and reading it in secret. The following, from Franklin's"Autobiography," is an interesting and thrilling incident:

"They had an English Bible, and, to conceal it and place it in safety,it was fastened open with tapes under and within the cover of ajoint-stool. When my great-grandfather wished to read it to his family,he placed the joint-stool on his knees, and then turned over the leavesunder the tapes. One of the children stood at the door to give noticeif he saw the apparitor coming, who was an officer of the spiritualcourt. In that case the stool was turned down again upon its feet, whenthe Bible remained concealed under it as before. This anecdote I hadfrom Uncle Benjamin."

The Dissenters from the Established Church loved their mode of worshipmore, if any thing, than members of their mother church. But underthe tyrannical king, Charles II, they could not hold public meetingsat the time to which we refer. Even their secret meetings were oftendisturbed, and sometimes broken up.

"It is fully settled now that we are going to New England," said theaforesaid neighbor to Josiah Franklin subsequently, when he called uponhim with two other neighbours, who were going to remove with him; "andwe have called to persuade you to go with us; we do not see how we cantake no for an answer."

"Well, perhaps I shall not say no; I have been thinking the matterover, and I have talked with Benjamin; and my wife is not at all averseto going. But I can't say yes to-day; I may say it to-morrow, orsometime."

"That is good," answered one of the neighbors; "we must have one ofthe Franklins with us to be well equipped. Banbury would not be wellrepresented in Boston without one Franklin, at least."

"You are very complimentary," replied Franklin; "even misery lovescompany, though; and it would be almost carrying home with us forseveral families to emigrate together. The more the merrier."

"So we think. To escape from the intolerant spirit that pursuesDissenters here will make us merry, if nothing else does. Home is nolonger home when we can worship God as we please only in secret."

"There is much truth in that," continued Franklin. "I am much moreinclined to remove to New England than I was a month ago. The more Ireflect upon the injustice and oppression we experience, the less Ithink of this country for a home. Indeed, I have mentally concluded togo if I can arrange my affairs as I hope to."

"Then we shall be content; we shall expect to have you one of thecompany. It will be necessary for us to meet often to discuss plans andmethods of emigration. We shall not find it to be a small matter tobreak up here and settle there."

It was settled that Josiah Franklin would remove to New England withhis neighbors, and preparations were made for his departure with them.

These facts indicate the standing and influence of the Franklins. Theywere of the common people, but leading families. Their intelligence,industry, and Christian principle entitled them to public confidenceand respect. Not many miles away from them were the Washingtons,ancestors of George Washington, known as "the father of his country."The Washingtons were more aristocratic than the Franklins, andpossessed more of the world's wealth and honors. Had they been nearneighbors they would not have associated with the Franklins, as theybelonged to a different guild. Such were the customs of those times.

Thomas Franklin was a lawyer, and "became a considerable man in thecounty,—was chief mover of all public-spirited enterprises for thecounty or town of Northampton, as well as of his own village, of whichmany instances were related of him; and he was much taken notice ofand patronized by Lord Halifax." Benjamin was very ingenious, not onlyin his own trade as dyer, but in all other matters his ingenuityfrequently cropped out. He was a prolific writer of poetry, and, whenhe died, "he left behind him two quarto volumes of manuscript of hisown poetry, consisting of fugitive pieces addressed to his friends." Anearly ancestor, bearing the same Christian name, was imprisoned for awhole year for writing a piece of poetry reflecting upon the characterof some great man. Note, that he was not incarcerated for writing badpoetry, but for libelling some one by his verse, though he might havebeen very properly punished for writing such stuff as he called poetry.It is nothing to boast of, that his descendant, Uncle Benjamin, was notsent to prison for producing "two quarto volumes of his own poetry," asthe reader would believe if compelled to read it.

Dr. Franklin said, in his "Autobiography": "My father married young,and carried his wife with three children to New England about 1685. Theconventicles [meetings of Dissenters] being at that time forbidden bylaw, and frequently disturbed in the meetings, some considerable men ofhis acquaintance determined to go to that country, and he was prevailedwith to accompany them thither, where they expected to enjoy theirreligion with freedom."

Boston was not then what it is now, and no one living expected that itwould ever become a city of great size and importance. It containedless than six thousand inhabitants. The bay, with its beautifulislands, spread out in front, where bears were often seen swimmingacross it, or from one island to another. Bear-hunting on Long Wharfwas a pastime to many, and twenty were killed in a week when they werenumerous.

In the rear of the town stood the primeval forests, where Red Men andwild beasts roamed at their pleasure. It is claimed that an Indian orpioneer might have traveled, at that time, through unbroken forestsfrom Boston to the Pacific coast, a distance of more than threethousand miles, except here and there where western prairies stretchedout like an "ocean of land," as lonely and desolate as the forestitself. That, in two hundred years, and less, sixty millions of peoplewould dwell upon this vast domain, in cities and towns of surprisingwealth and beauty, was not even thought of in dreams. That Boston wouldever grow into a city of three hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants,with commerce, trade, wealth, learning, and influence to match, thewildest enthusiast did not predict. A single fact illustrates theprevailing opinion of that day, and even later. The town of Bostonappointed a commission to explore the country along Charles River, tolearn what prospects there were for settlers. The commissionersattended to their duty faithfully, and reported to the town that theyhad explored ten miles west, as far as settlers would ever penetratethe forest, and found the prospects as encouraging as could beexpected.

It was to this Boston that Josiah Franklin emigrated in 1685, thinkingto enjoy liberty of conscience, while he supported his growing familyby his trade of dyer. There is no record to show that he was ever sorryhe came. On the other hand, there is much to prove that he always hadoccasion to rejoice in the change. Certainly his family, and theirposterity, exerted great influence in building up the nation. Next toWashington Josiah's son Benjamin ranked in his efforts to secureAmerican Independence, and all the blessings that followed.

II.

THE FIFTEENTH GIFT.

"The fifteenth!" remarked Josiah Franklin to a relative, as he took thefifteenth child into his arms. "And a son, too; he must bear the nameof his Uncle Benjamin."

"Then, we are to understand that his name is Benjamin?" answered therelative, inquiringly.

"Yes, that is his name; his mother and I settled that some time ago,that the next son should bear the name of my most beloved brother,who, I hope, will remove to this country before long."

"Well, a baby is no curiosity in your family," remarked the relative,laughing. "Some men would think that fifteen was too much of a goodthing."

"A child is God's gift to man, as I view it, for which parents shouldbe thankful, whether it is the first or fifteenth. Each child imposesan additional obligation upon parents to be true to the Giver as wellas to the gift. I am poor enough, but no man is poorer for a largefamily of children. He may have to labor harder when they are youngand helpless, but in age they are props on which he can lean."

Mr. Franklin spoke out of the depths of his soul. He was a trueChristian man, and took the Christian view of a child, as he didof any thing else. While some men are annoyed by the multiplicityof children, he found a source of comfort and contentment in thepossession. The seventeenth child, which number he had, he hailed withthe same grateful recognition of God's providence that he did when thefirst was born. Yet he was poor, and found himself face to face withpoverty most of the time. Each child born was born to an inheritanceof want. But to him children were God's gift as really as sunshine orshowers, day or night, the seventeenth just as much so as the first.This fact alone marks Josiah Franklin as an uncommon man for his dayor ours.

"If more men and women were of your opinion," continued the relative,"there would be much more enjoyment and peace in all communities. Themost favorable view that a multitude of parents indulge is, thatchildren are troublesome comforts."

"What do you think of the idea of taking this baby into the house ofGod to-day, and consecrating him to the Lord?" Mr. Franklin asked, asif the thought just then flashed upon his mind. "It is only a fewsteps to carry him."

It was Sunday morning, Jan. 6, 1706, old style; and the "Old SouthMeeting House," in which Dr. Samuel Willard preached, was on the otherside of the street, scarcely fifty feet distant.

"I should think it would harmonize very well with your opinion aboutchildren as the gift of God, and the Lord may understand the matter sowell as to look approvingly upon it, but I think your neighbors willsay that you are rushing things somewhat. It might be well to let thelittle fellow get used to this world before he begins to attendmeeting."

The relative spoke thus in a vein of humor, though she really did notapprove of the proposed episode in the new comer's life. Indeed itseemed rather ridiculous to her, to carry a babe, a few hours old, tothe house of God.

"I shall not consult my neighbors," Mr. Franklin replied. "I shallconsult my wife in this matter, as I do in others, and defer to heropinion. I have always found that her judgment is sound on reducing itto practice."

"That is so; your wife is a woman of sound judgment as well as ofstrong character, and you are wise enough to recognize the fact, andact accordingly. But that is not true of many men. If your wifeapproves of taking her baby into the meeting-house for consecrationto-day, then do it, though the whole town shall denounce the act."

There is no doubt his relative thought that Mrs. Franklin would vetothe proposition at once, and that would end it. But in less than ahalf hour he reported that she approved of the proposition.

"Benjamin will be consecrated to the Lord in the afternoon; my wifeapproves of it as proper and expressive of our earnest desire that heshould be the Lord's. I shall see Mr. Willard at once, and nothing buthis disapproval will hinder the act."

"And I would not hinder it if I could," replied his relative, "if yourwife and Pastor Willard approve. I shall really be in favor of it ifthey are, because their judgment is better than mine."

"All the difference between you and me," continued Mr. Franklin, witha smile playing over his face, "appears to be that you think a childmay be given to the Lord too soon, and I do not; the sooner thebetter, is my belief. With the consecration come additionalobligations, which I am willing to assume, and not only willing, butanxious to assume."

"You are right, no doubt; but you are one of a thousand in that view,and you will have your reward."

"Yes; and so will that contemptible class of fathers, who can endurefive children, but not fifteen,—too irresponsible to see that oneof the most inconsistent men on earth is the father who will notaccept the situation he has created for himself. The Franklins are notmade of that sort of stuff; neither are the Folgers [referring to hiswife's family], whose fervent piety sanctifies their good sense, sothat they would rather please the Lord than all mankind."

Mr. Willard was seen, and he endorsed the act as perfectly proper,and in complete harmony with a felt sense of parental obligation.Therefore, Benjamin was wrapped closely in flannel blankets, andcarried into the meeting-house in the afternoon, where he wasconsecrated to the Lord by the pastor.

On the "Old Boston Town Records of Births," under the heading, "Boston
Births Entered 1708," is this: "Benjamin, son of Josiah Franklin, and
Abiah, his wife, born 6 Jan. 1706."

From some mistake or oversight the birth was not recorded until twoyears after Benjamin was born; but it shows that he was born on Jan.6, 1706.

Then, the records of the "Old South Church," among the baptism ofinfants, have this: "1706, Jan. 6, Benjamin, son of Josiah and AbiahFranklin."

Putting these two records together, they establish beyond doubt thefact that Benjamin Franklin was born and baptized on the same day. TheOld South Church had two pastors then, and it is supposed that Dr.Samuel Willard officiated instead of Rev. Ebenezer Pemberton, becausethe record is in the handwriting of Doctor Willard.

We are able to furnish a picture of the house in which he was born. Itmeasured twenty feet in width, and was about thirty feet long,including the L. It was three stories high in appearance, the thirdbeing the attic. On the lower floor of the main house there was onlyone room, which was about twenty feet square, and served the familythe triple purpose of parlor, sitting-room, and dining-hall. Itcontained an old-fashioned fire-place, so large that an ox might havebeen roasted before it. The second and third stories originallycontained but one chamber each, of ample dimensions, and furnished inthe plainest manner. The attic was an unplastered room, which mighthave been used for lodgings or storing trumpery. The house stood aboutone hundred years after Josiah Franklin left it, and was finallydestroyed by fire, on Saturday, Dec. 29, 1810. The spot on which itstood is now occupied by a granite warehouse bearing the inscription,"BIRTHPLACE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN."

Mr. Franklin had three children when he left Banbury, and four more
were given to him during the first four years of his residence in
Boston, one of whom died. Soon after the birth of the seventh child
Mrs. Franklin died.

So young and large a family needed a mother's watch and care, asJosiah Franklin found to his sorrow. The additional burden laid uponhim by the death of his wife interfered much with his business, and hesaw fresh reasons each day for finding another help-mate as soon aspossible. To run his business successfully, and take the whole chargeof his family, was more than he could do. In these circumstances hefelt justified in marrying again as soon as possible, and, with theaid of interested friends, he made a fortunate choice of Abiah Folger,of Nantucket, a worthy successor of the first Mrs. Franklin. He marriedher a few months after the death of his first wife. The second Mrs.Franklin became the mother of ten children, which, added to thoseof the first Mrs. Franklin, constituted a very respectable family ofseventeen children, among whom was Benjamin, the fifteenth child. His"Autobiography" says: "Of the seventeen children I remember to haveseen thirteen sitting together at the table, who all grew up to yearsof maturity and were married." Of the second wife it says: "My mother,the second wife of my father, was Abiah Folger, daughter of PeterFolger, one of the first settlers of New England, of whom honorablemention is made by Cotton Mather in his ecclesiastical history of thatcountry, 'as a godly and learned Englishman.'"

Josiah Franklin was an admirer not only of his wife, Abiah, but ofthe whole Folger family, because they were devoutly pious, and as"reliable as the sun, or the earth on its axis." They were unpolishedand unceremonial, and he liked them all the more for that. He wrote tohis sister in a vein of pleasantry, "They are wonderfully shy. But Iadmire their honest plainness of speech. About a year ago I invitedtwo of them to dine with me; their answer was that they would if theycould not do better. I suppose they did better, for I never saw themafterwards, and so had no opportunity of showing my miff if I hadany."

We have said that Benjamin was named for his uncle in England, and,possibly some of the other children were named for other relatives inthe mother country. Certainly there were enough of them to go roundany usual circle of relatives, taking them all in. Uncle Benjamin wasvery much pleased with the honor conferred upon him, and he alwaysmanifested great interest in his namesake, though he did not dreamthat he would one day represent the country at the court of St. James.It is claimed that the uncle's interest in his namesake brought him tothis country, a few years later, where he lived and died. Be that asit may, he ever manifested a lively interest in a protege, andevidently regarded him as an uncommonly bright boy, who would some dayscore a creditable mark for the family.

Benjamin was more than a comely child; he was handsome. From babyhoodto manhood he was so fine-looking as to attract the attention ofstrangers. His eye beamed with so much intelligence as to almostcompel the thought, "There are great talents behind them." Mr. Partonsays: "It is probable that Benjamin Franklin derived from his motherthe fashion of his body and the cast of his countenance. There arelineal descendants of Peter Folger who strikingly resemble Franklin inthese particulars; one of whom, a banker in New Orleans, looks like aportrait of Franklin stepped out of its frame."

Josiah Franklin did not enter upon the trade of a dyer when he settledin Boston, as he expected. The new country was very different from theold in its fashions and wants. There was no special demand for a dyer.If people could earn money enough to cover their nakedness, they caredlittle about the color of their covering. One color was just as goodas another to keep them warm, or to preserve their decency. There wasno room for Josiah Franklin as a dyer. There was room for him, however,as a "tallow-chandler," and he lost no time in taking up this new butgreasy business. He must work or starve; and, of the two, he preferredwork, though the occupation might not be neat and congenial.

The word "chandler" is supposed to have been derived from the Frenchchandelier, so that a tallow candle-maker was a sort of chandelierin society at that early day. He furnished light, which was morenecessary than color to almost every one. The prevailing method oflighting dwellings and stores was with tallow candles. Candles andwhale oil were the two known articles for light, and the latter wasexpensive, so that the former was generally adopted. Hence, JosiahFranklin's business was honorable because it was necessary; and by it,with great industry and economy, he was able to keep the wolf ofhunger from his door.

The place where he manufactured candles was at the corner of Hanoverand Union streets. The original sign that he selected to mark hisplace of business was a blue ball, half as large as a man's head,hanging over the door, bearing the name "Josiah Franklin" and the date"1698." The same ball hangs there still. Time has stolen its blue, butnot the name and date. Into this building, also, he removed his familyfrom Milk street, soon after the birth of Benjamin.

In his "Autobiography," Franklin says: "My elder brothers were all putapprentices to different trades." Several of them were apprenticedwhen Benjamin was born. John worked with his father, and learned the"tallow-chandler's" trade well, setting up the business for himselfafterwards in Providence. This was the only method that could beadopted successfully in so large a family, except where wealth wasconsiderable.

We must not omit the fact that the father of Benjamin was a goodsinger and a good player of the violin. After the labors of the daywere over, and the frugal supper eaten, and the table cleared, and theroom put in order for the evening, he was wont to sing and play forthe entertainment of his family. He was sure of a good audience everynight, if his performance opened before the younger children retired.There is no doubt that this custom exerted a molding influence uponthe household, although the music might have been like UncleBenjamin's poetry, as compared with the music of our day.

For the reader, now familiar with the manners, customs, rush of business,inventions, wealth, and fashion of our day, it is difficult to understandthe state of society at the time of Franklin's birth. Parton says of it:"1706, the year of Benjamin Franklin's birth, was the fourth of thereign of Queen Anne, and the year of Marlborough's victory at Ramillies.Pope was then a sickly dwarf, four feet high and nineteen years of age,writing, at his father's cottage in Windsor Forest the 'Pastorals'which, in 1709, gave him his first celebrity. Voltaire was a boy of ten,in his native village near Paris. Bolingbroke was a rising young memberof the House of Commons, noted, like Fox at a later day, for hisdissipation and his oratory. Addison, aged thirty-four, had written hisItalian travels, but not the 'Spectator' and was a thriving politician.Newton, at sixty-four, his great work all done, was master of the mint,had been knighted the year before, and elected president of the RoyalSociety in 1703 Louis XIV was king of France, and the first king ofPrussia was reigning. The father of George Washington was a Virginia boyof ten; the father of John Adams was just entering Harvard College; andthe father of Thomas Jefferson was not yet born."

III.

PAYING TOO DEAR FOR THE WHISTLE.

When Benjamin was seven years old he had not been to school a day.Yet he was a good reader and speller. In manhood he said: "I do notremember when I could not read, so it must have been very early." Hewas one of those irrepressible little fellows, whose intuition andobservation are better than school. He learned more out of school thanhe could or would have done in it. His precocity put him in advanceof most boys at seven, even without schooling. It was not necessaryfor him to have school-teachers to testify that he possessed tentalents,—his parents knew that, and every one else who was familiarwith him.

The first money he ever had to spend as he wished was on a holidaywhen he was seven years old. It was not the Fourth of July, whentorpedoes and firecrackers scare horses and annoy men and women, forBenjamin's holiday was more than sixty years before the Declarationof Independence was declared, and that is what we celebrate now onthe Fourth of July. Indeed, his holiday was a hundred years beforetorpedoes and fire-crackers were invented. It was a gala-day, however,in which the whole community was interested, including the youngest boyin the Franklin family.

"See that you spend your money well," remarked his mother, whopresented him with several coppers; "and keep out of mischief."

"And here is some more," added his father, giving him several coppersto add to his spending money; "make wise investments, Ben, for yourreputation depends upon it"; and the latter facetious remark was madein a way that indicated his love for the boy.

"What are you going to buy, Ben?" inquired an older brother, who wantedto draw out some bright answer from the child; "sugar-plums, ofcourse," he added.

Benjamin made no reply, though his head was crammed with thoughts abouthis first holiday.

"I shall want to know how well you spend your money, Ben," said hismother; "remember that 'all is not gold that glitters'; you've got allthe money you can have to-day."

All the older members of the family were interested in the boy'spastime, and while they were indulging in various remarks, he boundedout of the house, with his head filled with bewitching fancies,evidently expecting such a day of joy as he never knew before. Perhapsthe toy-shop was first in his mind, into which he had looked wistfullymany times as he passed, and perhaps it was not. We say toy-shop,though it was not such a toy-shop as Boston has to-day, where thousandsof toys of every description and price are offered for sale. But it wasa store in which, with other articles, toys were kept for sale, veryfew in number and variety compared with the toys offered for sale atthe present day. Benjamin had seen these in the window often, and, nodoubt, had wished to possess some of them. But there were no toys inthe Franklin family; there were children instead of toys, so many ofthem that money to pay for playthings was out of the question.

Benjamin had not proceeded far on the street when he met a boy blowinga whistle that he had just purchased. The sound of the whistle, and theboy's evident delight in blowing it, captivated Benjamin at once. Hestopped to listen and measure the possessor of that musical wonder. Hesaid nothing, but just listened, not only with his ears, but with hiswhole self. He was delighted with the concert that one small boy couldmake, and, then and there, he resolved to go into that concert businesshimself. So he pushed on, without having said a word to the owner ofthe whistle, fully persuaded to invest his money in the same sort of amusical instrument. Supposing that the whistle was bought at the storewhere he had seen toys in the window, he took a bee line for it.

"Any whistles?" he inquired, almost out of breath.

"Plenty of them, my little man," the proprietor answered with a smile,at the same time proceeding to lay before the small customer quite anumber.

"I will give you all the money I have for one," said Benjamin, withoutinquiring the price. He was so zealous to possess a whistle that theprice was of no account, provided he had enough money to pay for it.

"Ah! all you have?" responded the merchant; "perhaps you have not asmuch as I ask for them. They are very nice whistles."

"Yes, I know they are, and I will give you all the money I have for oneof them," was Benjamin's frank response. The fact was, he began tothink that he had not sufficient money to purchase one, so valuable dida whistle appear to him at that juncture.

"How much money have you?" inquired the merchant.

Benjamin told him honestly how many coppers he had, which was more thanthe actual price of the whistles. The merchant replied:

"Yes, you may have a whistle for that. Take your pick."

Never was a child more delighted than he when the bargain was closed.He tried every whistle, that he might select the loudest one of all,and when his choice was settled, he exchanged his entire wealth for theprize. He was as well satisfied as the merchant when he left the store."Ignorance is bliss," it is said, and it was to Benjamin for a briefspace.

He began his concert as soon as he left the store. He wanted nothingmore. He had seen all he wanted to see. He had bought all he wanted tobuy. The whole holiday was crowded into that whistle. To him, that wasall there was of it. Sweetmeats and knick-knacks had no attractions forhim. Military parade had no charm for him, for he could parade himselfnow. A band of music had lost its charm, now that he had turned himselfinto a band.

At once he started for home, instead of looking after other sights andscenes. He had been absent scarcely half an hour when he reappeared,blowing his whistle lustily as he entered the house, as if he expectedto astonish the whole race of Franklins by the shrillness, if not bythe sweetness, of his music.

"Back so quick!" exclaimed his mother.

"Yes! seen all I want to see." That was a truth well spoken, for thewhistle just commanded his whole being, and there was room for nothingmore. A whistle was all the holiday he wanted.

"What have you there, Ben?" continued his mother; "Something to make uscrazy?"

"A whistle, mother," stopping its noise just long enough for a decentreply, and then continuing the concert as before.

"How much did you give for the whistle?" asked his older brother, John.

"All the money I had." Benjamin was too much elated with his bargain toconceal any thing.

"What!" exclaimed John with surprise, "did you give all your money forthat little concern?"

"Yes, every cent of it."

"You are not half so bright as I thought you were. It is four times asmuch as the whistle is worth."

"Did you ask the price of it?" inquired his mother.

"No, I told the man I would give him all the money I had for one, andhe took it."

"Of course he did," interjected John, "and if you had had four times asmuch he would have taken it for the whistle. You are a poor trader,Ben."

"You should have asked the price of it in the first place," remarkedhis mother to him, "and then, if there was not enough, you could haveoffered all the money you had for the whistle. That would have beenproper."

"If you had paid a reasonable price for it," continued John, "you mighthad enough money left to have bought a pocket full of good things."

"Yes, peppermints, candy, cakes, nuts, and perhaps more," added acousin who was present, desiring most of all to hear what the brightboy would say for himself.

"I must say that you are a smart fellow, Ben, to be taken in likethat," continued John, who really wanted to make his seven-year-oldbrother feel bad, and he spoke in a tone of derision. "All your moneyfor that worthless thing, that is enough to make us crazy! You ought tohave known better. If you had five dollars I suppose that you wouldhave given it just as quick for the whistle."

Of course he would. The whistle was worth that to him, and he bought itfor himself, not for any one else.

By this time Benjamin, who had said nothing in reply to their tauntsand reproofs, was running over with feeling, and he could hold in nolonger. Evidently he saw his mistake, and he burst into tears, and mademore noise by crying than he did with his whistle. Their ridicule, andthe thought of having paid more than he should for the whistle,overcame him, and he found relief in tears. His father came to hisrescue.

"Never mind, Ben, you will understand how to trade the next time. Wehave to live and learn; I have paid too much for a whistle more thanonce in my life. You did as well as other boys do the first time."

"I think so too, Ben," joined in his mother, to comfort him. "John isonly teasing you, and trying to get some sport out of his holiday.Better wipe up, and go out in the street to see the sights."

Benjamin learned a good lesson from this episode of his early life. Heonly did what many grown-up boys have done, over and over again; paytoo much for a whistle. Men of forty, fifty, and sixty years of age dothis same thing, and suffer the consequences. It is one of the commonmistakes of life, and becomes a benefit when the lesson it teaches isimproved as Franklin improved it.

In the year 1779, November 10th, Franklin wrote from Passy, France, toa friend, as follows:

"I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with your plan ofliving there; and I approve much of your conclusion, that, in the meantime, we should draw all the good we can from this world. In myopinion, we might all draw more good from it than we do, and sufferless evil, if we would take care not to give too much for whistles.For to me it seems that most of the unhappy people we meet with arebecome so by neglect of that caution. You ask what I mean? You lovestories, and will excuse my telling one of myself.

"When I was a child of seven years old my friends, on a holiday,filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where theysold toys for children; and, being charmed with the sound of awhistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, Ivoluntarily offered and gave all my money for one. I then came home,and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle,but disturbing all the family. My brothers, sisters, and cousins,understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four timesas much for it as it was worth; put me in mind what good things Imight have bought with the rest of the money, and laughed at me somuch for my folly that I cried with vexation, and the reflection gaveme more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.

"This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuingon my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessarything, I said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle; and Isaved my money.

"As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, Ithought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for thewhistle.

"When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his time inattendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhapshis friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives toomuch for his whistle.

"When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himselfin political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them bythat neglect, He pays, indeed, said I, too much for his whistle.

"If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, allthe pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of hisfellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sakeof accumulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you pay too much for yourwhistle.

"When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudableimprovement of the mind, or his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations,and ruining his health in their pursuit, Mistaken man, said I, youare providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give toomuch for your whistle.

"If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which hecontracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, Alas! say I, hehas paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.

"When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl, married to anill-natured brute of a husband, What a pity, say I, that she shouldpay so much for a whistle.

"In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind arebrought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the valueof things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.

"Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I considerthat, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certainthings in the world so tempting,—for example, the apples of KingJohn, which happily are not to be bought; for, if they were put tosale by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in thepurchase, and find that I had once more given too much for thewhistle."

Thus Benjamin made good use of one of the foolish acts of his boyhood,which tells well both for his head and heart. Many boys are far lesswise, and do the same foolish thing over and over again. They neverlearn wisdom from the past.

When a boy equivocates, or deceives, to conceal some act of disobediencefrom his parents or teachers, and thereby lays the foundation of habitualuntruthfulness, he pays too dear for the whistle, and he will learn thetruth of it when he becomes older, and can not command the confidence ofhis friends and neighbors, but is branded by them as an unreliable,dishonest man.

In like manner the boy who thinks it is manly to smoke and drink beer,will find that he has a very expensive whistle, when he becomes "a halefellow well met" among a miserable class of young men, and is discardedby the virtuous and good.

So, in general, the young person who is fascinated by mere pleasure,and supposes that wealth and honor are real apples of gold to thepossessor, thinking less of a good character than he does of show andglitter, will find that he has been blowing a costly whistle when it istoo late to recall his mistake.

IV.

IN SCHOOL.

Uncle Benjamin was so deeply interested in his namesake that he wrotemany letters about him. Nearly every ship that sailed for Bostonbrought a letter from him to the Franklin family, and almost everyletter contained a piece of poetry from his pen. One of his lettersabout that time contained the following acrostic on Benjamin's name:

"Be to thy parents an obedient son;
Each day let duty constantly be done;
Never give way to sloth, or lust, or pride,
If free you'd be from thousand ills beside.
Above all ills be sure avoid the shelf,
Man's danger lies in Satan, sin and self.
In virtue, learning, wisdom, progress make;
Ne'er shrink at suffering for thy Savior's sake.

"Fraud and all falsehood in thy dealings flee;
Religious always in thy station be;
Adore the maker of thy inward part;
Now's the accepted time; give him thine heart;
Keep a good conscience, 'tis a constant friend,
Like judge and witness this thy acts attend,
In heart, with bended knee, alone, adore
None but the Three in One for evermore."

The sentiment is better than the poetry, and it shows that the hero ofour tale had a treasure in the uncle for whom he was named. Doubtless"Uncle Benjamin's" interest was largely increased by the loss of hisown children. He had quite a number of sons and daughters, and oneafter another of them sickened and died, until only one son remained,and he removed to Boston. It was for these reasons, probably, that"Uncle Benjamin" came to this country in 1715.

Among his letters was one to his brother Josiah, our Benjamin's father,when the son was seven years old, from which we extract the following:

"A father with so large a family as yours ought to give one son, atleast, to the service of the Church. That is your tithe. From what youwrite about Benjamin I should say that he is the son you ought toconsecrate specially to the work of the ministry. He must possesstalents of a high order, and his love of learning must develop themrapidly. If he has made himself a good reader and speller, as you say,without teachers, there is no telling what he will do with them. Byall means, if possible, I should devote him to the Church. It will bea heavy tax upon you, of course, with so large a family on your hands,but your reward will come when you are old and gray-headed. Would thatI were in circumstances to assist you in educating him."

"He does not know how much thought and planning we have given to thissubject," remarked Mr. Franklin to his wife, when he read this part ofthe letter. "I would do any thing possible to educate Benjamin for theChurch, and I think he would make the most of any opportunities we cangive him."

"There is no doubt of that," responded Mrs. Franklin. "Few parentsever had more encouragement to educate a son for the ministry than wehave to educate him."

"Doctor Willard said as much as that to me," added Mr. Franklin, "andI think it is true. I do not despair of giving Benjamin an educationyet, though I scarcely see how it ever can be done."

"That is the way I feel about it," responded Mrs. Franklin. "PerhapsGod will provide a way; somehow I trust in Providence, and wait,hoping for the best."

"It is well to trust in Providence, if it is not done blindly,"remarked Mr. Franklin. "Providence sometimes does wonders for peoplewho trust. It is quite certain that He who parted the waters of theRed Sea for the children of Israel to pass, and fed them with mannafrom the skies, can provide a way for our Benjamin to be educated. Butit looks to me as if some of his bread would have to drop down fromheaven."

"Well, if it drops that is enough," replied Mrs. Franklin. "I shall besatisfied. If God does any thing for him he will do it in his own timeand way, and I shall be content with that. To see him in the serviceof the Church is the most I want."

"Uncle Benjamin's" letter did not introduce a new subject ofconversation into the Franklin family; it was already an old themethat had been much canvassed. Outside of the family there was aninterest in Benjamin's education. He was the kind of a boy to putthrough Harvard College. This was the opinion of neighbors who knewhim. Nothing but poverty hindered the adoption and execution of thatplan.

"Uncle Benjamin's" letter did this, however: it hastened a favorabledecision, though Benjamin was eight years old when his parents decidedthat he might enter upon a course of education.

They had said very little to their son about it, because they wouldnot awaken his expectations to disappoint them. And finally thedecision was reached with several ifs added.

"I do not know how I shall come out," added Mr. Franklin, "he may beginto study. It won't hurt him to begin, if I should not be able to puthim through a course."

The decision to send him to school was arrived at in this doubtfulway, and it was not laid more strongly than this before Benjamin forfear of awakening too high hopes in his heart.

"I have decided to send you to school," said his father to him, "butwhether I shall be able to send you as long as I would like is notcertain yet. I would like to educate you for the ministry if I could;how would you like that?"

"I should like to go to school; I should like nothing better,"answered Benjamin. "About the rest of it I do not know whether Ishould like it or not."

"Well, it may not be best to discuss that," continued his father, "asI may not be able to carry out my plan to the end. It will cost a gooddeal to keep you in school and educate you, perhaps more than I canpossibly raise with so large a family to support. I have to be veryindustrious now to pay all my bills. But if you are diligent toimprove your time, and lend a helping hand at home, out of schoolhours, I may be able to do it."

"I will work all I can out of school, if I can only go," was
Benjamin's cheerful pledge in the outset. "When shall I begin?"

"Begin the next term. It is a long process to become educated for theministry, and the sooner you begin the better. But you must understandthat it is not certain I can continue you in school for a long time.Make the most of the advantages you have, and we will trust inProvidence for the future."

Josiah Franklin's caution was proverbial. He was never rash orthoughtless. He weighed all questions carefully. He was veryconscientious, and would not assume an obligation that he could notsee his way clear to meet. He used the same careful judgment andcircumspection about the education of his son that he employed in allbusiness matters. For this reason he was regarded as a man of soundjudgment and practical wisdom, and his influence was strong and wide.When his son reached the height of his fame, he wrote as follows ofhis father:

"I suppose you may like to know what kind of a man my father was. Hehad an excellent constitution, was of a middle stature, well set, andvery strong. He could draw prettily and was skilled a little in music.His voice was sonorous and agreeable, so that when he played on hisviolin, and sung withal, as he was accustomed to do after the businessof the day was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear. He had someknowledge of mechanics, and on occasion was handy with other tradesmen'stools. But his great excellence was his sound understanding, and hissolid judgment in prudential matters, both in private and public affairs.It is true he was never employed in the latter, the numerous family hehad to educate, and the straitness of his circumstances, keeping himclose to his trade; but I remember well his being frequently visitedby leading men, who consulted him for his opinion in public affairs,and those of the church he belonged to; and who showed a great respectfor his judgment and advice. He was also consulted much by privatepersons about their affairs, when any difficulty occurred, andfrequently chosen an arbitrator between contending parties."

Of his mother he wrote, at the same time:

"My mother had likewise an excellent constitution; she suckled all herten children. I never knew either my father or mother to have anysickness, but that of which they died—he at eighty-nine, and she ateighty-five years of age. They lie buried together at Boston, where Isome years since placed a marble over their grave, with thisinscription:

JOSIAH FRANKLIN AND ABIAH, HIS WIFE, LIE HERE INTERRED.

THEY LIVED LOVINGLY TOGETHER, IN WEDLOCK, FIFTY-FIVE YEARS, AND WITHOUT AN ESTATE, OR ANY GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT, BY CONSTANT LABOR AND HONEST INDUSTRY (WITH GOD'S BLESSING), MAINTAINED A LARGE FAMILY COMFORTABLY; AND BROUGHT UP THIRTEEN CHILDREN AND SEVEN GRANDCHILDREN REPUTABLY.

FROM THIS INSTANCE, READER, BE ENCOURAGED TO DILIGENCE IN THY CALLING, AND DISTRUST NOT PROVIDENCE. HE WAS A PIOUS AND PRUDENT MAN, SHE A DISCREET AND VIRTUOUS WOMAN. THEIR YOUNGEST SON, IN FILIAL REGARD TO THEIR MEMORY, PLACES THIS STONE.

J.F., BORN 1655, DIED 1744, AET. 89. A.F., BORN 1667, DIED 1752, AET. 85."

We may say here that the stone which Doctor Franklin erected, as above,became so dilapidated that in 1827, the citizens of Boston replaced itby a granite obelisk. The bodies repose in the old Granary cemetery,beside Park-street church.

* * * * *

It was arranged that Benjamin should begin his school-days, and enjoythe best literary advantages which the poverty of his father couldprovide. He acceded to the plan with hearty good-will, and commencedhis studies with such zeal and enthusiasm as few scholars exhibit.

The school was taught by Mr. Nathaniel Williams, successor of thefamous Boston teacher, Mr. Ezekiel Cheever, who was instructorthirty-five years, and who discontinued teaching, as Cotton Mathersaid, "only when mortality took him off." The homely old woodenschool-house, one story and a half high, stood near by the spot onwhich the bronze statue of Franklin is now seen, and there was the"school-house green" where "Ben" and his companions played together.Probably it was the only free grammar school that Boston afforded atthat time; for the town could not have numbered a population of overeight thousand.

From his first day's attendance at school Benjamin gave promise ofhigh scholarship. He went to work with a will, improving every moment,surmounting every difficulty, and enjoying every opportunity with akeen relish. Mr. Williams was both gratified and surprised. That a ladso young should take hold of school lessons with so much intelligenceand tact, and master them so easily, was a surprise to him, and he soexpressed himself to Mr. Franklin.

"Your son is a remarkable scholar for one so young. I am more thangratified with his industry and progress. His love of knowledge isalmost passionate."

"Yes, he was always so," responded Mr. Franklin. "He surprised usby reading well before we ever dreamed of such a thing. He taughthimself, and a book has always been of more value to him than anything else."

"You will give him an education, I suppose?" said Mr. Williams,inquiringly. "Such a boy ought to have the chance."

"My desire to do it is strong, much stronger than my ability to paythe bills. It is not certain that I shall be able to continue him longat school, though I shall do it if possible."

"Such love of knowledge as he possesses ought to be gratified,"continued Mr. Williams. "He excels by far any scholar of his age inschool. He will lead the whole school within a short time. Hisenthusiasm is really remarkable."

Within a few months, as the teacher predicts, Benjamin led the school.He was at the head of his class in every study except arithmetic. Nordid he remain at the head of his class long, for he was rapidlypromoted to higher classes. He so far outstripped his companions thatthe teacher was obliged to advance him thus, that his mental progressmight not be retarded. Of course, teachers and others were constantlyforecasting his future and prophesying that he would fill a highposition in manhood. It is generally the case that such earlyattention to studies, in connection with the advancement that follows,awakens high hopes of the young in the hearts of all observers. Thesethings foreshadow the future character, so that people think they cantell what the man will be from what the boy is. So it was withFranklin, and so it was with Daniel Webster. Webster's mother inferredfrom his close attention to reading, and his remarkable progress inlearning, that he would become a distinguished man, and so expressedherself to others. She lived to see him rise in his profession, untilhe became a member of Congress, though she died before he reached thezenith of his renown. The same was true of David Rittenhouse, thefamous mathematician. When he was but eight years old, he constructedvarious articles, such as a miniature water-wheel, and at seventeenyears of age he made a complete clock. His younger brother declaredthat he was accustomed to stop, when he was plowing in the field, andsolve problems on the fence, and sometimes cover the plow handles withfigures. The highest expectations of his friends were more thanrealized in his manhood. The peculiar genius which he exhibited in hisboyhood gave him his world-wide fame at last.

Also George Stephenson, the great engineer, the son of a very poorman, who fired the engine at Wylam colliery, began his life-labor whena mere boy. Besides watching the cows, and barring the gates after thecoal-wagons had passed, at four cents a day, he amused himself duringhis leisure moments, in making clay engines, in imitation of thatwhich his father tended. Although he lived in circumstances so humblethat ordinarily he would have been entirely unnoticed, his intenseinterest in, and taste for, mechanical work, attracted the attentionof people and led them to predict his future success and fame.

In like manner, the first months of Benjamin Franklin's school daysforeshadowed the remarkable career of his manhood. Relatives andfriends believed that he would one day fill a high place in the land;and in that, their anticipations were fully realized.

V.

OUT OF SCHOOL.

Mr. Franklin's finances did not improve. It was clearer every day tohim that he would not be able to keep Benjamin in school. Besides, ina few months, John, who had learned the tallow-chandler's business ofhis father, was going to be married, and establish himself in thattrade in Providence. Some body must take his place. It was quiteimpossible for his father to prosecute his business alone.

"I see no other way," remarked Mr. Franklin to his wife; "I shall beobliged to take Benjamin out of school to help me. My expensesincrease from month to month, and must continue to increase for someyears, so far as I can see. They will increase heavily if I am obligedto hire a man in John's place."

"I am not surprised at all that you have come to that conclusion,"replied Mrs. Franklin. "I expected it, as I have intimated to you.Parents must be better off than we are to be able to send a son tocollege."

"If they have as many children to support as we have, you might add. Icould easily accomplish it with no larger family than most of myneighbors have. Yet I find no fault with the number. I accept all theLord sends."

"I am sorry for Benjamin," continued Mrs. Franklin. "He will bedreadfully disappointed. I am afraid that he will think little of workbecause he thinks so much of his school. What a pity that boys whowant an education, as he does, could not have it, and boys who do notwant it should do the work."

"That is the way we should fix it, no doubt, if the ordering were leftto us," said Mr. Franklin; "but I never did have my own way, and Inever expect to have it, and it is fortunate, I suppose, that I neverdid have it. If I could have it now, I should send Benjamin tocollege."

"It has been my prayer that he might give his life and his services tothe Church," added Mrs. Franklin; "but Providence appears to indicatenow that he should make candles for a livelihood, and it is not in meto rebel against the ordering. If frustrated in this plan, I mean tobelieve that Providence has some thing better in store for him andus."

"I was never so reluctant to adopt a conclusion as I have been to takeBenjamin out of school," continued Mr. Franklin. "Yet, there has beenone thought that reconciled me in part to the necessity, and that is,that there is less encouragement to a young man in the Church now thanformerly. It is more difficult to suit the people, and, consequently,there are more trials and hardships for ministers; and many of themappear to be peculiar."

"If ministers have a harder time than you do I pity them," rejoinedMrs. Franklin. "I suppose as that is concerned, we are all in the sameboat. If we meet them with Christian fortitude, as we should, so muchthe better for us."

"True, very true, and my uppermost desire is to put Benjamin whereduty points. But it is clear to me now that Providence has blocked hisway to the ministry."

"You will not take him out of school until John leaves, will you?"inquired Mrs. Franklin.

"I shall have him leave the public school at the close of this term,and that will give him a full year's schooling. And then I shall puthim into Mr. Brownwell's school for a while to improve him inpenmanship and arithmetic. By that time I must have him in thefactory."

Mr. Brownwell had a private school, in which he taught penmanship andarithmetic. It was quite a famous school, made so by his success as ateacher in these departments.

Benjamin had received no intimation, at this time, that he would betaken out of school. His father shrunk from disclosing his final planto him because he knew it would be so disappointing. But as the closeof the school year drew near, he was obliged to open the subject tohim. It was an unpleasant revelation to Benjamin, although it was notaltogether unexpected. For, in the outset, his father had said thatsuch might be the necessity.

"You are a poor penman and deficient in your knowledge of numbers,"said his father; "and improvement in these branches will be of greatservice to you in my business. You will attend Mr. Brownwell's schoolfor a while in order to perfect yourself in these studies."

"I shall like that," answered Benjamin; "but why can I not attendschool until I am old enough to help you?"

"You are old enough to help me. There are many things you can do aswell as a man."

"I should like to know what?" said Benjamin, rather surprised that hecould be of any service in the candle business at nine years of age."John had to learn the trade before he could help you much."

"You can cut the wicks, fill the moulds for cast-candles, keep theshop in order, run hither and thither with errands, and do otherthings that will save my time, and thus assist me just as much as aman could in doing the same things."

"I am sure that is inducement enough for any boy, but a lazy one, towork," remarked his mother, who had listened to the conversation."Your father would have to pay high wages to a man to do what you cando as well, if I understand it."

"In doing errands you will aid as much, even perhaps more, than indoing any thing else," added Mr. Franklin. "I have a good deal of suchrunning to do, and if you do it I can be employed in the moreimportant part of my business, which no one else can attend to.Besides, your nimble feet can get over the ground much quicker than myolder and clumsier ones, so that you can perform that part of thebusiness better than I can myself."

This was a new view of the case to Benjamin, and he was more favorablyimpressed with candle-making by these remarks. He desired to be ofgood service to his father, and here was an opportunity—aconsideration that partially reconciled him to the inevitable change.

At that time—about one hundred and seventy-five years ago—boys wereput to hard work much earlier than they are now. They had very smallopportunities for acquiring knowledge, and the boys who did not go toschool after they were ten years old were more in number than thosewho did. Besides, the schools were very poor in comparison with thoseof our day. They offered very slim advantages to the young. It was notunusual, therefore, for lads as young as Benjamin to be made to work.

Benjamin was somewhat deficient in arithmetic, as his father said, andhe had given little attention to penmanship. He did not take to thescience of numbers as he did to other studies. He allowed his disliketo interpose and hinder his progress.

"I do not like arithmetic very well," he said to his father.

"Perhaps not; but boys must study some things they do not like," hisfather replied. "It is the only way of preparing them for usefulness.You will not accomplish much in any business without a good knowledgeof arithmetic. It is of use almost everywhere."

"I know that," said Benjamin, "and I shall master it if I can, whether
I like it or not. I am willing to do what you think is best."

"I hope you will always be as willing to yield to my judgment. It is agood sign for any boy to accept cheerfully the plans of his father,who has had more experience."

Benjamin was usually very prompt to obey his parents, even when he didnot exactly see the necessity of their commands. He understood fullwell that obedience was a law of the household, which could not beviolated with impunity; therefore, he wisely obeyed. His father wasquite rigid in his requirements, a Puritan of the olden stamp, whoruled his own house. Among other things, he required his children toobserve the Sabbath by abstaining from labor and amusements, readingthe Scriptures, and attending public worship. A walk in the streets, acall upon a youthful friend, or the reading of books not strictlyreligious, on Sunday, were acts not tolerated in his family. A childmight wish to stay away from the house of God on the Sabbath, but itwas not permitted. "Going to meeting" was a rule in the family asirrevocable as the laws of the Medes and Persians.

It was fortunate for Benjamin that he belonged to such a family; forhe possessed an imperious will, that needed to be brought intoconstant subjection. Though of a pleasant and happy disposition, thesequel will show that, but for his strict obedience, his great talentswould have been lost to the world. Nor did he grow restless andimpatient under these rigid parental rules, nor cherish less affectionfor his parents in consequence. He accepted them as a matter ofcourse. We have no reason to believe that he sought to evade them; andthere can be no doubt that the influence of such discipline was goodin forming his character. He certainly honored his father and motheras long as he lived. In ripe manhood, when his parents were old andinfirm, and he lived in Philadelphia, he was wont to perform frequentjourneys from that city to Boston, to visit them. It was on one ofthese journeys that the following incident is related of him:

Landlords, and other people, were very inquisitive at that time. Theyoften pressed their inquiries beyond the bounds of propriety. At acertain hotel the landlord had done this to Franklin, and he resolved,on his next visit, to administer a sharp rebuke to the innkeeper. So,on his next visit, Franklin requested the landlord to call the membersof his family together, as he had something important to communicate.The landlord hastened to fulfill his request, and very soon the familywere together in one room, when Franklin addressed them as follows:

"My name is Benjamin Franklin; I am a printer by trade; I live, whenat home, in Philadelphia; in Boston I have a father, a good old man,who taught me, when I was a boy, to read my Bible and say my prayers;I have ever since thought it my duty to visit and pay my respects tosuch a father, and I am on that errand to Boston now. This is all Ican recollect at present of myself that I think worth telling you. Butif you can think of any thing else that you wish to know about me, Ibeg you to out with it at once, that I may answer, and so give you anopportunity to get me something to eat, for I long to be on my journeythat I may return as soon as possible to my family and business, whereI most of all delight to be."

A more cutting rebuke was never administered. The landlord took in thefull significance of the act, and learned a good lesson therefrom. Itis doubtful if his inquisitiveness ever ran away with him again. Butthe narrative is given here to show that the strict rules of hisfather's house did not diminish filial affection, but rathersolidified and perpetuated it.

It is good for boys, who are likely to want their own way, to bebrought under exact rules. Franklin would have gone to ruin if he hadhad his way. The evil tendencies of boyhood need constant restraint.Obedience at home leads to obedience in the school and State.

Sir Robert Peel ascribed his success in life to such a home; and herelated the following interesting incident to illustrate the sort ofobedience that was required and practised in it: A neighbor's soncalled one day to solicit his company and that of his brothers upon anexcursion. He was a young man of fine address, intelligent, smart, andpromising, though fond of fun and frolic. He was a fashionable youngman, too; we should call him a dude now. He wore "dark brown hair,tied behind with blue ribbon; had clear, mirthful eyes; wore bootsthat reached above his knees, and a broad-skirted scarlet coat, withgold lace on the cuffs, the collar, and the skirts; with a longwaistcoat of blue silk. His breeches were buckskin; his hat wasthree-cornered, set jauntily higher on the right than on the leftside." His name was Harry Garland. To his request that William, Henry,and Robert might go with him, their father replied:

"No, they can not go out. I have work for them to do, and they mustnever let pleasure usurp the place of labor."

The boys wanted to go badly, but there was no use in teasing for theprivilege; it would only make a bad matter worse. "Our father's yeawas yea, and his nay, nay; and that was the end of it."

The three brothers of the Peel family became renowned in theircountry's brilliant progress. But Harry Garland, the idle, foppishyouth, who had his own way, and lived for pleasure, became a ruinedspendthrift. The fact verifies the divine promise, "Honor thy fatherand mother (which is the first commandment with promise), that it maybe well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth." Truefilial love appears to conciliate the whole world by its consistentand beautiful expression. Such an act as that of the great engineer,George Stephenson, who took the first one hundred and sixty dollars heearned, saved from a year's wages, and paid his blind old father'sdebts, and then removed both father and mother to a comfortabletenement at Killingworth, where he supported them by the labor of hishands, awakens our admiration, and leads us to expect that the authorwill achieve success.

When the statue of Franklin was unveiled in Boston, in 1856, abarouche appeared in the procession which carried eight brothers, allof whom received Franklin medals at the Mayhew school in theirboyhood, sons of Mr. John Hall. All of them were known to fame bytheir worth of character and wide influence. As the barouche in whichthey rode came into State street, from Merchants' row, these brothersrose up in the carriage, and stood with uncovered heads while passinga window at which their aged and revered mother was sitting—an act offilial regard so impressive and beautiful as to fill the hearts of allbeholders with profound respect for the obedient and loving sons. Theynever performed a more noble deed, in the public estimation, than thisone of reverence for a worthy parent.

We have made this digression to show that Franklin's home, with itsrigid discipline, was the representative home of his country, in whichthe great and good of every generation laid the foundation of theiruseful careers.

* * * * *

Benjamin was taken out of school, as his father decided, and was putunder Mr. Brownwell's tuition in arithmetic and penmanship. As he hadendeared himself to Mr. Williams, teacher of the public school, so heendeared himself to Mr. Brownwell by his obedience, studious habits,and rapid progress. He did not become an expert in arithmetic, though,by dint of persistent effort, he made creditable progress in thestudy. In penmanship he excelled, and acquired an easy, attractivestyle that was of great service to him through life.

VI.

FROM SCHOOL TO CANDLE-SHOP.

While Benjamin was attending Mr. Brownwell's school, his "UncleBenjamin," for whom he was named, came over from England. His wife andchildren were dead, except his son Samuel, who had immigrated to thiscountry. He had been unfortunate in business also, and lost whatlittle property he possessed. With all the rest, the infirmities ofage were creeping over him, so that nearly all the ties that bound himto his native land were sundered; and so he decided to spend theremnant of his days in Boston, where Samuel lived.

Samuel Franklin was an unmarried young man, intelligent andenterprising, willing and anxious to support his father in thiscountry. But having no family and home to which to introduce his agedparent, "Uncle Benjamin" became a member of his brother Josiah'sfamily, and continued a member of it about four years, or until Samuelwas married, when he went to live with him.

"Uncle Benjamin" was very much pained to find that his namesake hadrelinquished the purpose of becoming a minister. His heart was set onhis giving his life-service to the Church.

"Any body can make candles," he said, "but talents are required forthe ministry, and, from all I learn, Benjamin has the talents."

"Partly right and partly wrong," rejoined Josiah, who seemed to thinkthat his brother's remark was not altogether complimentary. "Talentsare required for the ministry, as you say, but judgment, tact, andindustry are required to manufacture candles successfully. A foolwould not make much headway in the business."

"I meant no reflection upon Boston's tallow-chandler," and a smileplayed over his face as "Uncle Benjamin" said it; "but I really thinkthat Benjamin is too talented for the business. Five talents can makecandles well enough; let ten talents serve the Church."

"Well, that is sound doctrine; I shall not object to that," repliedJosiah; "but if poverty makes it impossible for ten talents to servethe Church, it is better that they make candles than to do nothing.Candle-making is indispensable; it is a necessary business, andtherefore it is honorable and useful."

"The business is well enough; a man can be a man and make candles.This way of lighting dwellings is really a great invention; and itwill be a long time, I think, when any thing better will supersede it.This new country is fortunate in having such a light, so cheap andconvenient, so that the business is to be respected and valued. ButBenjamin is greater than the business."

The last remark set forth "Uncle Benjamin's" views exactly. He reallysupposed that no improvement could be made in the method of lightinghouses and shops by candles. That was the opinion of all theFranklins. To them a tallow-candle was the climax of advancement onthat line. If a prophet had arisen, and foretold the coming of gas andelectricity for the lighting of both houses and streets, in the nextcentury, he would have been regarded as insane—too crazy even to makecandles. Progress was not a prevailing idea of that day. It did notenter into any questions of the times as a factor. If succeedinggenerations should maintain the standard of theirs, enjoying as manyprivileges, it would be all that could be reasonably expected. Candleswould be needed until the "new heaven and new earth" of Revelationappeared. Possibly they would have believed that their method oflighting would be popular in "that great city, the Holy Jerusalem,"had it not been declared in the Bible that they will "need no candle,"because "there shall be no night there."

"Uncle Benjamin" added, what really comforted Josiah: "Of course, ifyou are not able to send Benjamin to college, he can't go, and thatends it. If I were able to pay the bills, I should be only too glad todo it. Benjamin is a remarkable boy, and his talents will manifestthemselves whatever his pursuit may be. He will not always makecandles for a living; you may depend on that."

"Perhaps not," responded Josiah; "if Providence introduces him into abetter calling, I shall not object; but I want he should be satisfiedwith this until the better one comes."

As the time drew near for Benjamin to exchange school for thecandle-factory, his disappointment increased. To exchange school,which he liked so well, for a dirty business that he did not like atall, was almost too much for his flesh and blood. His feelingsrevolted against the uncongenial trade.

"You do not know how I dread to go into the candle-factory to make itmy business for life," he said to his mother. "I feel worse and worseabout it."

"We are all sorry that you are obliged to do it," replied Mrs.Franklin. "I am sure that your father would have made any sacrificepossible to send you to college, but it was simply impossible. Youwill have to make the best of it. God may open the way to employmentthat will be more congenial to you some time. For the present he meansthat you should help your father, I have no doubt of that; and youmust do the best for him that you can."

"That is what I intend to do, however much I dislike the business. Iwant to help father all I can; he has a hard time enough to providefor us."

Benjamin expressed himself as frankly to his father, adding, "I reallywish you would engage in some other business."

"And starve, too?" rejoined his father. "In such times as these wemust be willing to do what will insure us a livelihood. I know of noother business that would give me a living at present—certainly nonethat I am qualified to pursue."

"Well, I should rather make soap and candles than starve, on thewhole," Benjamin remarked in reply; "but nothing short of starvationcould make me willing to follow the business."

"One other thing ought to make you willing to do such work," added hisfather; "a determination to be industrious. Idleness is the parent ofvice. Boys like you should be industrious even if they do not earntheir salt. It is better for them to work for nothing than to beidle."

"I think they better save their strength till they can earnsomething," said Benjamin. "People must like to work better than I do,to work for nothing."

"You do not understand me; I mean to say that it is so important forthe young to form industrious habits, that they better work fornothing than to be idle. If they are idle when they are young, theywill be so when they become men, and idleness will finally be theirruin. 'The devil tempts all other men, but idle men tempt the devil';and I hope that you will never consent to verify the proverb."

Mr. Franklin had been a close observer all his life, and he hadnoticed that industry was characteristic of those who accomplished anything commendable Consequently he insisted that his children shouldhave employment. He allowed no drones in his family hive. All must bebusy as bees. All had some thing to do as soon as they were old enoughto toil. Under such influences Benjamin was reared, and he grew up tobe as much in love with industry as his father was. Some of his bestcounsels and most interesting sayings, when he became a man, relatedto this subject. There is no doubt that his early discipline on thisline gave to the world his best sayings on this and other subjects.The following are some of his counsels referred to:

"Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears, while the usedkey is always bright."

"But dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is thestuff life is made of."

"If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be thegreatest prodigality."

"Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy; and he thatriseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his businessat night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon overtakeshim."

"At the working-man's house hunger looks in but dares not enter."

"Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things toindustry."

"One to-day is worth two to-morrows."

"Drive thy business! let not thy business drive thee."

"God helps those that help themselves."

He wrote to a young tradesman as follows:

"Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten shillings a day byhis labor, and goes abroad or sits idle one-half that day, though hespend but sixpence during his diversion or idleness, ought not toreckon that the only expense; he has really spent, or rather thrownaway, five shillings besides.

"The sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or nine at night,heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer; but, if he seesyou at a billiard-table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when youshould be at work, he sends for his money the next day; demands itbefore he can receive it in a lump."

Benjamin became a better teacher than his father; and, no doubt, wasindebted to his father for the progress. Had he gone to collegeinstead of the candle-shop, the world might not have received hislegacy of proverbial wisdom. For these were the outcome of seculardiscipline, when he was brought into direct contact with the realitiesof business and hardship. Colleges do not teach proverbs; they do notmake practical men, but learned men. Practical men are made byobservation and experience in the daily work of life. In that wayFranklin was made the remarkable practical man that he was.

Had "Uncle Benjamin" lived to read such words of wisdom from the penof his namesake, when his reputation had spread over two hemispheres,he would have said, "I told you so. Did I not say that Benjamin wouldnot always make candles? Did I not prophesy that he would make hismark in manhood?"

Benjamin became a tallow-chandler when he was ten years old; and hemeant to make a good one, though the business was repulsive to hisfeelings. At first his industry and tact were all that his fathercould desire. He devoted the hours of each workday closely to thetrade, though his love for it did not increase at all. If any thing,he disliked it more and more as the weeks and months dragged on.Perhaps he became neglectful and somewhat inefficient, for he said, inhis manhood, that his father often repeated to him this passage fromthe Bible:

"Seest thou a man diligent in his business? He shall stand beforekings; he shall not stand before mean men."

When Benjamin became the famous Dr. Franklin, and was in the habit ofstanding before kings, he often recalled this maxim of Solomon, whichhis father dinged rebukingly in his ear. It was one of the pleasantestrecollections of his life.

Mr. Franklin watched his boy in the candle-trade closely, to seewhether his dislike for it increased or diminished. His anxiety forhim was great. He did not wish to compel him to make candles againstan increasing desire to escape from the hardship. He had greatsympathy for him, too, in his disappointment at leaving school. And itwas a hard lot for such a lover of school and study to give them upforever at ten years of age. No more school after that! Smallopportunity, indeed, in comparison with those enjoyed by nearly everyboy at the present day! Now they are just beginning to learn at thisearly age. From ten they can look forward to six, eight, or ten yearsin school and college.

Mr. Franklin saw from month to month that his son more and moredisliked his business, though little was said by either of them."Actions speak louder than words," as Mr. Franklin saw to his regret;for it was as clear as noonday that Benjamin would never be contentedin the candle-factory. He did his best, however, to make the boy'ssituation attractive; allowed him frequent opportunities for play, andpraised his habit of reading in the evening and at all other timespossible. Still, a tallow-candle did not attract him. It shed light,but it was not the sort of light that Benjamin wanted to radiate. Oneday, nearly two years after he engaged in the candle-business, he saidto his father:

"I wish I could do something else; I can never like this work."

"What else would you like to do?" inquired his father.

"I would like to go to sea," was the prompt and straight reply; and itstartled Mr. Franklin. It was just what he feared all along. He wasafraid that compulsion to make him a tallow-chandler might cause himto run away and go to sea, as his eldest son, Josiah, did.Emphatically his father said:

"Go to sea, Benjamin! Never, never, with my consent. Never say anotherword about it, and never think about it, for that is out of thequestion. I shall never give my consent, and I know your mother neverwill. It was too much for me when your brother broke away from us andwent to sea. I can not pass through another such trial. So you mustnot persist in your wish, if you would not send me down to the grave."

Josiah, the eldest son, named for his father, became dissatisfied withhis home when Benjamin was an infant, ran away, and shipped as asailor. The parents knew not where he had gone. Month after month theywaited, in deep sorrow, for tidings from their wayward boy, but notidings came. Years rolled on, and still the wanderer was awaysomewhere—they knew not where. Morning, noon, and night the memory ofhim lay heavy upon their hearts, turning their cup of earthly joy tobitterness, and furrowing their faces with anxiety and grief. He mightbe dead. He might be alive and in want in a strange land. Theuncertainty and suspense hanging over his fate magnified their sorrow.The outlook was unpleasant; there was no comfort in it. They appealedto God. Before Him they pleaded for their prodigal son—for hissafety, his return, his salvation.

Not long after Benjamin had expressed his longing for the sea, whenalmost the last hope of seeing the lost son again had vanished, Josiahreturned and startled his parents by his sudden and unexpectedpresence. They could scarcely believe their eyes. Twelve years, andhard service before the mast, had wrought a great change in hisappearance. He was a youth when he ran away,—he was a man now,toughened by exposure, dark as an Indian, stalwart and rough; butstill the eldest son and brother, Josiah Franklin, Jr. They were gladto see him. They rejoiced more over this one returning prodigal thanthey did over the sixteen that went not astray. "The father said:Bring forth the best robe and put it on him; and put a ring on hisfinger, and shoes on his feet. And bring hither the fatted calf, andkill it; and let us eat and be merry: For this my son was dead, and isalive again; he was lost and is found. And they began to be merry."

It was the first time in twelve years that family had been "merry."Past sorrows were forgotten in the joy of their meeting. On that day anew life began around that hearthstone. Father and mother began tolive again. As if they had never shed a tear or felt a pang, theylooked into the future with cheerful hope and expectation.

To return to Benjamin. His father's quick and sharp reply left no roomfor doubt. If he went to sea it must be against his father's will. Heturned to his mother, but was repulsed with equal decision.

"You surprise me, Benjamin. Want to go to sea! You must not harborsuch a thought. Is it not enough that we have lost one son in thatway? You might have known that I should never give my consent. Ishould almost as lief bury you. How can you want to leave your goodhome, and all your friends, to live in a ship, exposed to storms anddeath all the time?"

"It is not because I do not love my home and friends; but I have adesire to sail on a voyage to some other country. I like the water,and nothing would suit me better than to be a cabin-boy."

"You surprise and pain me, Benjamin. I never dreamed of such a thing.If you do not like work in the candle-factory, then choose some otheroccupation, but never think of going to sea."

"I would choose any other occupation under the sun thancandle-making," replied Benjamin. "I have tried to like it for twoyears, but dislike it more and more. If I could have my own way, Iwould not go to the factory another day."

Perhaps the opposition of his parents would have prevented his goingto sea, but the return of Josiah, with no words of praise for thecalling, might have exerted a decided influence in leading him toabandon the idea altogether.

"Uncle Benjamin," of course, could not tolerate the idea of his nephewbecoming a sailor. With his poor opinion of the candle-trade, he wouldhave him pursue the business all his life rather than become a sailor.

"Do any thing rather than follow the seas," he said. "If you want tothrow yourself away, body and soul, go before the mast. But if youwant to be somebody, and do something that will make you respectableand honored among men, never ship for a voyage, long or short. A boyof one talent can be a cabin-boy, but a boy of ten talents ought to beabove that business, and find his place on a higher plane of life."

VII.

CHOOSING A TRADE AND STEALING SPORT.

Mr. and Mrs. Franklin canvassed the subject thoroughly, and wiselydecided that Benjamin might engage in some other pursuit.

"To be successful a man must love his calling," remarked Mr. Franklin,"and Benjamin hates his. He appears to go to each day's work with adread, and as long as he feels so he will not accomplish any thing."

"You have come to a wise decision, I think," responded "UncleBenjamin." "Ordinarily a boy should choose his own occupation. He maybe instructed and assisted by his parents, but if he makes his ownselection he is likely to choose what he has tact and taste for.Certainly, I would not compel a son to follow a business that he hatesas Benjamin does candle-making."

"That is true on the whole, but circumstances alter cases," remarkedMr. Franklin. "I believe I shall take him around to examine differenttrades in town, and he can see for himself and choose what he likesbest."

"He has seemed to be interested in my son's business," added "Uncle
Benjamin."

His son Samuel was a cutler, and he had established the cutlerybusiness in Boston, in which he was quite successful.

"Well, he can look into that; I have no objections to it; it is a goodbusiness. I will let him examine others, however, and take his choice.I want he should settle the matter of occupation now for life. I do notwant to go through another experience with him, such as I have beenthrough two years in the candle-factory."

Mr. Franklin had evidently acquired new views about boys, judging fromhis last remarks. He saw but one way out of the difficulty. Choice ofan occupation was a more important matter than he had dreamed of.However, he had acted in accordance with the custom of that day, tochoose occupations for sons without the least regard to fitness ortheir preferences. Boys must not have their own way in that matter anymore than they should in other things, was the opinion of that age.But progress has been made on this line. It is thought now that themore nearly the aptitudes of the person fit the occupation, the morecongenial and successful is the career. To follow the "natural bent,"whenever it is possible, appears to be eminently wise. For square menshould be put into square holes and round men into round holes.Failing to regard the drift of one's being in the choice of anoccupation, is almost sure to put square men into round holes, andround men into square holes. In this way good mechanics have beenspoiled to make poor clergymen or merchants, and a good ministerspoiled to make a commonplace artisan.

The celebrated English engineer, Smeaton, displayed a marvellousability for mechanical pursuits even in his childhood. Before he haddonned jacket and pants in the place of short dress, his fatherdiscovered him on the top of the barn, putting up a windmill that hehad made. But he paid no regard to the boy's aptitude for this or thatposition. He was determined to make a lawyer of him, and sent him toschool with that end in view. But the boy thought more of windmillsand engines than he did of Euclid or Homer, and the result wasunfavorable. His father was trying to crowd a square boy into a roundhole, and it was repugnant to the born engineer.

Josiah Franklin tried to do with Benjamin just what Smeaton tried todo with his son, squeeze a square boy into a round hole. That was amistake. The son did not like the operation, and rebelled against thesqueezing. This created trouble for both, until, with the aid of"Uncle Benjamin," Josiah discovered the way out of the difficulty.

Benjamin was delighted when his father disclosed to him his new plan.

"Anything is preferable to making candles," he said. "It will not takeme long to choose something in place of a soap-factory."

"You have considerable mechanical ingenuity," his father said; "youlike to work with tools, and you can see how tools are handled indifferent trades. How would you like your Cousin Samuel's business?"

"I should like it vastly better than making candles, though I have notexamined it much. I can tell better when have looked in upon othertrades When shall we go?"

"Begin to-morrow, and first call upon your Cousin Samuel. His cutlerytrade is good, and it must increase as the population grows. Then wewill examine other kinds of business. It will take some time to go therounds."

On the morrow, as agreed upon, they went forth upon the memorableerrand. Benjamin felt like an uncaged bird, and was highly elated byhis prospects. Their first call was at Samuel's shop, where they couldsee a line of cutlery that was quite ample for that day. Samuelexplained his methods, use of tools, etc., and Benjamin listened. Hewas well pleased with the trade, as Samuel saw at once, who encouragedhim to choose it.

"I was never sorry that I learned the business," he said. "There is noeasier way of getting a living, and the work is interesting, becauseit requires some ingenuity and skill. Benjamin has both, and willsucceed."

"But I want he should examine other trades," replied his father. "Whenhe has taken in several he will know more what he wants."

"Perhaps he will not know as well what he wants," rejoined Samuel. "Ifhe is like some boys he will be less settled in his mind what tochoose than he is now."

"My mind is partly settled now," said Benjamin. "I should choose anytrade on earth in preference to making candles and boiling soap. Ishould be content with your business."

Next they called on a brazier, who manufactured many articles inbrass. This was entirely new to Benjamin; he had never seen any thingof the kind before, and he examined the methods of work with muchinterest. The brazier was communicative, and explained matters fullyand clearly, at the same time assuring Benjamin that he would like toteach a boy like him.

In like manner they visited a joiner, or carpenter, as he is called inNew England now; also, a turner, who formed various things with alathe; also, a silversmith, bricklayer, and stone-mason. A part ofseveral days was occupied in this examination; and it was time wellspent, for it put much information into Benjamin's head, and enlargedhis ideas. Referring to the matter when he had become an old man, hesaid: "It has ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmenhandle their tools. And it has often been useful to me to have learnedso much by it as to be able to do some trifling jobs in the house whena workman was not at hand, and to construct little machines for myexperiments at the moment when the intention of making these was warmin my mind."

"I like Samuel's trade as well as any," Benjamin remarked, after thetrips of examination were concluded; and his father rejoiced to hearit. From the start Mr. Franklin showed that none of the trades suitedhim so well as his nephew's; so that he was particularly gratified tohear the above remark.

"Do you like it well enough to choose it, Benjamin?"

"Yes, father; on the whole, I think I shall like it best of any; andcutlery will always be needed."

"We will understand, then, that you choose that trade, and I will seeSamuel at once. It may be best for you to go into the shop for a shorttime before I make a bargain with him. Then he will know what you cando, and you will know how you like it."

At that time it was customary to bind boys to their employers, indifferent pursuits, until twenty-one years of age. Benjamin wastwelve, and, if he should be bound to his cousin, as was the custom,it would be for nine years. For this reason it was a step not to behastily taken. If a short service in the shop should prove favorablefor both sides, the long apprenticeship could be entered upon moreintelligently and cheerfully.

Mr. Franklin lost no time in securing a place in Samuel's shop. Bothparties agreed that it would be best for Benjamin to spend a briefperiod in the business before settling the terms of apprenticeship.Accordingly he entered upon his new trade immediately, and was muchpleased with it. It was so different from the work of candle-making,and required so much more thought and ingenuity, that he enjoyed it.He went to each day's work with a light and cheerful heart. He wassoon another boy in appearance, contented, happy, and hopeful. Samuelrecognized his ingenuity and willingness to work, and prophesied thathe would become an expert cutler. He was ready to receive him as anapprentice, and Benjamin was willing to be bound to him until he wastwenty-one years of age.

But when Mr. Franklin conferred with Samuel as to the terms of theapprenticeship, they could not agree. The latter demanded anexorbitant fee for his apprenticeship, which the former did not feelable to pay. With good nature they discussed the subject, withreference to an agreement on the terms; but Samuel was immovable. Hehad but one price. Benjamin might stay or go. Very much to thedisappointment of both father and son, the plan failed and wasabandoned.

Benjamin was afloat again. He had no disposition to return tocandle-making, nor did his father desire that he should. He mustchoose an occupation again. As it turned out, it would have beenbetter to settle the terms of apprenticeship in the first place.

It has been said that "there is no loss without some gain." So therewas some gain to Benjamin. He was sadly disappointed; and he had givensome time to a trade that amounted to nothing, but it was not allloss. He had learned much about the trades: the importance of a tradeto every boy, and its necessity as a means of livelihood, and he neverlost the lesson which he learned at that time. In his ripe manhood hewrote,—

"He that hath a trade hath an estate.
He that hath a calling hath an office of honor."

He believed that a trade was as good as a farm for a livelihood, andthat a necessary calling was as honorable as a public office ofdistinction. How much his early discipline about trades had to do withthese noble sentiments of his mature life, we may not say, but verymuch, without doubt.

While Benjamin was waiting for something to turn up, an incidentoccurred which may be rehearsed in this place. He was already anexpert in swimming and rowing, and he loved the water and a boatpassionately. He was fond of fishing, also; and there was a marsh,flooded at high tides, where the boys caught minnows. Here theyrepaired for a fine time one day, Benjamin and several companions.

"All aboard!" exclaimed Benjamin, as he bounded into the boat lying atthe water's edge. "Now for a ride; only hurry up, and make the oarsfly"; and several boys leaped in after him from the shaky, trampledquagmire on which they stood.

"We shall be heels over head in mud yet," said one of the number,"unless we try to improve this marsh. There is certainly danger thatwe shall go through that shaky place, and we do not know where we shallstop when we begin to go down."

"Let us build a wharf; that will get rid of the quagmire," suggested
Benjamin. "It won't be a long job, if all take hold."

"Where will you get your lumber?" inquired John.

"Nowhere. We do not want any lumber; stones are better."

"That is worse yet, to bring stones so far, and enough of them," saidJohn. "You must like to lift better than I do, and strain your gizzardin tugging stones here."

"Look there," continued Benjamin, pointing to a heap of stones only afew rods distant, "there are stones enough for our purpose, and one ortwo hours is all the time we want to build a wharf with them."

"Those stones belong to the man who is preparing to build a housethere," said Fred. "The workmen are busy there now."

"That may all be, but they can afford to lend them to us for a littlewhile; they will be just as good for their use after we have done withthem." There was the rogue's sly look in Benjamin's eye when he madethe last remark.

"Then you expect they will loan them to you; but I guess you will bemistaken," responded Fred.

"I will borrow them in this way: We will go this evening, after theworkmen have gone home, and tug them over here, and make the wharfbefore bedtime." Benjamin made this proposition for the purpose ofadding to their sport.

"And get ourselves into trouble thereby," answered a third boy. "Iwill agree to do it if you will bear all the blame of stealing them."

"Stealing!" exclaimed Benjamin, who was so bent on sport that he hadno thought of stealing. "It is not stealing to take stones. A mancould not sell a million tons of them for a copper."

"Well, anyhow, the man who has borne the expense of drawing them therewon't thank you for taking them."

"I do not ask them to thank me. I do not think the act deserves anythanks." And a roguish twinkle of the eye showed that Benjamin knew hewas doing wrong for the sake of getting a little sport. "Wouldn't itbe a joke on those fellows if they should find their pile of stonesmissing in the morning?"

"Let us do it," said John, who was taken with the idea of playing offa joke. "I will do my part to put it through."

"And I will do mine."

"And so will I."

"And I, too."

By this time all were willing to follow Benjamin, their leader.Perhaps some of them were afraid to say "No," as their consciencessuggested, now that the enterprise was endorsed by one or two of theirnumber. Both boys and men are quite disposed to "go with the multitudeto do evil." They are too cowardly to do what they know is right.

The salt marsh bounding a part of the mill-pond where their boat laywas tramped into a quagmire. The boys were wont to fish there at highwater, and so many feet treading on the spot reduced it to a very softcondition. It was over this miry marsh that they proposed to build awharf. The evening was soon there, and the boys, too, upon theirrogues' errand. They surveyed the pile of stones, and found it amplefor their purpose, though it appeared to be a formidable piece of workto remove them.

"Two of us can't lift and carry some of them," said Fred.

"Then three of us will hitch on and carry them," replied Benjamin."They must all be worked into a wharf this evening. Let usbegin—there is no time to lose."

"The largest must go first," suggested John. "They are capital stonesfor the foundation. Come, boys, let us make quick work of it."

So they went to work with a will and "where there's a will there's away," in evil as well as good. It was unfortunate for Benjamin that hedid not hate such an enterprise as much as he did candle-making. If hehad, he would have given a wide berth to the salt marsh and the wharfproject. But neither he nor his companions disliked the evil work inwhich there was sport. We say that they worked with a will; and theirperseverance was the only commendable thing about the affair.Sometimes three or four of them worked away at a stone, rolling italong or lifting, as necessity required. Then one alone would catch upa smaller one, and convey it to the wharf at double-quick. Half theirzeal, tact, and industry, in doing this wrong, would have made thecandle-trade, or any other business, a success.

The evening was not quite spent when the last stone was carried away,and the wharf finished,—a work of art that answered their purposevery well, though it was not quite as imposing as Commercial Wharf isnow, and was not calculated to receive the cargo of a very largeLiverpool packet.

"A capital place now for fishing!" exclaimed Fred. "It is worth all itcost for that."

"It may cost more than you think for before we get through with it,"suggested John. "We sha'n't know the real cost of it until the ownerfinds his stones among the missing."

"I should like to hear his remarks to-morrow morning, when hediscovers his loss," remarked Benjamin; "they will not be verycomplimentary, I think."

"I am more anxious to know what he will do about it," responded John.

"We shall find out before long, no doubt," said Benjamin. "But I musthurry home, or I shall have more trouble there than anywhere else.Come, boys, let us go."

They hastened to their homes, not designing to divulge the labors ofthe evening, if they could possibly avoid interrogation. They knewthat their parents would disapprove of the deed, and that no excusecould shield them from merited censure. Not one of their conscienceswas at ease. Their love of sport had got the better of their love ofright-doing. And yet they were both afraid and ashamed to tell of whatthey had done. They were at home and in bed and asleep about as earlyas usual.

Twenty-four hours passed away, during which Benjamin's fears hadincreased rather than diminished. He was all the while thinking aboutthe stones—what the owner would say and do—whether he would learnwho took his stones away. His conscience was on duty.

It was evening, and Mr. Franklin took his seat at the fireside.Benjamin was reading, the unattractive tallow candle furnishing himlight.

"Benjamin," said Mr. Franklin, after a little, "where were you lastevening?"

If his father had fired off a pistol he could not have been moredisturbed. His heart leaped into his throat. He thought of the stones.He knew something was up about them—that trouble was ahead.

"I was down to the water," Benjamin replied, with as much coolness ashe could muster.

"What were you doing there?"

"Fixing up a place for the boat." He suspected, from his father'sappearance, that he would have to tell the whole story.

"Benjamin, see that you tell me the truth, and withhold nothing. Iwish to know exactly what you did there."

"We built a wharf."

"What did you build it with?"

"We built it of stones."

"Where did you get your stones?"

"There was a pile of them close by."

"Did they belong to you?"

"No, sir."

"Then you stole them, did you?"

"It isn't stealing to take stones."

"Why, then, did you take them in the evening, after the workmen hadgone home? Why did you not go after them when the workmen were allthere? It looks very much as if you thought taking them was stealingthem."

Benjamin saw that he was fairly cornered. Such a catechetical exercisewas somewhat new to him. The Westminster Assembly's Catechism neverput him into so tight a place as that. Bright as he was, he could notdiscover the smallest hole out of which to crawl. It was a bad scrape,and he could see no way out of it except by telling the truth. Wedislike very much to say it, but, judging from all the circumstances,he would have told a lie, could he have seen a place to put one in.But there was no chance for a falsehood. He was completely shut up tothe truth. He saw that the wharf cost more than he estimated—thatstealing stones violated a principle as really as stealing dollars. Hewas so completely cornered that he made no reply. His fathercontinued:

"I see plainly how it is. It is the consequence of going out in theevening with the boys, which I must hereafter forbid. I have beenwilling that you should go out occasionally in the evening, because Ithought it might be better for you than so much reading. But you havenow betrayed my confidence, and I am more than ever satisfied thatboys should spend their evenings at home, trying to improve theirminds. You are guilty of an act that is quite flagrant, although itmay have been done thoughtlessly. You should have known better afterhaving received so much instruction at home."

"I did know better," was Benjamin's frank confession, determined tomake a clean breast of it.

"And that makes your guilt so much the greater. Will you learn alesson from this, and never do the like again?"

"I promise that I never will."

Thus frankly Benjamin confessed his wrong-doing; and, in mature life,he often referred to it as his "first wrong act" from which helearned a lesson for life. It was another way of paying too dear fora whistle. What the whistle was to him at seven, the wharf of stoneswas to him at twelve years of age—sport. The first was innocentsport, however; the last was guilty.

It appears that the workmen missed their stones when they firstreached the spot in the morning, and soon discovered them nicely laidinto a wharf. The proprietor was indignant, and set about learning whowere the authors of the deed. In the course of the day he gained theinformation he sought, and very properly went to the parents of eachboy with his complaint. In this way the boys were exposed, andreceived just rebuke for their misdemeanor. Benjamin was convinced, ashe said of it many years thereafter, "that that which is not honestcould not be truly useful."

VIII.

BECOMING PRINTER-BOY.

At the time Benjamin was in the candle-factory his brother James wasin England learning the printer's trade. He spent several years there,until he had mastered the business, intending to return to Boston andestablish that trade. He returned about the time that Benjamin wasconcluding his disgust with candle-making, and was well under way atthe time he abandoned the cutler's trade. James brought press, type,and all the et ceteras of a complete outfit with him from England.

"How would you like to learn the printer's trade with your brotherJames?" inquired his father, a short time after Benjamin left thecutler's shop. "I have been thinking it over, and I really believethat you have more qualifications for it than you have for any othertrade. Your love of learning will have a better chance there, too."

"How is that?" answered Benjamin. "I do not quite see in what respect
I am better qualified to be a printer than a cutler."

"Well, you are a good reader, and have an intellectual turn, beingfond of books; and a printing office must have more opportunities formental improvement than the shop of a cutler. A type-setter can beacquiring new and valuable ideas when he is setting up writtenarticles."

"If that is so I should like it well; and I should think it might beas you say," Benjamin answered. "I might have a better chance toread."

"Of course you would. You may have matter to put in type that is as
interesting and profitable as any thing you find in books. Indeed,
James will no doubt have pamphlets and books to publish before long.
All that you read in books went through the printer's hand first."

"I had not thought of that," said Benjamin, quite taken with hisfather's ideas about the printing business. "I think I should like itbetter than almost any thing else. How long will it take to learn thetrade?"

"I suppose that it will take some time, though I know very littleabout it. You are twelve years of age now, and you can certainlyacquire the best knowledge of the trade by the time you aretwenty-one."

"That is a long time," suggested Benjamin; "nine years ought to makethe best printer there is. But that is no objection to me; I shall doas you think best."

"I want you should think it best, too," rejoined his father. "If youhave no inclination to be a printer, I do not want you shouldundertake it. You will not succeed in any business you dislike."

"I do think it best to try this," replied Benjamin. "If James thinkswell of it, I shall, for he knows all about the trade."

"I will speak with him about it and learn his opinion," said hisfather. "If he thinks well of it, I will see what arrangements can bemade with him. The prospects of the business are not flattering now,but I think the day is coming when it will prosper."

Mr. Franklin lost no time in conferring with James, who favored theplan without any reserve. He proposed to take Benjamin as anapprentice, to serve until he was twenty-one years old, according tothe custom of the times, receiving twenty pounds for the same, andgiving him board and clothes until the last year, when he would bepaid journeyman's wages. This was a good opportunity on the whole, forprinting was in its infancy in our country at that time. Not more thansix or eight persons had been in the business in Boston before JamesFranklin commenced, in the year 1717. The demand for printing musthave been very small indeed.

The first printing press in the United States was set up in Cambridgein 1639 by Rev. Jesse Glover, who gave it to Harvard University. Thefirst thing printed was the "Freeman's oath"; the next, the almanacfor New England, calculated by William Pierce, a mariner; the next, ametrical version of the Psalms.

It is claimed that ten years later than Benjamin's entering hisbrother's printing office, there were but three or four printers inour country. Whether that was so or not, it is certain that then, andfor many years afterwards, printers were very scarce. In 1692, OldStyle, the council of New York adopted the following resolution:

"It is resolved in council, that if a printer will come and settle inthe city of New York, for the printing of our acts of assembly andpublic papers, he shall be allowed the sum of forty pounds, currentmoney of New York, per annum, for his salary, and have the benefit ofhis printing, besides what serves to the public."

It is said, also, that when Benjamin Franklin wanted to marry thedaughter of Mr. Reed, of Philadelphia, her mother said, "I do not knowabout giving my daughter to a printer; for there are already four inthe United States, and it is doubtful if more could get a living."

It is worthy of note here, also, as showing how slowly the printingbusiness advanced in the infancy of our country, that Great Britaindid not allow the American Colonies to print the English Bible. Hence,the first Bible printed in this country was published in 1782, alittle more than a hundred years ago. For this reason most of thepulpit Bibles in the Congregational and other churches of New England,before that time, were the Oxford editions, in which the Book ofCommon Prayer and the Psalms were included, and the Articles of Faithof the English Church. Some of these are still preserved as relics.

"It will be necessary for you to be bound to your brother, accordingto law," remarked Mr. Franklin. "These things must be done legally,and such is the law and custom, too."

"And I am to board with him, also, if I understand you, father?"Benjamin was thinking of leaving his home, and that would be a trial.True, he would not be far from his father's house; he could step intoit every night if he wished; but it was leaving home, nevertheless."It does not seem quite right for one brother to be bound to anotherfor nine years," added Benjamin, thoughtfully, and after somehesitation.

"But such is the custom, however it may appear, and it must be done soto have every thing right and legal. We do not know what may happen inthe nine years. It is better to have things in black and white,whether the bargain is with a brother or any one else."

Mr. Franklin added more to the last remarks, in order to remove anobjection which Benjamin seemed to have to being bound to his brother;and he was successful. The last objection was removed, and cheerfullyand gladly Benjamin consented to become a printer-boy.

The following was the form of the indenture of apprenticeship thatbound Benjamin to his brother for nine years:

"This indenture witnesseth that Benjamin Franklin, son of JosiahFranklin, and of Abiah, his wife, of Boston, in the colony ofMassachusetts Bay, with the consent of his parents, doth put himselfapprentice to his brother, James Franklin, printer, to learn his art,and with him after the manner of an apprentice from the —— day of——, in the year of our Lord, 1718, until he shall have fullycompleted the twenty-first year of his age. During which term the saidapprentice his master faithfully shall or will serve, his secretskeep, his lawful commands everywhere gladly do. He shall do no damageto his said master, nor see it to be done of others, but to his powershall let, or forthwith give notice to his said master of the same.The goods of his said master he shall not waste, nor the same withoutlicense of him to any give or lend. Hurt to his said master he shallnot do, cause, nor procure to be done. He shall neither buy nor sellwithout his master's license. Taverns, inns, and ale houses he shallnot haunt. At cards, dice, tables, or any other unlawful game he shallnot play. Matrimony he shall not contract; nor from the service of hissaid master day nor night absent himself; but in all things as anhonest and faithful apprentice shall and will demean and behavehimself towards his said master and all his during the said term. Andthe said James Franklin, the master, for and in consideration of thesum of ten pounds of lawful British money to him in hand paid by thesaid Josiah Franklin, the father, the receipt of which is herebyacknowledged, the said apprentice in the art of a printer, which henow useth, shall teach and instruct, or cause to be taught andinstructed, the best way and manner that he can, finding and allowingunto the said apprentice meat, drink, washing, lodging, and all othernecessaries during the said term. And for the true performance of alland every the covenants and agreements aforesaid, either of the saidparties bindeth himself unto the other finally by these presents. Inwitness whereof, the parties aforesaid to these indenturesinterchangeably have set their hands and seals this —— day of ——,in the fifth year of our Sovereign Lord, George the First, by thegrace of God of Great Britain, France, and Ireland King, Defender ofthe Faith, and in the year of our Lord, 1718."

To this document Benjamin signed his name, with his father and brother,thereby having his liberty considerably abridged.

A boy by the name of William Tinsley took the place of Benjamin in Mr.Franklin's candle-shop. He was bound to Mr. Franklin as Benjamin wasbound to his brother. But he liked the business no better thanBenjamin did, and, finally, to escape from his thraldom, he ran away;whereupon his master inserted the following advertisement in the NewEngland Courant of July, 1722, which reads very much likeadvertisements for runaway slaves, in that and later days; and,probably, young Tinsley thought he was escaping from a sort of whiteslavery:

"Ran away from his Master, Mr. Josiah Franklin, of Boston, Tallow-chandler,on the first of this instant July, an Irish Man-servant, named WilliamTinsley, about 20 years of age, of a middle Stature, black Hair, latelycut off, somewhat fresh-colored Countenance, a large lower Lip, of amean Aspect, large Legs, and heavy in his Going. He had on, when he wentaway, a felt Hat, a white knit Cap, striped with red and blue, whiteShirt, and neck-cloth, a brown-coloured Jacket, almost new, a friezeCoat, of a dark colour, grey yarn Stockings, leather Breeches, trimmedwith black, and round to'd Shoes. Whoever shall apprehend the saidrunaway Servant, and him safely convey to his above said Master, atthe Blue Ball in Union street, Boston, shall have Forty ShillingsReward, and all necessary Charges paid."

There is no evidence that Tinsley was ever found. He hated thecandle-trade so lustily that he put the longest possible distancebetween himself and it. Had Benjamin been compelled to continue theunpleasant business, he might have escaped from the hardship in asimilar way.

These facts, together with the foregoing documents, show that, in somerespects, many white youth of that day were subjected to an experiencenot wholly unlike that of the colored youth. Often the indenturedparties became the victims of cruelty. Sometimes they were halfclothed and fed. Sometimes they were beaten unmercifully. They werecompletely in the hands of the "master," and whether their experiencewas pleasant or sad depended upon his temper.

Add another fact to the foregoing about the indenture of apprenticeship,and the similarity of white to Negro slavery, in that day, is quiteremarkable. No longer than seventy-five years ago, a poor child, leftto the town by the death of the father, was put up at auction, andthe man who bid the lowest sum was entitled to him. The town paid theamount to get rid of the incumbrance, without much regard to the futuretreatment of the orphan.

A near neighbor of the author, eighty-three years of age, was sold inthis manner three times in his early life, suffering more and morewith each change, until he was old enough to defend himself and runaway. His first buyer, for some reason, wanted to dispose of him, andhe sold him at auction to another. The second buyer was heartless andcruel, against which the boy rebelled, and, for this reason, he wassold to a third "master," who proved to be the worst tyrant of thethree, subjecting the youth to all sorts of ill-treatment, to escapewhich he took to his heels. He was not given a day's schooling byeither master, nor one holiday, nor the privilege of going to meetingon the Sabbath, nor was he half fed and clothed. At twenty-one hecould neither read nor write.

We have turned aside from our narrative to record a somewhat barbariccustom of our forefathers, that the reader may appreciate all the morethe higher civilization and more congenial experiences of this age.

Benjamin had become a printer-boy as fully equipped for duty asdocuments, pledges, and promises could make him. His heart enteredinto this new work, and his head also. The business set him tothinking. He liked it. Indeed, he could find no fault with it. Thebusiness liked him, too; that is, he had a tact for it—he was adaptedto it. The boy and the trade were suited to each other. Hence, hebecame even fascinated with it.

"I like it better than I thought I should," he said to his mother. "Ihave to use my brains more in putting a single paragraph into typethan I did in filling a whole regiment of candle-moulds. I like itbetter and better."

"I am glad to hear that, though I rather expected as much. If you likeit as well as James does, you will like it well enough. He isthoroughly satisfied with his trade, and I think he will find it to bea profitable one by and by. In a new country it takes time to build upalmost any trade."

Mrs. Franklin spoke from a full heart, for she had great interest inBenjamin's chosen pursuit, because she believed that he possessedremarkable talents. She still expected that he would make his mark,though prevented from entering the ministry.

"I get some time to read," continued Benjamin, "and I mean to getmore, though there is much confusion at my boarding-place."

"You must not gain time for reading at the expense of neglecting yourwork," suggested his mother. "Your time is your brother's, and, firstof all, you must fulfill your obligations to him. Fidelity is acardinal virtue, remember."

"Of course," replied Benjamin. "I know what I am in duty bound to do,and I shall do it. James has not found me a minute behind time yet,nor lazy in the printing office; and I mean that he never shall."

"That is a good resolution, very good, indeed; and I hope you willkeep it. At the same time, do not neglect your Bible, nor cease toattend public worship on the Sabbath. A boy can't get along withoutthese any more than his parents can. As soon as you begin to neglectthese you are exposed to danger, and the very worst sort of danger."

To those who are determined to succeed, time can be found for readingwithout interfering with business. Budgett, the rich English merchant,was a great reader. He would not allow his time for reading tointerfere with his business, nor his time for business to interferewith his reading. He prepared a time-table by which his work wasregulated each day. From an examination of it we learn the number ofhours and pages he read the first two weeks of January, 1849. He spentfifty-nine hours in his library, and read seven hundred pages ofJosephus' History, six hundred and sixty pages of Milner's ChurchHistory, three hundred and eighty pages of Baxter's Saints' Rest,and spent a fair proportion of the time in studying Townsend's Old andNew Testaments. Such is what the busiest man can do when he regulateshis time for it.

James Franklin's printing office, where Benjamin worked, was at thecorner of Franklin avenue and Court street. As his brother wasunmarried he boarded at a place near by, which James secured. Probablythe large family and want of room were the reason he did not continueto board at his father's. The family were always in a strait for room.A vacancy only left room which the remaining members sorely needed,and they occupied it so readily and naturally that the former occupantwas scarcely missed.

The printer's trade embraced some kinds of work at that time which itdoes not embrace now, as we judge from the advertisement of JamesFranklin in the Boston Gazette, when he commenced business, asfollows: "The printer hereof prints linens, calicoes, silks, etc., ingood figures, very lively and durable colors, and without theoffensive smell which commonly attends the linens printed here."

Such printing was done for ladies who were in need of what there wasno manufactory to supply, at that time.

When Benjamin had served two years at his trade, he had becomeindispensable to his brother. He had devoted himself to his work withall his heart, and had made rapid improvement. He had acquired a goodunderstanding of the trade. He was a superior compositor. His judgmentwas excellent. He was industrious—there was not a lazy bone in him.And he was punctual.

The habit of reading that Benjamin had formed tended to make himpunctual. In order to command the more time he was promptly at hiswork, and efficiently discharged every duty. It was this well-formedhabit of punctuality that made him so reliable in the printing office.His brother knew that he would be there at such a time, and that hewould remain just so many hours. This habit won his confidence, as itdoes the confidence of every one. There is no quality that does moreto gain a good name for an individual, and inspire the confidence ofhis fellow-men, than this one of being on time. It is so generallyfound in company with other excellent traits of character, that itseems to be taken for granted, usually, that the punctual person isworthy in other respects.

A ripe scholar was the neighbor of Dr. Adam Clarke, the commentator,when the latter had become quite renowned. On the same evening bothsaw a copy of the Greek Testament by Erasmus advertised. As soon asthe ripe scholar had swallowed his breakfast, on the next morning, hehastened to the book-store to purchase the volume. "You are too late;the book is sold," replied the book-seller to the inquiry of thegentleman. "Too late!" exclaimed the scholar; "why, I came as soon asI had eaten my breakfast;" "Yes, but Adam Clarke came beforebreakfast," responded the merchant. The incident shows that the manwho is on time has the inside track; and the inside track is nearestthe goal. It is the wide-awake man who is prompt, not the dull, sleepyprocrastinator. The best qualities of manhood must be on the alert tosecure promptness; the poorest qualities will secure the opposite. Theprize is taken by the worker who is on time. It is lost by him whois behind time, as the aforesaid scholar was. He planned to makesure of his breakfast before he did of the book; but Adam Clarke madesure of the book before he did of his breakfast, and he won.

In 1788, Washington visited Boston, and he decided to leave for Salemon the morning of a certain day, at eight o'clock, precisely. Acompany of cavalry volunteered to escort him to Salem. While the clockof the Old South Church was striking eight, Washington mounted hishorse and started, though his escort had not put in an appearance. Afew minutes later, however, they arrived, and were greatly mortifiedto find that Washington had gone. Putting spurs to their horses, theygalloped forward, and overtook him at Charles river bridge. When theycame up, Washington said: "Major, I thought you had been in my familytoo long not to know when it was eight o'clock."

The habit of punctuality which Franklin formed in his youth,distinguished him in his manhood as much as the same habit didWashington. There is no doubt that it exerted a large influence inplacing him next to Washington among the founders of our republic. Oneof the maxims that he wrote in mature life was: "He that riseth latemust trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night."

IX.

TABLE-TALK EDUCATION.

We delay the narrative, at this point, to introduce a subject that
Franklin often referred to as influencing his early life. In his
"Autobiography," he said:

"At his table he [his father] liked to have, as often as he could,some sensible friend or neighbor to converse with; and always tookcare to start some ingenious or useful topic for discourse, whichmight tend to improve the minds of his children. By this means heturned our attention to what was good, just, and prudent, in theconduct of life; and little or no notice was ever taken of whatrelated to the victuals on the table; whether it was well or illdressed, in or out of season, of good or bad flavor, preferable orinferior to this or that other thing of the kind; so that I wasbrought up in such a perfect inattention to those matters, as to bequite indifferent what kind of food was set before me. Indeed, I am sounobservant of it, that to this day I can scarce tell, a few hoursafter dinner, of what dishes it consisted. This has been a greatconvenience to me in travelling, where my companions have beensometimes very unhappy for want of a suitable gratification of theirmore delicate, because better instructed, tastes and appetites."

This was different from much of the table-talk that is heard in manyfamilies now.

"I do not want any of that, I do not love it," exclaims one child. "Ishould think you might have a better dinner than this."

"What would you have if you could get it; roast chicken and plumpudding?" his mother replies, in a facetious way, instead of reprovinghim.

"I would have something I could eat. You know I do not love that, andnever did."

"Well, it does boys good, sometimes, to eat what they do not love,especially such particular ones as you are," adds his father.

"I sha'n't eat what I do not like, anyhow; I shall go hungry first."

"There, now, let me hear no more complaint about your food," adds hisfather, more sharply. "You are scarcely ever suited with yourvictuals."

"May I have some?" calling for something that is not on the table.

"If you will hold your tongue, and get it yourself, you can have it."

"And let me have some, too," shouts another child. "I do not love this,neither. May I have some, pa?"

"And I, too," exclaims still another. "I must have some if Henry and
James do."

In this way the table-talk proceeds, until fretting, scolding, crying,make up the sum total of the conversation, and family joy areembittered for the remainder of the day. In contrast with thediscipline of instructive conversation, such schooling at the firesideis pitiable indeed.

Franklin claimed that this feature of family government exerted amoulding influence upon his life and character. It caused him to valueprofitable conversation in boyhood and youth. In manhood he frequentlyfound himself posted upon subjects made familiar to him byconversation at the table and hearthstone of his boyhood, especiallytopics relating to the mother country. He was more particularlyedified by conversation at home during the four years that "UncleBenjamin" was a member of his father's family. For this favorite"Uncle" was a very instructive talker, having been educated by theconversation of his father at home in England, as his nephew Benjaminwas by his father in Boston. When "Uncle Benjamin" was very old, hecould even recall the expressions which his father used in prayer atthe family altar, and he wrote some of them in one of his books ofpoetry, as follows:

"Holy Father, into thy hand we commit our spirits, for thou hast redeemed them, O Lord God of Truth."

"Command thine angel to encamp round about our habitation."

"Give thine angels charge over us, that no evil may come nigh our
dwelling."

"Thou knowest our down-lying and rising-up, thou art acquainted
with all our ways, and knowest our tho'ts afar off."

"We know that in us, that is, in our flesh, there dwelleth no good
thing."

"Holy Father, keep through thine own name all those that are thine,
that none of them be lost."

"We thank thee, O Father, Lord of Heaven and earth. Tho' thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, yet thou hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Holy Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight."

We have copied the language just as it was written by "Uncle Benjamin,"and it is chiefly Bible language, showing marked familiarity with theScriptures.

We infer, from the foregoing, that useful conversation wascharacteristic of the Franklins of each generation, indicating a gooddegree of intelligence and talents of high order. Ignorance does notindulge in improving conversation; it could not if it would. Nor dosmall mental powers show themselves in excellence of conversation. Sothat it is quite evident that talents in the Josiah Franklin familywere not limited to Benjamin. They reached back to former generations.

Mr. Parton says: "Thomas Franklin, the elder, had four sons: Thomas,John, Benjamin, and Josiah. There lived at Ecton, during the boyhoodof these four sons, a Mr. John Palmer, the squire of the parish andlord of an adjacent manor, who, attracted by their intelligence andspirit, lent them books, assisted them to lessons in drawing andmusic, and, in various ways, encouraged them to improve their minds.All the boys appear to have been greatly profited by Squire Palmer'sfriendly aid; but none of them so much as Thomas, the eldest,inheritor of the family forge and farm."

It was this Thomas who became grandfather of our Benjamin, and whoseexpressions in prayer we have quoted. Mr. Parton discovers suchtalents there as make profitable conversation at the table andelsewhere, and are transmitted to posterity. For he says, stillfurther:

"In families destined at length to give birth to an illustriousindividual, Nature seems sometimes to make an essay of her powers withthat material, before producing the consummate specimen. There was aremarkable Mr. Pitt before Lord Chatham; there was an extraordinaryMr. Fox before the day of the ablest debater in Europe; there was awitty Sheridan before Richard Brinsley; there was a Mirabeau beforethe Mirabeau of the French Revolution. And, to cite a higher instance,Shakespeare's father was, at least, extraordinarily fond of dramaticentertainments, if we may infer any thing certain from the briefrecords of his mayoralty of Stratford, for he appears to have giventhe players the kind of welcome that Hamlet admonished Polonius tobestow upon them. Thomas Franklin, the eldest uncle of our Benjamin,learned the blacksmith's trade in his father's shop, but, aided bySquire Palmer and his own natural aptitude for affairs, became, as hisnephew tells us, 'a conveyancer, something of a lawyer, clerk of thecounty court, and clerk to the archdeacon; a very leading man in allcounty affairs, and much employed in public business.'"

The quotation Mr. Parton makes, in his closing lines, is from a letterof Benjamin Franklin, addressed to Mrs. Deborah Franklin, datedLondon, 6 September, 1758. We quote still further from it, as it isinteresting matter relating to the prominence and intelligence of theFranklin ancestors:

"From Wellingborough we went to Ecton, about three or four miles,being the village where my father was born, and where his father,grandfather, and great-grandfather had lived, and how many of thefamily before them we know not. We went first to see the old house andgrounds; they came to Mr. Fisher with his wife, and, after lettingthem for some years, finding his rent something ill-paid, he soldthem. The land is now added to another farm, and a school is kept inthe house. It is a decayed old stone building, but still known by thename of Franklin House. Thence we went to visit the rector of theparish, who lives close by the church—a very ancient building. Heentertained us very kindly, and showed us the old church register, inwhich were the births, marriages, and burials of our ancestors for twohundred years, as early as his book began. His wife, a good-natured,chatty old lady (granddaughter of the famous Archdeacon Palmer, whoformerly had that parish and lived there), remembered a great dealabout the family; carried us out into the church-yard and showed usseveral of their grave-stones, which were so covered with moss that wecould not read the letters till she ordered a hard brush and a basinof water, with which Peter scoured them clean, and then Billy copiedthem. She entertained and diverted us highly with stories of ThomasFranklin, Mrs. Fisher's father, who was a conveyancer, something of alawyer, clerk of the county courts, and clerk to the archdeacon in hisvisitations; a very leading man in all county affairs, and muchemployed in public business. He set on foot a subscription forerecting chimes in their steeple and completed it, and we heard themplay. He found out an easy method of saving their village meadows frombeing drowned, as they used to be sometimes by the river, which methodis still in being; but, when first proposed, nobody could conceive howit could be, 'but, however,' they said, 'if Franklin says he knows howto do it, it will be done.' His advice and opinion were sought for onall occasions, by all sorts of people, and he was looked upon, shesaid, by some, as something of a conjurer. He died just four yearsbefore I was born, on the same day of the same month."

Such kind of men are not given to foolish conversation. They are toosensible to indulge in mere twaddle about the weather. Their talentsraise them to a higher plane of thought and remark. Josiah Franklinonly observed the custom of his ancestors, no doubt unwittingly, whenhe sought to improve the minds and hearts of his children byinstructive conversation at the table and fireside. Benjamin had aright to claim for it a decided educational influence in the family.

Pythagoras set so great value upon useful conversation that hecommanded his disciples to maintain silence during the first two yearsof their instruction. He would have their minds thoroughly furnished,that their conversation might be worthy of the pupils of soillustrious a teacher. He was wont to say: "Be silent, or saysomething better than silence." No men ever put this wise counsel intopractice more thoroughly than Josiah Franklin and his son Benjamin.

Cicero said of the mother of the Gracchi: "We have read the letters ofCornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, from which it appears that thesons were educated not so much in the lap of the mother as by herconversation." Josiah Franklin had as poor an opinion of the lapas an educator of his sons, in comparison with conversation, asCornelia had.

The poet Cowper wrote:

"Though conversation in its better part
May be esteemed a gift, and not an art;
Yet much depends, as in the tiller's toil,
On culture and the sowing of the soil."

Josiah Franklin was enough of a poet to understand this and reduce itto practice. As his son said, he delighted to have some intelligentman or woman for a guest at his table, for the improvement of hischildren. But when there was no guest at the table, he led the wayalone by calling the attention of his sons and daughters to somesubject of interest and profit. He thought it would divert theirattention from the quality of their food, so that they would not be soapt to complain of it, and, at the same time, impart information andset them thinking. He did not allow one of his children to complain ofthe food on the table, and he would have prevented it by severemeasures, if necessary. Before he found the method cited a wise one,and therefore persevered in it. He often made this remark:

"You must give heed to little things, although nothing can beconsidered small that is important. It is of far more consequence howyou behave than what you eat and wear."

Another remark he would make when the meal was unusually plain wasthis:

"Many people are too particular about their victuals. They destroytheir health by eating too much and too rich food. Plain, simple,wholesome fare is all that Nature requires, and young persons who arebrought up in this way will be best off in the end."

Here is found the origin of Benjamin's rigid temperance principles ineating and drinking, for which he was distinguished through life. Inhis manhood he wrote and talked upon the subject, and reduced hisprinciples to practice. There scarcely ever lived a man who was soindifferent as to what he ate and drank as he was. When he worked in aprinting-office in England, his fellow-printers were hard drinkers ofstrong beer, really believing that it was necessary to give themstrength to endure. They were astonished to see a youth like Benjaminable to excel the smartest of them in the printing office, while hedrank only cold water, and they sneeringly called him "The WaterAmerican."

The temperate habits which Benjamin formed in his youth were the moreremarkable because there were no temperance societies at that time,and it was generally supposed to be necessary to use intoxicatingdrinks. The evils of intemperance were not viewed with so muchabhorrence as they are now, and the project of removing them fromsociety was not entertained for a moment. Reformatory movements ofthis kind did not begin until nearly a century after the time referredto. Yet Benjamin was fully persuaded in his youth that he ought to betemperate in all things. It was a theme of conversation at hisfather's table and fireside. That conversation instructed him then, astemperance lectures, books, and societies instruct the young now; andit accomplished its purpose. In the sequel we shall learn still moreof the moulding power of home lessons, in conversation, to make himthe man he became.

It is related of the Washburne family, so well known in the publicaffairs of our country, four or five brothers having occupied posts ofpolitical distinction, that, in their early life, their father's housewas open to ministers, and was sometimes called "the ministers'hotel." Mr. Washburne was a great friend of this class, and enjoyedtheir society much. Nearly all the time some one of the ministerialfraternity would be stopping there. His sons were thus brought intotheir society, and they listened to long discussions upon subjects ofa scientific, political, and religious character, though publicmeasures received a large share of attention. The boys acquiredvaluable information by listening to their remarks, and this created adesire to read and learn more; and so they were started off in acareer that "led them on to fame." Their early advantages were few,but the conversation of educated gentlemen, upon important subjects,laid the foundation of their eminence in public life.

Benjamin was young, and his heart easily impressed, when he listenedto profitable conversation in the home of his boyhood. The way thetwig is bent the tree is inclined. His father gave the twig the rightbent, and the tree was comely and fruitful. It was a very easy andcheap mode of instruction, always at hand, needing neither text-booknor blackboard, yet pleasant and uplifting.

X.

LEADER OF SPORTS AND THOUGHT.

It is unusual that the same boy should be a leader in nearly allinnocent sports, and, at the same time, the most thoughtful andstudious boy of all. Generally, the fun-loving youth is an indifferentscholar,—having little taste for reading and study. But it wasotherwise with Benjamin. He was as much of an expert in sport as hewas in reading,—the best jumper, runner, swimmer, and rower of hisage in Boston. And he enjoyed it, too. Perhaps he enjoyed being thebest more than any part of the sport. Certainly, when he was inschool, he enjoyed being the best scholar more than any part of apupil's experience; and he so managed to continue the best to the end,though the end came much too soon for him.

Swimming was his favorite sport. It was claimed for him that, any timebetween twelve and sixteen years of age, he could have swam across theHellespont. Here, as well as elsewhere, his inventive genius wasdevising ways to promote more rapid swimming.

"I believe that I can double my speed in swimming by an invention Ihave in mind," he said to John Collins, one day.

"What sort of an invention? You are always up to something of thatsort. I think that arms and legs are all the invention that will everpromote swimming, slow or fast."

"Well, you see, John, if I do not invent something to greatly increasespeed in swimming," continued Benjamin. "I have been studying on itfor some time, and I think I have it."

"You do not need anything to increase your speed, Ben; you can beateverybody now, and you ought to be satisfied with that."

"I am not satisfied. I want to do better yet. I never did so well inanything yet that I did not want to do better."

Right here was really the secret of Benjamin's success,—trying to dobetter to-morrow than to-day, not satisfied with present attainments,pressing forward to something more desirable, going up higher. Suchboys and girls succeed. Difficulties do not alarm or discouragethem—they serve to draw them out and make them more invincible. Butyouth who are satisfied to be just what they are to-day, no larger,broader, or better, live and die mere ciphers. They are destitute ofambition and the spirit of enterprise. They have no just conception oftheir mission in this world. They do not understand themselves,—whatthey are for and what they can be if they choose. What is worse, theyhave no desire to know these things; the effort to know them is toomuch for their easy, indifferent natures.

"I guess that is so," replied John, to Benjamin's last remark. "Inever saw a boy just like you; and I think you are right. I want toknow more than I do about many things, and I mean to. But what sort ofa swimming apparatus have you in mind?"

"Well, a sort of palette for the hands and sandals for the feet,fastened tightly so as to be used readily. I have an idea that I canthrow myself forward with far greater speed."

"I will wait to see it before I pass judgment on it," answered John."It is risking more than I want to risk to say you can't do it; forthere is no telling what you can do."

"You will see it in a few days; it will not take long to make it. Iwill notify you when it is ready, and we will try it. In the mean timekeep it a secret, and we will astonish the boys."

Within a few days John Collins was notified that the swimmingapparatus was ready, and would be tried at a certain time appointed.Other boys were invited to meet at the pond at the same time.

Benjamin appeared on the scene with two oval palettes of wood,resembling those used by painters, ten inches long and six broad. Ahole was cut in each for the thumb, so that they could be bound to thepalms of the hands. A kind of sandal, shaped somewhat like thepalettes, was fastened tightly to each foot. When rigged for a swim,Benjamin presented a very singular appearance, and the boys looked onastonished.

"That is you, all over, Ben," exclaimed Fred; "no one in creationexcept you would ever have thought of such an apparatus. But Iwouldn't wish myself in the water with such a rig. You are a sort ofskipper on legs, now."

"I do not expect to skip much on the water, but I expect to swim muchfaster with this device than would be possible without it," repliedBenjamin.

"It is different from what I thought it was from your description,"said John Collins, who had been looking on with particular interest."It looks as if you might do something with it. Go ahead, Ben, sink orswim, spread your sails and prove that your ingenuity is genuine."

Benjamin plunged into the water, and a more interested and excitedcompany did not watch Robert Fulton when he started up Hudson riverwith his new steamer, eighty years later, than watched him with hisnew mode of swimming. He struck right out into deep water easily, andmoved forward much more rapidly than he ever did before, the cheersand shouts of the boys making the welkin ring. Taking a circuit aroundthe pond for a fair trial, the boys had a good opportunity to watchevery movement and to judge of the practicability of such aninvention.

"That is wonderful," exclaimed one, as he came around to the shorewhere they stood.

"You are a genius, Ben," shouted another.

"Capital," added John Collins. "King George ought to make a duke ofyou. But does it work easy?"

"Not so easily as I expected," answered Benjamin. "The apparatus ishard on the wrists, and makes them ache. The sandals on the feet donot help much. I think I could swim just as well without them."

"Then you do not consider it a complete success?" said John,inquiringly.

"Not entirely so. I can swim very much faster with it, but it isharder work, and the wrists will not hold out long. I do not think Ishall apply to King George for a patent."

The swimming invention was pretty thoroughly discussed by the boys,one and another suggesting improvements, Benjamin evidently satisfiedthat swimming at less speed in the usual way was preferable to theseartificial paddles and increased rapidity. But their interest wasawakened anew when Benjamin informed them that he had anotherinvention that he proposed to try at a future day.

"What is it?" inquired two or three at the same time.

"You shall see; it is more simple than this apparatus," replied
Benjamin. "It will not be so tiresome to use."

"When will you let us see it on trial?" asked John Collins, who,perhaps, appreciated Benjamin's spirit and talents more than any ofthe boys.

"Any time you will all agree to be here. You will not know what it isuntil you see it."

The time was appointed for the trial of the unknown device, and theboys separated with their curiosity on tiptoe as to the nature of theother improved method of swimming. They had no idea that it was ahumbug, for "Ben" never practised sham. He was so much of a geniusthat, no doubt, he had something that would surprise them.

John Collins was more like Benjamin than other boys in Boston, and hewas his most intimate companion. John was talented, and a greatreader. He had a craving thirst for knowledge, and used his leisuremoments to improve his mind. He frequently discussed profitablesubjects with Benjamin, who enjoyed his company very much for thisreason. In their tastes, love of books, and high aims, they weresuited to each other. Benjamin thought as highly of John as John didof Benjamin.

When the time for trying the other device arrived, Benjamin appearedon the scene with a new kite.

"A kite!" exclaimed John Collins, in surprise. "I see it now. Thatis simple." He saw at once that Benjamin was going to make a sail ofhis kite, and cross the pond.

"'T will hinder more than it will help, I think," remarked one of theboys.

"We shall know whether it will or not, very soon," responded another.
"Ben isn't hindered very often."

While this parleying was going on, Benjamin was disrobing and gettingready for the trial.

"Fred, you carry my clothes around to the other side of the pond, andI will swim across," said Benjamin, as he sent his kite up into theair.

"All right," answered Fred; "I will do it to the best of my ability;and I will be there to see you land." So saying he caught up theclothes and started off upon the run.

The kite was high up in the air, when, holding the string with bothhands, Benjamin dropped into the water upon his back, and at oncebegan to skim the surface. Without an effort on his part, not so muchas the moving of a muscle, the sailing kite pulled him along fasterthan his arms and feet could have done in the old way of swimming.

"That is better than the paddles and sandals," shouted John Collins,who was intensely interested in the simplicity of the method. "Ben isonly a ship, now, and the kite is his sail. Nobody but him would everthought of such a thing."

"Not much skill in that way of swimming," suggested another youth;"nor much fatigue, either. Nothing to do but to keep on breathing andswim."

"And hold on to the kite," added another. "He must not let go of hissail; he and his kite must be close friends."

The boys kept up their watch and conversation while Benjamin crossedthe pond, which he accomplished in a few minutes. Dressing himself,while Fred drew in his kite, he hastened to join his companions andreceive their congratulations. The boys were extravagant in theirexpressions of delight, and some of them predicted that so "cute" amode of swimming would become universal, while others thought that thelack of skill in the method would lead many to discard it. Benjaminsaid:

"The motion is very pleasant indeed, and I could swim all day withoutbecoming fatigued. But there is no skill in it, as you say."

Benjamin expressed no opinion as to the adoption of the method byothers, and the boys separated to tell the story of Benjamin'sexploits on the water over town. Many years afterwards, when Benjaminwas a public man, famous in his own country and Europe, he wrote to aFrenchman by the name of Dubourg, of both of these experiments asfollows:

"When I was a boy, I made two oval palettes, each about ten incheslong and six broad, with a hole for the thumb, in order to retain itfast in the palm of my hand. They much resembled a painter's palettes.In swimming, I pushed the edges of these forward, and I struck thewater with their flat surfaces as I drew them back. I remember I swamfaster by means of these palettes, but they fatigued my wrists. I alsofitted to the soles of my feet a kind of sandals; but I was notsatisfied with them, because I observed that the stroke is partlygiven by the inside of the feet and the ankles, and not entirely withthe soles of the feet.

* * * * *

"You will not be displeased if I conclude these hasty remarks byinforming you that, as the ordinary method of swimming is reduced tothe act of rowing with the arms and legs, and is consequently alaborious and fatiguing operation when the space of water to becrossed is considerable, there is a method in which a swimmer may passto great distances with, much facility, by means of a sail. Thisdiscovery I fortunately made by accident, and in the following manner.

"When I was a boy I amused myself one day with flying a paper kite;and, approaching the bank of a pond, which was nearly a mile broad, Itied the string to a stake, and the kite ascended to a veryconsiderable height above the pond, while I was swimming. In a littletime, being desirous of amusing myself with my kite, and enjoying atthe same time the pleasure of swimming, I returned; and, loosing fromthe stake the string with the little stick which was fastened to it,went again into the water, where I found that, lying on my back andholding the stick in my hands, I was drawn along the surface of thewater in a very agreeable manner. Having then engaged another boy tocarry my clothes around the pond, to a place which I pointed out tohim on the other side, I began to cross the pond with my kite, whichcarried me quite over without the least fatigue, and with the greatestpleasure imaginable. I was only obliged occasionally to halt a littlein my course, and resist its progress, when it appeared that, byfollowing too quick, I lowered the kite too much; by doing whichoccasionally, I made it rise again. I have never since that timepractised this singular mode of swimming, though I think it notimpossible to cross in this manner from Dover to Calais. Thepacket-boat, however, is still preferable."

Doctor Franklin wrote another long letter to a man in mature life,advising him to learn to swim. The man was not inclined to do it onaccount of his age, whereupon Doctor Franklin wrote:

"I can not be of opinion with you, that it is too late in life for youto learn to swim. The river near the bottom of your garden affords amost convenient place for the purpose. And, as your new employmentrequires your being often on the water, of which you have such adread, I think you would do well to make the trial; nothing being solikely to remove those apprehensions as the consciousness of anability to swim to the shore in case of an accident, or of supportingyourself in the water till a boat could come to take you up."

It is probable that Benjamin's experiment with his kite in swimmingwas the seed-thought of his experiment in drawing lightning from theclouds with a kite, thirty years thereafter,—an experiment thatstartled and electrified the scientific world. The story is a familiarone, and should be repeated here.

He believed that lightning and electricity were identical. Experimentsfor six years had led him to this conclusion. But how could he proveit? He conceived the idea of an electrical kite by which he couldsettle the truth or falsity of his theory. Having prepared the kite,he waited for a thunder-shower; nor did he wait long. Observing onerising, he took the kite, and with his son, twenty-one years of age,stole away into a field near by, where there was an old cow-shed. Hehad not informed any one but his son of his purpose, because he wishedto avoid ridicule in case the experiment proved a failure.

The kite was sent up in season for the coming storm to catch, and,with intense anxiety, Franklin held the string, which was hempen,except the part in the hand, which was silk. He was so confident ofsuccess that he brought along with him a Leyden bottle, in which tocollect electric fluid from the clouds for a shock. It was a moment ofgreat suspense. His heart beat like a trip-hammer. At first a cloudseemed to pass directly over the kite, and the thunder rattled, andthe lightnings played around it, and yet there was no indication ofelectricity. His heart almost failed him. But in silence he continuedthe experiment as the storm increased and drew nearer, and theartillery of heaven grew louder and more vivid. Another moment, and hebeheld the fibers of the hempen cord rise as the hair of a person doeson the insulated stool. What a moment it was! The electric fluid wasthere! His experiment was successful! Electricity and lightning areidentical! Pen nor poesy can describe his emotion. Eagerly he appliedhis knuckles to the key, attached to the extremity of the hempen cord,and drew a spark therefrom. His joy was immeasurable! Another spark,and then another, and still another, until further confirmation wasunnecessary! The Leyden bottle was charged with the precious fluid,from which both father and son received a shock as unmistakable asthat from his electric battery at home. Franklin's fame was securedthroughout the world. He went home with feelings of indescribablesatisfaction.

Doctor Franklin was a very modest man, and he wrote a letter to PeterCollinson, member of the Royal Society of London, dated Philadelphia,Oct. 16, 1752, describing the experiment without even hinting that hewas the experimenter. As that letter described his electrical kite,and his method of using it, we insert it here:

"As frequent mention is made in public papers from Europe of thesuccess of the Philadelphia experiment for drawing the electric firefrom clouds by means of pointed rods of iron erected on highbuildings, etc., it may be agreeable to the curious to be informedthat the same experiment has succeeded in Philadelphia, though made ina different and more easy manner, which is as follows:

"Make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms so long asto reach the four corners of a large thin silk handkerchief whenextended; tie the corners of the handkerchief to the extremities ofthe cross, so you have the body of a kite; which being properlyaccommodated with a tail, loop, and string, will rise in the air likethose made of paper; but this, being of silk, is fitter to bear thewet and wind of a thunder-gust without tearing. To the top of theupright stick of the cross is to be fixed a very sharp-pointed wire,rising a foot or more above the wood. To the end of the twine next thehand is to be tied a silk ribbon, and where the silk and twine join akey may be fastened.

"This kite is to be raised when a thunder-gust appears to be comingon, and the person who holds the string must stand within a door orwindow, or under some cover, so that the silk ribbon may not be wet;and care must be taken that the twine does not touch the frame of thedoor or window. As soon as any of the thunder-clouds come over thekite, the pointed wire will draw the electric fire from them, and thekite, with all the twine, will be electrified, and the loose filamentsof the twine will stand out every way, and be attracted by anapproaching finger. And when the rain has wetted the kite and twine,so that it can conduct the electric fire freely, you will find itstream out plentifully from the key on the approach of your knuckle.At this key the vial may be charged; and from the electric fire thusobtained spirits may be kindled, and all other electric experiments beperformed which are usually done by the help of a rubbed glass globeor tube, and thereby the sameness of the electric matter with that oflightning completely demonstrated."

We have spoken of the discussions between Benjamin and John Collinsupon important subjects. When other boys were accustomed to spendtheir time in foolish talking and jesting, they were warmly discussingsome question in advance of their years, and well suited to improvetheir minds. One of the subjects was a singular one for thatday—female education. Legislators, statesmen, ministers, and teachersdid not believe that girls should be educated as thoroughly as boys.Fewer advantages should be accorded to them. John Collins accepted thegeneral view; but Benjamin struck out boldly in favor of liberalfemale education, being about a hundred years in advance of his times.

"It would be a waste of money to attempt to educate girls asthoroughly as boys are educated," said John; "for the female sex areinferior to the male in intellectual endowment."

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Benjamin; "you know better than that. The girls arenot as simple as you think they are. I believe that females are not awhit inferior to males in their mental qualities."

"I would like to know where you discover evidence of it?" replied
John. "There is no proof of it in the works they have written."

"That may be true, and still they stand upon an equality in respect tointellect. For not half as much is done to educate them as there is toeducate the male sex. How can you tell whether they are mentallyinferior or not, until they are permitted to enjoy equal advantages?"

"As we tell other things," answered John. "Females do not need so highmental endowments as males, since they are not required to lead off inthe different branches of business, or to prosecute the sciences. Ican see no wisdom in bestowing talents upon them which they never use,and it is often said that 'nothing is made in vain.'"

"Well, I must go," said Benjamin; "but I think you have a weak causeto defend. If I had the time I could make out a case."

"A poor one, I guess," quickly added John. "We will see, the next timewe meet, who can make out a case."

"It will be some time before we meet again," replied Benjamin, "andour ardor will be cooled before that time, I am thinking. But it willdo us no harm to discuss the subject."

"If we keep our temper," said John, tacking his sentence to the lastword of Benjamin's reply. And so saying, they parted.

After Benjamin had revolved the subject still more in his mind, hebecame anxious to commit his argument to writing. Accordingly, withpen and paper in hand, he sat down to frame the best argument he couldin favor of educating the female sex. He wrote it in the form of aletter, addressed to his friend Collins, and, after having completed,he copied it in a fair hand, and sent it to him. This brought back along reply, which made it necessary for Benjamin to pen an answer. Inthis way the correspondence continued, until several letters hadpassed between them, and each one had gained the victory in his ownestimation.

Benjamin was anxious that his father should read this correspondence,as he would be a good judge of its quality; and, after a little, hetook it to him, saying: "John and I have had some correspondence, andI want you should read our letters."

There is little question that Benjamin was so well satisfied with hisown argument that he expected his father would give him much credit.Perhaps his father believed, with most men of that day, that theeducation of females was an unnecessary expense, and Benjamin expectedto convert him to his belief. Whether it was so or not, his fatherreplied:

"I should like to read it; what is it about?"

"You will find out when you read the letters."

Mr. Franklin improved the first opportunity to read thecorrespondence, and report to Benjamin.

"I have been very much pleased and profited by this correspondence. Itis able for two boys like you and John; but I think John has theadvantage of you."

"John the advantage!" exclaimed Benjamin, with considerable surpriseand anxiety. "How so?"

"In some respects, not in all, I mean," added his father.

"Tell me of one thing in which he has advantage," and Benjaminmanifested disappointment when he made the request.

"Well, John's style of composition seems to me more finished, and heexpresses himself with more clearness."

"I rather think you are prejudiced, father" Benjamin said this for thewant of something better to say.

"I rather think not," answered his father. "You have the advantageof John in correct spelling, and in punctuation, which is theconsequence of working in the printing office. But I can convince youthat less method and clearness characterize your letters than his."

"I am ready to be convinced," answered Benjamin. "I hardly think Ihave attained perfection in writing yet."

His father proceeded to read from the letters of each, with the designof showing that John's composition was more perspicuous, and thatthere was more method in his argument. Nor was it a very difficulttask.

"I am convinced," acknowledged Benjamin, before his father had readall he intended to read. "I can make improvement in those thingswithout much trouble. There is certainly a good chance for it."

"That is what I want you should see. I am very much pleased with yourletters, for they show that you have talents to improve, and that youare an original, independent thinker. My only reason in calling yourattention to these defects is to assist you in mental improvement."

Benjamin was just the boy to be benefited by such friendly criticism.It would discourage some boys, and they would despair of any futureexcellence. The rank and file of boys would not be aroused by it toovercome the difficulty and go up higher. But Benjamin was aroused,and he resolved that his composition should yet be characterized byelegance and perspicuity. He set about that improvement at once. Weshall see, in another chapter, how he purchased an old copy of theSpectator for a model, and set about improving his style.

It is quite evident that Mr. Franklin thought well of Benjamin'sargument on female education, for he did not criticise it. Perhaps itwas here that he found proof that his son was "an original andindependent thinker." It is somewhat remarkable that a boy at thattime should hold and advocate views of female education that have notbeen advanced generally until within forty years. Looking about now,we see that females stand side by side with males, in schools andcolleges, in ability and scholarship; that they constitute a largeproportion of teachers in our land now, when, before the AmericanRevolution, it was not thought proper to employ them at all; that manyof them are now classed with the most distinguished authors, editors,and lecturers; and that not a few occupy places of distinction in thelearned professions, while many others are trusty clerks,book-keepers, saleswomen, and telegraph-operators. Young Franklin'sviews, the Boston printer-boy, a hundred and seventy years ago, areillustrated and confirmed to-day by the prominence and value ofeducated females.

That a printer-boy of fifteen years could accomplish so much when hewas obliged to work from twelve to fifteen hours each day at histrade, seems almost incredible. But he allowed no moments to run towaste. He always kept a book by him in the office, and every sparemoment was employed over its pages. In the morning, before he went towork, he found some time for reading and study. He was an early riser,not, perhaps, because he had no inclination to lie in bed, but he hadmore time to improve his mind. He gained time enough in the morning,by this early rising, to acquire more knowledge than some youth andyoung men do by going constantly to school. In the evening he foundstill more time for mental improvement, extending his studies oftenfar into the night. It was his opinion that people generally consumemore time than is necessary in sleep, and one of his maxims, penned inripe manhood, was founded on that opinion: "The sleeping fox catchesno poultry."

It is not surprising that a boy who subjected himself to suchdiscipline for a series of years should write some of the best maximsupon this subject when he became a man. The following are some ofthem:

"There are no gains without pains; then help, hands, for I have nolands."

"Industry pays debts, while despair increaseth them."

"Never leave that till to-morrow which you can do to-day."

"Leisure is time for doing something useful."

"A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things."

"Be ashamed to catch yourself idle."

"Handle your tools without mittens; remember, a cat in gloves catchesno mice."

"There is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stickto it steadily, and you will see great effects, for constant droppingwears away stones, and by diligence and patience the mouse ate intothe cable."

We have spoken of what the printer-boy accomplished as remarkable. Andyet it is not remarkable when we consider the work some men have donein leisure hours alone. Just here is one of the most important lessonsto be learned from the example and life of Benjamin Franklin. Asimilar example is before us here in New England; that of Charles G.Frost, of Brattleboro', Vermont, who was a shoemaker by trade. He dieda few years since. He wrote of his own life:

"When I went to my trade, at fourteen years of age, I formed aresolution, which I have kept till now—extraordinary preventives onlyexcepted—that I would faithfully devote one hour each day tostudy, in some useful branch of knowledge."

Here was the secret of his success—one hour a day. Almost any boy canhave that. He was forty-five when he wrote the above, a married man,with three children, still devoting one hour a day, at least, tostudy, and still at work at his trade. He had made such attainments inmathematical science, at forty-five, it was claimed for him that notmore than ten mathematicians could be found in the United States inadvance of him. He wrote further of himself:

"The first book which fell into my hands was Hutton's Mathematics, anEnglish work of great celebrity, a complete mathematical course, whichI then commenced, namely, at fourteen. I finished it at nineteenwithout an instructor. I then took up those studies to which I couldapply my knowledge of mathematics, as mechanics and mathematicalastronomy. I think I can say that I possess, and have successfullystudied, all the most approved English and American works on thesesubjects."

After this he commenced natural philosophy and physical astronomy;then chemistry, geology, and mineralogy, collecting and arranging acabinet. Mr. Frost continues:

"Next, natural philosophy engaged my attention, which I followed upwith close observation, gleaning my information from a great manysources. The works that treat of them at large are rare and expensive.But I have a considerable knowledge of geology, ornithology,entomology, and conchology."

Not only this; he added to his store of knowledge the science ofbotany, and made himself master of it. He made extensive surveys inhis own state, of the trees, shrubs, herbs, ferns, mosses, lichens,and fungi. He had the third best collection of ferns in the UnitedStates. He, also, directed his attention to meteorology, and devotedmuch of his time to acquire a knowledge of the law of storms, and themovements of the erratic and extraordinary bodies in the air andheavens. He took up the study of Latin, and pursued it until he couldread it fluently. He read all the standard poets, and had copies oftheir works in his library. Also, he became proficient in history,while his miscellaneous reading was very extensive. Of his books hewrote:

"I have a library which I divide into three departments—scientific,religious, literary—comprising the standard works published in thiscountry, containing five or six hundred volumes. I have purchasedthese books from time to time with money saved for the purpose by somesmall self-denials."

Benjamin Franklin's record, on the whole, may surpass this. Both ofthem show, however, what the persistent and systematic improvement ofspare moments will accomplish. If a girl or boy can command one hour aday for reading, twenty pages could be read thoughtfully in that time,or one hundred and forty pages in a week. In a single year more thanseven thousand pages, which is equal to eighteen large duodecimovolumes! In twenty years, one hundred and fifty thousand pages, orthree hundred and sixty-five volumes of the size named above! Dividethis amount of reading among history, philosophy, chemistry,biography, and general literature, and the reader will be well versedin these several departments of knowledge.

The old adage is, "Time is money," but the leisure time of Franklinwas worth vastly more than money, as it is to every youth; for it wasculture, usefulness, and character.

XI.

STARTING A NEWSPAPER.

Benjamin had been in the printing office about three years when hisbrother decided to publish a newspaper. It was a doubtful enterprisefrom the outset, and friends tried to dissuade him from it. But heviewed the matter from his own standpoint, as the Franklins were wontto do, and the paper was started. It was called "THE NEW ENGLANDCOURANT," and the first number was issued Aug. 21, 1721. Only threepapers in the whole country were published before this. The first onewas The Boston News-letter, established April 24, 1704, two yearsbefore the birth of Benjamin. It was only a half-sheet of paper, aboutthe size of an eight by twelve inch pane of glass, "in two pagesfolio, with two columns on each page." It could not have containedmore printed matter than is now compressed into one-third or one-halfpage of one of our Boston dailies. The other papers were The BostonGazette, established Dec. 21, 1719; and The American WeeklyMercury, of Philadelphia, Dec. 22, 1719.

There was not a little commotion when James Franklin launched The NewEngland Courant. It was regarded generally as a wild project. It wasnot thought that three newspapers could live in America. The field wasnot large enough. This fact, considered in contrast with the supply ofpapers and journals now, daily, weekly, and monthly, shows thewonderful growth of the country. At that time, there was not a dailypaper in the land; now, there are over one thousand,—eight of them inthe city of Boston, having a daily circulation of from three to fourhundred thousand. The papers and magazines of the United States, ofall descriptions, reach the surprising aggregate of nearly twentythousand, and their circulation is almost fabulous. One hundredthousand, and even two hundred thousand, daily, is claimed for somejournals. Some weekly issues reach three hundred thousand, and evenfour and five hundred thousand. Bind the daily issues of Boston intovolumes, containing one hundred sheets each, and we have an enormouslibrary of daily newspapers, numbering about ONE MILLION VOLUMES, theannual production of the Boston daily press now! And this is theaggregate of only the eight dailies, while Boston has nearly twohundred papers and periodicals of all sorts, and the State ofMassachusetts nearly four hundred!

If the eight Boston dailies measure one yard each in width, whenopened, on the average, and they are laid end to end, we have morethan three hundred thousand yards of newspapers laid each day, whichis equal to one hundred and seventy miles daily, over one thousandmiles in a week, and FIFTY-ONE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXin a year! More than enough papers to reach twice around the earth!

Or, suppose we weigh these papers: If ten of them weigh a singlepound, then each day's issue weighs thirty thousand pounds, eachweek's issue one hundred and eighty thousand, the aggregate of theyear amounting to NINE MILLION POUNDS! Load this yearly productionupon wagons, one ton on each, and we have a procession of FOURTHOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED wagons, that reaches, allowing one rod to ateam, over FOURTEEN MILES!

And the New England Courant third in the procession! Benjamin wasmuch given to prophesying, but no prophecy from his lips ever coveredsuch a growth as this. He was in favor of starting the paper, but hecould not have had the faintest conception of what was going tofollow.

"I want to set up the paper," he said to James; "I think I can makethe best looking paper."

"I think you can; and it is going to require much attention andplanning to make it a success. I may fail in the attempt, but I'llhave the satisfaction of trying."

"I will do all I can to make it succeed, if I have to sit up nights,"Benjamin continued. "It will give your office notoriety to publish apaper. But how will you dispose of it?"

"Sell it on the street; and you will be a good hand to do that. Nodoubt there will be some regular subscribers, and you can delivercopies to them from week to week."

"And be collector, too, I suppose," added Benjamin, who had noobjection to any part of the work named.

"As you please about that. Doubtless it will be convenient to have youattend to that, at times at least."

"You won't make me editor yet, I conclude," remarked Benjamin,facetiously, thinking that about all the work on the paper, except theeditorship, had been assigned to him.

"Not yet, I think," responded James; "printer, news-dealer,news-carrier, and collector will be as much honor as any one of theFranklins can withstand at once"; and he had as little idea of thepart Benjamin would play in the enterprise as the boy himself.

There is no doubt that Benjamin had an idea that the paper might havein its columns some of his fugitive pieces, sooner or later. He hadbeen cultivating his talents in this direction, and never was enjoyingit more than he was at the time the New England Courant wasestablished.

"How many copies shall you publish in the first issue?" inquired
Benjamin.

"I am not quite decided about that; anywhere from two to threehundred. We will see how it goes first."

"How about articles for it? Will you have any trouble about gettingarticles?"

"None at all. I am to have several articles at once for the firstnumber, from parties who can write well; and when the paper is wellunder way there will be a plenty of volunteer contributors. I have nofears about that."

Benjamin might have responded, "Here is one," for there is no doubtthat he was already flattering himself with the idea that he would bea contributor to its columns, known or unknown. Here was the realsecret of his enthusiastic interest in the enterprise.

On the day mentioned the new paper was issued, as had been announced,and great was the anxiety of the publisher. Many citizens awaited itscoming with lively anticipations; and, on the whole, it was amemorable occasion. No one's interest surpassed that of theprinter-boy, Benjamin, who had no hesitation in selling the paper onthe street, and rather liked that part of the business. In his view,it was an honorable and enterprising venture, that challenged therespect and support of every citizen.

The reception of the Courant was all that James anticipated. It soldas well as he expected, and the comments upon its ability andcharacter were as favorable as the times and circumstances wouldwarrant. There were criticisms, of course, and severe ones, too, for,in that day, all sorts of projects were subjected to a crucial test.The Courant was no exception to the rule.

Now that the newspaper is launched, and there is new interest andactivity in consequence in the printing office, we will recur to anepisode in Benjamin's career, that occurred two years before; for itsustains a very close relation to the newspaper enterprise and whatfollowed:

Benjamin had been in the printing office about a year when hesurprised his brother by the inquiry:

"How much will you allow me a week if I will board myself?"

"Do you think I pay more for your board than it is worth?" repliedJames, Yankee-like, by asking another question, instead of answeringthe one propounded.

"No more than you will be obliged to pay in any other family, but morethan I shall ask you. It costs you now more than you need to pay."James was still boarding Benjamin in a family near by.

"Then you think of opening a boarding-house for the specialaccommodation of Benjamin Franklin, I see," which was treating thesubject rather lightly.

"I propose to board myself," answered Benjamin, distinctly andemphatically. "I do not eat meat of any kind, as you know, so that Ican board myself easily, and I will agree to do it if you will give meweekly one-half the money you pay for my board."

"Of course I will agree to it," answered James. "It will be so much inmy pocket, and the bargain is made. When will you begin to keep yourboarder?"

"To-morrow," was Benjamin's quick reply. "A vegetarian can open aboarding-house for himself without much preparation."

"To-morrow it is, then; but it will not take you long to become sickof that arrangement. Keeping boarders is not a taking business, evenif you have no boarder but yourself."

"That is my lookout," continued Benjamin. "I have my own ideas aboutdiet and work, play and study, and some other things; and I am goingto reduce them to practice."

Benjamin had been reading a work on "vegetable diet," by one Tryon,and it was this which induced him to discard meats as an article offood. He was made to believe that better health and a clearer headwould be the result, though from all we can learn he was not lackingin either. Mr. Tryon, in his work, gave directions for cookingvegetables, such dishes as a vegetarian might use, so that the matterof boarding himself was made quite simple.

The great object which Benjamin had in view was to save money forbuying books. It seemed to be the only way open to get money for thatpurpose. At the same time, he would have more hours to read. He hadbeen trying the "vegetable diet" at his boarding place for some time,and he liked it. He was really one of Tryon's converts. Other boardersridiculed his diet, and had considerable sport over his "oddity"; buthe cared nothing for that. They could eat what they pleased, and socould he. He was as independent on the subject of diet as he was onany other. He did not pin his faith in any thing upon the sleeve ofanother; he fastened it to his own sleeve, and let it fly.

The incident illustrates the difference between the two brothers. IfJames had been as unselfish and generous as Benjamin was, he wouldhave paid the latter the full amount of his board weekly. He wouldhave said:

"You have a passion for reading and study. You do this forself-improvement. You want to know more, and make the most of yourselfthat you can. In these circumstances I will not make any money out ofyou. If I give you the whole amount I pay for board I shall losenothing, and you will gain considerable. It will help you, and I shallbe kept whole in my finances. You shall have it all."

But the fact was, James was avaricious, and was bent on making money,though he made it out of his younger brother. On the other hand,Benjamin was large-hearted and generous, or he never would haveoffered, in the outset, to take half James paid for his board. Had hebeen as niggardly as James, he could have made a better bargain thanthat for himself. But it was not a good bargain that he was after; hewas after the books.

James was curious to see how Benjamin would succeed with his newmethod of living. So he watched him closely, without saying any thingin particular about it; perhaps expecting that his brother would soontire of boarding himself. Weeks passed by, and still Benjamin washale, strong, and wide-awake as ever. His actions indicated that hewas well satisfied both with his bargain and his board. Finally,however, James' curiosity grew to such proportions that he inquiredone day,—

"Ben, how much do you make by boarding yourself?"

"I save just half the money you pay me, so that it costs me justone-quarter as much as you paid for my board."

"You understand economy, I must confess," remarked James. "However, Iought to be satisfied if you are." Perhaps his conscience might havetroubled him somewhat, and caused him to think how much better off hisyoung brother would have been, if he had given him the full amount ofthe board, as he should have done. If Benjamin had been a common boy,without high aspirations and noble endeavors, or a spendthrift, oridler, there might have been some excuse for driving a close bargainwith him; but, in the circumstances, the act was unbrotherly andungenerous.

"The money I save is not the best part of it," added Benjamin after alittle. "I save a half-hour and more usually every noon for reading.After I have eaten my meal, I usually read as long as that before youreturn from dinner."

"Not a very sumptuous dinner, I reckon; sawdust pudding, perhaps, withcold water sauce! When I work I want something to work on. Living onnothing would be hard on me." James indicated by this remark that hehad no confidence in that sort of diet.

"I live well enough for me. A biscuit or a slice of bread, with a tartor a few raisins, and a glass of water, make a good dinner for me; andthen my head is all the lighter for study."

"Yes, I should think you might have a light head with such living,"retorted James, "and your body will be as light before many weeks, Iprophesy."

"I will risk it. I am on a study now that requires a clear head, and Iam determined to master it."

"What is that?"

"Cocker's Arithmetic."

"Begin to wish that you knew something of arithmetic by this time!Making up for misspent time, I see. Paying old debts is notinteresting business."

James meant this last remark for a fling at Benjamin's dislike forarithmetic when he attended school. Not devoting himself to it withthe enthusiasm he gave to more congenial studies, he was moredeficient in that branch of knowledge than in any other. He regrettedhis neglect of the study now, and was determined to make up his loss.This was very honorable, and showed a noble aim, which merited praise,instead of a fling, from his brother.

"I think it must be a sort of luxury to pay old debts, if one has anything to pay them with," remarked Benjamin. "If I can make up any lossof former years now, I enjoy doing it, even by the closest economy oftime."

"Well, you estimate time as closely as a miser counts his money, Ben."

"And I have a right to do it. As little time as I have to myselfrequires that I should calculate closely. Time is money to you, orelse you would allow me a little more to myself; and it is more thanmoney to me."

"How so?"

"It enables me to acquire knowledge, which I can not buy with money.Unless I were saving of my time, I should not be able to read or studyat all, having to work so constantly."

Perhaps, at this time, Benjamin laid the foundation for that economywhich distinguished him in later life, and about which he often wrote.Among his wise sayings, in the height of his influence and fame, werethe following:

"If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as of getting."

"What maintains one vice would bring up two children."

"Many a little makes a mickle."

"A small leak will sink a ship."

"At a great penny worth pause awhile."

"Silks and satins, scarlets and velvets, put out the kitchen fire."

"Always taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comesto the bottom."

"It is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel."

"A penny saved is a penny earned."

"A penny saved is two-pence clear."

"A pin a day is a groat a year."

"He that wastes idly a groat's worth of his time per day, one day withanother, wastes the privilege of using one hundred pounds each day."

"In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as the wayto market. It depends chiefly on two words, industry andfrugality; that is, waste neither time nor money, but make thebest use of both. Without industry and frugality nothing will do, andwith them every thing. He that gets all he can honestly, and saves allhe gets (necessary expenses excepted), will certainly becomerich—if that Being who governs the world, to whom all should lookfor a blessing on their honest endeavors, doth not, in his wiseprovidence, otherwise determine."

The reader may desire to know just how Franklin himself speaks of the"vegetable diet" experiment in his "Autobiography"; so we quote ithere:

"I happened to meet with a book, written by one Tryon, recommending avegetable diet. I determined to go into it. My brother, being yetunmarried, did not keep house, but boarded himself and his apprenticesin another family. My refusing to eat flesh occasioned an inconvenience,and I was frequently chid for my singularity. I made myself acquaintedwith Tryon's manner of preparing some of his dishes, such as boilingpotatoes or rice, making hasty-pudding, and a few others, and thenproposed to my brother, that if he would give me weekly half the moneyhe paid for my board, I would board myself. He instantly agreed to it,and I presently found that I could save half what he paid me. This wasan additional fund for buying of books; but I had another advantage init. My brother and the rest going from the printing house to theirmeals, I remained there alone, and, despatching presently my lightrepast (which was often no more than a biscuit, or a slice of bread, ahandful of raisins, or a tart from the pastry cook's, and a glass ofwater), had the rest of the time, till their return, for study; inwhich I made the greater progress from that greater clearness of head,and quicker apprehension, which generally attend temperance in eatingand drinking. Now it was, that, being on some occasion made ashamed ofmy ignorance in figures, which I had twice failed learning when atschool, I took Cocker's book on arithmetic, and went through the wholeby myself with the greatest ease."

XII.

THE RUSE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

Mr. Parton says of the Courant, "It was a most extraordinary sheet.Of all the colonial newspapers, it was the most spirited, witty, anddaring. The Bostonians, accustomed to the monotonous dullness of theNews-letter, received, some with delight, more with horror, all withamazement, this weekly budget of impudence and fun. A knot of liberalsgathered around James Franklin, physicians most of them, able,audacious men, who kept him well supplied with squibs, essays, andevery variety of sense and nonsense known in that age. The Courantwas, indeed, to borrow the slang of the present day, a 'sensationalpaper.' Such a tempest did it stir up in Boston that the noise thereofwas heard in the remote colony of Pennsylvania."

The "knot of liberals" who wrote articles for it, met often at theoffice to discuss their contributions, and the state of publicsentiment more or less affected by this venture. The News-lettercame in for a large share of the opposition, and they declared waragainst many of the existing customs,—governmental, political, andsocial. The scope and circulation of the paper was a frequent topic ofremark.

Benjamin's ears were always open to their conversation. He heard themerits of different articles set forth, and learned that certain oneswere quite popular and elicited favorable remarks from readersgenerally. This excited his ambition, and he strongly desired to tryhis own ability in writing for the paper. He feared, however, that hiscomposition would not be regarded favorably, if it were known who wasthe author; so he resorted to the following expedient:

"I will write an anonymous article," he said within himself, "in thebest style I can, and get it into James' hand in some way that willnot arouse his suspicions. I will disguise my handwriting, and give itsome fictitious name, so that he will not dream that it was written inthe office."

Accordingly the article was prepared, describing his ideal ofcharacter, and that was the character he himself formed, and wasforming then; and he signed it SILENCE DOGOOD. This article he slippedunder the printing office door at night, where James found it in themorning, and read it with evident satisfaction, as Benjamin thought,who narrowly watched him. In a little while some of the "knot ofliberals" came in, and the article was read to them.

"It is a good article, and it was slipped under the door last night,"said James. "It is signed 'Silence Dogood.'"

"You have no idea who wrote it, then?" inquired one.

"Not the least whatever."

"It is capital, whoever the author may be," remarked one of thecritics.

"Somebody wrote it who knows how to wield his pen," said another.

"Ordinarily I shall not publish articles without knowing who theauthor is," remarked James; "but this is so good that I shall notstop to inquire. I shall put it into the next issue."

"By all means, of course," replied one. "No doubt we shall soon learnwho the author is; it is a difficult matter to keep such things secretfor a long time."

"The author is evidently a person of ability," added another; "everysentence in the article is charged with thought. I should judge thathe needed only practice to make him a writer of the first class."

"Publishing the article will be as likely as any thing to bring outthe author," suggested James.

"That is so; and the sooner it is published the better," remarked oneof the company approvingly.

Much more was said in praise of the article. The names of severalprominent citizens of Boston were mentioned as the possible author.James himself named one or two, who were Boston's most intelligent andinfluential citizens, as the possible author.

All approved the insertion of the article in the next issue of thepaper, much to the satisfaction of Benjamin, who was the most deeplyinterested party in the office. He scarcely knew how to act in regardto the article, whether to father it at once, or still conceal itsparentage. On the whole, however, he decided to withhold itsauthorship for the present, and try his hand again in the same way.

The reader may judge of Benjamin's emotions when he came to put hisown article in type for the paper. It was almost too good to be real.Fact was even stranger than fiction to him. In the outset he dreamedthat somehow and sometime the columns of the Courant might contain acontribution of his own; and here he was setting up his first articlewith the approval of James and the whole "knot of liberals." This wasmore than he bargained for; and his heart never came so near beatingthrough his jacket as then. Never was a printer-boy so happy before.He was happy all over and all through—a lump of happiness. Not oneboy in a hundred could have managed to keep the secret as he did, inthe circumstances. Their countenances would have exposed it on thespot. But Benjamin possessed his soul in patience, and carried out hisruse admirably.

The issue containing Benjamin's article appeared on time, and wasgreatly praised. "Who is 'Silence Dogood'?" was the most commoninquiry. "I wonder who 'Silence Dogood' can be," was a frequentremark, showing that the article attracted much attention. Benjaminwondered as much as any of them. "A queer signature to put to anarticle," he said. "What in the world could suggest such a nom deplume to a writer?" He enjoyed his ruse more and more: it became thechoicest fun of his life. It was so crammed with felicity that heresolved to continue it by writing more articles as well-chosen andgood.

He was able to prepare a better article for the second one, because hebrought to its preparation the enthusiasm and encouragement awakenedby the favorable reception of the first. Besides, the many remarks hehad heard about it gave him points for another communication, so as tomake it sharper, better adapted to the times, and hence more timely.Within a short time, the second article was slipped under the door atnight for James to pick up in the morning.

"Another article from 'Silence Dogood,'" exclaimed James, as he openedit and read the signature.

"I thought we should hear from that writer again," was all the remarkthat Benjamin vouchsafed.

"A good subject!" added James, as he read the caption. "I will readit," and he proceeded to read the article to Benjamin.

The latter listened with attention that was somewhat divided betweenthe excellent reception the article was having and the grand successof his ruse.

"Better even than the first article," remarked James after having readit. "We must not rest until we find out who the author is. It issomebody of note."

The second article was submitted to the "knot of liberals," the sameas the first one, and all approved it highly.

"It is sharper than the first one, and hits the nail on the head everytime," said one of the number. "Dogood is a good name for such awriter."

"And we shall have more of them, no doubt," suggested James; "it isquite evident that the writer means to keep on."

"I hope he will; such articles will call attention to the paper, andthat is what we want," added another.

"In the mean time, let us find out if possible who the writer is,"suggested still another. "It will be a help to the paper to have itknown who is the author, if it is one of the scholars."

Charles Dickens was a poorer boy than Benjamin ever was, knowing whatit was to go to bed hungry and cold; but his young heart aspired aftera nobler life, and, while yet a boy, he wrote an article for thepress, disclosing the fact not even to his mother, and then, on a darknight, he dropped it "into a dark letter box, in a dark office, up adark court in Fleet street." His joy was too great for utterance whenhe saw it in print. It was the beginning of a career as a writerunparalleled in English or American history. And he told the secret ofit when he wrote, "While other boys played, I read Roderick Random,Tom Jones, The Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Bias, and otherbooks. They kept alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond thatplace and time."

Benjamin heard all that was said, and still kept his secret. It wouldnot have been strange if his vanity had been inflated by thesecomplimentary remarks. Ordinary humanity could scarcely be exposed toso high praise without taking on a new sense of its importance. ButBenjamin kept down his pride, and his heart continued to abide underhis jacket though it beat mightily. Was it any wonder?

Without stopping to narrate details, it is sufficient to say thatBenjamin wrote several articles, and sent them forward to James underthe door; and they were all pronounced good by James and his friends.He began to think that it was almost time to let out the secret. Jameswas fairly committed to the excellence of all the articles, and sowere the other critics. This was important to the success ofBenjamin's plan. He had feared, as he had continued industriously toset up type, that a disclosure would knock all his plans into "pi";but he had no fears now. But how should he disclose? That was thequestion. It was not long, however, before the question was settled.His brother made some remark about the last article slipped under thedoor, and wondered that the author had not become known.

"I know who the author is," said Benjamin under such a degree ofexcitement as even an older person would experience on the eve of animportant revelation.

"You know!" exclaimed James in great surprise. "If you know, why haveyou not disclosed it before?"

"Because I thought it was not wise. It is not best to tell all we knowalways."

"But you have heard us discuss this matter over and over, and takemeasures to discover the author, and yet you have never intimated thatyou knew any thing about it."

"Well, the author did not wish to be known until the right time came,and that is a good reason for keeping the matter secret, I think."

"Will you tell who the author is now?" asked James, impatient toobtain the long-sought information.

"Perhaps I will if you are very anxious to know."

"Of course I am, and every one else who is interested in the paper."

That was the crisis to James. We can scarcely conceive of its interestto the boy-writer. His time of triumph had come. James had not treatedhim very well, and we think he enjoyed that moment of victory a littlemore for that reason. That would have been human, and Benjamin washuman. His ruse had proved successful, and his talents, too. Now hecould startle his brother as much as would a thunder-bolt out of aclear sky. So he answered his inquiry by saying,—

"Benjamin Franklin "; and he said it with emphasis and an air oftriumph.

If James' countenance could have been photographed at that moment, itwould have shown a mixture of amazement, incredulity, and wonder. Itwas several moments before he so far recovered from the shock as to beable to speak.

"What! Do you mean to say that you wrote those articles?" Benjaminmight have discovered some doubt in James' tone and appearance when hespoke.

"Certainly I do."

"But it is not your handwriting."

"It is my handwriting disguised. I wa' n't fool enough to let you havethe articles in my own handwriting without disguise, when I wished toconceal the authorship."

"What could possibly be your object in doing so?"

"That the articles might be fairly examined. If I had proposed towrite an article for your paper, you would have said that I, aprinter-boy, could write nothing worthy of print."

"But if I had seen and read the articles, knowing them to be yours, Ishould have judged them fairly," James insisted, evidently feelingsomewhat hurt by his brother's last remark. Nevertheless, Benjamin wasright. It is probable that his articles would have been rejected, hadhe offered them in his own name to the critics.

"Well, that was my plan, and the articles have had a fair show, and Iam satisfied, whether you are or not," was Benjamin's reply in anindependent spirit.

Here the conversation dropped. James bestowed no words of commendationupon his brother's ability. Perhaps he thought that he had praised thearticles enough when he did not know who the author was. But heappeared to be abstracted in thought until some of the "knot ofliberals" came in.

"I have discovered who 'Silence Dogood' is," he said.

"You have? Who can it be?" and the speaker was very much surprised.

"No one that you have dreamed of."

"Is that so? I am all the more anxious to learn who it is," hecontinued.

"There he is," replied James, pointing to Benjamin, who was settingtype a little more briskly than usual, as if he was oblivious to whatwas going on.

"What! Benjamin? You are joking, surely," replied one.

"Your brother out there!" exclaimed another, pointing to Benjamin;"you do not mean it!"

"Yes, I do mean it. He is the author, and he has satisfied me that heis. You can see for yourselves."

The "knot of liberals" was never so amazed, and now they all turned toBenjamin, and he had to speak for himself. They were not entirelysatisfied that there was not some mistake or deception about thematter. But he found little difficulty in convincing them that he wasthe real author of the communications, whereupon they lavished theircommendations upon him to such an extent as to make it perilous to onehaving much vanity in his heart.

From that time Benjamin was a favorite with the literary visitors atthe office. They showed him much more attention than they did James,and said so much in his praise, as a youth of unusual promise, thatJames became jealous and irritable. He was naturally passionate andtyrannical, and this sudden and unexpected exaltation of Benjamindeveloped his overbearing spirit. He found more fault with him, andbecame very unreasonable in his treatment. Probably he had neverdreamed that Benjamin possessed more talents than other boys of hisage. Nor did he care, so long as his brother was an apprentice, and hecould rule over him as a master. He did not appear to regard theblood-relationship between them, but only that of master andapprentice. In other words, he was a poor specimen of a brother, andwe shall learn more about him in the sequel.

In his "Autobiography," Franklin tells the story of his ruse asfollows:

"James had some ingenious men among his friends, who amused themselvesby writing little pieces for this paper, which gained it credit, andmade it more in demand, and these gentlemen often visited us. Hearingtheir conversations, and their accounts of the approbation theirpapers were received with, I was excited to try my hand among them.But, being still a boy, and suspecting that my brother would object toprinting any thing of mine in his paper, if he knew it to be mine, Icontrived to disguise my hand, and, writing an anonymous paper, I putit at night under the door of the printing house. It was found in themorning, and communicated to his writing friends, when they called inas usual. They read it, commented on it in my hearing, and I had theexquisite pleasure of finding it met with their approbation, and that,in their different guesses at the author, none were named but men ofsome character among us for learning and ingenuity. I suppose that Iwas rather lucky in my judges, and that they were not really so verygood as I then believed them to be. Encouraged, however, by thisattempt, I wrote and sent in the same way to the press several otherpieces, that were equally approved; and I kept my secret till all myfund of sense for such performances was exhausted, and then discoveredit, when I began to be considered a little more by my brother'sacquaintance.

"However, that did not quite please him, as he thought it tended tomake me too vain. This might be one occasion of the differences webegan to have about this time. Though a brother he considered himselfas my master, and me as his apprentice, and accordingly expected thesame services from me as he would from another, while I thought hedegraded me too much in some he required of me, who from a brotherexpected more indulgence."

The foregoing was one of the incidents of Benjamin's boyhood thatdecided his future eminent career. It was a good thing to bring outhis talents as a writer thus early, and it introduced him to anexercise that was of the first importance in the improvement of hismind. From the time he wrote the first article for the Courant, hedid not cease to write for the public. Probably no other American boybegan his public career so early—sixteen. He had written much before,but it was not for the press. It was done for self-improvement, andnot for the public eye. The newspaper opened a new and unexpectedchannel of communication with the public that was well suited toawaken his deepest interest and inspire his noblest efforts.

The incident reminds us of Canning's Microcosm. He, the greatEnglish statesman, was scarcely as old as Benjamin when he establisheda boy's periodical in the school at Eton, whither he was sent. It waschristened Microcosm, which means, literally, "the little world." Itwas a weekly publication issued from Windsor. It was conducted "afterthe plan of the Spectator"—a work that was of immense value toBenjamin, as we shall see,—"the design being to treat thecharacteristics of the boys at Eton as Addison and his friends haddone those of general society." In this paper several members of theschool figured with credit to themselves, though no one was moreprominent and capable than Canning.

It became one of the prominent influences that decided his futurecourse, as he always affirmed, developing his talents, and stimulatinghis mind to labor in this honorable way. It also exerted a decidedinfluence upon the character of another boy, named Frere, whoafterwards shone as a writer on the pages of the Anti-Jacobin.

Examples of industry, enterprise, despatch, promptness, punctuality,and circumspection are inspiring to both old and young; and nowhere dothese noble qualities appear to better advantage than they do wherebusy brains and hands make the newspaper in the printing office. It isa remarkably useful school. It was so when Benjamin was a boy. It wasa far better school for him than that of Williams or Brownwell. Herehe laid the foundation of his learning and fame. The same was true ofHorace Greeley, who founded the New York Tribune, and of Henry J.Raymond, who made the Times what it is. The late Vice-PresidentSchuyler Colfax was schooled in a printing office for his honorablepublic career; and the same was true of other distinguished statesmen.But none of these examples are so remarkable as the following, thatwas made possible by Benjamin Franklin's example.

A waif two years of age was taken from a benevolent institution inBoston, and given to a childless sailor, on his way from a voyage tohis home in Maine on the Penobscot River. The sailor knew not fromwhat institution the child was taken, nor whence he came. He carriedit home, without a name, or the least clue to his ancestry. Thesailor's wife was a Christian woman, and had prayed for just such agift as that. She resolved to train him for the Lord. At twelve yearsof age he became a Christian, and, from that time, longed to be aminister. But poverty stood in his way, and there was little prospectof his hopes being realized.

At length, however, he read the life of Benjamin Franklin; and helearned how the printing office introduced him into a noble life-work."I will go through the printing office into the ministry," he said tohis adopted mother. So, at fifteen, he became a printer in Boston.After a while, his health broke down, and the way to regain it seemedto be through service to a wealthy man on his farm in the country.There his health was restored, and his benevolent employer got himinto Andover Academy, where he led the whole class. Near the close ofhis preparatory course, on a Saturday night, the author met him underthe following circumstances:

He was then nineteen years of age. On that day he had learned fromwhat institution he was taken, and, going thither, he ascertained thathe had a sister three years older than himself, living thirty milesnorth of Boston. It was the first knowledge he had received about anyof his relatives. He was ten years old when his adopted parentsinformed him that he was taken, a waif, from an institution in Boston.From that time he was curious to find the institution and learnsomething of his ancestry. He was too young, when he was taken away,to remember that he had a sister. But on that day he learned the fact;and he took the first train to meet her. The author took the train,also, to spend the Sabbath with the minister who reared the sister. Wemet in the same family. What a meeting of brother and sister! Thelatter had mourned, through all these years, that she knew not whathad become of her baby-brother, whom she well remembered and loved;but here he was, nineteen years of age, a manly, noble, Christianyoung man! Could she believe her eyes? Could we, who were lookers on,think it real? We received the story of his life from his own lips.

He was the best scholar in his class through academy, college, and
theological seminary, and is now an able and useful minister of the
Gospel, indebted TO THE EXAMPLE AND EXPERIENCE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN IN
THE PRINTING OFFICE FOR WHAT HE IS!

XIII.

BOOKS OF HIS BOYHOOD.

Coleridge divided readers into four classes, thus: "The first may becompared to an hour-glass, their reading being as the sand; it runsin, and it runs out, and leaves not a vestige behind. A second classresembles a sponge, which imbibes every thing, and returns it merelyin the same state, only a little dirtier. A third class is like ajelly-bag, which allows all that is pure to pass away, and retainsonly the refuse and the dregs. The fourth class may be compared to theslave in the diamond mines of Golconda, who, casting aside all that isworthless, preserves only the pure gem."

Benjamin belonged to the fourth class, which is the smallest class ofall. The "hour-glass" class, who simply let what they read "run in andrun out," is very large. It is not entitled to much respect, however,for it will bring no more to pass than the class who do not read atall.

Benjamin sought the "pure gem." If he had any thing, he wanteddiamonds. Nor did he accept "a stone for bread." He knew what breadwas, which is not true of many readers; and so he had bread ornothing. His mind was a voracious eater, much more of an eater thanhis body. It demanded substantial food, too, the bread, meat, andpotato of literature and science. It did not crave cake andconfectionery. There was no mincing and nibbling when it went to ameal. It just laid in as if to shame starvation; it almost gobbled upwhat was on the table. It devoured naturally and largely. It wasfortunate for him that his mind was so hungry all the time; otherwise,his desire to go to sea, his love of sport, and his unusual socialqualities might have led him astray. Thousands of boys have beenruined in this way, whom passionate fondness of reading might havemade useful and eminent. Thomas Hood said: "A natural turn for readingand intellectual pursuits probably preserved me from the moralshipwrecks so apt to befall those who are deprived in early life oftheir parental pilotage. My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit,the tavern, and saloon. The closet associate of Pope and Addison, themind accustomed to the noble though silent discourse of Shakespeareand Milton, will hardly seek or put up with that sort of company."

It was probably as true of Benjamin Franklin as it was of Thomas Hood,that reading saved him from a career of worldliness and worthlessness.In his manhood he regarded the habit in this light, and said: "From myinfancy I was passionately fond of reading, and all the money thatcame into my hands was laid out in the purchasing of books." If he hadlaid out his money in billiards, boating, theatre-going, and kindredpleasures, as so many do, he might have been known in manhood as Ben,the Bruiser, instead of "Ben, the Statesman and Philosopher."

The first book Benjamin read was "Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress." He wasfascinated with it, and read it over and over, much to thegratification of his parents.

"What is there about it that interests you so much?" inquired hisfather, hoping that it might be the subject alone.

"The dialogues that are carried on in it," replied Benjamin.

"Then you think more of the style than you do of the matter?" remarkedhis father, evidently somewhat disappointed that he was not speciallytaken with Christian's journey.

"It is all interesting. I should never get tired of reading such abook." This reply reassured his father, and he got considerablecomfort out of it, after having set before the boy the true idea ofChristian's flight from the City of Destruction.

"It was written in Bedford jail, England," continued his father."There was much persecution in his day, and he was thrust into prisonto keep him from preaching the Gospel; but the plan did not succeedvery well, for he has been preaching it ever since through that book,that he never would have written had he not been imprisoned."

"Then he was a minister, was he?" said Benjamin.

"No, he was not a minister; he was a tinker, and a very wicked man, soprofane that he was a terror to good people. But he was converted andbecame a Christian, and went about doing good, as Christ did,preaching the Gospel in his way, in houses, by the way side, anywherethat he could, until he was sent to prison for doing good."

"A strange reason for sending a man to jail," remarked Benjamin.

"They thought that he was doing evil, no doubt. I mean the enemies ofthe Gospel. They did not believe in the Christian religion whichBunyan had embraced; they thought it would stir up the people tostrife and contention, and prove a curse instead of a blessing." Mr.Franklin knew that such information would increase the interest of hisson in the book; and it did. The impression wrought upon him byreading this book lasted through his life, and led him to adopt itsstyle in much of his writing when he became a man. He said in manhood:

"Narrative mingled with dialogue is very engaging, not only to theyoung, but to adults, also. It introduces the reader directly into thecompany, and he listens to the conversation, and seems to see theparties. Bunyan originated this colloquial style, and Defoe andRichardson were his imitators. It is a style so attractive, conveyinginstruction so naturally and pleasantly, that it should never besuperseded."

Mr. Franklin owned all of Bunyan's works, his "Grace Abounding to theChief of Sinners," and his "Holy War," and "Pilgrim's Progress" justspoken of. Benjamin read them all, but "Pilgrim's Progress" was theone that charmed his soul and more or less influenced his life.

"Defoe's Essay upon Projects" was another volume of his father's,written in the same style as "Pilgrim's Progress," and, for thatreason, very interesting to him. He devoured its contents. Itssubject-matter was much above the capacity of most boys of his age;but the dialogue method of imparting instruction made it clear andattractive to him. One subject which it advocated was the liberaleducation of girls; and it was here, without doubt, that Benjaminobtained his views upon advanced female education, which he advocatedin his discussion with John Collins.

"Plutarch's Lives" was still another volume his father owned, one ofthe most inspiring books for the young ever published. He read this somuch and carefully that he was made very familiar with the characterstherein—information that was of great service to him, later on, inhis literary labors and public services.

"There was another book in my father's little library, by DoctorMather, called, 'An Essay to do Good,'" said Doctor Franklin, in his"Autobiography," "which, perhaps, gave me a turn of thinking that hadan influence on some of the principal future events of my life." Hewrote to a son of Doctor Mather about it, late in life, as follows:

"When I was a boy, I met with a book, entitled 'Essays to do Good,'which I think was written by your father (Cotton Mather). It had beenso little regarded by a former possessor that several leaves of itwere torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking as tohave an influence on my conduct through life; for I have always set agreater value on the character of a doer of good than on any otherkind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a usefulcitizen, the public owe the advantage of it to that book."

The "Essays to do Good" consisted of twenty-two short essays of apractical character, inculcating benevolence as a duty and privilege,and giving directions to particular classes. It had lessons forministers, lawyers, doctors, merchants, magistrates, teachers,mechanics, husbands, wives, gentlemen, deacons, sea-captains, andothers. The style was quaint, earnest, and direct, exactly suited toappeal to such a boy as Benjamin; and withal it was so practical thatit won his heart.

Mr. Parton records a singular incident about this Doctor Mather, asfollows: "How exceedingly strange that such a work as this should havebeen written by the man who, in 1692, at Salem, when nineteen peoplewere hanged and one was pressed to death for witchcraft, appearedamong the crowd, openly exulting in the spectacle! Probably his zealagainst the witches was as much the offspring of his benevolence ashis 'Essays to do Good.' Concede his theory of witches, and it hadbeen cruelty to man not to hang them. Were they not in league withSatan, the arch-enemy of God and man? Had they not bound themselves bysolemn covenant to aid the devil in destroying human souls andafflicting the elect? Cotton Mather had not the slightest doubt ofit."

When Benjamin had exhausted the home stock of reading, he showed hissound judgment by saying to his father:

"I wish I could have 'Burton's Historical Collections'; it would be agreat treat to read those books."

"It would, indeed; they are very popular, and I should like to haveyou read them. But how to get them is more than I can tell."

"Would you be willing that I should exchange Bunyan's works for them?"

"I did not suppose that you would part with 'Pilgrim's Progress' for
Burton's books or any others," was Mr. Franklin's reply.

"I should rather keep both; but I have read 'Pilgrim's Progress' until
I know it by heart, so that I would be willing to part with it for
Burton's books, if I can get them in no other way."

"Well, you can see what you can do. I am willing to do 'most any thingto keep you in good books, for they are good companions. I know of nobetter ones, from all I have heard and read about them, than 'Burton'sCollections.'"

"Perhaps I can sell Bunyan's books for enough to buy Burton's,"suggested Benjamin. Doubtless he had canvassed the matter, and knew ofsome opportunity for a trade like that.

"Well, you may do that, if you can; I have no objection. I hope youwill succeed."

The result was that Benjamin sold the works of Bunyan, and boughtBurton's books in forty small volumes, quite a little library for thatday. He was never happier than when he became the owner of "Burton'sHistorical Collections," famous in England and America, andextensively sold, not only by book-sellers, but also by pedlars. Theycontained fact, fiction, history, biography, travels, adventures,natural history, and an account of many marvels, curiosities, andwonders, in a series of "twelve-penny books."

Doctor Johnson referred to these books in one of his letters: "Thereis in the world a set of books which used to be sold by thebook-sellers on the bridge, and which I must entreat you to procureme. They are called Burton's books. The title of one is, 'AdmirableCuriosities, Rarities, and Wonders in England.' They seem very properto allure backward readers."

He might have added, also, forward readers; for they lured Benjamin,who was, perhaps, the most thoughtful and ready reader of his age inBoston In them he discovered a rich mine of thought and information,and he delved there. He found even nuggets of gold to make his mindricher and his heart gladder.

His father's books were chiefly theological; yet Benjamin's love ofreading caused him to read them. He possessed, also, a collection ofreligious tracts, called the "Boyle Lectures," because Robert Boyle,the youngest son of an Irish earl, a very pious man, originated them,"designed to prove the truth of the Christian religion amonginfidels." Benjamin read all of these, and his father was delighted tohave him read them at the time, thinking that the moral results wouldbe good. But the sequel will show that the effect of reading them wasbad. In order to refute the arguments of deists, it was necessary toprint them in the tracks. So Benjamin read both sides, and he thought,in some respects, that the deists had the best argument.

Not long after Benjamin became a printer, a prominent citizen ofBoston, Matthew Adams, who had heard of his talents and love ofreading, met him in the printing office, and entered into conversationwith him.

"You are a great reader, I learn," he said.

"Yes, sir, I read considerable every day."

"Do you find all the books you want to read?"

"Not all. I should like to read some books I can't get."

"Perhaps you can find them in my library; you can come and take out ofit any book you would like."

"Thank you very much," answered Benjamin, exceedingly gratified bythis unexpected offer. "I shall take the first opportunity to call."

"Boys who like to read as well as you do, ought to have books enough,"continued Mr. Adams. "I think you will find quite a number ofentertaining and useful ones. You will know when you examine foryourself."

"That I shall do very soon, and be very grateful for the privilege,"answered Benjamin.

Within a few days, the printer-boy paid Mr. Adams a visit. The lattergave him a cordial welcome, causing him to feel at ease and enjoy hiscall. He examined the library to his heart's content, and found manybooks therein he desired to read.

"Come any time: take out any and all the books you please, and keepthem till you have done with them," was Mr. Adams' generous offer. Hehad great interest in the boy, and wanted to assist him; and Benjaminfully appreciated his interest and kindness, and paid the library manyvisits. As long as he lived he never forgot the generous aid of thisman, of whom he wrote in his "Autobiography":

"After some time, a merchant, an ingenious, sensible man, Mr. MatthewAdams, who had a pretty collection of books, frequented our printingoffice, took notice of me, and invited me to see his library, and verykindly proposed to lend me such books as I chose to read."

The printing office was frequented by book-sellers' apprentices, whoseemployers wanted jobs of printing done. Benjamin made theiracquaintance, and they invited him to call at their stores to examinethe books. There were several book-stores in Boston at that time,although the number of books was very limited as compared with thepresent time.

"I will lend you that book to-night," said one of these apprentices to
Benjamin, who was manifesting a deep interest in a certain volume.
"You can return it in the morning before customers come in."

"Very much obliged. I shall be glad to read it. I think I can read itthrough before I go to bed, and I can leave it when I go to the officein the morning."

"You won't have much time for sleep if you read that book throughbefore going to bed. But you are used to short naps, I expect."

"I can afford to have a short nap whenever I have the reading of sucha book as this," answered Benjamin. "I shall return it in just as gooda condition as it is now."

"The book is for sale, and we might have a customer for it to-morrow,or I would let you have it longer. If you do not read it throughto-night, and we do not sell it to-morrow, you can take it againto-morrow night. I frequently read a volume through, a little at atime, before we have a chance to sell it."

This offer of the apprentice was very generous, and Benjamin suitablyexpressed his appreciation of it.

"Your favor is so great that I shall feel myself under specialobligation to return the book in season for any customer to-morrow whomay want it. If I were in a book-store, as you are, I fear that mylove of reading would overcome my love of work. It would just suit meto be in the company of so many books all the time."

"You could not have your evenings here for reading, as you do now. Ourbusiest time is in the evening; so that I catch only fragments of timeto read—pretty small fragments, some days," said the apprentice.

"Well, it might be only an aggravation to live among so many books,without time to read them," responded Benjamin. "I am content where Iam,—a printing office has some advantages over all other places forme."

Benjamin made the most of this new opportunity. Borrowing the firstbook was followed by borrowing many of the apprentices at thebook-stores. All the stores were patronized by him, and many a nightwas shortened at both ends, that he might devour a book. He fairlygorged himself with book-knowledge.

The reader must not forget that books were very few in number at thattime, and it was long before a public library was known in the land.In Boston there were many literary people, who had come hither fromEngland, and they had a limited supply of books. So that Boston wasthen better supplied with books than any other part of the country,though its supply was as nothing compared with the supply now.Book-stores, instead of being supplied with thousands of volumes tosuit every taste in the reading world, offered only a meagrecollection of volumes, such as would be scarcely noticed now. Therewere no large publishing houses, issuing a new book each week-day ofthe year, as there are at the present time, manufacturing hundreds ofcords of them every year, and sending them all over the land. Neitherwere there any libraries then, as we have before said. Now the PublicLibrary of Boston offers three or four hundred thousand volumes, freeto all the citizens, and that number is constantly increasing. Withthe Athenaeum, and other large libraries for public use, Bostonoffers a MILLION volumes, from which the poor printer-boy, and allother boys, can make their choice. In almost every town, too, of twothousand inhabitants, a public library is opened, where severalhundred or thousand volumes are found from which to select, whileprivate libraries of from one to thirty thousand volumes are countedby the score. The trouble with boys now is, not how to get books toread, but what they shall select from the vast number that load theshelves of libraries and book-stores. Benjamin had no trouble aboutselecting books; he took all he could get, and was not overburdened atthat.

Another book that was of great benefit to Benjamin was an old Englishgrammar which he bought at a book-store. He said of it, in manhood:

"While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an Englishgrammar (I think it was Greenwood's), having at the end of it twolittle sketches on the Arts of Rhetoric and Logic, the latterfinishing with a dispute on the Socratic method."

"What do you want of such a book as that?" inquired John Collins, whenhe saw it in the printing office.

"To study, of course; I did not study grammar at school, and I want toknow something about it," was Benjamin's answer.

"I expect that some knowledge of it will not come amiss," said John.
"You mean to make the most of these things you can."

"I wanted the volume, too, for the chapters on Rhetoric and Logic atthe end," added Benjamin.

"Of what use are Rhetoric and Logic? Perhaps they may be of service toyou; they would not be to me." John spoke thus because he knew nothingabout them; he had never studied them.

"Every body ought to know something about them, even a printer," addedBenjamin. "They have already helped me to form a better opinion of thestyle and value of some things I have read."

"Well, I can't get time to learn every thing. You seem to learn 'mostall there is to learn, with very little time. I wish I could, but Ican't, and so I won't try." John was always thus complimentary toBenjamin. He gave him full credit for all his achievements.

"I mean to learn to speak and write the English language withpropriety," continued Benjamin, "and I do not know how it can be donewithout a knowledge of grammar; do you?"

"I know nothing about it, any way whatever. I shall not begin now; amtoo old. Can't teach old dogs new tricks." John's remark expressed hisreal views of these things. Although he was a bookish fellow, he wasnot inclined to go deep into literature or science.

Other books that Benjamin read were Locke's "Essay on the
Understanding"; "The Art of Thinking," by Messrs. de Port-Royal;
Sellers & Stumey's book on "Navigation," with many others of equal
merit.

Benjamin cultivated the habit of taking notes when he read, jottingdown notable facts and striking thoughts for future use. It is acapital practice, and one that has been followed by nearly alllearners who have distinguished themselves in scholarship. He realizedthe advantages of the method to such a degree that, in manhood, headdressed the following letter from London to a bright girl in whoseeducation he was very much interested:

"CRAVEN STREET, May 16, 1760.

"I send my good girl the books I mentioned to her last night. I beg her to accept of them as a small mark of my esteem and friendship. They are written in the familiar, easy manner for which the French are so remarkable, and afford a good deal of philosophic and practical knowledge, unembarrassed with the dry mathematics used by more exact reasoners, but which is apt to discourage young beginners.

"I would advise you to read with a pen in your hand, and enter in a little book short hints of what you find that is curious, or that may be useful; for this will be the best method of imprinting such particulars in your memory, where they will be ready, either for practice on some future occasion, if they are matters of utility, or, at least, to adorn and improve your conversation, if they are rather points of curiosity; and, as many of the terms of science are such as you can not have met with in your common reading, and may therefore be unacquainted with, I think it would be well for you to have a good dictionary at hand, to consult immediately when you meet with a word you do not comprehend the precise meaning of.

"This may, at first, seem troublesome and interrupting; but it is a trouble that will daily diminish, as you will daily find less and less occasion for your dictionary, as you become more acquainted with the terms; and, in the mean time, you will read with more satisfaction, because with more understanding. When any point occurs in which you would be glad to have further information than your book affords you, I beg you would not in the least apprehend that I should think it a trouble to receive and answer your questions. It will be a pleasure, and no trouble. For though I may not be able, out of my own little stock of knowledge, to afford you what you require, I can easily direct you to the books where it may most readily be found.

"Adieu, and believe me ever, my dear friend,

"B. FRANKLIN."

Reading with pen or pencil in hand fixes the attention, assistsmethod, strengthens purpose, and charges memory with its sacred trust.A note-book for this purpose is the most convenient method ofpreserving these treasures. Professor Atkinson, of the MassachusettsInstitute of Technology, advises students thus:

"Gather up the scraps and fragments of thought on whatever subject youmay be studying—for, of course, by a note-book I do not mean a merereceptacle for odds and ends, a literary dust-bin—but acquire thehabit of gathering every thing, whenever and wherever you find it,that belongs in your lines of study, and you will be surprised to seehow such fragments will arrange themselves into an orderly whole bythe very organizing power of your own thinking, acting in a definitedirection. This is a true process of self-education; but you see it isno mechanical process of mere aggregation. It requires activity ofthought—but without that what is any reading but mere passiveamusement? And it requires method. I have myself a sort of literarybookkeeping. I keep a day-book, and, at my leisure, I post my literaryaccounts, bringing together in proper groups the fruits of much casualreading."

The late President Garfield began this method when he began to study,with a view to a liberal education, at about seventeen years of age.He continued it as long as he lived. His notes and references,including scrap-books, filled several volumes before his Congressionalcareer closed, on a great variety of subjects. A large number ofbooks, in addition to those in his own library, were made available inthis way. It was said that his notes were of great service to him inCongress, in the discussion of almost any public question.

XIV.

LEARNING THE ART OF COMPOSITION.

Having delayed the narrative to learn of the books that helped to makehim the man he became, it is necessary to delay further to see how hepractised writing composition, both prose and poetry, in his earlylife, thus laying the foundation for the excellence of his writings inmanhood.

Benjamin was not more than seven years old when he began to writepoetry. His "Uncle Benjamin's" frequent poetic addresses to himinspired him to try his hand at the art, and he wrote something andforwarded to his uncle in England. Whatever it was, it has not beenpreserved. But we know that he wrote a piece, doggerel of course, andsent to him, from the fact that his uncle returned the following reply:

"'T is time for me to throw aside my pen,
When hanging sleeves read, write, and rhyme like men.
This forward spring foretells a plenteous crop;
For, if the bud bear grain, what will the top?
If plenty in the verdant blade appear,
What may we not soon hope for in the ear!
When flowers are beautiful before they're blown,
What rarities will afterwards be shown!

"If trees good fruit uninoculated bear,
You may be sure 't will afterwards be rare.
If fruits are sweet before they've time to yellow,
How luscious will they be when they are mellow!
If first-year's shoots such noble clusters send,
What laden boughs, Engedi-like, may we expect in end!"

There was no time, from the above date, when Benjamin did not indulge,to some extent, his inclination to write. It was done for his ownamusement and profit, so that he was not in the habit of showing orspeaking of his productions. None of them were preserved.

But his talent for composition developed rapidly from the time he wasfairly settled in the printing business. He practised putting originalthoughts, and thoughts culled from books, into sentences andparagraphs, a very sensible method of self-improvement. He often triedhis hand at poetry, if it was only a couplet at a time. Longercompositions he wrote, for no one to see and read but himself. One dayhis brother James, curious to see what Benjamin was writing so muchabout, looked over his shoulder.

"What have you there, Ben?" he said. "Writing a sermon or your will?Ay! poetry is it?" catching a glimpse of it. "Then you are a poet areyou?"

"Seeing what I can do," Benjamin replied. "We do not know what we cando till we try. It is not much any way."

"Let me read it, and I will tell you whether it is much or not.Authors are not good judges of their own productions. They are likeparents, who think their own children handsomest and most promising;they think their articles are better than they are."

James was in a happy mood for him when he thus spoke. He knew nothingabout Benjamin's ability in writing composition; for this was quite awhile before the newspaper was started for which he wrote.

"I have been reading much poetry of late," added Benjamin, "and I amanxious to know if I can write it. I like to read it, and I have readseveral of the poets since I had access to Mr. Adams' library," Thiswas after Mr. Adams invited him take books from his library, of whichwe have already given an account.

"So much the more reason that I should read what you have written,"added James. "I do not expect it will be quite equal to Shakespeare."

"Well, read it, I do not care." And Benjamin passed it over to hisbrother without further hesitation.

James read it over carefully, and then he re-read it before making aremark, as if to be sure that he was not mistaken in the quality ofthe composition.

"That is good, Ben. It is really good, much better than I supposed youcould write. Indeed, I did not know that you could write poetry atall. It is not quite equal to Virgil or Homer, but good for aprinter-boy to write. Have you any other pieces?"

James was honest in these last remarks, and felt more kindly at thetime than he often did towards his brother.

"Yes, I have two or three pieces more which I am going to improvesomewhat. You had better wait till I have rewritten them before youread them." Benjamin was greatly encouraged by his brother's favorableopinion of his literary venture, when he made this reply.

"No need of that. Let me see them now, and I can tell you whether theyare worth making better. Some things are not worth making better; andI think this must be particularly true of poetry. Poor poetry is poorstuff; better write new than to try to improve it."

James' last plea prevailed, and Benjamin produced the articles for hisexamination. They were read with as much interest as the first one,and they were re-read too, that there might be no mistake in hisjudgment. Then his enthusiasm broke out.

"I tell you what it is, Ben, these are good, and I believe that youcan write something worthy of print if you try hard; and if you willundertake it, you may print and sell a sheet on the street. I have nodoubt that it will sell well."

"I will see what I can do," Benjamin replied, very much elated overhis success. "I hardly think my poetry will read well in print,though. I have not been writing for the press."

"We can tell best when we read it in print. Get up something as soonas you can, and let us see," said James.

"I will go right about it, and I will not be long in getting upsomething, good, bad, or indifferent."

Within a few days Benjamin produced two street ballads, after thestyle of that day. They were better than any thing he had written, butstill susceptible of great improvement. One was entitled "TheLight-house Tragedy," and was founded on the shipwreck of CaptainWorthilake and his two daughters. The other was a sailor's song on thecapture of the famous Teach, or "Blackbeard, the Pirate." James readthem critically, to see if it would do to put them in print and offerthem to the public.

"These are really better than what I read the other day," he remarked,when he had examined them all he desired. "Now, you may put them intotype, and sell them about the town, if you are willing. I think a goodnumber of them may be disposed of."

"How many copies will you print?"

"We can print a few to begin with, and let the type remain standinguntil we see how they go Then we shall run no risk."

"Shall I do it immediately?"

"Just as soon as you can. The quicker the better. I am anxious to seehow they take with the public."

Benjamin was not long in printing the two ballads, and having themready for sale. Under the direction of his brother, he went forth, indue time, to offer them about the town. Whether he cried them on thestreets as the newsboys do the daily papers now, we have no means ofknowing. But he was successful in selling his wares, whatever hismethod was. "The Light-house Tragedy" sold the most readily. Thatcommemorated an event of recent occurrence, and which excited muchpublic feeling and sympathy at the time, so that people were quiteprepared to purchase it. It sold even beyond his expectations, andseemed to develop what little vanity there was in his soul. He beganto think that he was a genuine born poet, and that distinction and afortune were before him. If he had not been confronted by his fatheron the subject, it is possible that the speculation might have proveda serious injury to him. But Mr. Franklin learned of his enterprise,and called him to an account. Perhaps he stepped into his shop, as hewas selling them about town, and gave him a copy. Whether so or not,his father learned of the fact, and the following interview will showwhat he thought of it:

"I am ashamed to see you engaged in such a business, Benjamin. It isunworthy of a son of Josiah Franklin."

"Why so, father? I can't understand you."

"Because it is not an honorable business. You are not a poet, and canwrite nothing of that sort worth printing."

"James approved of the pieces, and proposed that I should print andsell them," Benjamin pleaded.

"James is not a good judge of poetry, nor of the propriety of hawkingthem about town. It is wretched stuff, and I am ashamed that you areknown as the author. Look here; let me show you wherein it isdefective."

Benjamin was so dumbfounded that he could not say much in reply; andhis father proceeded to expose the faults of the poetical effusion. Hedid not spare the young author at all; nor was he cautious and lenientin his criticisms. On the other hand, he was severe. And he went onuntil Benjamin began to feel sorry that he had ever written a scrap ofpoetry.

"There, I want you should promise me," continued his father, "that youwill never deal in such wares again, and that you will stick to yourbusiness of setting up type."

"Perhaps I may improve by practice," suggested Benjamin, whoseestimation of his literary venture was modified considerably by thistime. "Perhaps I may yet write something worthy of being read. Youcould not expect me to write like Pope to begin with."

"No; nor to end with," retorted his father. "You are not a poet, andthere is no use in your trying to be. Perhaps you can learn to writeprose well; but poetry is another thing. Even if you were a poet Ishould advise you to let the business alone, for poets are usuallybeggars—poor, shiftless members of society."

"That is news to me," responded Benjamin. "How does it happen, then,that some of their works are so popular?"

"Because a true poet can write something worthy of being read, while amere verse-maker, like yourself, writes only doggerel, that is notworth the paper on which it was printed. Now I advise you to letverse-making alone, and attend closely to your business, both for yourown sake and your brother's."

Mr. Franklin was rather severe upon his son, although what he said ofhis verses was substantially true, as his son freely admitted inmanhood. He overlooked the important fact that it was a commendableeffort of the boy to try to improve his mind. Some of the best poetswho have lived wrote mere doggerel when they began. Also, many of ourbest prose writers were exceedingly faulty at first. It is a nobleeffort for a boy to put his thoughts into language, and Mr. Franklinought to have recognized it as such. If he does not succeed in thefirst instance, by patience, industry, and perseverance, he maytriumph at last. Benjamin might not have acted wisely in selling hisverses about town; but his brother, so much older and more experiencedthan himself, should have borne the censure of that, since it was doneby his direction. Doubtless, his brother regarded the propriety of theact less, because he had an eye on the pecuniary profits of thescheme.

The decided opposition that Mr. Franklin showed to verse-making put adamper upon Benjamin's poetic aspirations. The air-castle that hisyouthful imagination had built, in consequence of the rapid sale ofhis wares, tumbled in ruins. He went back to the office and his workquite crestfallen.

The reader must bear in mind that this incident occurred before thediscussion of Benjamin with John Collins upon female education,related in a former chapter. We shall see that his father's criticismson his arguments in that discussion proved of great value to him.

"What has happened now, Ben?" inquired James, observing that hisbrother looked despondent and anxious. "Are you bringing forth morepoetry?"

"Father doesn't think much of my printing and selling verses of myown," answered Benjamin. "He has given me such a lecture that I amalmost ashamed of myself."

"How is that? Don't he think they are worthy of print?"

"No. He do not see any merit in them at all. He read them over in hisway, and counted faults enough to show that there is precious littlepoetry in me. A beggar and a poet mean about the same thing to him."

"He ought to remember that you are not as old as you will be, if youlive; and you will make improvement from year to year. You can'texpect to write either prose or verse well without beginning andtrying."

"All the trial in the world can do nothing for me, I should judge fromfather's talk. You ought to have heard him; and he did not spare youfor suggesting the printing and sale of the pieces on the street."Benjamin said this in a tone of bitter disappointment.

"Well, I suppose that he has heard of two men disagreeing on amatter," remarked James. "All is, he and I do not agree. I considerthe whole thing wise and proper, and he does not. That is all there isto it."

Perhaps it was a good thing for Benjamin to meet with this obstacle inhis path to success. Rather discouraging, it is true, neverthelesssuited to keep him humble. Benjamin confessed in manhood, that hisvanity was inflated by the sale of his ballads, and he might have beenpuffed up to his future injury, had not his father thus unceremoniouslytaken the wind out of his sails. That removed the danger. After such asevere handling he was not inclined to over-rate his poetical talents.It had the effect, also, to turn his attention almost wholly to prosewriting, in which he became distinguished, as we shall see hereafter.

A single verse of these ballads only has descended to our times. It isfrom the second mentioned—the capture of the pirate, as follows:

"Come, all you jolly sailors,
You all so stout and brave;
Come, hearken, and I'll tell you
What happened on the wave.
Oh! 't is of that bloody Blackbeard
I'm going now to tell;
How as to gallant Maynard
He soon was sent to hell—
With a down, down, down, derry down."

Franklin said of this ballad episode:

"I now took a strong inclination for poetry, and wrote some littlepieces. My brother, supposing it might turn to account, encouraged me,and induced me to compose two occasional ballads. One was called 'TheLight-house Tragedy,' and contained an account of the shipwreck ofCaptain Worthilake with his two daughters; the other was a sailor'ssong, on taking the famous Teach, or 'Blackbeard, the Pirate.' Theywere wretched stuff, in street-ballad style; and when they wereprinted, my brother sent me about the town selling them. The firstsold prodigiously, the event being recent, and having made a greatnoise. This success flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged meby criticising my performances and telling me that verse-makers weregenerally beggars. Thus I escaped being a poet, and probably a verybad one."

From the time that Mr. Franklin criticised his son's argument withJohn Collins on female education, Benjamin made special efforts toimprove his style. He knew that Addison's style was regarded as amodel, so he purchased an old volume of his 'Spectator,' and sethimself to work with a determination to make his own style Addisonian.He subjected himself to the severest test in order to improve, andcounted nothing too hard if he could advance toward that standard.His own account of his perseverance and industry in studying hismodel, as it appears in his "Autobiography," will best present thefacts.

"About this time I met with an odd volume of the 'Spectator.' I hadnever before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and over, andwas much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, andwished if possible to imitate it. With that view I took some of thepapers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence,laid them by a few days, and then, without looking at the book, triedto complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment atlength, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in any suitablewords that should occur to me. Then I compared my Spectator with theoriginal, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them. But Ifound that I wanted a stock of words, or readiness in recollecting andusing them, which I thought I should have acquired before that time,if I had gone on making verses; since the continual search for wordsof the same import, but of different length to suit the measure, or ofdifferent sound for the rhyme, would have laid me under a constantnecessity of searching for variety, and also have tended to fix thatvariety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore, I took someof the tales in the 'Spectator,' and turned them into verse; and,after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned themback again.

"I also sometimes jumbled my collection of hints into confusion, andafter some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the best order beforeI began to form the full sentences and complete the subject. This wasto teach me method in the arrangement of the thoughts. By comparing mywork with the original, I discovered many faults, and corrected them;but I sometimes had the pleasure to fancy that, in certain particularsof small consequence, I had been fortunate enough to improve themethod or the language, and this encouraged me to think that I mightin time come to be a tolerable English writer; of which I wasextremely ambitious. The time I allotted for writing exercises, andfor reading, was at night, or before work began in the morning, or onSundays, when I contrived to be in the printing house, avoiding asmuch as I could the constant attendance at public worship, which myfather used to exact of me when I was under his care, and which Istill continued to consider a duty, though I could not afford time topractise it."

Let any boy of even moderate abilities subject himself to such rigiddiscipline for intellectual improvement as Benjamin did, and hisprogress will be rapid, and his attainments remarkable. Suchapplication and persistent effort win always.

In a similar manner Benjamin acquired the Socratic method ofreasoning, which he found at the end of the English grammar that hestudied. Subsequently he purchased "Xenophon's Memorabilia" because itwould afford him assistance in acquiring the Socratic style. Hecommitted to memory, wrote, practised doing the same thing over andover, persevering, overcoming, conquering. He acquired the method sothoroughly as to be expert therein, and practised it with greatsatisfaction to himself. Many years thereafter he spoke of the fact asfollows:

"While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an Englishgrammar (I think it was Greenwood's), having at the end of it twolittle sketches on the Arts of Rhetoric and Logic, the latterfinishing with a dispute in the Socratic method. And, soon after, Iprocured Xenophon's 'Memorable Things of Socrates,' wherein there aremany examples of the same method. I was charmed with it, adopted it,dropped my abrupt contradiction and positive argumentation, and put onthe humble inquirer. And being then, from reading Shaftesbury andCollins, made a doubter, as I already was in many points of ourreligious doctrines, I found this method the safest for myself, andvery embarrassing to those against whom I used it; therefore I tookdelight in it, practised it continually, and grew very artful andexpert in drawing people, even of superior knowledge, into concessionsthe consequences of which they did not foresee, entangling them indifficulties out of which they could not extricate themselves, and soobtaining victories that neither myself nor my cause always deserved.

"I continued this method some few years, but gradually left it,retaining only the habit of expressing myself in terms of modestdiffidence, never using, when I advanced any thing that may possiblybe disputed, the words certainly, undoubtedly, or any others thatgive the air of positiveness to an opinion; but rather saying, Iconceive, or apprehend, a thing to be so and so; It appears tome, or I should not think it, so or so, for such and such reasons;or, I imagine it to be so; or, It is so, if I am not mistaken.This habit, I believe, has been of great advantage to me, when I havehad occasion to inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into measuresthat I have been from time to time engaged in promoting."

This and the preceding chapter show that a book may decide the futurecharacter and destiny of a man, by inspiring thought, kindlingambition and a lofty aim, stimulating the mental powers, inspiringpractical and, perhaps, elegant composition, and consecrating thewhole being to a definite purpose. All this was true of BenjaminFranklin.

Rev. John Sharp said, "Shakespeare and the Bible have made me bishopof York." Wesley claimed that the "Imitation of Christ" and "Taylor'sHoly Living and Dying" determined his calling and character. HenryMartyn was made a missionary by reading the lives of Brainard andCarey. Pope was indebted to Homer for his poetical inspiration, and itwas the origin of his English "Iliad." Bentham read "Telemachus" inhis youth, and, many years afterwards, he said, "That romance may beregarded as the foundation-stone of my whole character." Goethe becamea poet in consequence of reading the "Vicar of Wakefield." Carey wasfired to go on a mission to the heathen by reading "Voyages of CaptainCook." Samuel Drew credited his eminent career to reading Locke's"Essay on the Understanding." The lives of Washington and Henry Clayawakened aspirations in Lincoln's soul, that impelled him forward andgave direction to his life. The national system of education in GreatBritain grew out of a book. Joseph Lancastar read "Clarkson on theSlave Trade," when he was fourteen years of age, and it awakened hisenthusiasm to teach the blacks in the West Indies. Without theknowledge of his parents he went thither, and commenced labors fortheir mental and moral improvement. His parents learned where he wasand sent for him; but his heart was thoroughly in sympathy withbenevolent work, and he opened a school for the poor at home. So greatwas his success that the town, after a few years, erected a commodiousbuilding for his school; and here was the foundation of the presentsystem of education in the mother-country.

The author once advised a youth of fourteen to read certain books,accustoming himself to write down in a note-book striking facts andthoughts for preservation. At the same time he was advised to procurea blank book and write therein a sentence or short paragraph each day,without omission, the sentence or paragraph to contain the developmentof some thought that was waiting utterance. At that time there was noprospect that the youth would ever receive a liberal education. He wasa farmer's son, and his father was unable to educate him. The most theauthor had in view was to provide him,—a bright, active, promisingboy, fond of reading,—with a source of improving entertainment andprofit. But he caught the idea with so much enthusiasm, and reduced itto practice so thoroughly, that an unquenchable desire for aneducation was nursed into controlling power; and he went throughcollege, studied theology, became pastor of one of the largestCongregational churches in the country, stood among the most eloquentpreachers in the land at thirty, received the degree of Doctor ofDivinity at forty, and now, at a little more than fifty, is thebeloved and able pastor of a large church in a New England city. Thisresult was brought about by the discipline of reading and writing inhis youth, very similar to that which made Benjamin a statesman andphilosopher.

XV.

THE "COURANT" IN TROUBLE.

"The Legislature is calling you to an account," said a customer toJames Franklin, as he entered the office. "The officials can't put upwith your cutting criticisms."

"I am aware of that. I heard that they were going to haul theCourant over the coals; but I do not see what they can do about it."

"They can stop your printing it, I suppose. It would be an intolerantact, of course; but governments have never been tolerant towards thepress, you know."

"The day is coming when they will be," responded James. "A free pressis indispensable to human progress. So long as I run the Courant itshall speak plainly of intolerance and hypocrisy of every form. Ishall hit the corruption of the times in high places or low."

"That is sound doctrine," replied the customer. "I endorse it, butgovernment officials do not. They feel very sore, and will maketrouble for you if they can."

At that moment Benjamin came rushing into the office underconsiderable excitement.

"The Assembly are having a hot debate over the Courant," he said. "Iheard a gentleman say that they would stop the publication of thepaper, if possible."

"Perhaps they will, but I doubt it," replied James. "The Courantwill not be muzzled so long as I own it."

"It ought not to be," responded the customer. "We need an outspokenpaper that will rebuke corruption and shams everywhere."

"And that is all the trouble," said Benjamin. "That is what the
Assembly and the ministers denounce. They are better friends of the
British government than they are of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay."

"True, very true," rejoined the customer. "The tyrannical control ofthe English press is a shame; and yet these officials who truckle tothe English government want to try it on here. But such intoleranceought not to be borne."

The Courant was exceedingly sarcastic, and no writer was more sothan Benjamin, young as he was. This was the real cause of the actionof the Assembly. A letter appeared in the Courant, justly rebukingthe government for dilatoriness in looking after a piratical craft offBlock Island. The letter purported to come from Newport, andrepresented that the Colony were fitting out two vessels to captureher. It concluded thus:

"We are advised from Boston that the government of the Massachusettsare fitting out a ship (the Flying Horse) to go after the pirates,to be commanded by Capt. Peter Papillon, and it is thought he willsail sometime this month, wind and weather permitting."

This thrust at the government for tardiness would be regarded as agood joke now, but it was a crime then, and the aristocracy of theProvince, always working in harmony with the King and Parliament, wasstirred up by it to intolerance.

James was summoned before the Council, and his apprentice also, bothof whom stood upon their dignity, refusing to answer some of thequestions put. Benjamin was dismissed, because it was found that hewas only an apprentice. But James was put on trial and pelted withquestions. The legislators were determined to find out who wrote the"scurrilous article aforesaid," as they called it, but James refusedto tell. He placed himself squarely upon his personal rights as acitizen, and heroically stood by his guns. Come what might, heresolved to defend his course before this august tribunal.

The Council became more exasperated by his defiant spirit, andthreatened him with incarceration. But James stood his ground like amartyr, without thinking he would soon become one. Benjamin wasequally defiant, and refused to answer some questions, but was excusedon the ground that "an apprentice was bound not to betray his master'ssecrets." James was convicted of "a high affront to the government,"and the sheriff was directed to commit him to the Boston jail. Thesenew quarters were unexpected to him, but he went thither with theconsciousness that he was suffering for a brave effort to correctpublic wrongs.

We have called attention to a single paragraph reflecting upon thegovernment in the Courant. It should be told that such criticismswere frequent in its columns. The Governor, Council, and nearly allthe ruling class of the Province were in full sympathy with GreatBritain, while others were restive under what they regarded asoppressive rule. Most of the ministers belonged to the first class,and so came in for a share of the Courant's sarcastic utterances.The Courant represented the second class—the common people—whoread its columns gladly.

Dr. Cotton Mather attacked the paper in a paragraph that shows whatthe paper contained:

"We find a notorious, scandalous paper called The Courant, fullfreighted with nonsense, unmanliness, raillery, profaneness,immorality, arrogance, calumnies, lies, contradictions, and what not,all tending to quarrels and divisions, and to debauch and corrupt themind and manners of New England."

Increase Mather, also, assailed the Courant over his own signature,denouncing it as a "wicked libel," because it represented him as oneof its supporters, using language uncommonly expressive.

"I do hereby declare," he said, "that, although I had paid for two orthree of them, I sent him word I was extremely offended with it. Inspecial, because in one of his vile Courants, he insinuates, that ifa minister of God approve of a thing, it is a sign it is of theDevil; which is a horrid thing to be related! And he doth frequentlyabuse the Ministers of Religion, and many other worthy persons, in amanner which is intolerable. For these and such like reasons Isignified to the Printer that I would have no more of their WickedCourants. I, that have known what New England was from the Beginning,cannot but be troubled to see the Degeneracy of this Place. I can wellremember when the Civil Government would have taken an effectualCourse to suppress such a Cursed Libel! which if it be not done I amafraid that some Awful Judgment will come upon this Land, and theWrath of God will arise, and there will be no Remedy. I cannot butpity poor Franklin, who, though but a Young Man, it may beSpeedily he must appear before the Judgment Seat of God, and whatanswer will he give for printing things so vile and abominable?"

It is quite evident that neither James nor Benjamin had that respectfor the "Judgment Seat," which became Christians; but James replied inthe Courant to this onslaught, maintaining that Mather had garbledhis quotations from the paper, or based his opinion on parts ofparagraphs which did not convey the full and correct meaning. Heturned the tables upon him, also, by declaring that, while Matherceased to be a subscriber to his paper, "he sent his grandson everyweek to buy it; and, paying in this way a higher price, he was more ofa supporter of the paper than ever." In the same issue, too, Jamessaid:

"I would likewise advise the enemies of the Courant not to publishany thing more against me unless they are willing to have the papercontinued. What they have already done has been resented by the Townso much to my advantage, that above forty persons have subscribed forthe Courant since the first of January, many of whom were beforesubscribers to the other papers. And by one Advertisement more, theAnti-Couranters will be in great danger of adding forty more to mylist before the first of March."

James showed that he did not say "if the Ministers of God approve of athing, it is a Sign it is of the Devil"; but that he did say, "Most ofthe Ministers are for it, and that induces me to think it is from theDevil; for he often makes use of good men as instruments to obtrudehis delusions on the world." There would be decided objection to thefirst utterance, at that time or since; but the second one, what theCourant did say, was as near the truth as either side was found inmost matters.

To return to James in prison. He was confined in a cell, and was veryuncomfortable. It was a dirty, dismal place, meant to be a place ofpunishment, indeed. James found it so, and he soon was ready to doalmost any thing for freedom of the yard. He sat down and addressed avery humble petition to the Council, confessing his wrong, andimploring forgiveness and release from his cell.

"I am truly sensible of and heartily sorry for the offense I havegiven to the Court in the late Courant, relating to the fitting outof a ship by the government, and I truly acknowledge my inadvertencyand folly therein in affronting the government, as also myindiscretion and indecency when before the Court; for all of which Iintreat the Court's forgiveness, and pray for a discharge from thestone prison, where I am confined by order of the Court, and that Imay have the liberty of the yard, being much indisposed, and sufferingin my health by the said confinement."

While the Council are considering this petition, we will see what hasbecome of the Courant. The whole charge of it devolved on Benjaminfrom the time his brother was imprisoned, and he fearlessly and ablymet the emergency. It was truly wonderful that a boy of sixteen shouldshoulder the responsibility of such an enterprise, in suchcircumstances, and carry it with so much courage and ease.

"I can look after it; there's no trouble in that," said Benjamin tothe "liberal club," who assembled as soon as possible after James wasincarcerated. "The action of the Court will increase our subscribers;and I propose to make the paper more spicy than ever."

"Glad to hear that," responded one of the club. "Let us defy suchintolerance, though all the magistrates and ministers in Bostonsupport it; the mass of the people are with us."

"That is so," remarked another; "and more are coming over to our sideevery day. Intimidation does not become us now. We must continue to beoutspoken; and if Benjamin can look after the paper, we are allright."

"That I can do, and I want no better sport," replied the pluckyprinter-boy. "You may be sure that such persecution will not besustained by a great majority of New England people. We are living inNew England, and not in Old England, and the people know it."

"I think Benjamin understands it," added a third member of the club;"and his courage and ability will meet the occasion. For one I wantthe Courant to continue to be what it has been, the General Court tothe contrary notwithstanding."

Benjamin did understand it, and edited the paper on the same line. Heforgot all his disagreements with his brother in his sympathy with himunder persecution, and in his utter contempt for the action of theCourt. In these circumstances, his attacks upon the administrationwere rather more severe than ever. "The proceedings of the Councilwere assailed by argument, eloquence, and satire, in prose and verse,in squib and essay. One number, issued just after James Franklin'srelease, was nearly filled with passages from 'Magna Charta,' andcomments upon the same, showing the unconstitutionality of thetreatment to which he had been subjected. It is evident that aconsiderable number of the people of Boston most heartily sympathizedwith the Courant in its gallant contest for the liberty of thepress, and that the issue of the number was, to these and to others,the most interesting event of the week."[1]

The authorities considered James' petition, and granted it, but theykept him four weeks in prison before they let him out. He returned tohis printing office, resolved to make the Courant more outspokenstill for the freedom of the press. The club met him with warmcongratulations.

"A great many printers have suffered more than you have," said one ofthe number; "for you have not lost your head, not even an ear. In OldEngland persecution of printers has been in order for a long time.Less than two years ago, one John Matthews, a youth nineteen years ofage, was executed at Tyburn for writing and publishing a tract infavor of the expelled Stuarts."

"But such things do not fit our country," answered James. "My fathercame here to escape that spirit of caste and intolerance that aboundsin England, and so did those who came long before he did. To repeatthem here is a greater abomination than to act them there."

"Let me read to you," interrupted Benjamin, "an account of a printer'sexecution in England, about twenty years before my father emigrated tothis country. I came across it in this book, a few days ago. It ishorrible." Benjamin read as follows:

"The scene is in a court-room in the Old Bailey, Chief Justice Hydepresiding. The prisoner at the bar was a printer, named John Gwyn, apoor man, with a wife and three children. Gwyn was accused of printinga piece which criticised the conduct of the government, and whichcontained these words and others similar: 'If the magistrates pervertjudgment, the people are bound, by the law of God, to execute judgmentwithout them, and upon them.' This was all his offense; but it wasconstrued as a justification of the execution of Charles I, as well asa threat against Charles II, then king of England. The poor manprotested he had never read the offensive matter; it was brought tohim by a maid-servant; he had earned forty shillings by printing it.

"When he was pronounced guilty, he humbly begged for mercy, pleadingpoverty, his young children, and his ignorance of the contents of thepaper. 'I'll tell you what you shall do,' roared the brutal wretch whosat on the bench, 'ask mercy of them that can give it—that is, of Godand the king.' The prisoner said, 'I humbly beseech you to intercedewith his majesty for mercy.' 'Tie him up, executioner,' cried thejudge; 'I speak it from my soul: I think we have the greatesthappiness in the world in enjoying what we do under so good andgracious a king; yet you, Gwyn, in the rancor of your heart, thus toabuse him, deserve no mercy.' In a similar strain he continued forseveral minutes, and then passed upon the prisoner the followingsentence: He was to be drawn to the place of execution upon a hurdle,and there hanged by the neck. While still alive he was to be cut down,castrated, and disemboweled. 'And you still living,' added the judge,'your entrails are to be burnt before your eyes, your head to be cutoff, and your head and quarters to be disposed of at the pleasure ofthe king's majesty.' The printer was overwhelmed with terror, and inhis great agony he cried to the judge again to intercede for him. Theheartless magistrate replied, 'I would not intercede for my own fatherin this case.' The prisoner was removed and executed. His head andlimbs were set up over the gates of the city."

"That was in 1663," said Benjamin as he closed the account; "and,though we have no record of another so fiendish affair, it is a factthat within a few years some printers and editors in England have hadtheir ears cropped, others have been flogged publicly, and othersstill put into the stocks and pillory. We have not come to that yet."

"Not quite," answered one of the club; "but the authorities who wouldplease the king and suppress liberty of the press will go as far asthey dare to go in that direction; depend on that. It becomes us tovindicate our rights fearlessly, or we shall yet share the fate ofGwyn."

"I do not propose to spike one of my guns," said James, who listenedto the last remarks with profound emotion. "We are right, andAmericans will support us. The Courant was started for a purpose,and we must not lose sight of it."

"Benjamin has run the paper to suit while you were in jail, so that Ithink both of you together will satisfy us perfectly in the future,"added another of the club. "I fully believe, with the rest of you,that it is no time now to cringe before the authorities. A stand forthe right is more necessary now than ever before."

We should have stated before that, in the infancy of the Courant,Lady Mary Wortley Montagu returned from Turkey with the remedy for thesmall-pox—inoculation. This disease had prevailed fearfully inBoston. When the town had but five or six thousand inhabitants, sevenhundred of them died of small-pox in six months. In 1721, whenBenjamin was in the printing office, and the population of the townwas twelve thousand, the number of deaths by small-pox was eighthundred and fifty. Many persons attacked with it died within two orthree days, so that it was a terror to the people. Of courseinoculation was received with delight by many. Cotton Mather examinedits claims, and so did his father, Increase Mather; and both endorsedit. But the Courant, for some reason, opposed it, and brought allits resources of ridicule and sarcasm to make it appear ridiculous. Awriter in its columns called it the "minister's remedy," because theclergy favored it. Week after week it denounced the method, and warnedthe people. Finally, Increase Mather publicly called attention to thescandalous sheet, and besought the people to crush it, lest thejudgments of God be brought down upon the land for its highhandedwickedness.

That the treatment of James Franklin by the authorities was notjustified by thoughtful citizens in other parts of the country isevident from the following extract from the Philadelphia Mercury:

"The injustice of imprisoning a man without a hearing must be apparentto all. An indifferent person would judge from this conduct, that theAssembly of Massachusetts are oppressors and bigots, who make religiononly an engine of destruction to the people. We pity the people whoare compelled to submit to the tyranny of priestcraft and hypocrisy."Then followed a sarcastic postscript, over which the reader may smile:"P.S. By private letter from Boston, we are informed, that the bakersare under great apprehensions of being forbid baking any more bread,unless they will submit to the Secretary as supervisor general andweigher of the dough, before it is baked into bread and offered tosale."

The closing sentence referred to the action of the Legislature inenacting that Franklin should publish nothing more without firstsubmitting it to the Secretary of the Province and receiving hisendorsement—legislation that will be quoted in the next chapter.

Franklin continued to issue the Courant after his imprisonment withmore plainness and exposure of public wrongs than he did before. Forseveral months he handled the governor and public officers severely,never forgetting those ministers who supported the cause of the kinginstead of the cause of New England. He little thought that he wasfighting a battle for the ages to come. From his day the press in ourcountry began to enjoy liberty. He began a conflict which did not enduntil liberty of speech and press was proclaimed throughout the land.

Men have often contended for right, and started enterprises, theresults of which the divinest prophet could never have foretold. WhenJohn Pounds, the poor Portsmouth shoemaker, with a passion for doinggood to those who needed it most, gathered a few street-arabs into hisshanty to teach them something good, while he hammered his leather andmended shoes, he did not dream that he was inaugurating a benevolententerprise that would spread throughout the Christian world. But hedid, and to-day the fifteen millions of old and young in the Sabbathschools of our Republic are but the growth and development he began inhis shop. In like manner, the Franklin brothers inaugurated a measurethat culminated in the complete freedom of the press.

[1] Parton's Life of Franklin, vol. i, p. 88.

XVI.

THE BOY EDITOR.

For six months the Courant continued its attacks upon thegovernment, after the editor came out of prison. It took up also, theinconsistencies of church members, and discussed them with greatplainness. But the number of the paper for Jan. 14, 1723, was too muchfor aristocratic flesh and blood, and almost too much for blood thatwas not aristocratic. The Council was incensed, and adopted thefollowing order:

"IN COUNCIL, Jan. 14, 1723.

"WHEREAS, The paper, called The New England Courant of this day'sdate, contains many passages in which the Holy Scriptures areperverted, and the Civil Government, Ministers, and People of theProvince highly reflected on,

"Ordered, That William Tailer, Samuel Sewell, and Penn Townsend,Esqrs., with such as the Honorable House of Representatives shalljoin, be a committee to consider and report what is proper for theCourt to do thereon."

The House of Representatives concurred in the measure, and it wasrushed through, as measures are likely to be when the dander oflegislators is up, and the committee reported as follows:

"That James Franklin, the printer and publisher thereof, be strictlyforbidden by the Court to print or publish The New England Courant,or any other pamphlet or paper of the like nature, except that it isfirst supervised by the Secretary of the Province; and the Justices ofHis Majesty's Sessions of the Peace for the County of Suffolk, attheir next adjournment, be directed to take sufficient bonds of thesaid Franklin for twelve months' time."

As soon as the Council took this action, the Courant club was calledtogether, and the whole matter canvassed.

"The next thing will be an order that no one of us shall have a pairof breeches without permission from the Secretary of the Province,"remarked one, sarcastically. "The Secretary has not brains enough topass judgment upon some of our articles, and he is too English tojudge rightly of New England necessities."

"We should appear smart, tugging our articles over to the Secretaryeach week for his permission to print them," suggested James. "I shallnever do it as long as my name is James Franklin."

"Nor I," added one of the club.

"Nor I," another.

"Nor I," another still.

There was but one mind in the company; and all were disposed to fightit out on the line of freedom of the press.

"But, do you notice," added one of the club, "that no one but JamesFranklin is forbidden to publish the Courant? Some other person canpublish it."

"Sure enough, that is so," responded James, "and here is our way outof the difficulty."

"Of course you can not publish it yourself," addressing James, "indefiance of this order of the Council."

"Of course not; but Benjamin Franklin can do it, as he is notforbidden. How would that do?"

"That can not be done, because he is only an apprentice," suggested aformer speaker. "They can prove that he is your apprentice readily."

"Well, I can meet that difficulty without any trouble," said James,who was intent upon evading the order of the Court.

"Pray, tell us how? By changing the name of the paper?"

"Not by any means. Now is not the time to part with a name that themagistrates and ministers are so much in love with."

"How, then, can you meet the difficulty?"

"Well, I can return his indenture, with his discharge upon the back ofit, and he can show it in case of necessity. At the same time he cansign a new indenture that will be kept a secret."

"Capital!" exclaimed one; "I never thought of that. The measure is apractical one, and I move that we reduce it to practice at once."

"I support it with all my heart, not only as practical, butingenious," added another. "It is honorable to meet the tyranny of theCouncil with an innocent subterfuge like that."

All agreed to the plan, and adopted it enthusiastically.

"Benjamin Franklin, Editor of the Courant," exclaimed a member ofthe club, rising from his seat and patting Benjamin on the shoulder."Don't that sound well, my boy? Rather a young fellow to have incharge such an enterprise, but a match, I guess, for the General Courtof the Province."

"The youngest editor, proprietor, and publisher of a paper in thewhole land, no doubt," suggested another. "But it is as true here asit is in other things, 'Old men for counsel, young men for war.' Weare at war now, and we do not want an editor who will cry peace, whenthere is no peace."

"A free man, too," suggested another facetiously, "an apprentice nolonger, to be knocked about and treated as an underling. At the top,with the laurels of manhood on the brow of sixteen!"

Benjamin had not spoken, but he had listened. Affairs had taken anunexpected turn. In the morning he had no idea of becomingeditor-in-chief of the paper that made more stir in Boston than theother two combined. The promotion rather startled him. Not that heshrank from the responsibility; for he had no hesitation in assumingthat; but the promotion was wholly unexpected. The honors came uponhim suddenly, in a way he never dreamed of. It is not strange that hewas somewhat dumbfounded, though not confounded. He maintainedsilence, because, in the circumstances, he could say nothing betterthan silence.

The plan of James having been adopted, all hastened to carry out thedetails. Benjamin received his indenture, with the endorsement thatconstituted him a free man, and he was announced as the publisher ofthe Courant, and as such his name appeared upon the paper, also aseditor.

In the next issue James inserted the following in the Courant:

"The late publisher of this paper, finding so many inconvenienceswould arise, by his carrying the manuscripts and the public news to besupervised by the Secretary, as to render his carrying it onunprofitable, has entirely dropped the undertaking."

Benjamin inserted an amusing salutatory, as if the Courant wasappearing before the public for the first time. It was as follows:

"Long has the press groaned in bringing forth a hateful brood ofpamphlets, malicious scribbles, and billingsgate ribaldry. No generousand impartial person then can blame the present undertaking, which isdesigned purely for the diversion and merriment of the reader. Piecesof pleasantry and mirth have a secret charm in them to allay the heatsand tumults of our spirits, and to make a man forget his restlessresentment. The main design of this weekly paper will be to entertainthe town with the most comical and diverting incidents of human life,which, in so large a place as Boston, will not fail of a universalexemplification. Nor shall we be wanting to fill up these papers witha grateful interspersion of more serious words, which may be drawnfrom the most ludicrous and odd parts of life."

Pretty good for a boy of sixteen! Good sense, tact, humor, andrhetoric combined in one brief paragraph! Not only the youngest editorin 1723, but the youngest editor of a city paper from that day tothis, so far as we know. On the fact hangs a tale of the wonderfulpowers of a boy who can occupy such a place, and fill it.

We have said that the Courant of Jan. 14, 1723, was filled withmatter that exasperated officials of the Province. The reader willwant to know what some of those utterances were. We will copy a few:

"Religion is indeed the principal thing, but too much of it is worsethan none at all. The world abounds with knaves and villains; but, ofall knaves, the religious knave is the worst, and villainies actedunder the cloak of religion the most execrable. Moral honesty, thoughit will not itself carry a man to heaven, yet I am sure there is nogoing thither without it."

"But are there such men as these in thee, O New England? Heaven forbidthere should be any; but, alas, it is to be feared the number is notsmall. 'Give me an honest man,' say some, 'for all a religiousman'; a distinction which I confess I never heard of before. Thewhole country suffers for the villainies of a few such wolves insheep's clothing, and we are all represented as a pack of knaves andhypocrites for their sakes."

"In old Time it was no disrespect for Men and Women to be called bytheir own Names. Adam was never called Master Adam; we never heardof Noah, Esquire, Lot, Knight and Baronet, nor the RightHonorable Abraham, Viscount Mesopotamia, Baron of Canaan. No, no;they were plain Men, honest Country Graziers, that took care of theirFamilies and their Flocks. Moses was a great Prophet, and Aaron apriest of the Lord; but we never read of the Reverend Moses, nor theRight Reverend Father in God, Aaron, by Divine Providence, LordArch-Bishop of Israel. Thou never sawest Madam Rebecca in theBible, My Lady Rachel, nor Mary, tho' a Princess of the Bloodafter the death of Joseph, called the Princess Dowager ofNazareth. No; plain Rebecca, Rachel, Mary, or the Widow Mary, orthe like. It was no Incivility then to mention their naked Names asthey were expressed.

"Yet, one of our Club will undertake to prove, that tho' Abraham wasnot styled Right Honorable, yet he had the Title of Lord given himby his Wife Sarah, which he thinks entitles her to the Honour of MyLady Sarah; and Rachel, being married into the same Family, heconcludes that she may deserve the Title of My Lady Rachel. But thisis but the Opinion of one Man; it was never put to vote in theSociety."

"On the whole, Friend James, we may conclude, that theAnti-Couranteers [opponents of the Courant] are a sort ofPrecisians, who, mistaking Religion for the peculiar Whims of theirown distemp'rd Brain, are for cutting or stretching all Men to theirown Standard of Thinking. I wish Mr. Symmes' Character may secure himfrom the Woes and Curses they are so free of dispensing among theirdissenting neighbours, who are so unfortunate as to discover aCheerfulness becoming Christianity."

It is not questioned that Benjamin wrote these paragraphs, amongothers; and for keen satire they are very remarkable as thecomposition of a boy of sixteen. At the present day they would beregarded as quaint, able and truthful, without awakening opposition.But, in 1723, no doubt there were tender consciences among theofficial sycophants of the English Government, that made a justapplication of these cutting words, so as to become exasperated andbitter. Hence, their tyrannical and unjustifiable legislation.

Mr. Parton mentions a fact that should be noted here: "Until theRevolution, the business of publishing newspapers in America wascarried on almost exclusively by postmasters. Newspapers went free ofpostage in the colonies as late as 1758. Until that time, thepostmasters had not only the privilege of sending papers through themail free, but the still more valuable right of excluding from themail papers published by others. Accordingly, we find that nearly allthe pioneers of the press, in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, werepostmasters. When a postmaster lost his office he generally sold outhis newspaper, and a new postmaster soon bought or established one.John Campbell, however, feeling himself aggrieved by his removal, didnot dispose of the News-letter [first paper in this country]; whichinduced his successor, William Brocker, to set up a paper of his own,the Boston Gazette, which appeared in December, 1719. Mr. Brockerexpressly says, in his prospectus, that he started the new paper atthe request of several merchants, and others, who 'have beenprevented from having their newspaper sent them by the post, eversince Mr. Campbell was removed from being postmaster.'"[2]

It is a significant fact that, in 1758, newspapers ceased to becarried free in the mails, and a charge of ninepence a year for eachfifty miles of carriage was assessed; and our Benjamin brought aboutthe change. He was then known as Deputy Postmaster General, and madethe change in the interest of the public welfare. We think that, atthe time, he must have recalled his tussle with the General Court,when, at sixteen, he edited the Courant.

Benjamin continued in his brother's printing office eight months afterthe occurrence just narrated, editor and publisher of the Courant.His brother never run the paper again in his own name, and,subsequently, he removed to Newport, R.I., where he established theRhode Island Gazette in 1732.

Benjamin kept up his running fire against the trucklingrepresentatives of the British government, including ministers whowere not outspoken against oppression and the censorship of the press.The blade of his satire became brighter and keener, and thecirculation of the paper increased largely, showing that the portionof the population having the true American spirit, were in sympathywith the purpose of the paper. Mr. Sparks says of it:

"It touched with great freedom the vices and follies of the time. Theweapon of satire was used with an unsparing hand. Neither thegovernment nor the clergy escaped. Much caution was practised,however, in regard to individuals, and names were seldom introduced.There are some severe and humorous criticisms on the poets of the day,which may be classed with the best specimens of this kind ofcomposition in the modern reviews. The humor sometimes degeneratesinto coarseness, and the phraseology is often harsh; but, bating thesefaults, the paper contains nothing, which in later times would havebeen deemed reprehensible."

Of the action of the General Court, imprisoning James Franklin, Mr.Sparks says: "He was sentenced by a vote of the Assembly, without anyspecification of offensive passages, or any trial before a court ofjustice. This was probably the first transaction, in the AmericanColonies, relating to the freedom of the press; and it is not lessremarkable for the assumption of power on the part of the legislature,than for their disregard of the first principles and established formsof law."

This is a fair and just estimate of the affair. Probably officials sawtheir mistake, and concluded not to repeat it; for Benjamin was notmolested in his business, though he continued to be as saucy andsarcastic as ever. From that day freedom of the press was assured inthis country.

This narrative of Benjamin's connection with the printing office, atthe time a new paper was to be established, shows that thecircumstances called out a certain kind of talent he possessed, andthus helped to make him what he became. Success depends in a greatmeasure on early directing the young in the path to which theirnatural endowments point. Square men should be put into square holes,and round men into round holes. Many careers are spoiled by reversingthis law of nature, getting square men into round holes, and round meninto square holes. A good mechanic has often been spoiled to make anindifferent clergyman or merchant, and a good minister has beenspoiled to make a commonplace artisan. Overlooking the "natural bent,"the youth has selected an occupation (or his father for him) for whichhe has no special aptitude, and he brings little to pass.

Benjamin was a square youth, and he got into a square hole, which hejust fitted. He was not there by his own election; he was there by thelead of Providence, and he cheerfully acquiesced. Becoming the rightboy in the right place, he grew into stalwart manhood and a usefullife, as naturally as the sapling on congenial soil grows into thethrifty, fruit-bearing tree.

In the second chapter we spoke of Boston, in the infancy of Benjamin,as a place where bears were plenty, and other wild animals roamed. TheCourant contained the following paragraph, about the time of itscontest with the Court, and we copy it as a fitting close to thischapter:

"It is thought that not less than twenty Bears have been killed inabout a week's time within two miles of Boston. Two have been killedbelow the Castle, as they were swimming from one island to another,and one attempted to board a boat out in the bay, but the men defendedthemselves so well with the boat-hook and oars, that they put out hereyes, and then killed her. On Tuesday last two were killed atDorchester, one of which weighed sixty pounds a quarter. We hear fromProvidence that the bears appear to be very thick in those parts."

[2] Vol. i, p. 78.

XVII.

THE YOUNG SKEPTIC.

"What book have you there, Ben?" inquired John Collins, some timebefore the newspaper enterprise was started.

"Lord Shaftesbury's work. I have been looking into it for some time;and Anthony Collins' work, too," answered Benjamin. "I suppose that myfather would say they are not quite Orthodox; but they are veryinteresting, and I think their views are reasonable."

"I have been questioning your Orthodoxy for some time, Ben, but Ithought you would come out all right in the end, and so I have saidnothing. I do not know about your coming out right if you become adisciple of Shaftesbury." John made this reply more in jest than inearnest, for he cared little whether Benjamin was a skeptic or not.Perhaps he was skeptical himself at that time; some things indicate asmuch.

"I think it is rather difficult to tell how I shall come out, John;but I do not propose to believe any thing in religion, science, or anything else, just because my father does," responded Benjamin. "I knowthat I have accepted some religious dogmas because I was taught them,and for no other reason."

"Then you do not now believe all that you have been taught aboutreligion, if I understand you?"

"No, I am free to say that I do not. There is neither reason norwisdom in portions of the creed of the Church."

"Why, Ben, you surprise me. You are getting to be quite an infidel fora boy. It won't do for you to read Shaftesbury and Collins any more,if you are so easily upset by them. I do not know any thing about them,only from what I hear. I never read a paragraph of either."

"One thing is sure," continued Benjamin. "I mean to be classed amongthe few people who think for themselves. It is a small company I shallbe found in, but it is an independent one. Most people are religiousbecause they are so instructed. They embrace the religion of theirfathers and mothers, without asking what is true or false. I will notbe of that class. I will not be Orthodox or Heterodox because myancestors were."

"There is not much danger that you will do that, Ben. Presentappearances rather indicate that the religious opinions of your fatherwill be blown sky-high." John did not mean quite as much as hislanguage in this reply denoted.

"You do not understand me. I respect my parents and their religiousopinions, though I doubt some of the doctrines they have taught me. Inever examined them until I began to read Shaftesbury and Collins, butaccepted them as correct because my father and grandfather believedthem. I shall do that no more, that is all I meant."

"Well, I can not say that you are wrong, Ben. If you make half as gooda man as your father is, by believing half the truths he believes andadvocates, you will stand pretty well in the world. I expect that weought to avoid religious cant, bigotry, and intolerance."

"I expect so, too; and there is much of all three existing to-day,"Benjamin answered. "A bigot may be a well-meaning man, but so much theworse for him. There is so much bigotry in Boston to-day, that theminister of each denomination thinks his denomination has all thetruth and all the religion there is. I think that idea is a falsehood,to begin with."

"I shall agree with you there, Ben. I have no question that a man maybe a Christian without believing half that most denominations professto believe. And I suppose that the main thing is to be Christians, andnot theologians."

"You are drifting to my side as fast as is necessary," remarkedBenjamin, laughing. "You will come clear over in due time. I am sureyou will, if you read Shaftesbury."

"Well, I must drift home in a hurry," responded John. "Whether I shalldrift to you, the future will reveal. You are now in too deep waterfor me. I should drown if I got in where you are."

John left, and Benjamin went on thinking, as he was wont. He put morethinking into every twenty-four hours than any three boys together inBoston. At this time he was quite a doubter,—really a young skeptic.In the printing office he drifted in that direction faster and faster.He was a kind of speculator from childhood. He loved to argue. Heenjoyed being on the opposite side, to indulge his propensity toargue. After he learned the Socratic method of reasoning, he was moreinclined to discuss religion with different parties. Perhaps he did itto practise the method, rather than to show his aversion to religion.But, judging from what followed, in the next three or four years, hegrew decidedly unbelieving. We can discover his lack of reverence forthe Christian religion, and want of confidence in it, in articles hewrote for the Courant. Nothing very marked, it is true, but some ofhis articles lean in that direction.

Besides, Benjamin was one of those talented, independent boys, whothink it is manly to break away from ancestral creeds. When he waseleven years old he was assisting his father to pack a barrel of porkfor winter use. When the work was done he said to his father:

"Father, it would save time if you would say grace over the wholebarrel now, instead of saying it over a piece at a time."

Whether his father flogged him for such irreverence, we are not told;nevertheless, the fact is suggestive of an element in the boy'smake-up to which the ingenious skeptic may appeal with success.Possibly it was only the native humor of the boy, which, with his loveof fun, cropped out on that occasion. It was irreverence, however,whatever may have been his motive.

Many were the conversations that Benjamin had with his friend, John
Collins, upon religion, after becoming thoroughly poisoned by reading
Shaftesbury and Collins.

"By the way, John, I should like to read to you what your namesakesays on the subject. Perhaps you descended straight from thisillustrious infidel."

"Perhaps so; but I shall not spend time in tracing my pedigree," Johnreplied. "I never dared to trace my ancestors far back, for fear Ishould run into some disreputable family."

"It is probably an accident that you are a Collins, so that we can'tlay it up against you, John; but I should really like to read two orthree paragraphs from Collins' work, that you may judge of him."

"Go ahead, and I will give you respectful attention. If it is above mycapacity to understand, I will not hold you responsible."

Benjamin proceeded to read from Collins' work as follows:

"Opinions, how erroneous soever, when the Effect of an impartialExamination, will never hurt Men in the sight of God, but willrecommend Men to his Favour. For impartial Examination in the Matterof Opinion is the best that a Man can do towards obtaining Truth, andGod, who is a wise, good, and just Being, can require no more of Menthan to do their best, and will reward them when they do their best;and he would be the most unjust Being imaginable, if he punished Men,who had done their best endeavor to please him. Besides, if men wereto be punished by God for mistaken Opinions, all men must be damned;for all Men abound in mistaken Opinions."

"While Rome was in the Height of its glory for Arms, Learning, andPoliteness, there were six hundred different Religions professed andallowed therein. And this groat Variety does not appear to have hadthe least Effect on the Peace of the State, or on the Temper of Men;but, on the contrary, a very good Effect, for there is an entireSilence of History, about the Actions of those ancient Professors,who, it seems, lived so quietly together as to furnish no Materialsfor an Ecclesiastical History, such as Christians have given anOccasion for, which a Reverend Divine thus describes: 'EcclesiasticalHistory' says he, 'is chiefly spent in reciting the wild Opinions ofHereticks (that is, in belying Hereticks); the Contentions betweenEmperors and Popes; the idle and superstitious Canons, and ridiculousDecrees and Constitutions of packed Councils; their Debates aboutfrivolous Matters, and playing the Fool with Religion; theConsultations of Synods about augmenting the Revenues of the Clergy,and establishing their Pride and Grandure; the impostures of Monks andFryars; the Schisms and Factions of the Church; the Tyranny, Cruelty,and Impiety of the Clergy; insomuch that the excellent Grotius says,'He that reads Ecclesiastical history reads nothing but theRoguery and Folly of Bishops and Churchmen.'"

"Matthew says, Jesus came and dwelt at Nazareth that it might befulfilled, which was spoken by the Prophet saying, 'He shall be calleda Nazarene.' Which Citation does not expressly occur in any Place ofthe Old Testament, and therefore cannot be literally fulfilled."

"In fine, the Prophecies, cited from the Old Testament by the Authorsof the New, do plainly relate, in their obvious and primary Sense, toother Matters than those which they are produced to prove."

"Well," said John, interrupting, "I think that will do for mynamesake. There is nothing very wonderful to me about that. Trueenough, I guess, but nothing remarkable. But how about Shaftesbury?What has he written?"

"He disproves the miracles of the New Testament. His 'InquiryConcerning Virtue' and his 'Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour'are interesting as novels to me."

"I prefer the novels," interrupted John.

"Perhaps you do; but Shaftesbury is one of the most ingenious andpleasant writers known. He does not discard religion; he assailsspurious religion only."

"And spurious religion is all religion that he do not believe in, Isuppose," suggested John, "come from above or below? When a man doesnot believe the Bible he tries to show it up; and so when a man do notbelieve any religion but his own, he tries to explode all others."

"Read Shaftesbury, and judge for yourself," added Benjamin. "You willfall in love with him, as I have. He is one of the most graceful andfascinating writers I know of."

"Perhaps I will read him sometime," replied John. "I must go now; andwhen I am ready for it I will call for the book."

We have not time to follow the companionship of these two youth. Itwas intimate, and Benjamin succeeded in making a Shaftesbury discipleof John, so that one was about as much of an unbeliever as the other.In his "Autobiography," Benjamin confesses that he "was made adoubter by reading Shaftesbury and Collins," although he began todissent from his father, as we have already seen, in his boyhood, whenhe read the religious tracts of Boyle.

We know that Benjamin was charged with being an atheist by hisbrother. True, it was when his brother was angry because he left him;still, he would not have been likely to make such a statement toothers without some foundation for it. Franklin himself gives onereason for his leaving Boston (in his "Autobiography"): "My indiscreetdisputations about religion began to make me pointed at with horror bygood people as an infidel and atheist."

Another admission in his "Autobiography" reflects upon this subject:

"The time I allotted for writing exercises and for reading, was atnight, or before work began in the morning, or on Sundays, when Icontrived to be in the printing house, avoiding as much as I could theconstant attendance upon public worship, which my father used to exactof me when I was under his care, and which I still continued toconsider a duty, though I could not afford time to practise it."

There is an intimate connection between loose religious views and thenon-observance of the Sabbath. Skeptics are not friendly to theSabbath as a class. It is an institution they inveigh against withmuch spirit. No doubt the change going on in Benjamin's opinions hadmuch to do with his ceasing to attend public worship.

Fifteen years afterwards, when Benjamin was fully established inbusiness in Philadelphia, his parents became very anxious about hisskeptical ideas, and wrote to him about it. Their letter is notpreserved, but we have his in reply, which, while it confirms thefact, shows him to be more reverent and thoughtful than they feared.It is, also, evidence of a filial regard for his father and motherthat is always as beautiful as it is honorable. We furnish the letterbelow:

"PHILADELPHIA, April 13, 1738.

"Honored Father,—I have your favors of the 21st of March, in which you both seem concerned lest I have imbibed some erroneous opinions. Doubtless I have my share, and when the natural weakness and imperfection of human understanding is considered, the unavoidable influence of education, custom, books, and company, upon our ways of thinking, I imagine a man must have a good deal of vanity who believes, and a good deal of boldness who affirms, that all the doctrines he holds are true, and all he rejects are false. And, perhaps, the same may be justly said of every sect, church, and society of men, when they assume to themselves that infallibility which they deny to the pope and councils.

"I think opinions should be judged of by their influences and effects; and if man holds none that tend to make him less virtuous or more vicious, it may be concluded he holds none that are dangerous,—which, I hope, is the case with me.

"I am sorry you should have any uneasiness on my account, and, if it were a thing possible for one to alter his opinions in order to please another's, I know none whom I ought more willingly to oblige in that respect than yourselves. But, since it is no more in a man's power to think than to look like another, methinks all that should be expected from me is to keep my mind open to conviction; to hear patiently, and examine attentively, whatever is offered me for that end; and, if after all I continue in the same errors, I believe your usual charity will induce you rather to pity and excuse than blame me; in the mean time your care and concern for me is what I am very thankful for.

"My mother grieves that one of her sons is an Arian, another an Arminian; what an Arminian or an Arian is, I can not say that I very well know. The truth is, I make such distinctions very little my study. I think vital religion has always suffered when orthodoxy is more regarded than virtue; and the Scriptures assure me that at the last day we shall not be examined what we thought, but what we did; and our recommendation will not be that we said, Lord! Lord! but that we did good to our fellow-creatures. See Matt. xx.

"As to the free masons, I know no way of giving my mother a better account of them than she seems to have at present (since it is not allowed that women should be admitted into that secret society). She has, I must confess, on that account, some reason to be displeased with it; but, for any thing else, I must entreat her to suspend her judgment till she is better informed, unless she will believe me when I assure her that they are in general a very harmless sort of people, and have no principles or practices that are inconsistent with religion and good manners.

"B. FRANKLIN."

His sister also, later on, in her great anxiety for his spiritualwelfare, wrote to him, and he replied as follows:

"PHILADELPHIA, July 28, 1743.

"Dearest Sister Jenny,—I took your admonition very kindly, and was far from being offended at you for it. If I say any thing about it to you, 't is only to rectify some wrong opinions you seem to have entertained of me; and this I do only because they give you some uneasiness, which I am unwilling to be the occasion of. You express yourself as if you thought I was against worshipping of God, and doubt that good works would merit heaven; which are both fancies of your own, I think, without foundation. I am so far from thinking that God is not to be worshipped, that I have composed and wrote a whole book of devotions for my own use; and I imagine there are few if any in the world so weak as to imagine that the little good we can do here can merit so vast a reward hereafter.

"There are some things in your New England doctrine and worship which I do not agree with; but I do not therefore condemn them, or desire to shake your belief or practice of them. We may dislike things that are nevertheless right in themselves; I would only have you make me the same allowance, and have a better opinion both of morality and your brother. Read the pages of Mr. Edwards' late book, entitled, 'Some Thoughts concerning the present Revival of Religion in New England,' from 367 to 375, and, when you judge of others, if you can perceive the fruit to be good, do not terrify yourself that the tree may be evil; be assured it is not so, for you know who has said, 'Men do not gather grapes off thorns, and figs off thistles.'

"I have not time to add, but that I shall always be your affectionate brother,

"B. FRANKLIN.

"P.S. It was not kind in you, when your sister commended good works, to suppose she intended it a reproach to you. 'T was very far from her thoughts."

The sequel will show much more concerning the skepticism of Franklin;and that the time came when he saw the folly of such unbelief, andgave his adherence to the Christian religion. At the same time, helearned from experience the danger of reading infidel publications,and warned the young against following his example. Indeed, there isgood reason to believe that, as early as 1728, when he was buttwenty-two years of age, he was not so much of an infidel as some ofhis friends supposed; for then he prepared a code of morals and belieffor his own use, entitled "Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion."In this document he avows his belief in "One Supreme, most perfectBeing," and prays to "be preserved from atheism, impiety, andprofaneness." Under the head of "Thanks" occur the following:

"For peace and liberty, for food and raiment, for corn, and wine, andmilk, and every kind of healthful nourishment,—Good God, I thankThee!

"For the common benefits of air and light, for useful fire anddelicious water,—Good God, I thank Thee!

"For knowledge, and literature, and every useful art, for my friendsand their prosperity, and for the fewness of my enemies,—Good God, Ithank Thee!

"For all my innumerable benefits, for life, and reason, and the use ofspeech; for health, and joy, and every pleasant hour,—Good God, Ithank Thee!"

It is true, there is not much religion in these things; and thoughthey may have been adopted to satisfy the demands of conscience only,they prove that he was not an atheist, as many supposed.

Benjamin's experience with skeptical and infidel books recalls theexperience of two young men, when about the same age, withpublications of kindred character, which came very near depriving theUnited States of two good Presidents.

Before Abraham Lincoln began the study of law, he was connected with aclique or club of young men, who made light of religion, and readbooks that treated it as a delusion. It was at this time that he readPaine's "Age of Reason" and Volney's "Ruins," through which he wasinfluenced to array himself against the Bible for a time,—as much ofa skeptic, almost, as any one of his boon companions. But his earlyreligious training soon asserted itself, and we hear no more ofhostility to religion as long as he lived. On the other hand, when hewas elected President, he spoke as follows to his friends andneighbors, who had assembled at the station to bid him adieu onleaving for Washington, on the eve of the late bloody Civil war:

"My Friends: No one not in my position can appreciate the sadness Ifeel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I havelived more than a quarter of a century. Here my children were born,and here one of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall see youagain. A duty devolves on me, which is greater, perhaps, than thatwhich has devolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. Henever would have succeeded except for the aid of Divine Providence,upon which he at all times relied. I feel that I can not succeedwithout the same Divine aid which sustained him, and on the sameAlmighty Being I place my reliance for support; and I hope you, myfriends, will pray that I may receive that Divine assistance, withoutwhich I can not succeed, but with which success is certain. Again Ibid you all an affectionate farewell."

When James A. Garfield became a member of the "Black Salter's" family,he found "Marryatt's Novels," "Sinbad the Sailor," "The Pirates' OwnBook," "Jack Halyard," "Lives of Eminent Criminals," "The Buccaneersof the Caribbean Seas"; and being a great reader, he sat up nights toread these works. Their effect upon him was to weaken the ties of homeand filial affection, diminish his regard for religious things, andcreate within him an intense desire for a seafaring life. Nothing buta long and painful sickness, together with the wise counsels of hismother and a popular teacher, saved him from a wild and reckless lifeupon the sea, by leading him to Christ and a nobler life, inconsequence of which his public career was one of honor, and closed inthe highest office of the land.

Neither Lincoln nor Garfield would have been President of the UnitedStates if the spell, with which the influence of corrupt books boundthem for the time, had not been broken by juster views of real lifeand nobler aims.

XVIII.

HOW HE QUIT BOSTON.

"I tell you how it is, John," exclaimed Benjamin, under greatexcitement; "I have withstood my brother's ill treatment as long as Iam going to. I shall leave him."

"How is that, Ben? I thought your brother would treat you with moreconsideration after you immortalized yourself as an editor. I knew youhad a hard time with him before the Courant was started." JohnCollins knew somewhat of Benjamin's troubles, the first two years ofhis apprenticeship.

"He has been worse since my prominence on the Courant; that is, attimes. I think my success aroused his jealousy, so that it fretted himto see me, his apprentice, occupy a higher position than himself. Oncein a while he has seemed to be pleased with my prominence on thepaper, and then again it annoyed him."

"I should think you had helped him out of trouble enough to stir uphis gratitude a little, even if he had no pride in possessing sobright a brother."

"Brother! brother!" exclaimed Benjamin. "He never thought of thatrelation. I was his apprentice, to be lorded over until twenty-oneyears of age. I do not think he would have treated the greateststranger as an apprentice more unkindly than he has me. He seemed tothink that the relation of master to an apprentice obliterates allblood relationship."

"That is unfortunate for both of you," remarked John, "but mostunfortunate for him, whom public opinion will judge as a brother, andnot as a master. But how will you get along with your indenture if youleave him?"

"I am justified by the circumstances in using the indenture, on theback of which is his own endorsement of my freedom. He released mefrom all obligations to him, that I might run the paper when he couldnot."

"But the understanding between you was, if I remember, that it wasonly a formality to evade the action of the General Court. He did notmean that you should take advantage of it and refuse to serve him."

"That is true; but I say the circumstances justify me in using it asif he really meant to give me my freedom. He has another indenturewhich I signed, designed to be kept private, but he won't dare tobring that out to the light of day, because it may get him intofurther trouble with the General Court."

"You have the advantage of him there, I see, if you see fit to availyourself of it. Does James know how you feel about it?"

"He ought to know, for I have told him that I should leave him if hecontinued to treat me as he has done. Probably he does not believethat I shall quit, but I am not responsible for that. He ought to seethat such treatment would cause any apprentice to leave his master."

"What does he do that is so bad?" inquired John.

"He undertook to flog me, the other day. He did strike me, but Ishowed him that I believed in self-defense, and he desisted. He hasbeaten me often. I did not like the looks of an elder brother lickinga younger one, and so I put myself in a position to make such a sceneimpossible."

"Well, I do not think that such a scene is particularly attractive,"responded John in his droll way. "Such a scene in the theatre would betragedy, I think; it could not be comedy in a civilized land."

"That is no worse than other things he does. If he would get mad andbeat me, and then be kind and considerate for a while, I should bequite well satisfied. But he is constantly domineering over me, as ifhe meant I should realize all the while that he is my legal master."

"Does your father know about it?"

"Yes, and he has been decidedly in my favor until now. We have oftenlaid our differences before him, and in nearly every instance, he hassupported me. But for some reason, since the last trouble he hasupheld James. Perhaps it was because I did not allow James to beat meas masters often do their apprentices."

"What do you propose to do if you leave your brother?" continued John.

"Go to New York. I can find work there. If there is nothing there foran extra printer to do, I will turn my hand to something else. I shallleave Boston."

"Why not get into one of the other printing offices in town? I do notwant you should quit Boston until I do."

"For two good reasons. The first is that my connection with theCourant stirred up the officials of the government, so that I amobnoxious to them; and the second is, that my religious opinions havebecome so well known, and have been so misrepresented, that ministersand other good people consider me no better than an atheist. I preferto go among strangers, where I can have a chance to make a record formyself."

"Better make a record here,—the best chance in the world. Here peopleknow who you are, or they ought to know by this time. Take my advice,and secure a place in another printing office in Boston."

The result of this interview with John was, that Benjamin resolved tosecure a position in Boston if he could. But when he applied,subsequently, for a situation, each printer declined to employ him.James had been to them, anticipating that he might take this step, andwarned them against making any bargain with him. He assured them thathe should take legal steps, under the indenture of apprenticeship, tomaintain his rights if they employed him. Besides, he told them thatBenjamin did not believe the Christian religion, and he had no respectfor those who did; that, in short, he was "no better than an atheist."

James meant to compel Benjamin to continue to work for him; and hethought if no other printer would hire him, that would end thetrouble. But the opposite effect was produced. It determined Benjaminto quit Boston as soon as he could arrange for the change, though hedid not make known his decision to his brother. Probably his brotherdid not dream of his leaving Boston for New York, or any other place.However, Benjamin embraced the first opportunity to announce to himthat he should quit.

"I am my own man from this time," he cried, holding up his indenturewhich his brother had returned to him. "This paper makes me free, andI shall take advantage of it to leave you," and he shook the documentin James' face.

"You know that I never gave up the indenture because I relinquishedthe bargain we had made. If you use it to assert and establish yourfreedom, you will be guilty of a mean, contemptible act."

"I shall so use it!" and Benjamin was very defiant when he said it. "Ihave borne your abuse long enough, and I will bear it no longer."

"We shall see about that. Father will have a word to say about it, youwill find. You are not of age yet." James spoke with remarkablecoolness for him, in the circumstances. He probably realized thatBenjamin had the advantage of him.

"Neither father nor any other man can force me to work for you anylonger. You have even been around to other printers, to influence themnot to employ me; and you have lied about me, telling them that I aman atheist, and other things as bad."

"I told them nothing but the truth," replied James. "You know as wellas I do, that you believe Shaftesbury instead of the Bible."

"Well, no matter what I believe. I shall not work for you another day.I will resort to the most menial employment for my bread and butterbefore I will serve a man who will treat his own brother like aslave." And again Benjamin flourished his indenture before the eyes ofJames, defiantly.

It was not fair in Benjamin to take this advantage of his brother, andhe knew it; but his resentment triumphed over his regard for right atthe time. James returned his indenture only that he might be able topublish the Courant unmolested. It was a deceitful arrangement inthe first place, and Benjamin's use of the indenture to assert hisliberty was no more unfair and sinful than was James' device to makehim the proprietor of the paper, and thus evade the law. James waspaid in his own coin. He laid a plan to cheat the government, and hegot cheated himself. He was snared in the work of his own hands. This,however, did not justify Benjamin in his course, as he afterwards sawand frankly confessed. In his "Autobiography" he said:

"At length, a fresh difference arising between my brother and me, Itook upon me to assert my freedom, presuming that he would not ventureto produce the new indentures. It was not fair in me to take thisadvantage, and this I therefore reckon one of the first errata of mylife; but the unfairness of it weighed little with me when under theimpressions of resentment for the blows his passion too often urgedhim to bestow upon me, though he was otherwise not an ill-natured man.Perhaps I was too saucy and provoking."

There is no doubt that Benjamin erred in the matter. He was by natureheadstrong and independent; and, perhaps, he was more self-willed onaccount of his success in the business. But, after all allowances aremade, James must be regarded as the chief offender in the troubles,and on him the responsibility for it rests in a large measure.

Benjamin lost no time in reporting his decision to John.

"I am going to New York as soon as I can get away," he said. "What doyou suppose that fellow has done? He has been around to the otherprinters and threatened to enforce his claim to my services if theyhire me; and he lied about me, also. It is settled that I shall go toNew York. I am not going to be banged about any more."

"Well, it seems rather necessary for you to go somewhere if you can'tget work here," answered John. "But how am I going to get alongwithout you, Ben? Couldn't you turn your hand to something else?"

"I could, but I won't. I am fully resolved to quit Boston soon, and Iam satisfied that I must leave clandestinely, or I shall not getaway."

"How is that? Expect that your brother will lay violent hands upon youto prevent?"

"I expect that he and father together will prevent my leaving, ifpossible."

"Have you spoken with your father about it?"

"No, I have not; nor do I intend to. He sides with James now, and thatis enough for me. I shall say nothing to him about the matter."

"Perhaps he thinks you will leave Boston if you leave James,"suggested John. "He may think that you will clear out and go to sea.He has not forgotten your old hankering for a life on the wave."

"Possibly; but I have no desire now to go to sea. I have a trade that
I like, and I shall stick to it until I am forced out of it."

"How do you propose to get to New York? Got any plans ahead?"

"Yes, a plan is all that I have got. It remains to be seen how I cancarry it out. I do not think I can accomplish my purpose without yourhelp."

"I am at your service now, Ben, as ever before; only I would like tounderstand just what I can do."

"That is what I want to talk with you about. I am not yet clear as tomy best way of escape. If I go by land, on foot, they may sendofficers after me, and overtake me before I get half way there."

"Of course it would be poor policy for you to go by land, if you canpossibly go by water. There is a New York sloop in the harbor, and nodoubt it will return soon."

"But how can I get aboard? The captain will want to know who I am, andif he knows that I am a runaway apprentice, he will refuse me apassage."

"I can manage that," said John. "I know the captain, and I think I canarrange with him to take you."

"Yes, but he will want large pay for it. Of course he will not take meto New York without some money arrangement, and I have precious littlemoney to give him."

"You can sell some of your books," suggested John. "You will not takethem to New York with you, and you can sell them readily."

"That is a good idea, John; I will reduce it to practice at once. Ishall not want much money anyway. But suppose the captain is veryinquisitive about me, how will you get along with the case? He must besomewhat suspicious when a Boston boy wants to be taken to New York onthe sly."

"You leave that to me; I have no doubt that I can smuggle you through.
He shall not know even that your name is Franklin."

"Well, then, I will commit myself to your care. See that you manageadroitly, even if you have to make a package of me for transportation.I am going to New York if I am obliged to walk there."

"I will go to see the captain at once, Ben; and I will be back with myreport in two hours. Be on hand, and see if I do not make a goodbargain for your passage. You always have succeeded, and I think youwill succeed now."

"Be off, then, in a jiffy, and I will run out to see where I candispose of my books. I will be back in two hours, and meet you here."

They parted, and John hurried away to see the captain. He found him onboard his sloop.

"Can you take a friend of mine to New York?" he asked.

"That depends on circumstances," replied the captain. "Who is yourfriend? Can't take a pauper or a criminal, you know."

"He is neither one nor the other. He is a young man about my age, aprinter by trade, and he is going to New York to find work."

"Why doesn't he find work in Boston? There are more printers in Bostonthan there are in New York."

"That may be; but he prefers to work in New York. He's tired of
Boston."

"Perhaps Boston is tired of him—is that so? I want to accommodate,but I don't want to get anybody into trouble, nor get there myself."

John saw that there was no evading the captain's questions, and so heresolved to tell the false story he had thought of on his way to thesloop.

"Well," said John, "if I must tell you the whole story, the case isthis: He is a young fellow who has been flirting with a girl, whowants to marry him, and now her parents are determined that he shallmarry her, and he is as determined that he will not; and he proposesto remove secretly to New York. He would have come to see you himself,but his coming might awaken suspicion on the part of some oneacquainted with the affair, who might see him and know him. So I cameto do the business for him."

"He is in a fix, sure," answered the captain; "if there is any man inthe world I would help, it is the man who is trying to escape from thegirl he don't want to marry. How much will he pay for his passage?"

"He will pay your price if it is reasonable. He is not a pauper,though he has not much of a money surplus. He will satisfy you as tothat."

"Send him along, then; this sloop will sail on Saturday at twoo'clock, P.M. He better not come aboard until just before we sail, orsomebody may upset his plans, and the girl get him, after all."

"All right; he will be here on the mark, and I shall be with him tosee him off," answered John, as he turned upon his heels to report hissuccess to Benjamin.

A youth who can fabricate a falsehood so unblushingly as John did theforegoing is already on the road to ruin. The reader will not besurprised to learn, before the whole story is told, that he became amiserable, reckless sort of a man. This lie proved that he wasdestitute of moral principle and would do almost any thing to carryhis point.

That the captain should have been taken in by such a ruse isinexplicable. But, no doubt, the thought of receiving good pay for hispassage led him to receive the passenger. It was so much gain toreceive a few dollars from an unexpected source.

"The bargain is made, and your passage to New York is assured,"exclaimed John to Benjamin, when they met, at the end of two hours.

"Have any trouble to accomplish it? You did not awaken his suspicion,did you?" replied Benjamin, evidently relieved of considerable anxietyby the announcement.

"No trouble, of course; I did not mean to have any, if lying wouldprevent it."

"Then you had to resort to falsehood to carry your point, did you? Howwas that, John?"

"Well, you see, he questioned me pretty closely, and seemed to besuspicious that you might be a pauper or criminal. He wouldn't want tocarry you if you were a pauper, for he would get no pay for it; and hewould not carry a criminal, for fear of getting into trouble with theauthorities. So I had to originate a little love story, in which youare represented as fleeing from a girl and her parents, who aredetermined that you shall marry her."

"You are more original than I thought you were, John. You might writea novel out of the affair."

"Yes; and it would be no worse than half the novels that are written,"rejoined John. "I had a plot to get you to New York, and the novelwriter often has a plot that is not half so important, nor half somuch truth in it."

"How soon will the sloop sail?"

"Next Saturday, at two o'clock in the afternoon, so you will not haveto wait long. You must not go aboard until just before the sloopsails; for the girl might get wind of it, and be after you. Thecaptain will be on the lookout for her; he evidently don't want you tofall into her hands."

Benjamin laughed at this way of putting the matter; and, in thecircumstances, was not disposed to criticise John's method. But heinquired:

"How about the price to be paid for the passage?"

"That is left for you and him to adjust," replied John. "I told himthat you was not over-burdened with money, but had enough to pay himfor your passage. How about your books—can you sell them?"

"Yes, and quite as favorably as I had supposed. I see nothing why Ishall not be all ready for the sloop on Saturday. I will send my chestof clothes down just before I go myself."

"I will be on hand to go to the sloop with you," said John, as theyparted, each with a clear understanding as to the future.

The plan was carried out to the letter, and Benjamin and John were ontheir way to the sloop in due time.

"Tell no tales out of school," remarked Benjamin. "I prefer that noone should know my whereabouts at present."

"They will find out nothing from me; I shall be profoundly ignorant ofyour movements," answered John. "Perhaps I shall be the mostastonished person in Boston over your sudden departure; there's notelling. But I shall want to hear from you, Ben,—can't you write?"

"Sha'n't make any pledges. I shall want to hear from you as much asyou will from me, and a little more, I guess. For I shall want to hearwhat is said and done about my unauthorized departure. I suppose thata runaway can not expect many favorable remarks."

"Perhaps the Gazette will say that the editor of the Courant hasrun away," suggested John, in a vein of pleasantry. "There will beconsiderable more truth in that than I told the captain. It is ratherof a singular occurrence, however, Ben, that so popular an editor asyou have been should be running away from the editorial chair."

By this time the sloop was boarded, and the captain was almost readyto sail.

"My friend," said John to the captain, presenting Benjamin. "You willfind him good company; he is no fool or knave."

"He might be a goner if that girl should be after him before we getunder way," suggested the captain. "However, we'll soon be off."

"Good luck to you, old friend," said John, as he shook hands withBenjamin. "We shall be nigh each other, though three hundred milesapart."

"Good-bye, John; a thousand thanks for what you have done for me,"replied Benjamin, with a heavy heart, just beginning to feel that hewas going away from home. "Good-bye."

Thus they parted, and the sloop sailed for New York. Benjamin avoidedconversation with the captain as much as was possible, lest he mightask questions it would be embarrassing to answer. The captain, too,refrained from too much freedom with his youthful passenger, lest hemight make it painful for him, now that he was running away from agirl.

The sloop was becalmed off Block Island for several hours, when thesailors resorted to catching cod for a pastime, and slapping them downone after another on the deck.

"Cruel! Inhumanity!" cried Benjamin, who entertained the singular ideathat it was murder to take the life of any harmless creature; and forthis reason he would not touch animal food.

"What is cruel?" inquired one of the crew.

"Taking the life of codfish that never did you any harm."

"Pshaw!" exclaimed the captain; "how you goin' to eat 'em before youcatch 'em?"

"Don't eat them, and then there will be no need of catching them,"responded Benjamin. "They are in their native element now; let themstay there, and you keep in yours. They are in as great misery on thisdeck as you would be down there in the water."

"What put such a queer notion as that into your head?" said thecaptain, who was surprised that a sane man should hold such anopinion. "Don't you eat fish?"

"No, nor any other kind of meat; I have not touched a particle formore than two years."

"Because you think it is wicked to kill harmless animals of any kind?"remarked another sailor, who had been listening in utter astonishment.

"Yes, that is the principal reason, though I do not think that manneeds flesh for a diet."

"You think that God made beasts, birds, and fish to look at, and notto eat," suggested the captain. "In my opinion, the world would beoverrun with dumb animals in time if none were killed for food."

"And I think the human family would perish for want of food, if fleshwere denied them," added one of the crew.

While this conversation was going on, the cook was frying fresh cod,and the sailors were enjoying the odor therefrom.

"Don't they smell good?" said one, addressing Benjamin; "I shouldn'twant to risk you with one of those fellows if there was no more than Iwanted."

"I once ate fish, and had a special liking for them, and they smellwell enough now in the frying-pan," replied Benjamin. "But I have myown opinions about killing such animals."

"I should think you had," responded one of the sailors, laughing; "noone else would ever think of such a thing."

Soon the whole crew were eating cod, and in the jolliest manner makingremarks at Benjamin's expense.

"Look here, my friend," said the cook; "when these fish were opened, Ifound smaller ones in their stomachs; now, if they can eat oneanother, I don't see why we can't eat them; do you?"

"You must be joking, young man," continued the captain; "better sendall such notions adrift and sit down with us to dine on fish; they aresplendid."

One and another remarked, keeping up a continual fire at Benjamin,with jokes and arguments and ridicule, until he sat down and went todevouring a cod with the rest of them. That was the end of his queernotion about killing fish; it was buried there in the sea; andBenjamin never again resurrected it, but ate what other people did.But the episode furnished sport for the sailors all the way from BlockIsland to New York, where they arrived in about three days from thetime the sloop left Boston.

Benjamin did not know a person in the city of New York, nor had he asingle letter of recommendation to any one, and the money in hispocket but a trifle. It was in October, 1723, that he arrived in NewYork, a youth of seventeen years, a runaway in a city, without asolitary acquaintance, and scarcely money enough to pay a week'sboard! Perhaps, with all the rest, he carried an upbraiding conscienceunder his jacket, more discomforting than to be a stranger in astrange land.

At this crisis of Benjamin's life, he appeared to be on the highway toruin. There is scarcely one similar case in ten, where the runawayescapes the vortex of degradation. Benjamin would have been noexception, but for his early religious training and his love of books.

The case of William Hutton, who was the son of very poor parents, isvery similar to that of Benjamin Franklin. He was bound to his unclefor a series of years, but he was treated so harshly that he ran away,at seventeen years of age. The record is, that "on the 12th day ofJuly, 1741, the ill-treatment he received from his uncle in the shapeof a brutal flogging, with a birch-broom handle of white hazel, whichalmost killed him, caused him to run away." A dark prospect was beforehim, since "he had only twopence in his pocket, a spacious worldbefore him, and no plan of operation." Yet he became an author of muchcelebrity, and a most exemplary and influential man. He lived to theage of ninety, his last days being gladdened by the reflection ofhaving lived a useful life, and the consciousness of sharing theconfidence of his fellow-men.

This description of Hutton would apply almost equally well to
Franklin.

XIX.

TRIALS OF A RUNAWAY.

On arriving at New York, Benjamin's first thought was of work. His
pocket was too near empty to remain idle long; so he called upon Mr.
William Bradford, an old printer, who removed from Philadelphia to New
York some months before.

"Can I find employment in your printing office?" he inquired.

"I am not in need of extra help, I am sorry to say," answered Mr.Bradford. "My business is light, and will continue to be so for thepresent, I think. Are you a printer?"

"Yes, sir. I have worked at the business over three years."

"Where?"

"In Boston."

"You ought to understand it well by this time. I wish I had work foryou, or for any other young man who is enterprising enough to go fromBoston to New York for work."

"Do you think I should be likely to find work at some other printingoffice in town?"

"I am sorry to say that I hardly think you can. Very dull times,indeed, my son. But I think you can get work in Philadelphia. My sonruns a printing house in that city, and one of his men on whom herelied much recently died. I think he would be glad to employ you."

"How far is it to Philadelphia?"

"About a hundred miles."

"A long distance," was Benjamin's reply, evidently disappointed tofind that he was still a hundred miles from work.

"It is only one-third as far as you have already traveled for work. Ifyou can find employment by traveling a hundred miles further, in thesedull times, you will be fortunate."

"Well, I suppose that is so," replied Benjamin, musing on hissituation. "What is the conveyance there?"

"You can take a boat to Amboy, and there you will find another boat toPhiladelphia. A pleasant trip, on the whole." And Mr. Bradford added,for Benjamin's encouragement, "Philadelphia is a better place for aprinter than New York, in some respects."

Benjamin thanked him for his kindness, expressing much pleasure inmaking his acquaintance, and bade him good-bye. He took the first boatto Amboy, sending his chest by sea around to Philadelphia. The more hereflected upon his situation, in connection with Mr. Bradford'sencouraging words, the more cheerful and hopeful he grew. If he couldget work "by going a hundred miles further" he ought to be wellsatisfied, he said to himself. So he cheered up his almost despondingheart, in Franklin fashion, as he proceeded upon the next hundredmiles.

But more trials awaited him, however, somewhat different from thosealready experienced. The boat had been under way but a short timebefore it was struck by a sudden squall, tearing the rotten sails topieces, and driving the craft pell-mell upon Long Island. It was thefirst squall of that sort Benjamin had ever experienced. Other squallshad struck him, and he was fleeing from one at that time, but thissquall of wind and rain was altogether a new experience, and he wiltedunder it. The condition was made more tragic by a drunken Dutchmanfalling overboard.

"Seize him! seize him!" cried the captain; and that was what Benjaminwas waiting to do when the miserable fellow should rise to thesurface. As soon as he came up from the depths into which he had sunk,Benjamin seized him by the hair of his head and pulled him on board.

"There, you fool," exclaimed Benjamin. "I hope that ducking will soberyou. You came within sight of eternity that time."

"He may thank you for saving his life," remarked one of the boatmen.

"He is too drunk for that," replied Benjamin. "He will never know hownear he came to his own place. Strange that any man will be so foolishas to drink stuff that will steal away his brains."

"Don't you ever drink it?" asked the captain in reply.

"Not one drop," his young passenger replied with emphasis, as herolled over the Dutchman to get the water out of him. "There, are youall right now?"

The Dutchman mumbled over something, no one could tell what. It wasprobably about a book in his jacket; for he took one therefrom, andsignified to Benjamin that he wanted it dried; and then he droppedinto a sound sleep.

"I declare, if it is not my old friend, The Pilgrim's Progress,"exclaimed Benjamin; "in Dutch, too! A queer companion for a drunkenman to have, though a good one."

"Knows more about the bottle than he does about that, I bet," said thecaptain. "I don't suppose that it makes much difference to him whetherhe is under the water or on top."

"Not just now," replied Benjamin; "but what chance is there forlanding on such a rocky shore?"

"Not much; we'll drop anchor, and swing out the cable towards theshore," said the captain.

"I see men on the shore, and there are boats there; perhaps they cancome to our rescue, though the wind is blowing a little too hard forthem."

The captain hallooed to them, and they returned an answer, but thewind howled so that they could not be understood.

"A boat! A boat!" shouted the captain. Others of the crew joined inthe call for aid, and made various signs indicating their need ofassistance. But neither party could understand the other.

"What now?" inquired Benjamin, when he saw the men on shore turningtheir steps homeward. "A pretty dark night before us."

"Yes, dark and perilous, though I have seen a worse one," answered thecaptain. "When we find ourselves in such a predicament, there is onlyone thing to be done."

"What is that?" asked Benjamin, who was quite nervous and anxious.

"Do nothing but wait patiently for the wind to abate." The captain wascool and self-reliant when he spoke.

"Then let us turn in with the Dutchman," said one of the boatmen. "Idon't want he should have all the sleep there is. He is not incondition to appreciate it as I am."

"As you please," said the captain; "might as well improve the time bygetting a little rest. We shall be all right in the morning."

So all crowded into the hatches, including Benjamin. But the spraybroke over the head of the boat so much that the water leaked throughupon them.

"A wet berth for you, friend," said one of the boatmen to Benjamin."You are not accustomed to sleeping in such wet blankets. You may getas wet as the Dutchman before morning."

"There is only one thing to do in these circumstances," said Benjaminin reply, "take things as they come, and make the best of it."

"If you can," added the boatman in a suggestive way. "If you can, Ioughter. I've been in this business longer than you have lived."

The crew slept soundly; but Benjamin found no rest in such an unusualplight. Sleep was out of the question, and he had all the more time tothink, and his active mind improved the opportunity, so that Boston,home, the printing office, and his parents were dwelt upon until hebegan to think he was paying too dear for the whistle again. It isnot strange that runaways feel thus, sooner or later, since few ofthem ever realize their anticipations.

The cold, dreary night wore away slowly, and the wind continued tohowl, and the breakers to dash and rear, until after the dawn ofmorning. Benjamin was never more rejoiced to see daylight than he wasafter that dismal and perilous night. It was the more pleasant to him,because the wind began to abate, and there was a fairer prospect ofreaching their destination. As soon as the tumult of the winds andwaves had subsided, they weighed anchor, and steered for Amboy, wherethey arrived just before night, "having been thirty hours on the waterwithout victuals, or any drink but a bottle of filthy rum."

In the evening Benjamin found himself feverish, having taken a severecold by the exposure of the previous night. With a hot head and aheavy heart he retired to rest, first, however, drinking largely ofcold water, because he had somewhere read that cold water was good forfever. This was one of the advantages he derived from his early habitof reading. But for his taste for reading, which led him to spend hisleisure moments in poring over books, he might never have known thisimportant fact, that, perhaps, saved him a fit of sickness. Availinghimself of this knowledge, he drank freely of water before he retired,and the result was a thorough sweating; and he arose in the morningfully restored, so as to continue his journey.

A few years ago, a young man was traveling in the state of Maine,soliciting subscribers for a newspaper. On passing a certain farm, heobserved some bricks of a peculiar color, and he traced them to theirclay-bed, and satisfied himself that the material could be applied toa more valuable purpose than that of making bricks. He at oncepurchased the farm for fifteen hundred dollars, and, on his return toBoston, sold one-half of it for four thousand dollars. The secret ofhis success lay in a bit of knowledge he acquired at school. He hadgiven some attention to geology and chemistry, and the littleknowledge he had gained therefrom enabled him to discover the natureof the clay on the said farm. Thus even a little knowledge that may begleaned from a book in a simple leisure half-hour, will sometimesprove the way to a valuable treasure; much more valuable than the farmwhich the young man purchased. This pecuniary benefit is, after all,the least important advantage derived from reading. The discipline ofthe mind and heart, and the refined and elevated pleasure which itsecures, are far more desirable than any pecuniary advantage gained. Alittle reading, also, as we have seen, sometimes gives an impulse tothe mind in the direction of learning and renown. It was the readingof Echard's Roman History, which Gibbon met with while on a visit toMiltshire, that opened before him the historic path to distinction.

Sir Walter Scott warned the young against under valuing the knowledgeto be acquired at odd moments by reading and study. He wrote:

"If it should ever fall to the lot of youth to peruse these pages, letsuch readers remember that it is with the deepest regret that Irecollect, in my manhood, the opportunities of learning which Ineglected in my youth; that through every part of my literary career Ihave felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance; and I would thismoment give half the reputation I have had the good fortune toacquire, if by so doing I could rest the remaining part upon a soundfoundation of learning and science."

But we have lost sight of Benjamin. We left him at the "tavern" inAmboy, after having spent the night in a cold-water sweat, about readyto start on his journey. Burlington was fifty miles from Amboy, andthere was no public conveyance, so that he was obliged to go on foot,expecting to find a boat there bound for Philadelphia.

"Rather a tough day for walking," remarked the landlord, as Benjaminwas leaving his house. "Better stay unless your business is driving."

"Rain or shine, I must push on," responded Benjamin cheerfully. "Iwant to be in Philadelphia as soon as possible. Can't melt, as I amneither sugar nor salt."

"Well, that is a very encouraging view to take of the situation, andit is a sensible one, too," said the landlord. "There's nothing liketaking things as they come."

"I have lived long enough to find that out, young as I am," replied
Benjamin; "and I expect to find constant use of that spirit in future.
Good-bye, sir."

"Good luck to you, wherever you go," added the landlord in a friendlytone.

Benjamin was wet through before he had traveled a mile, and he beganto wish that he had never left Boston; still he hastened on until hereached a "poor inn" about noon. His own description of that day is asfollows:

"It rained very hard all the day; I was thoroughly soaked, and by noona good deal tired; so I stopped at a poor inn, where I staid allnight, beginning now to wish I had never left home. I made somiserable a figure, too, that I found, by the questions asked me, Iwas suspected to be some runaway indentured servant, and in danger ofbeing taken up on that suspicion."

"Where are you from, young man?"

"From Boston, sir."

"Ah! you are a long way from home for such a youngster. What is yourname?"

"My name is Benjamin Franklin, and I am going to Philadelphia afterwork."

"No work in Boston, I s'pose, hey? How long since you left?"

"About a week. I did not expect to come further this way than New
York, but I could find no work there."

"No work in New York, hey? What sort of work do you do, that you findit so scarce?"

"I am a printer by trade, and I hope to get into a printing office in
Philadelphia."

"Wall, you are a pretty young one to take such a trip; I should hardlybe willing my son should go so far from home, printer or no printer."

"I can afford to make such a trip, and even a longer one, if I canfind steady work," suggested Benjamin.

"Your father and mother living?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did they feel about your going so far from home?"

"A father who loves to work as well as my father does always wants hissons to have enough to do," Benjamin replied, shrewdly evading theclose question. "Nothing my father hates so much as idleness."

"We all ought to hate it; but many men do not. In these times, can'tkeep above water without work." The landlord's last words indicatedthat his suspicions were somewhat allayed.

Benjamin managed to answer all the questions of the innkeeper withoutincreasing his suspicions. He ate and slept there, and on thefollowing morning proceeded on his journey, and by night was withineight or ten miles of Burlington. Here he stopped at an inn kept byone Doctor Brown, "an ambulating quack-doctor" and a very social man.

"How much further you going?" he inquired of Benjamin.

"I am going to Philadelphia."

"Where are you from?"

"Boston."

"Ah! I would like to see Boston; I never did. I have been in South
America, England, and some other countries, but I was never in
Boston."

"It is a good town, and has many educated, intelligent citizens; it isa thriving place," said Benjamin. "I should like to see as much of theworld as you have."

"I enjoyed it, though my knocking about subjected me to manyhardships," replied the doctor. "You would like to see London, andParis, and Rome; I have seen them all. They are marvellous cities."

"I suppose so. My father came from England to Boston less than fortyyears ago," continued Benjamin. "He enjoys this country more than hedid his own."

Benjamin had a good time at Doctor Brown's. The latter soon discoveredthat his youthful guest was very intelligent, so he entered into anaccount of his travels abroad somewhat in detail to interest him.Benjamin enjoyed the interview very much, and forgot, for the timebeing, that he was a runaway encountering many hardships. He was sorryto leave him on the next day.

"I have enjoyed every minute of my stay here," he said, "and I shallnot forget it soon. Perhaps we shall meet again sometime."

"I hope we shall. I am glad to make your acquaintance, and I wish yougreat success. I hope you will become the most successful printer inAmerica. Good-bye."

They parted the best of friends, and Benjamin pushed on to Burlington,where he expected to find a boat. In the suburbs of the town he boughtsome gingerbread of an old woman who kept a shop, and walked on,eating it as he went. To his great disappointment, on reaching thewharf, he found the boat had gone, and there would not be anotheruntil Tuesday. It was Saturday, and his money would not hold out if heshould get boarded at a hotel till then. What should he do? He was ingreat trouble about it for a short time, but finally concluded that hewould return to the old lady of whom he bought the gingerbread, as heliked her appearance very well, and ask her advice. So back he went.

"Ah! back again?" she said, as he entered her shop. "Want moregingerbread?"

"No. I was going to take the boat to Philadelphia, but it has gone,and there is not another to go until Tuesday."

"Lor', me!" exclaimed the kind-hearted woman; "if that ain't too bad!
What kin ye du?"

"That is what I want to ask you. Is there any other conveyance to
Philadelphia?"

"Lor', no; and all ye has to du is to make the best on 't."

"And what is that? That is just what I want to know. How can I makethe best on 't?"

"What ye goin' to Philadelphy for?" she replied, instead of answeringhis question.

"I am going after work. I am a printer, and want to find work in aprinting office."

"A printer, lor'! Dear me, yer fortin is made to set up business inthis 'ere town. There's nothin' of the like here."

"I have nothing to set up the business with," said Benjamin. "I wouldas lief work here as in Philadelphia, if the way was open."

The woman did not know what was necessary in establishing a printinghouse. That types and a press were indispensable articles in suchbusiness she did not dream. She thought, doubtless, that he carriedall necessary fixtures with him in his pockets.

"Lor', then, I'll lodge ye till Tuesday for ——," naming the sum.

"I will stay with you, then, and make the best of it," he replied.

He found himself in very good quarters, and his hostess proved herselfto be very kind and hospitable. He took dinner with her, and remainedabout the shop until towards night, when he walked forth to view theplace. In his walk he came around to the river, and, as he approachedit, he discovered a boat with several people in it, and he hailedthem:

"Whither bound?"

"To Philadelphia."

"Can you take me in? I was too late for the boat to-day."

"Just as well as not," and the boat was turned at once to receive theadditional passenger.

There was no wind, so that they had to depend upon their oars forprogress. Benjamin now had an opportunity to show his skill in rowingwhich he acquired in his boyhood, in Boston. He was so elated withproceeding on his journey to Philadelphia that he thought neither ofthe fatigue of rowing nor of the wonder of the old lady in the shop atthe unexpected disappearance of her boarder. He did not mean to treather disrespectfully, for he considered her a very clever woman; butthe boat could not wait for him to return and pay the old lady hiscompliments. Whether she ever learned what became of him, or that hegrew up to be Doctor Franklin, the philosopher and statesman, we haveno means of knowing. Doubtless she concluded that she had not"entertained an angel unawares," but rather had aided an undeservingfellow in pursuing a vicious course, which was not true.

The boat moved on. Benjamin rowed with strong resolution, taking histurn with others, and impressing them by his tact and skill, untilmidnight, when one of the company said:

"We must have passed the city. It can't be that we have been so longgetting to it."

"That is impossible," answered one of the men; "we must have seen itif we had passed it."

"Well, I shall row no more," said the first speaker. "I know that
Philadelphia is not so far off as this."

"Then, let us put for the shore," said a third, "and find out where weare, if possible."

All agreed to the last proposition, and at once rowed towards theshore, entering a small creek, where they landed near an old fence,the rails of which furnished them fuel for a fire. They were verychilly, it being a frosty night of October, and they found the firevery grateful. They remained there till daylight, when one of thecompany knew that the place was "Cooper's Creek," a few miles abovePhiladelphia. Immediately they made preparations to continue theirjourney, which had not been altogether unpleasant, and they were soonin full view of the city, where they arrived between eight and nineo'clock on Sunday morning. They landed at Market-street Wharf. Takingout his money, which consisted of one unbroken dollar and a shillingin copper coin, he offered the latter to the boatman for his passage.

"Not a cent, my good fellow! You worked your passage, and did it well,too. You row as if you were an old hand at it. Put your money back inyour pocket."

"But you must take it," insisted Benjamin. "You are quite welcome toall the rowing I have done. I am glad enough to get here by rowing andpaying my passage, too. But for your coming along to take me in, Ishould have been obliged to stay in Burlington until next Tuesday,"and he fairly forced the money upon the boatman.

Bidding them good morning, he walked up Market Street.

XX.

THE WALKING COMEDY.

Benjamin was very hungry, and he was considering how he could appeasehis hunger, when he met a boy who was eating a piece of bread.

"That is what I want," he said to the boy; "where did you get that?"

"Over there, at the bake-shop," the boy replied, pointing to it.

"Thank you," and Benjamin hurried on.

He had eaten nothing since he dined with the shop-woman in Burlington,on the day before. Besides, bread was a staple article with him. Hehad made many a meal of plain bread in his brother's printing officein Boston. Although he knew well which side his bread was buttered,his appetite for unbuttered bread never failed him. Entering thebake-shop, he inquired:

"Have you biscuit?" He was thinking of what he had in Boston.

"We make nothing of the kind."

"Give me a three-penny loaf, then."

"We have none."

Benjamin began to think he should have to go hungry still, for,evidently, he did not know the names used to designate the differentsorts of bread in Philadelphia. But, soon recovering himself, he said:

"Then give me three-penny worth of any kind." To his surprise, thebaker passed three great puffy rolls to him, enough for three men toeat at one meal. At first, he was puzzled to know what to do withthem, whether to take all three or not.

"What! All that?" he said, scarcely knowing what he did say.

"Yes, there's three-penny worth; that is what you said, was it not?"

"It was," and Benjamin paid the money and took the loaves, trying toconceal his surprise, without exposing his ignorance of methods in theQuaker City. He was a boy of remarkable tact, as we have seen, so thathe was never put to his wits long without finding a way out. It was soin this case. He put a roll under each arm, and taking the third onein his hand, he proceeded up the street, eating as he went.

Recollect that it was Sunday morning, and people were already swarmingin the streets, arrayed in their best clothes. Benjamin was clad inhis poorest clothes, and they were very shabby. His best suit was inhis chest, and that was sent from New York by water. He was a sight tobehold as he trudged up Market Street with his three loaves of bread,and his large pockets stuffed with shirts and stockings. He preferredpockets to the usual "bandanna bundle"; they were more convenient forstoring away his wardrobe, but contributed largely to his comicalappearance. He was a walking comedy. People gazed at him inquiringlyand smiled. No doubt, many of them wondered where he came from andwhere he was going. He was seedy enough, but no one saw the seed of aphilosopher or statesman about him. There was no promise in thatdirection. He was an embryo "Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court ofFrance"; but his appearance was that of a shack, or modern tramp, towhom Sunday is like all other days, and whose self-respect is at alarge discount.

On he went, however, regardless of opinions concerning the figure hecut, stowing away in his stomach the baker's loaf in his hand. Hepassed by the residence of one Mr. Read, whose daughter, in her teens,Miss Deborah Read, was standing at the door. She gazed in wonder atthe singular specimen of humanity passing before her; thought he wasthe most awkward and comical creature in the form of a man she hadever seen; and turned away with a laugh to tell her people in thehouse of the queer spectacle. She little thought that she was taking abird's eye view of her future husband, as the young man with the rollsunder his arms turned out to be. But just then he cared more for breadthan he did for her; some years thereafter, the case was reversed, andhe cared more for her than he did for bread.

He turned down Chestnut Street, and walked on until he came round tothe wharf where he landed. Being thirsty, he went to the boat forwater, where he found the woman and child, who came down the riverwith them on the previous night, waiting to go further.

"Are you hungry?" he said to the little one, who looked wistfully atthe bread.

"We are both very hungry," replied the mother quickly for herself andchild.

"Well, I have satisfied my hunger with one loaf, and you may have theother two if you want them"; and Benjamin passed the two rolls underhis arms to her. "It appears that, in Philadelphia, three-penny worthof bread is three times as much as a man can eat. If other things canbe had in the same proportion, the last dollar I have left will go agreat way."

"I thank you a thousand times; you are very kind indeed," respondedthe woman, with a heart overflowing with gratitude, which was as goodpay for the bread as Benjamin wanted. "May you never want for bread."

"No one would want for bread if they who have it will divide withthose who have none, as they should."

In the last reply was incorporated a leading virtue of Benjamin'scharacter—a trait that manifested itself, as we shall see, allthrough his life. His generosity was equal to his wisdom. An Americanstatesman said of him, in a eulogy delivered in Boston:

"No form of personal suffering or social evil escaped his attention,or appealed in vain for such relief or remedy as his prudence couldsuggest, or his purse supply. From that day of his early youth, when,a wanderer from his home and friends in a strange place, he was seensharing the rolls with a poor woman and child, to the last act of hispublic life, when he signed that well-known memorial to Congress, aspirit of earnest and practical benevolence runs like a golden threadalong his whole career."

"I must be after finding a boarding place," said Benjamin to the ownerof the boat, as he was about leaving. "I do not know where to go anymore than the man in the moon. Are you acquainted here?"

"Scarcely at all; could not be of any service to you any way on thatline," the owner answered. "Goin' to stop some time in Philadelphy?"

"I am going to live here if I can find work, as I expect to, andbecome a citizen of this town."

"Wall, you'll make a good one, I know. May you never have reason torepent of your choice. Goodbye."

"Good-bye"; and Benjamin walked up the street again. The people wereon their way to meeting, so that he was reminded of divine worship,which he had partially forsaken in Boston. Being very tired, inconsequence of a hard time on the boat and a wakeful night, heconcluded to follow the people to church. They entered a largeold-fashioned meeting-house, and he followed them and took a seat nearthe door. His appearance attracted much attention, as his dress wasnot exactly that of a Quaker, and otherwise he was not quite of theQuaker type; and it was a Quaker church in which he was. But he wastedno thoughts upon his apparel, and did not stop to think or carewhether he was arrayed in shoddy or fine linen.

Whether he did not know that he was in a Quaker congregation, orknowing that fact, was ignorant of the Quaker worship, does notappear; but he waited for something to be said. While waiting forthis, he dropped into a sound sleep, and slept through the entireservice, and would have slept on, and been fastened into themeeting-house, had not the sexton discovered him.

"Hulloo, stranger! Meeting's over; going to shut up the house,"shouted the sexton, shaking the sleeper thoroughly.

"I was very tired," responded Benjamin, trying to get his eyes open.
"I was on the boat last night and got no sleep."

"Where did you come from?"

"Boston; I came here for work."

"Well, Philadelphy is a great place for work; what sort of work do youwant?"

"I am a printer by trade, and hope to find work in a printing office."

"And I hope you will. Sorry to disturb your nap, but I have to lock upthe house."

Benjamin thanked the sexton for waking him instead of locking him in,
and went out into the street. He had not proceeded far before he met a
Quaker whose face indicated a man of amiable and generous heart, and
Benjamin ventured to speak to him.

"I am a stranger in this town; arrived here this morning; can you tellme where I can get a night's lodging?"

"Certainly I can; I suppose thee wants a respectable place." Thegentleman spoke so kindly as to draw Benjamin to him at once.

"Yes, sir; but not an expensive one; my purse will not permit of anyextra expense."

"Thee going to remain here some time?"

"Permanently, if I can get work; I am a printer by trade."

"I wish thee success," added the Quaker. "But here we are close by the'Three Mariners'; but it is not exactly a reputable house, and theewants a better one."

"Yes; I want one that has a good reputation if there is such a one,"said Benjamin.

"Well, if thee will follow me, I will show thee a better one; it isnot far away."

Benjamin followed him into Water Street, where he pointed out a publichouse.

"There's the 'Crooked Billet,'" said the Quaker, "a tavern that isreputable, where thee can find board and lodgings for a day or ayear."

"Thank you, sir, for your kindness," said Benjamin; "I shall notforget you. May every body be as friendly to you as you have been tome."

At the same time, Benjamin thought it was a very queer name for apublic house. He did not like either part of it, and he said tohimself, "'Crooked Billet'!—crookedness and a cudgel to strike downthe turbulent with, are suggested." The name did not suggest any thingpleasant to him. But he went in, and engaged lodging and board untilMonday.

"Where are you from?" asked the landlord, scanning him from head tofoot.

"I am from Boston."

"Boston, hey? How long have you been on the way?"

"Two weeks."

"Got friends in Philadelphia?"

"Not one; all strangers to me."

"What did you come here for?"

"I came to secure work in a printing office. I am a printer by trade."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"And came all the way from Boston alone?"

"Yes, sir."

Benjamin saw by this time that the landlord suspected him of being arunaway apprentice. This class of characters was large at that day,for apprentices were often subjected to cruelty that made themrunaways. So he closed the conversation as soon as possible and wentto his room, where he slept until six o'clock, when he was called tosupper. Not long after supper he went to bed and slept soundly untilmorning.

He arose early, took special pains to make himself as presentable aspossible, paid his bill without waiting for breakfast, perhaps becausehe was reducing his cash so nearly to the last cent, and sallied forthin search of Mr. Bradford. He experienced no trouble in finding theprinting office; but was very much surprised to find Mr. Bradford ofNew York there, father of the young printer Bradford of Philadelphia,to whom the father sent him.

"Glad to see you, my young friend. I got here first, after all, as yousee," remarked Mr. Bradford, the father, as he welcomed Benjamin witha hearty shake of the hand. "Had any ill-luck on your way?"

"Not exactly bad luck, for I considered myself quite lucky to get hereat all; but a slow, tedious trip, with delays and storms anddisappointments most of the time," was Benjamin's answer, and heentered somewhat into details.

"Well, you are here, and I am glad to meet you; and, now, you wantwork." Then, turning to his son, Mr. Bradford continued: "My son, letme introduce this young man to you. He is a printer by trade, fromBoston, in search of work: Benjamin Franklin. He called upon me in NewYork, and I advised him to come to you, knowing that your leadingprinter had died."

The young printer and the runaway were soon acquainted,—young
Bradford being as genial and friendly as the senior.

"I regret that I have no work for you now. I have filled the placemade vacant by the death of Bolder."

"There is another printer here, is there not?" asked the senior
Bradford.

"Yes, Keimer; it is possible he may want a man. But it is breakfasttime now; let us all go to breakfast, and then we'll see what can bedone."

Benjamin was invited to breakfast with them, and there learned thatMr. Bradford of New York came all the way on horseback, starting veryunexpectedly the next day after Benjamin left New York. He wassomewhat surprised, also, to learn that Philadelphia had only seventhousand inhabitants at that time—five thousand less than Boston.

"I will go with you to see Mr. Keimer," said the senior Bradford,after breakfast. "Perhaps I may be of service to you."

"I shall feel myself under great obligations to you if you will,"answered Benjamin. "It is quite necessary that I should get work, asmy money is nearly gone."

"We can fix that, I think," said young Bradford. "I may be able togive you a little something to do, if Keimer don't want you, so thatyou won't starve. You can lodge at my house."

"Thanks," replied Benjamin. "I appreciate your kindness, and hope tobe able to make some return for it in the future. I am sorry not toappear before you in more respectable apparel, but my chest of clothescomes by water from New York, and I have not received it yet."

"Clothes don't make the man," responded the elder Bradford, who haddiscovered a remarkably bright and intelligent youth in Benjamin."Brains take the precedence of clothes in New York and Philadelphia."

Benjamin found himself among good friends, so he cheerfully acceptedtheir counsel. The senior Bradford accompanied him to Keimer's.

"Neighbor," said Bradford, "I have brought to you a young man fromBoston, a printer by trade; he is after work. Perhaps you can employhim."

"That depends on his qualifications," answered Mr. Keimer. "I wantsome one who is acquainted with the business."

"You will find him all right, I think; he appears to know what he isabout."

"How long have you worked at the business?" inquired Keimer, turningto Benjamin.

"Over three years."

"Do you understand all parts of it so that you can go on with it?"

"Yes, I think I do; you can ascertain by trying me."

"Take this composing-stick and try your hand; let me see what you cando."

Benjamin proceeded to give an exhibition of his skill at type-setting,which he did so rapidly and easily that Keimer was delighted.

"Very well done, indeed. I think you told the truth; you must have hadconsiderable experience. I will employ you as soon as I havesufficient work. At present, I have nothing for you to do."

"It is not often, Mr. Keimer, that you have the opportunity to employa skilled hand like this young man," suggested Bradford. "If you couldgive him enough to do to pay his board, until you are full of work, itmay be for your interest and his, too."

"That is true. I am at work now upon this Elegy on Aquila Rose, whowas clerk of the Pennsylvania Legislature; and I may want him to printit. I shall have it ready in three or four days. I am expecting otherwork soon, also."

"You can return to my son's house to eat and sleep," said Mr. Bradfordto Benjamin. "I think Mr. Keimer will want you before long. He expectsto have business."

"What do you think of my prospects here, sir?" inquired Keimer of Mr.Bradford, supposing him to be a citizen of Philadelphia. "I havehardly got under way yet; it is only a few weeks since I began."

"That will depend upon your own exertions and business talents.Philadelphia is a growing town, where industry and perseverance willdo wonders."

"I shall do all in my power to draw the business of the town; and Ithink I can do it by industry and giving first-class work."

"How can you expect to get all the business when there is anotherprinter here, who has been established some time?"

Keimer answered the last inquiry by disclosing his plans, as Bradfordartfully drew him out on every point, until he learned how he wascalculating to command all the business, and run his son out of it.Nor did Keimer dream that he was conversing with the father of theother printer, whom he designed to deprive of his livelihood. All thewhile Benjamin stood and listened to their conversation, perceivingthat Bradford was shrewdly learning Keimer's plans for the benefit ofhis son.

"You did not know that man, did you?" inquired Benjamin, after
Bradford left.

"No; but I concluded he was some business man of the town, who wouldbe interested to see a printing office successful, and so took painsto introduce you to me."

"Then you will be surprised to learn who he is, when I tell you. Thatwas the father of Andrew Bradford, your neighbor, the printer. Hecarries on printing in New York."

"Can that be?" exclaimed Keimer, astonished over the bit of news, andstartled at the thought of having made known his plans to acompetitor.

"Yes, it is even so. That was Mr. Bradford, the New York printer,father of Andrew Bradford, the printer of your town; and not hisapparition."

"How in the world did he happen to come here with you?"

"I can tell you in a few words," replied Benjamin. "I called on himfor work in New York, and he directed me to his son here, who had justlost a good hand by death. Very unexpectedly, on the next day, hestarted for Philadelphia on horseback, and, when I called upon hisson, this morning, I found him there. His son had just hired a man;and so he directed me to you, and his father offered to come andintroduce me."

"Well, all that is natural enough, but it is pretty hard on me,"answered Keimer. "If I had known that was Bradford's father, I shouldhave kept my mouth shut, of course."

"You opened it pretty wide to him, and he took advantage of it, asmost men will do. But I guess no harm is done. He and his son bothappear to be friendly to you; they would not have proposed that Ishould come here for work, if they had not been."

"That looks so, I must confess," said Keimer; "but I have learned onegood lesson from it: never to divulge secrets to a stranger. When I dothat again I shall not be in my right mind. But I wanted to ask youabout your Boston experience in a printing office; what office was youin?"

"My brother's, James Franklin. He published a paper, the New England
Courant. He did a large business."

"Yes, our paper here gave some account of it. The editor had sometrouble with the Government, did he not?"

"Yes, and a serious trouble it was. He believed in the freedom of thepress, and the officials did not; so there was a collision. Hedetermined to fight the censorship of the press, and he was imprisonedfor it. Then I edited and published the paper in my own name."

"You run it!" exclaimed Keimer in a tone of wonder and unbelief.

"Yes, I run it,—without letting up one jot in attacking theintolerant Government. It was a hot contest, but the common people,true Americans, rallied to our support, and left the aristocraticofficials to toady to the English Government."

"A new order of things when a boy edits and publishes a paper in astraight fight with Great Britain," was all that Keimer said, inreply, evidently not believing a word of Benjamin's story about theCourant. However, the more he talked with the new comer, the more hewas impressed with his intelligence and manly character. He found thathis clothes were the poorest part of him, that underneath his shabbygarments there dwelt a soul of large possessions and aspirations.

Benjamin learned at Keimer's office what a blessing it was to him tohave practised doing things well. Thoroughness in learning theprinter's art, as well as in studying the use of language andcomposition, characterized him in Boston, as we have seen. Now he wasreaping the benefits of it. He handled the composing-stick sodexterously, and answered every question so intelligently andpromptly, that Keimer saw at once he was really an expert. Many boysare satisfied if they can only "pass muster." Their ambition rises nohigher than that. But not so with Benjamin. He sought to understandthe business to which he attended, and to do as well as possible thework he undertook. The consequence was that he was a thorough workman,and, in five minutes, he was able to satisfy Keimer of the fact. Thiswas greatly in his favor; and such a young man is never long out ofbusiness. Doctor Johnson said, "What is worth doing at all, is worthdoing well."

Samuel Budgett said, "In whatever calling a man is found, he ought tostrive to be the best in that calling; if only a shoe-black, he shouldtry to be the best shoe-black in the neighborhood." Budgett conductedhis immense business, in which he employed six hundred men, on thisprinciple. When a boy was introduced into his warehouse he was set tostraightening old nails. If he straightened nails well, he waspromoted to bag-mending; if he did not do it well, he was dismissed.The thorough nail-straightener and bag-mender moved upwards intolarger and higher fields of work; and so the great English merchantcould boast of having the most efficient and faithful class ofemployes in the British realm. Training them to do their best did it.

James Parton said to David Maydole, inventor of the modern hammer andmanufacturer of the best hammers in the world, "By this time you oughtto be able to make a pretty good hammer." Maydole replied, "No, Ican't. I can't make a pretty good hammer, I make the best that'smade." Once a party applied for several hammers, to whom Maydole wasindebted for some favor, and the party said to him, "You ought to makemy hammer a little better than the others." Maydole responded, "Ican't make any better ones. When I make a thing, I make it as well asI can, no matter whom it is for." Doing his best every time led him onto fortune. He never pushed his business. He never advertised. Makingthe best hammer in the market created all the business he wanted.

XXI.

GETTING ON.

"Your press is rather dilapidated, I see," remarked Benjamin to Mr.
Keimer, after he had looked it over. "Second-hand, I conclude?"

"Yes, I had to buy what I could get cheap, as I had little money tobegin with. I guess it can be fixed up to answer my purpose."

"That is so; it can be improved very much with little expense,"replied Benjamin.

"Do you understand a printing press well enough to repair it?"

"I can repair that one well enough; I see what is wanted. You can't dogood work with it as it is," Benjamin answered.

"Then I can employ you at once, and you may go right about putting itin order if you please."

"I will do it," Benjamin replied in his emphatic way. "It is not along job, by any means."

"Perhaps you will have it done by the time I get the Elegy set up, andthen you may print it." Keimer's interest was deepening since he foundthat the Boston printer-boy could repair a printing press. He wasgetting more than he bargained for.

Benjamin went to work upon the old press, saying "I may as well goabout it at once, and work till dinner time. Mr. Bradford will expectme back then; but I will keep at it until it is done."

"Well, I hope you will not expose any secrets as I did," remarked Mr.Keimer, humorously. "Old Bradford will be on the lookout for capital,no doubt. See that he don't make as much out of you as he did out ofme."

Benjamin met the Bradfords, senior and junior, at the dinner table,where they gave him a cordial welcome.

"How does Philadelphia compare with Boston?" inquired the senior
Bradford of him.

"It is smaller, and I can't tell yet whether it is duller or not. When
I have been here a week I can tell more about it."

"And what are your prospects at Keimer's?" inquired the junior
Bradford.

"Well, I have begun to repair his old press. It is a dilapidatedaffair, and I told him that I could improve it very much."

"Do you understand that part of the business?"

"I understand it sufficiently to make what repairs that machinerequires just now."

"Then you can probably do some repairs for me," said the junior
Bradford "My press needs some tutoring."

"I shall be happy to be its tutor," replied Benjamin, with a smile. "Ishall finish Keimer's to-morrow, and then I will take yours in hand. Ishall be glad to do something to repay you for your kindness."

"You must have had good school advantages in Boston," remarked theelder Bradford to him. "Your conversation indicates that you arewell-read and well-informed."

"But I am not indebted to the schools for it; I never went to schoolbut two years in my life. But I have studied and read as much as anybody of my age, in leisure hours and nights; and I have written morefor the press, probably, than any one of my age in Boston."

This last remark caused the Bradfords to look at each other withwonder for a moment. But the senior broke the silence by saying:

"You write for the press? How is that?" His astonishment charged hisquestions with peculiar emphasis.

"Yes, sir; I wrote much for nearly a year for the New England
Courant, one of the newspapers in Boston."

"And only seventeen years old now?"

"I was only sixteen when I wrote the most."

That was as far as Benjamin dared to disclose his history, lest hemight make trouble for himself. He had disclosed enough, however, toset his host to thinking. Neither of the Bradfords really believed hisstory about his writing for the press; and yet there was somethingabout him, composed of intelligence, refinement, and manliness, thatimpressed them. The more they conversed with him, the more were theysatisfied that he was an uncommon youth. While that convictionawakened their curiosity to know more of his history, it served, also,to cause them to respect his boy-manhood, and so not to ply him withtoo many or close questions. Thus Benjamin escaped the necessity ofexposing the objectionable part of his career, and left his goodfriends wondering over the mysterious young printer they werebefriending.

Benjamin repaired Keimer's press, and then attended to Bradford's,before the Elegy was ready to be printed. By that time, Keimer hadengaged to print a pamphlet and do some other small jobs, so that heneeded Benjamin's services all the time.

"I shall want you right along, now, I think; but you must change yourboarding-place. I don't want you should board with a man who knows somuch about my business." And Keimer laughed as he made this lastremark.

"Of course, I shall change. I only intended to stay there until I gotwork. Mr. Bradford kindly invited me to stay there till I found aplace, and I shall not take any advantage of his generosity. I shallalways be grateful to him for it."

"He was a good friend to you, a stranger," continued Keimer, "and Iwould have you appreciate his friendship; but, in the circumstances, Ithink another boarding-place is best."

"And now I can make a more respectable appearance," responded
Benjamin; "for my chest of clothes has come."

"The man who owns this building lives a short distance away, and I amthinking I can get you boarded there; it will be a good place," addedMr. Keimer.

"As you please; I can make myself at home any where. I am not used tomuch style and luxury."

"His name is Read, and he has an interesting daughter of eighteen,which may be some attraction to you." The last remark was intendedmore for pleasantry than any thing.

"Work will have to be the chief attraction for me, whose fortune isreduced to the last shilling," responded Benjamin. "It takes money topay respectful attention to young ladies; and, besides, my fortedoes not lie in that direction."

The result was, that he went to board at Mr. Read's, the father of theyoung lady who stood in the door when he passed on Sunday morning witha roll of bread under each arm. His appearance was much improved bythis time, so that even Miss Read saw that he was an intelligent,promising young man.

Benjamin received good wages, attended closely to his work, improvedhis leisure moments by reading and study, as he did in Boston, andspent his evenings in systematic mental culture.

"You appear to be fond of books," said Mr. Read to him. "I think youmust have enjoyed good advantages at home. Where is your home?"

"Boston. I was born there seventeen years ago."

"Only seventeen! I supposed you were older. Your parents living?"

"Yes, both of them, as good people as there are in Boston."

"Got brothers and sisters?"

"Plenty of them. I am the fifteenth child, and have two sistersyounger than I am; only one of the whole number is dead."

"You surprise me; yours must have been the largest family in Boston,"continued Mr. Read. "I am sure we have no family as large as that inPhiladelphia. Your father ought to be worth some money to provide forsuch a family."

"He is not, he is a poor man; so poor that he kept me in school lessthan two years. I went into the shop to work with him when I was tenyears old, and have not been to school since. All my brothers wereapprenticed at ten or twelve years of age. I was a printer'sapprentice at twelve years of age."

"And what was your father's business, if I may be permitted to ask?Your story is a very interesting one, and I want to know more aboutit."

"My father is a tallow-chandler. He emigrated to Boston in 1685, fromBanbury, England, where he worked at the trade of a dyer. There was noroom for that business in Boston, so he took up the business ofcandle-making."

"But you did not work at the candle business long, if you became aprinter at twelve?"

"No; I disliked the business so thoroughly that I was ready to engagein almost any thing if I could get out of that. The printer's tradehas afforded me excellent opportunities for reading and study, and Ilike it."

"Well, printers are generally an intelligent class, and their pursuitis highly respected. One of our printers in Philadelphia is anignorant man, and not very familiar with the business."

"I found that out some time ago," answered Benjamin; "and ignorance isa great drawback to a person in any business whatever. There is noneed of a man being ignorant, so long as he can command fragments oftime to read and study. What I call my leisure hours are my mostprofitable and enjoyable hours."

Mr. Read had already concluded that Benjamin was never so happy aswhen he had a book in his hand, or was with some intelligent companionconversing upon a useful topic. He had formed a high estimate of histalents and character in the few weeks he had been a boarder at hishouse. He saw in him a rising young man, and predicted for him aremarkable career. His daughter, too, was as favorably impressed byacquaintance with him. She learned that he was the youth, who cut sucha comical figure on the street, eating his roll of bread, on a Sundaymorning a short time before, and she could scarcely believe her eyes.The transformation in him was almost too great for belief. That such ashack in appearance should turn out to be the brightest andbest-informed young man who ever boarded at her father's, was animpressive fact. She was gratified at his appearance, and enjoyedconversation with him.

Benjamin was well pleased with his boarding-place, and enjoyed himselfwith the family; especially with the daughter, who was rather agraceful, good-looking, bright girl. Several young men, also, boardedthere, whom he made companions. These, with others, whose acquaintancehe made within three or four months, became the source of so muchpleasure to him that he fast became weaned from Boston.

As soon as Benjamin was fairly settled in business, he wrote to hisold friend, John Collins, of Boston, giving him a full account of histrip to Philadelphia, his trials and successes, and closing bycharging him with secrecy as to his whereabouts.

He had given such unjustifiable scope to his resentment of hisbrother's harsh treatment, and his father's final endorsement of thatbrother, that he did not stop to think of the sorrow he was bringingupon his parents by his wayward course. For the time being, his filialaffection appeared to be sacrificed to his revengeful spirit.

At that time, the printer's trade ranked higher, in public estimation,than any other mechanical business. All editors in the country wereprinters, and most of the printers were better educated than any otherartisans; hence their social standing was higher. On this account, atalented and brilliant boy like Benjamin took a high rank at once, andreadily found access to the respect and confidence of all who made hisacquaintance.

In due time, Benjamin received a letter from Collins, detailing theexcitement that followed his sudden disappearance from Boston, whatwas said, the sorrow among his friends over his disgraceful exit, howhis brother was getting on, and many other matters about which he wasglad to hear. The letter closed by assuring him that no person inBoston was apparently so ignorant of the runaway's whereabouts ashimself, from which he inferred that Collins was keeping the secretwell.

While Benjamin was flattering himself that his friends were entirelyignorant of his place of residence, except John Collins, hisbrother-in-law, Robert Homes, "master of a sloop that traded betweenBoston and Delaware," was at Newcastle, forty miles from Philadelphia.There he met a citizen of the latter place, of whom he made inquiriesas to the business of the town. Among other things, he said:

"A young printer from Boston has settled there recently, who rankshigh as a workman and as a talented young man."

"Do you know his name?" inquired Captain Homes, startled by therevelation.

"Benjamin Franklin."

With an effort to conceal his surprise and interest, he asked:

"For whom does he work?"

"For Mr. Keimer, our new printer."

"Are you acquainted with him?"

"Not particularly; I have met him."

"Is he a young man of standing and good habits?"

"He is. It is said that he is very talented, and that he wrote for thepress in Boston before he came to Philadelphia."

"Is that so?" responded the captain, to conceal that he was anyacquaintance of his.

"Yes; and, as a matter of course, such a young man is much thought of.He is not set up at all, but appears to be modest and unassuming. Heis very much liked by all."

"Do you think he means to make Philadelphia his home in the future?"

"That is what he intends, as I understand it." In this way, Captain
Homes gained whatever information he wanted, without disclosing that
Benjamin Franklin was his brother-in-law. Then he embraced the first
opportunity to write and forward to him the following letter from
Newcastle:

"DEAR BROTHER,—I have just learned from a citizen of Philadelphia that you reside in that town. It is the first knowledge that any of us have had of your whereabouts since you ran away from Boston. You can have no idea of the sorrow you caused the family by your unwise and thoughtless act. It well-nigh broke your mother's heart, and added several years to your father's appearance. But I write to advise and entreat you to return to Boston. I am confident that your parents, and all other friends, will receive you with open arms, forgetting the past in their joy over your presence. They do not know even that you are alive; and your return will be to them as one risen from the dead. I trust that this letter will find you well, and disposed to heed my advice, and go back to Boston. It will be the best thing for you and the whole family. Let me hear from you; direct your letter to this place; if sent at once it will reach me here.

"Yours affectionately,

"ROBERT HOMES."

The reader may very properly infer that Benjamin was taken by surpriseby this letter. Now his friends would know where he was. How didCaptain Homes discover his place of residence? This question keptuppermost in his mind. His letter did not tell. Benjamin pondered thematter through the day, and finally resolved to answer it squarely andpromptly in the evening. That night he wrote the following:

"CAPTAIN ROBERT HOMES:

"Dear Brother,—I received your letter to-day, and it was a genuine surprise to me. How in the world you discovered my whereabouts is a mystery to me; but it is all well and will turn out for the best, no doubt. To answer your letter affords me an opportunity to state exactly the cause of my sudden departure from Boston, which I do not think you understand. The sole cause of my leaving was the unjust and harsh treatment of James. Instead of seeing in me a brother, he saw only an apprentice, indentured to him until I was twenty-one, over whom he held the iron rod of a master, and from whom he expected the most servile obedience. At times I may have been saucy and provoking, but it was when I was receiving more than flesh and blood could bear. For, in letting loose his violent temper, he not only lashed me unmercifully with his tongue, but he resorted to blows; and you ought to know enough of the Franklins by this time to understand that no one of them would submit to such oppression. Then, to cap the climax, father, who had always sided with me whenever our difficulties were laid before him, now gave his decision, for some reason, in favor of James. That was the last straw on the camel's back. Nothing but harsh treatment by a master, who asserted his rights under the law, awaited me. To remain was to be trod upon, and suffer, and become a slave instead of a man. To leave was impossible, unless I left clandestinely. For many days a mighty contest was waged in my soul between love of home and escape from a bondage as bad as Negro slavery.

"After all I had done for James, in his great trouble with the Government, that he should treat me, his own brother, as a menial to be abused, seemed hard indeed. Under such a burden of trial, scarcely knowing whither to look for a friend, I resolved to escape, and I do not now regret the step. I knew that I should be misjudged—that I should be called a runaway, and thought to be on the road to ruin. But I am not. I mean to make the most of myself possible. I am now among good friends, who kindly second all my efforts at self-improvement, and my business prospects were never so good. If industry, economy, temperance, honesty, and perseverance will win, then I shall win; you may be sure of that.

"Yours affectionately,

"BENJAMIN."

Captain Homes was a strong, good man, used to roughing it in aseafaring life; but when he read Benjamin's letter, tears stood in hiseyes, and his lips quivered with emotion, as his great heart went outin sympathy for his wife's young brother.

"Read that letter," he said to Governor Keith, who was present, "andthen I will tell you about the author of it."

Governor Keith read it, with moistened eyes, although he was astranger to the writer and his romantic history.

"A touching letter," he remarked, returning it to the captain.

"The author of it is my wife's youngest brother, only a boy now."

"How old?" inquired the governor.

"Only seventeen."

"Indeed, he must be a remarkable boy."

"He is. The most gifted boy ever raised in Boston."

"Then he ran away from Boston?"

"Yes; his father's family is a prominent one in the city, and theeldest son is a printer, to whom this youngest son was apprenticed."

"I see now," responded the governor. "That explains the letter. And heis settled now in Philadelphia?"

"He is. I accidentally learned where he was, a few days ago, and wroteto him; and this letter is his answer. Let me tell you more abouthim." And the captain rehearsed his connection with the Courant, ascorrespondent and editor, dwelling upon his ability and power as anindependent thinker, capable of canvassing and writing upon almost anypublic question.

"Remarkable, for one so young!" exclaimed the governor, afterlistening to the detailed account. "Such a young man should beencouraged in his business."

"So I think," responded the captain. "His letter has opened my eyes,and I see now that he had good reason to run away. I believe that hewill make his mark, live where he may."

"Of course he will," replied the governor. "His success is certain,only give him a chance. I will assist him to establish a printinghouse of his own in Philadelphia, and he shall have the governmentprinting to do."

"He is abundantly qualified to do it, and I think any aid of that sortyou can give him will be for your interest as well as his. He isreliable and will do his best." The captain said this in the honestyof his heart, having a strong desire to see Benjamin rise.

"We have two printing houses in Philadelphia now; but they are pooraffairs," continued the governor. "Neither proprietor understands hisbusiness, and one of them is very ignorant. I think that this youngman would take the lead at once."

"I think that I can secure the government printing of Delaware forhim," interrupted Colonel French, of Newcastle, who had listened tothe conversation with the deepest interest.

"Captain Homes, I will see your brother-in-law as soon as I return toPhiladelphia," added Governor Keith. "We must not let such a young manbe buried up in a one-horse printing house."

"I am going to Philadelphia with the governor," interjected Colonel
French, "and I will accompany him to see the young man."

"I thank you both very much, and I think that neither of you will everregret your decision." Captain Homes spoke so warmly and approvinglythat both governor and colonel felt reassured as they separated.

The foregoing discloses two good traits of Benjamin's character, whichthe reader may consider with profit. First, he must have been veryobserving. He understood the construction of a printing-press so well,that he could put an old one into running order, young as he was, whenits proprietor was unable to do it. This is more remarkable, becausehe was not obliged to study the mechanism of a printing-press in orderto work it. Many persons operate machines without understanding theirconstruction at all. But a class of minds are never satisfied untilthey understand whatever commands their attention. They areinquisitive, and wish to know the philosophy of things. It was so withBenjamin; and this quality proved a valuable element of his success.It was the secret of his discoveries and inventions in his manhood, aswe shall see, just as it was with Stephenson. As soon as he wasappointed plugman of an engine, at seventeen years of age, he began tostudy its construction. In his leisure hours, he took it to pieces,and put it together again several times, in order to understand it.

In the second place, Benjamin was not proud. "Pride goeth beforedestruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." He never came underthis condemnation. A sight of him passing up Market Street, with aloaf of bread under each arm, while devouring the third one in hishand, in apparel that was less comely than that of many modern tramps,is proof that pride had no dominion over him. Many boys of seventeen,in such poverty and apparel, would have avoided a public street, andeven a Quaker meetinghouse. But these were small matters to Benjamin.He was thinking of greater things—employment and a livelihood. He hada destiny to work out, and in working that he must do as he could, andnot as he would. He cared not for the laughs and jeers of those whocould dress better and live more sumptuously than himself, since itwas absolutely necessary for him to dress as he did in order "to makehis ends meet." He might have followed the example of some young men,and incurred a debt, in order "to cut a dash," but he believed then,as he wrote afterwards, that "lying rides on debt's back," and that itis "better to go to bed supperless than to rise in debt"; or, as heexpressed himself in other maxims, "Those have a short Lent who owemoney to be paid at Easter," and "It is easier to build two chimneysthan to keep one in fuel."

XXII.

GOING UP HIGHER.

Not many days after Benjamin replied to the letter of Captain Homes,an unusual scene transpired at Keimer's office.

"There's Governor Keith on the other side of the street," said Keimerto Benjamin, as they stood looking out of the window. "That tall manwith a gentleman walking with him."

"I see," replied Benjamin. "I should think they were coming here."

"Sure enough, they are crossing the street; they must be coming here;I wonder what for." And Keimer ran down stairs to meet them before thelast words, as above, were off his lips. He supposed, of course, thatthey were coming to see him. He met them politely at the door, for itwas not every day that he had the privilege of welcoming a governor tohis printing office, but was somewhat taken aback when the governorinquired:

"Does Benjamin Franklin work here?"

"He does; do you wish to see him?" Keimer was almost bewildered whenhe answered. "What can the governor want of that boy?" he thought.

"Can I see him?"

"Certainly, walk in."

They walked in and took seats. Benjamin was called.

"This is the young man you wanted to see," said Keimer, introducinghim. "Governor Keith, Benjamin."

"I am very happy to make your acquaintance," responded the governor."I met your brother-in-law, Captain Homes, at Newcastle, the other day,and I promised to call and see you. And this is Colonel French, ofNewcastle, who, also, promised Captain Homes to call with me,"introducing the colonel.

Benjamin was too much astonished to feel at ease. He would not havebeen so amazed if an officer from Boston had called to arrest him as arunaway. What the governor of Pennsylvania could want of him wasbeyond his wildest dreams.

"If Mr. Keimer can spare you a short time, we would like you to gowith us for an interview, as we promised Captain Homes," added thegovernor.

"I am at your service," Benjamin replied, collecting his scattered andwondering thoughts. "Mr. Keimer can spare me, no doubt."

Within a few minutes, he was with the governor and Colonel French at atavern on the corner of Third Street, in a room by themselves.

"I am very glad to meet a young man of your abilities," remarked thegovernor, "and I want to talk with you about setting up the printingbusiness for yourself in this town. Captain Homes told me of yourexperience and ability, on this and other lines, and I am sure thatyou can start a printing house of your own, and make a success of it."

"But I have nothing to start such a business with. It requirescapital."

"True, very true; but I think we can arrange that. Perhaps your fathercould give you a start, judging from what Captain Homes says."

"I suppose that he might if he was so disposed; but I doubt whether hewould do it." Benjamin was querying, as he spoke, whether CaptainHomes had disclosed the fact of his being a runaway.

"I can write a letter to him, setting before him the excellentopportunity for a printer here who understands the business as you do,and advise him to render you aid." The governor did not hint that heknew about his leaving home clandestinely.

"That is very kind on your part; but is it not true, that two printinghouses are as many as this town can support well?"

"It would be if they were first-class; but they are not. Theproprietors do not understand their business; they have poorequipments, too; and their outfit does not enable them to dofirst-class work."

"The governor will see that you have the government printing of
Pennsylvania to do," suggested Colonel French; "and I have no question
that I can secure the government printing of Delaware for you, also.
This will give you patronage as well as business."

"I thank you both very much for your kindness and confidence; and Ishould like nothing better than to have a printing house of my own."

"How would this plan do?" continued the governor. "You return toBoston by the first vessel that goes, taking a letter from me to yourfather, in which I will lay the whole matter before him, so that hecan understand it, recommending that he set you up in business here."

"Well," replied Benjamin, after some hesitation, "the plan is goodenough; but I fear it will not work."

"It will do no hurt to try it," retorted the governor; "and you willhave an opportunity to see your friends, and they will have anopportunity to see you."

"Yes, and I shall enjoy that; but I could not honorably leave Mr.
Keimer at present."

"It will not be necessary to leave him at present. It may be threemonths before a vessel is billed for Boston. You can work for him atpresent, notifying him that you shall return to Boston on a visit bythe first vessel that goes."

"Yes, I can do that," said Benjamin.

"You will not, of course, divulge your plan of establishing a printinghouse of your own," suggested the governor. "Keep that a secret. Yourplan may not work, so that it will be wise to keep it a secret for thepresent."

"Well, I will defer to your judgment, and return to Boston by thefirst vessel that sails. If the plan works, and Benjamin Franklinshould run a successful business house in this town, the credit of itwill belong to you."

They separated, with the understanding that Benjamin would return toBoston by the first vessel sailing for that port. The governor and hisfriend retired, and Benjamin returned to his work at the printingoffice.

The reader will make special note of this unusual scene. Here was thegovernor of Pennsylvania and a leading public man of Delaware inconference with a boy of seventeen years, about establishing aprinting house of his own in Philadelphia, with the promise of thegovernment patronage! What sort of a boy must he be? Not one of commonmould or capacity; but one, as the sequel will show, who shall rule inthe councils of the nation!

Keimer's curiosity was on tiptoe; he wanted to know what business
Governor Keith could have with his young employe.

"Why," replied Benjamin, "he met my brother-in-law, who is captain ofa sloop, at Newcastle, and learned of him that I was working in thistown, and so he called."

"All that may be; but governors are not in the habit of calling uponboys as a matter of courtesy." And Keimer looked very unbelieving whenhe said it.

"He told my brother-in-law that he should call, and my brother-in-lawurged him to do so. Colonel French was a personal friend, who camewith him; and he, too, promised Captain Homes that he would call."

"That is all right; but you are the first boy that ever lived inPhiladelphia, who has attracted the governor's patronage to himself."Keimer was somewhat jocose, while, at the same time, he was evidentlysuspicious that Benjamin was withholding the real object of thegovernor's visit.

"My brother-in-law had written to me to take the first opportunity Icould to make a trip to Boston to see my friends," continued Benjamin,"and he talked with the governor about it. The governor thinks as hedoes."

"Going?"

"Not at present. If I go, I must go by sea, and not by land. Can'tafford to go by land; and I am told that vessels do not often sailfrom here to Boston. I shall have to wait to get more money than Ihave now before I go."

"Perhaps the governor will charter a vessel to take you there if youask him," suggested Keimer, who was evidently chagrined that thegovernor called to see his employe instead of himself.

"Perhaps I shall ask him when I become more familiar with him,"Benjamin replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "When I get to be amember of his staff I may be cheeky enough to suggest it."

Keimer found that he could not make out much by quizzing his youngprinter, so he dropped it and dismissed the subject for the timebeing.

Benjamin's thoughts were all the while concentrated on this unexpectedturn of affairs. It would not be strange if such interest in hiswelfare by the highest officer in the state appealed to his vanitysomewhat, although Keimer could discover nothing of the kind. Thelatter gentleman, however, concluded that he had a mysteriouscharacter in his employ, and he was greatly puzzled to know just whathe was. He might be the son of some great man, for whose sake thegovernor interested himself in his welfare. Possibly he might haveleft Boston in some trouble, and his influential friends, togetherwith Captain Homes, induced the governor to look after him. Manytheories, by way of explanation, occupied his thoughts. At any rate,he was an enigma to his employer, who was becoming more and moreinterested in him. The governor's visit served to magnify hisabilities and worth in Keimer's view. He thought more of him than hedid before. He discovered more talent and efficiency in him. But hecould get little satisfaction out of him. Once in a while he wouldindulge in a spasm of quizzing, and then he would subside into silentmusing over the curious boy who was setting type for him.

Benjamin continued to work early and late, interesting himself inKeimer's business as if it were his own, thereby becoming anindispensable assistant to him. But he embraced the first opportunityto write to his boon companion in Boston, John Collins, and disclosethe unexpected change in his affairs, as follows:

"DEAR JOHN: You will be surprised to learn that I expect to make a visit to Boston by the first vessel that sails for that port. It may be three or four months before one sails, but look for me on board. I will tell you how this new order of things was brought about. My brother-in-law, Capt. Robert Homes, was at Newcastle, Delaware, and found out, in some way, that I was living in Philadelphia; and he wrote to me. I replied to his letter, and he showed it to Governor Keith of Pennsylvania, who lives in this town, and told him about me, and interested him in my welfare. So the governor came to see me, and urged me to establish a printing house of my own here, promising me the state printing, and offering to write a letter to my father that I shall take with me when I go to Boston, in which he will set forth the prospects of my success, and urge him to furnish me with money to start. This is the substance of the story, the details of which I will rehearse when I see you. In the mean time continue to keep the secret. I suppose that Captain Homes will disclose the place of my residence, so that it will be a mystery to them no longer; but do not let any thing get abroad from you. When we meet I shall have much to tell you. Until then, good-bye.

"Your old friend,

"B. FRANKLIN."

Governor Keith sent for Benjamin to dine with him.

"I wanted to talk with you a little more about your visit to Boston,"he remarked at the dinner-table. "How long will you be gone?"

"That will depend upon the voyage. There and back will occupy fromthree to four weeks on the vessel. I do not care about spending over aweek in Boston. I shall want to get back as soon as I can to start inbusiness."

"Does Mr. Keimer suspect that any thing in particular is on the tapis?I did not know but my visit might awaken his curiosity to learn whatit was for."

"It did, and he plied me with questions in order to find out for sometime. Once in a while now, he is very inquisitive, evidently thinkingthat I am withholding something from him. He is quite an intelligentman, without any surplus of honesty."

"So I understand. Bradford is very ignorant, but honest; while Keimeris bright and well-informed, but unscrupulous."

"That is about as near the truth as one can get," continued Benjamin."I have a pleasant time with Mr. Keimer, however, and have nothing tocomplain of on that line."

"Can you give me any idea of the time it will take, after you return,to get a printing house in running order?"

"Not exactly. If my plans succeed, and I bring back a printing-pressand materials with me, I think a month will be ample time to put thewhole thing in running order."

The enterprise was canvassed at the table, the governor conversingwith his young guest in the most familiar manner, dropping manycomplimentary words. Whenever he wanted to see him thereafter, heinvited him to dine, which was quite often; all of which Benjaminenjoyed very much. In his old age, referring to these interviews withGovernor Keith, Franklin said: "The governor sent for me now and thento dine with him, which I considered a great honor; more particularlyas he conversed with me in the most affable, familiar, and friendlymanner."

A novelist would portray the advantages of running away from home whenrepresenting Benjamin, the runaway, at the governor's table. If he hadremained in Boston, attacking the officials of the English Governmentwith his pen, the governor might have put him in prison, as he did hisbrother. But Benjamin never justified the use he made of his legs atthat time—that is, he never excused it in his years of maturity. Healways spoke of it regretfully. Very few runaways possess as muchtalent and character as he did, and few ever had so much cause forrunning away; and here is found the only reason that the act wasoverruled to his advantage.

At length a small vessel was announced to sail for Boston.

"I am ready to go in her," he said to Governor Keith. "She sails inabout a week."

"I am very glad," answered the governor; "you have waited long enoughfor it. I will have my letter to your father ready in time; and I hopeyour mission will be successful. Is there any thing more I can do foryou?"

"Nothing; I have been getting myself in readiness all along, so that Ihave little to do now. As the time draws near I am very anxious to go.My father and mother will be very happy in looking into my faceagain."

"And I think you will be as happy in looking into their faces again,"responded the governor. "Captain Homes spoke in the highest terms ofyour parents, and of your standing in Boston."

Benjamin wondered more than ever whether his brother, Homes, disclosedthe fact of his leaving home clandestinely to the governor. No wordswere dropped to indicate that he did. But Governor Keith was a wiseman, and thought it was not best to divulge his acquaintance with thatpart of the affair.

Benjamin improved the first opportunity to announce his departure to
Mr. Keimer.

"Going to see my parents," he said; "a vessel sails for Boston inabout a week."

"You have not been away from home long yet. I should think that youmight wait a year, at least."

"No, I can't wait longer, though I do not intend to stay long. I amattached to Philadelphia, and I shall want to return as soon as I canafter letting my father and mother look me over a few days."

"Has the governor of the Massachusetts Province sent for you?" Keimerasked jocosely. The fact was he could not get over Governor Keith'sinterest in Benjamin, because he could not yet understand it. As theweeks rolled on, his employee grew to be more and more an object ofcuriosity.

"No; nor any body else," answered Benjamin. "I shall take the governorby surprise, so that he will have no time to get up a reception. Iprefer the governor of Pennsylvania to the governor of Massachusetts."

If Keimer had known all the circumstances, he might have replied, "Youhave reason to feel so; for the governor of Massachusetts would rathersee you in prison than running a printing house."

Benjamin purchased a nice suit of clothes, also a watch, beforestarting on his trip; and then had quite a sum of pocket money to takewith him. He bade Mr. Keimer good-bye, took leave of the governor withmany thanks for his kindness, receiving from him a long, complimentaryletter to his father; nor did he forget to call upon the Bradfordfamily, to make known his purpose and thank them again for theirhospitality; and, of course, Mr. Read and family received a good shareof his thankfulness, especially the daughter, in whom Benjamin hadbecome quite interested.

Once on board the vessel, under way, Benjamin began to reflect uponhis novel experiences. It appeared to him somewhat like a dream. Hecould hardly realize that he was on his way back to his home, by thegovernor's patronage. He took out the governor's letter to his fatherand read it. He found that it was very complimentary to himself, fullyas much so as he had expected; and the prospects of a new printinghouse, under his care, were set forth strongly. He had scarcelyfinished reading the letter, when the vessel struck on a shoal; forthey were not out of the bay yet. She sprung a leak, and there wasconsiderable excitement on board before the crew could remedy theaccident.

"A hard storm is near by," said the captain. "You will have a roughpassage this time, young man," addressing Benjamin.

"Well, I am used to it; I have encountered as many storms as any bodyof my age," replied Benjamin figuratively, which the captain did notquite understand.

"Then you have followed the sea, have you?"

"No; I have followed the land mostly; but there are hard storms on theland, are there not?"

"Of course"; and the captain thought only of rain storms and snowstorms when he answered.

"All I meant was," added Benjamin by way of explanation, "that I havehad rather of a rough life so far; have seen a good deal of troublefor one of my years; and have rather got accustomed to rough usage. Astorm at sea will only vary the experience a little. I think I canwithstand it."

"You will have to stand it any way. Not much chance to choose when astorm overtakes us out to sea. If I am any judge of weather, aterrible storm is brewing, and it will be on us in a hurry."

"Well, I like the water; I meant to have become a sailor once, but myfather put his veto on it. If I had been allowed my own way, I shouldhave been serving before the mast now." Benjamin never spoke truerwords than these.

"Hard life," responded the captain; "if I could live my life overagain I should chose any thing on land rather than the best on thesea. I would not command a vessel another day, if there was any thingelse I could do; but this is all I know."

They had scarcely emerged from the bay when the storm burst upon them.It was the beginning of a long, violent, tempestuous spell of weather,such as mariners encounter on the sea; a new and exciting experienceto Benjamin.

"I have heard a great deal about storms at sea, and——"

"And you will see one now," interrupted the captain. "What you haveheard about it gives you a poor idea of the reality, compared withseeing it."

"I confess to a kind of desire to see a real hard one," answeredBenjamin coolly. "If I should be frightened half out of my wits, Ishall be as well off as the rest of you."

"The vessel is leaking badly," cried out one of the crew.

"Man the pumps," replied the captain. "Enough for all hands to donow."

"Including me," responded Benjamin. "I can do as much as any of you atthe pump," and he went to work with the crew.

Suffice it to say, that the storm continued for days, tossing theirsmall craft about like a shell, keeping all hands busy, night and day,sometimes the sea threatening to swallow the vessel and all itcontained in its hungry maw. The vessel was two weeks on its way toBoston, encountering stormy weather nearly the whole time. Most of thevoyage the leaky craft was kept from sinking by pumping, in whichBenjamin took his turn, proving himself as efficient as any one of thecrew; and he was as cool and self-possessed as any one of the number.

At the end of two weeks they sailed into Boston harbor; and Benjaminwas at home.

XXIII.

THE SURPRISE, AND ITS RESULTS.

Benjamin hastened to the corner of Hanover and Union Streets, wherethe sign of the familiar blue ball hung, and entered with a flutteringheart.

"Benjamin!" exclaimed his father, "can that be you?" and he graspedone of his hands in both of his. "How glad I am to see you!"

"No more glad than I am to see you," responded the son, shaking hisfather's hand heartily. "I am glad to get home."

The words were scarcely off his tongue when his mother appeared uponthe scene.

"Mother!"

"O, Benjamin!"

And his mother threw her arms about his neck, weeping tears of joy.Benjamin wept, too. He began to realize what months of agony hisabsence had caused the woman who bore him.

"Can it be you, my son? I have mourned for you as dead," she said, assoon as she could command her feelings. "Where have you been?"

"In Philadelphia. Has not Captain Homes told you where I was?"

"Not a word from him about it."

"He wrote to me from Newcastle three months ago, and I replied to hisletter. I supposed that you had heard all about it before this time."

"We have not heard the least thing from you since you left," said hisfather; "and they have been seven very long and painful months."

"How painful, Benjamin, you can never know," added his mother."Sometimes it has seemed as if my old heart would break with grief;but I have tried to cast my burden on the Lord. If you had staid athome and died, my sorrow could not have been so great."

"Let it end now," replied Benjamin, with a smile, "for I am hereagain."

"Yes, I thank my God, for 'this my son was dead, and is alive again;he was lost, and is found.'" And his mother came almost as near todeath with joy, as she had been before with sorrow.

They sat down together, when Benjamin rehearsed his experience sinceleaving Boston, not omitting to state the cause of his suddendeparture, and the reason of his return. And then he put the letter ofGovernor Keith into his father's hand.

"How is James? I suppose he is at the printing office? I must go tosee him."

Benjamin's words and tone of speech indicated only good will towardshis brother.

"I am glad to hear you say that, Benjamin. It has grieved me terriblythat he should treat you so unbrotherly; I do hope that you will nowbe reconciled to each other." His mother spoke with much feeling.

"I trust we shall; I am ready to forgive and forget. I have learned agood lesson from experience since leaving Boston."

So saying, he started for the printing office, not knowing what sortof a reception awaited him there He hoped for the best, however.

"James!" He extended his hand as he spoke. James would not have beenmore astonished over one who rose from the dead, but he took his handin a cold, reserved sort of a way, merely saying:

"Benjamin!"

After surveying him from head to foot a few moments, he turned back tohis work again, without another word. The act pierced Benjamin'sheart, it was so unkind and cruel. But soon he rose above thesituation, and seemed to say, by actions, "I can stand it if you can."

The journeymen were delighted to see him. Leaving their work, theypressed around him with a whole catechism of questions.

"Where have you been, Ben?"

"In Philadelphia."

"What kind of a place is it?"

"It is a fine place; I like it better than Boston."

"Going back?"

"Yes; very soon, too. No place like that for the printing business."

"Good pay?"

"Yes, better pay than in Boston."

"How large is the place?"

"Seven thousand inhabitants; smaller than Boston, but smarter."

"What kind of money do you have there?"

There was no established currency in the country at that time, andpaper money only was used in Boston. His interrogator wanted to knowwhat they used in Philadelphia.

"They use that," replied Benjamin, taking from his pocket nearly fivepounds sterling in silver and laying it on the table. "Rather heavierstuff to carry than your Boston paper money."

"It looks as if you had struck a silver mine, Ben," remarked one.

"Some lucky hit, Ben," said another. "The printing business bring youthat?"

"No other did. I was a printer when I left, and I am now, and I expectto be in the future. And, what is more, I have no desire for anotherbusiness."

"You sport a watch, I see," said one of the number.

"Yes, such as it is; a good companion, though."

"Let us see it," one suggested.

"You can." And Benjamin passed it to him, and all examined it.

"Can't afford such luxuries in Boston," one printer remarked.

"It is not a luxury by any means; it is a necessity," replied
Benjamin. "I should not know how to get along without a watch now."

"Well, Ben, you can afford to have a watch," added one; "for you canlive on bread and water, and never want a day of pleasure, and neverdrink liquors."

"And he can afford to treat us all, since he has fared so well,"suggested one of the men.

"I always did treat you well, and always intend to," was Benjamin'sanswer, as if he did not understand that treating with intoxicatingliquors was meant.

"That is so, Ben; but now just treat us with something stronger thanwater, for old acquaintance' sake."

At that time the use of intoxicating liquors was almost universal.Benjamin did not use them, and, once in a while was found a person whodid not. Most people were habitual drinkers, and there was little orno opposition to the custom; and the habit of treating was general.

"There is a dollar," replied Benjamin, throwing out a dollar insilver. "Take that and drink what you want for old acquaintance'sake."

Replacing his watch and money, he left the office with the promise tocome around again. While this interview with the men was going on,James would occasionally look up from his work "grim and sullen," asBenjamin said, evidently as unreconciled to his brother as ever. Thenext day James said to his father and mother, at their house:

"It was an insult. He meant to insult me when he came to the office."

"No, James," replied his mother; "Benjamin meant no such thing. Hetold us that he was ready to forgive and forget."

"He has a poor way of showing it, then," retorted James, who was toorevengeful to be reasonable.

"Well, you are brothers," interrupted his father, "and you should actas brothers toward each other. It has a bad look for one brother to beresentful toward another."

"And it not only has the look" added his mother, "but it is a mostwicked state of heart to cherish. You will never prosper, James, solong as you treat your brother so; and you never ought to prosper."

Mrs. Franklin spoke with great plainness. She had never justifiedJames at all in his treatment of Benjamin; and now that the former wasadding injury to injury by falsely accusing the latter, she could notsuppress her feelings. She magnified the severity of her words, byquoting:

"Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be indanger of the judgment."

"My advice to you, James, is to let the dead past bury the dead. Itwill do no good to revive old memories. Make the future as bright asyou can—that is the only wise course. I am quite sure that Benjaminwill meet you more than half way, in erasing old scores."

Mr. Franklin spoke this with much feeling as he turned away to hiswork. James continued to be resentful, and failed to reduce hisfather's counsel to practice.

Benjamin soon found his old friend, John Collins; and there was mutualsatisfaction in their meeting. As soon, however, as the first pleasureof meeting was over, Benjamin discovered that his friend had becomeintemperate, and he was both surprised and grieved. However, hegratified John with a detailed account of his experience, from thetime they separated, not omitting a glowing description of hisprospects in Philadelphia.

"How soon will you return?" John inquired.

"I want to leave here within two weeks if I can. I ought not to staybut a week."

"How will it do for me to return with you?"

"I think it will do well if you stick closely to business. That is theonly way we can succeed in any thing."

"I can do that. Work never hurt me, or any thing else." John did nottake the hint in Benjamin's last remark.

"But strong drink has hurt a great many. I should never expect tosucceed in any thing if I used it as many do."

"Nor I," answered John, who was blind to his own danger, as allintemperate men are.

"We have no need of any such beverage at all," continued Benjamin. "Idiscard it entirely now, as you know that I did when I lived here inBoston. Water is the best beverage for us both."

"You may be right, Ben; you are, generally. But are you not a littleodd in discarding what nearly every one uses?" John was trying to findan excuse for himself.

"Better be odd than to be disqualified for business. You know, as wellas I do, that rum disqualifies more men for business than all otherevils put together. Once you were of my opinion, John; but your habitshave been changing your opinion."

"Well, that is neither here nor there," replied John, who found thatBenjamin was becoming rather personal. "What do you think of my goingto Philadelphia with you?"

"If your habits now are what your personal appearance indicates, youwill not succeed in Philadelphia any better than you can in Boston. Anintemperate man is a failure anywhere."

"Then you don't think I am good enough to go back with you?" said
John, with a degree of warmth.

"I did not say so, John. To tell you the plain truth, I am shocked atthe change drink has wrought in your appearance. You are fast becominga wreck, I should say; and I don't want a wreck of a friend on myhands."

"Then you don't want I should go with you?"

"Not if you continue to drink as you do now. Sober John Collins Ishould delight to have accompany me, especially if he looks uponstrong drink as the enemy of mankind. I am your friend now, as much asever; but I am disappointed, and even shocked, by your appearance. Youare fast becoming a wreck."

"You are complimentary, Ben, I must confess; but I can't say that youare wrong. You have been about right so far in life; perhaps yourviews are correct about drink."

"I don't ask you to accept my views; but I entreat you to let strongdrink alone for your own sake, and my sake, too. If you can give awide berth to all sorts of intoxicating liquors, as I do, I should bedelighted to have you return to Philadelphia with me."

"That is, become a water-drinker, you mean, Ben?"

"I did not say so; become a reasonable being and not indulge toexcess. I do not ask any body to live exactly as I do, though Ibelieve that every person who discards liquors will be better off."

At that day, when the temperance cause was not born, and the use ofintoxicants was universal, it was generally believed that moderatedrinking could be followed without leading to excessive drinking. Itis plain that Benjamin had that idea. For himself, he practised entireabstinence from intoxicants, because he thought it was better for him.Another person might drink moderately, in his view, and be just aswell off. But intemperance he abhorred, and he thought that every bodyelse ought to abhor it.

"I will tell you what it is, Ben," continued John. "There is somesense in what you say; you did not leave it all in Philadelphia whenyou came away, that is sure. I want to go back with you badly; and Iwill think it over."

"That is it, John. Sober John Collins is an old friend of mine, and Ishall enjoy his society in Philadelphia, or any other part of theworld. Think it over, and I will see you again."

Mr. Franklin read the letter of Governor Keith over and over. It was agood letter to cheer a father's heart, if it was genuine. Evidently hehad some doubts whether the affair was all right. While he wasquerying about the genuineness of the letter from Governor Keith,Captain Homes arrived in Boston, and first of all called upon hisfather Franklin.

"Benjamin is here," said Mr. Franklin, "and according to his story, hehas a good prospect before him in Philadelphia. And here is a letterfrom Sir William Keith, governor of Pennsylvania, that he brought withhim"; and he passed the letter to the captain.

"I met Governor Keith at Newcastle, and showed him a letter I receivedfrom Benjamin," replied Captain Homes, "which satisfied me that he hadmore reason than I had supposed for running away. I interested thegovernor in his welfare. On his return to Philadelphia, after havingmet Benjamin, he wrote to me how much pleased he was with him, andwhat he had proposed."

Captain Homes read the governor's letter through and remarked, "Thatis substantially what he wrote to me; and it appears to me that thereis a good opening for him in Philadelphia."

"You think that Sir William Keith is reliable, do you?"

"He ought to be. I can't think of any reason why a man in his positionshould be saying and doing what he don't mean."

"Nor I. And yet it seems almost strange that he should favor a boy ofeighteen engaging in such an enterprise, without money and withoutexperience."

"You are wrong, father," answered the captain; "very few young mentwenty-two years of age have had the experience he has had. He hasoccupied positions and met emergencies every time with the promptnessand ability of one ten years older."

"That may be so. I think it is so; and it gives me great pleasure thatSir William Keith can write as he does about him. But it can't beexpected that a boy of eighteen can have the judgment and wisdom toconduct business for himself, as he will at twenty-two."

"I think it can be expected, and should be expected, if thesequalities are as fully developed at eighteen as they are in otheryoung men at twenty-two." The captain was emphatic in his endorsementof Benjamin.

This conversation was interrupted by Benjamin's appearance. He wasdelighted to meet Captain Homes, and this gentleman was delighted tomeet him. The satisfaction was mutual. One of the first questions thatBenjamin asked was:

"How did you learn that I was living in Philadelphia?"

"From a citizen of that town, of whom I was inquiring about thebusiness of the place. Incidentally he spoke of a young printer fromBoston, who had come there. I met him in Newcastle. He even knew yourname."

"'Murder will out' is an old maxim that finds confirmation in mycase," responded Benjamin. "But it is all for the best, I think. I amglad that the way was opened for me to return to Boston."

"I have just read Governor Keith's letter to your father, and I hopethat he will be able to give you a start in Philadelphia." The captainsaid this in the presence of Mr. Franklin.

While Mr. Franklin was considering the proposition contained inGovernor Keith's letter, Benjamin was busy in calling upon old friendsand visiting old resorts. He had been absent seven months, and, inthat time, had added two or three times that number of months to hispersonal appearance. He appeared like a young man twenty-one years ofage, and his new apparel imparted to him a grace and comeliness thathe lacked when he left Boston. He had developed into a handsome,gentlemanly, intelligent, and witty young man.

It was during this visit to Boston that he called upon Dr. IncreaseMather, to whose preaching he listened when a resident of the town.The doctor received him cordially and invited him into his library,where they chatted for some time about books, Philadelphia, and othermatters. When Benjamin arose to go, the doctor said:

"Come this way, and I will show you a nearer way out," pointing to anarrow passage with a beam crossing it overhead. They were stilltalking, the doctor following behind Benjamin, when the latter turnedpartly about to speak to the former.

"Stoop! Stoop!" shouted the doctor.

Benjamin did not understand what he meant until his head struck thebeam overhead with considerable force.

"There," said the doctor, laughing, "you are young and have the worldbefore you; stoop as you go through it, and you may miss many hardthumps."

Nearly seventy years afterwards the recipient of this counsel wrote asfollows:

"This advice, thus beaten into my head, has frequently been of useto me; and I often think of it when I see pride mortified, andmisfortunes brought upon people by carrying their heads too high."

John Collins was a clerk in the post-office. He revolved the matter ofgoing to Philadelphia with Benjamin a sober youth, or remaining inBoston a drunken one. The more he pondered the more he was inclined toaccept Benjamin's advice. The appeal from Collins drunk to Collinssober finally met his approval.

"I have decided to go with you," he said to Benjamin, the next timethey met.

"Glad to hear it, John, if you take my advice and leave thedrink-habit in Boston. I shall enjoy your company hugely."

"You shall have it. I have given up my position in the post-office,and am packing up now. I want to carry my books with the rest of mytraps."

"And I shall take my books this time. I shall ship to New York, where
I have some business, and thence to Philadelphia."

"And I want to go by the way of Providence, Rhode Island, to visitfriends, and will meet you in New York," responded John.

"Agreed; but remember, John, that you and I are going to steer clearof strong drink. Give it a wide berth, and the way is open before youto success."

"I see it, and mean to act accordingly." John really meant what hesaid, but the poor fellow did not understand how weak he was. Neitherwas Benjamin aware that the drink habit was fastened upon him sotightly.

Mr. Franklin had taken a plenty of time to consider the advice of
Governor Keith, and Benjamin was getting uneasy to return.

"I have considered the matter long and carefully," said Mr. Franklinto Benjamin, "having a desire to aid you if possible; but have come tothe conclusion, finally, that I can not do it at present."

"I told Governor Keith that I doubted whether you would assist me now,so that your conclusion is not altogether unexpected." Benjamin'sreply was cool—almost indifferent.

"When you become twenty-one years of age, and need assistance to startin business for yourself, I will gladly render it; but it is hardlysafe for a boy of eighteen to engage in such an enterprise. Get moreexperience." These words were indicative of Mr. Franklin's caution.

"Well, I have no great desire to rule a printing house. I am contentto serve," and these words expressed Benjamin's real feelings.

"At the same time," continued his father, "I am highly gratified thatyou have conducted yourself so well as to gain the good opinion ofeven the governor. I trust that you will continue to conduct yourselfwith propriety. At twenty-one you will save money enough to set upbusiness for yourself, if your economy holds out."

"I think it will," responded Benjamin. "My wants are few, and so myexpenses are small. And I like work as well as ever."

"There is one thing I hope you will avoid, Benjamin. You will, nodoubt, be writing for the public press, as you did here. My advice isto avoid lampooning and libeling. You erred in that way here, andfurnished occasion for just and severe criticism."

"We have not time to discuss that matter now," answered Benjamin; "butif I were to live my life over again, and edit the Courant in thesame circumstances, I should repeat the same thing. But for that fightthere would be a censorship over the press of Boston to-day."

"Possibly," rejoined his father; "but I think there is a wiser course.
You must live and learn."

"I regret exceedingly that James can not be reconciled to you,"interrupted his mother. "He is indulging a very bad spirit, and myprayer is that he may see the folly of it, before you leave, and be atpeace with you."

"I met him more than half way," replied Benjamin, "and he seemed tostand aloof all the more. Whenever he returns to reason he will findme ready and waiting to forget the past."

"It is so painful to see brothers disagree!" And a deep, doleful sighescaped her heart as his mother said it.

Benjamin's separation from his parents was tender and affectionate.They scarcely expected to see his face again on this side of theRiver, and they presented him with several gifts as tokens of theirundying love. With their sincere blessing upon him he turned away fromthe old home, where so many of his happiest hours had been spent, and,wiping unbidden tears from his eyes, found himself again out on theworld's great highway alone, seeking his fortune.

XXIV.

HIS RETURN, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

John left Boston two or three days before Benjamin. The sloop in whichBenjamin sailed stopped at Newport, where his brother John lived,affording him the opportunity to visit him. John was well-nighovercome by the sight of Benjamin, for whom he ever had the mostsincere affection. Their meeting was as glad to him as it wasunexpected. There he met a Mr. Vernon, who said:

"I have a bill of thirty-five pounds currency in New York, which Ihave no doubt can be collected readily—could you collect it for me?"

"I will do it with pleasure," replied Benjamin.

"You can collect and keep it until I write what disposition to make ofit. I am not quite certain just now."

"Very well; I will hold it subject to your direction."

"And I will give you an order for the money, which will be necessary."

"Yes, I suppose that is the business way."

His stay in Newport was very brief. On returning to the sloop inseason to sail, he found that several passengers had been taken onboard from that town. Among them was a motherly sort of a Quaker lady,and, also, two young women traveling together. Benjamin was a politeyoung man, and sought to be of service to them. The old Quaker ladywas attended by two servants, yet Benjamin found an opportunity to beof some service to her, and she appreciated his kindness. Nor was heindifferent towards the two young women. He made their acquaintance,and showed them some attention; and they, in turn, showed himattention, with interest. The Quaker lady looked on, understanding thesituation better than he did; and finally she called him aside, bysome kind of a motion, and said:

"Young man, beware of those girls, or they will lead you astray."

"How so?" inquired Benjamin, considerably surprised.

"They are bad girls, and thee is not much acquainted with the ways ofthe world."

"You are right, madam; I am not much acquainted with the women world,and I dare say they might easily lead me astray." Benjamin did notexactly believe what the Quakeress said, but he was a little given tohumor, and so he spoke as he did.

"It is a serious matter, young man; thee may depend on that. I knowthat they are bad girls by their actions. They mean to set a snare forthee."

"Well, I assure you that I will not fall into it. They have not caughtme yet."

"And I hope they won't," added the good lady. "If I were in your placeI would cut their acquaintance at once. And she stated some things shehad observed of their acts, and a remark one of them made, all ofwhich convinced Benjamin that she was right.

"I thank you for your interest," said Benjamin "I will not keep up anacquaintance with them, but will follow your advice."

The good lady kept her eye on Benjamin, and so did the girls. Thelatter plied their arts with considerable ingenuity to lure him on,but his eyes were opened now, and he avoided them as much as he could.Before reaching New York, however, the girls managed to inform himwhere they lived, and gave him a very pressing invitation to call. Theoutcome was as follows, given in his own language, as related in his"Autobiography":

"When we arrived at New York, they told me where they lived, andinvited me to come and see them; but I avoided it, and it was well Idid. For the next day the captain missed a silver spoon and some otherthings, that had been taken out of his cabin, and, knowing that thesewere a couple of strumpets, he got a warrant to search their lodgings,found the stolen goods, and had the thieves punished. So, though wehad escaped a sunken rock, which we scraped upon in the passage, Ithought this escape of rather more importance to me."

When Benjamin arrived in New York, John Collins was waiting there forhim, but it was John Collins drunk.

"Waitin' for you, Ben, old fellow," said John, patting him on theback, too much under the power of drink to know exactly what the saidor did. "Goin' to Philadelphy; come on."

Benjamin was taken by surprise, and scarcely knew what to say.
Rallying himself, however, he replied:

"You are not the John Collins I invited to accompany me to
Philadelphia. I don't wish for your company."

"You are joking, Ben, old fellow"; and another pat on his back.

"I invited John Collins sober to go to Philadelphia with me; you are
John Collins drunk."

"Complimentary again," answered John, with a show of temper.

"It is time," retorted Benjamin, "It is putting me into anembarrassing situation to be tied to a drunken companion. I rather beexcused."

"Don't see how I can 'scuse you, Ben. It is too late now." And theboozy fellow appeared not to imagine that he was making a fool ofhimself.

On reaching John's boarding place, the landlord said:

"He has been drunk ever since he reached New York; and he has gambled,too, I judge."

"What makes you think he has gambled?"

"Because he is out of money now; every cent he had is gone, I think."

"And he owes you for board and lodgings?"

"Yes; he has not paid me any thing. His appetite is complete master ofhim."

"Well, I scarcely know what to do," remarked Benjamin thoughtfully;and he rehearsed to the inn-keeper the circumstances of hisconnection with John, not omitting to repeat his fair promises.

"Promises!" retorted the landlord. "What does he care for promises! Afellow with no more control over his appetite than he has don't carefor any thing. He's a goner, if I am any judge."

Benjamin embraced the first opportunity to canvass the matter withJohn; and, from his own account, he was satisfied that the case wasfull as bad as the landlord had represented. John had not a cent left,and he was in a maudlin state of mind, such as Benjamin did notobserve in Boston. His self-respect was gone, and he appeared to gloryin his shame.

While Benjamin was considering what to do, and attending to somematters of business, particularly collecting the thirty-five poundsfor Mr. Vernon, the captain of the sloop came to him, saying:

"Governor Burnet wants to see you."

"Who is Governor Burnet, that he should want to see me?" respondedBenjamin in surprise. One governor had been after him, and now thatanother was seeking his patronage was almost too much to believe.

"Governor of New York," answered the captain. "I had some businesswith him, and I happened to say that a passenger on board my sloop hada large quantity of books with him; and this interested him so muchthat he wanted I should bring you to his house."

"I will go," replied Benjamin; "and I must go at once if I go at all."

They posted off, Benjamin querying on the way whether the governor of
New York would prove as friendly to him as the governor of
Pennsylvania.

It was a pleasant call he had upon the governor. This dignitary gavehim a cordial welcome, took him into his library, conversed with himabout books and authors, complimented him for his love of learning andhis evident high aims, and invited him to call whenever he shouldvisit New York. Benjamin began to think that governors had aparticular passion for him; and what little vanity he possessed becameinflated. Many years thereafter, referring to the experience, he said:"This was the second governor who had done me the honor to take noticeof me; and, for a poor boy like me, it was very pleasing." If he hadbeen as foolish as some youth, and some men, too, he would haveconcluded that it pays to run away, since the only boy that twogovernors were known to patronize especially was a runaway. But werepeat what we have said before, that Benjamin, the wise son, neverconcluded that it pays to run away from home. He met with somepleasant experiences, but they came, not through his runawayqualities, but through his aspiring and noble aims.

Collins was not too drunk to understand that Benjamin went to see thegovernor by invitation, and he was on tiptoe to learn what it allmeant.

"Been to see the governor, hey?" he said.

"Yes; and I should have taken you if you had not been drunk."

"Good on you, Ben; you'll be governor yourself yet." And John laughedat his own suggestion as only a silly drinker will.

"You will not, John, unless you change your course. I have a mind toleave you here in New York; then I shall not be disgraced by you inPhiladelphia. If you can't keep sober for your own sake nor mine, Iwant nothing more to do with you."

This was a revelation to John. He had not dreamed of being leftpenniless and friendless in New York. So he was ready to make promisesof the most flattering kind, in order to proceed with Benjamin toPhiladelphia.

"But you promised me as squarely as possible in Boston that you wouldnot drink any more," continued Benjamin. "Your promise is not worthany thing to me, when it is worth nothing to you; and it is not worthas much to you as a glass of brandy. I am tempted to leave you and allyour truck in the sloop here in New York."

John begged and entreated Benjamin not to desert him now, and promisedby all that was great and good that he would stop drinking and lead asober life. In the circumstances, Benjamin could scarcely do otherwisethan to pay his bill at the inn and take him along with him, though hevery reluctantly decided to do so. Having collected the thirty-fivepounds for Mr. Vernon, paid John's bill, and transacted some otherbusiness, by the time the sloop was ready to sail, they proceeded toPhiladelphia.

There is no record preserved of his experience on the sloop betweenNew York and Philadelphia, except a paragraph in a letter written byDoctor Franklin to Doctor Priestley, in 1780, when the former wasseventy-four years of age. He related the experience in order toillustrate the truth, "that all situations in life have theirinconveniences." The paragraph is as follows:

"In my youth, I was passenger in a little sloop, descending the riverDelaware. There being no wind, we were obliged, when the ebb wasspent, to cast anchor and wait for the next. The heat of the sun onthe vessel was excessive, the company strangers to me, and not veryagreeable. Near the river-side I saw what I took to be a pleasantgreen meadow, in the middle of which was a large shady tree, where, itstruck my fancy, I could sit and read (having a book in my pocket),and pass the time agreeably till the tide turned. I thereforeprevailed with the captain to put me ashore. Being landed, I found thegreatest part of my meadow was really a marsh, in crossing which, tocome at my tree, I was up to my knees in mire; and I had not placedmyself under its shade five minutes, before the mosquitoes in swarmsfound me out, attacked my legs, hands, and face, and made my readingand my rest impossible; so that I returned to the beach, and calledfor the boat to come and take me on board again, where I was obligedto bear the heat I had strove to quit, and also the laugh of thecompany. Similar cases in the affairs of life have since frequentlyfallen under my observation."

In these modern days, it would be said that, when Benjamin arrived inPhiladelphia, he "had an elephant on his hands." The mostunmanageable and dangerous sort of an elephant on one's hands is adissolute friend. Benjamin scarcely knew what to do with John. Ittroubled him exceedingly. But he was wont to make the best ofeverything, and so he did in this case.

He took John with him to his boarding place, promising to pay hisbills until he could find work in some counting-room. John was wellqualified for such business, and Benjamin supposed that he couldreadily find a situation. His estimate of Collins, before and afterhe began to drink to excess, is given by his own pen, as follows:

"At New York I found my friend Collins, who had arrived there sometime before me. We had been intimate from children, and had read thesame books together; but he had the advantage of more time for readingand studying, and a wonderful genius for mathematical learning, inwhich he far outstripped me. While I lived in Boston, most of myhours of leisure for conversation were spent with him, and hecontinued a sober as well as industrious lad; was much respected forhis learning by several of the clergy and other gentlemen, and seemedto promise making a good figure in life. But, during my absence, hehad acquired a habit of drinking brandy and I found by his ownaccount, as well as that of others, that he had been drunk every daysince his arrival at New York, and behaved himself in a veryextravagant manner. He had gamed, too, and lost his money, so that Iwas obliged to discharge his lodgings, and defray his expenses on theroad and at Philadelphia; which proved a great burden to me."

Benjamin called upon Governor Keith as soon as possible, with a letterfrom his father, in which the governor was thanked and praised for hiskindness to his son.

"Your father is too cautious," remarked the governor, after readingthe letter. "Some young men are better qualified to do business forthemselves at eighteen than others are at twenty-one."

"He said that he would assist me at twenty-one if I should needassistance," replied Benjamin.

"Yes; he says so in this letter. But I think you will be establishedin a good business three years from now, and need no help. Some aidnow will do more for you than at any future time."

"I dare say that is true; but, as father declines to do it, that endsthe matter, I suppose."

"No; not by any means," replied the governor, earnestly. "If yourfather will not set you up in business, I'll see what I can do foryou. I want a first-class printing house in this town; and a young manlike you, capable of running it, should be encouraged."

"That is more than I expected, and I shall feel myself under greatobligations to you for aid of that kind, if you deem it best."Benjamin spoke in a tone of grateful feeling, but without the leastshow of importunity.

"I do deem it best; and I will give you a start in business. You cankeep the matter a secret; continue at work for Keimer, and use yourfirst leisure moments to make out an inventory of what a first-classprinting establishment requires. That will be the first thing."

"How soon will you want the inventory of articles?"

"As soon as you can make it out. I shall be obliged to send to Englandfor them, and that will take considerable time."

It was a lengthy interview that Benjamin had with the governor, and hewas very much elated by this turn of affairs. It looked now as if hewould start the printing business in Philadelphia under the patronageof the governor himself! That seemed to promise more than to go intobusiness by the aid of only a tallow-chandler.

He reported next to Keimer, who was glad to welcome him back,especially so because he had considerable work on hand, and no personcould turn it off like Benjamin.

"Glad to see you, Ben. I suppose the governor will be round to see youwhen he hears of your arrival." Keimer spoke in a vein of pleasantryrather than as a fling.

"Possibly, unless he should send for me to call on him. The governorof New York sent for me—Governor Burnet—what do you think of that?"

"You are joking now, Ben; it can't be that all the governors are afteryou."

"Well, the governor of New York was, and I went to see him." AndBenjamin went on to describe his interview with Governor Burnet indetail, and how it came about, to which Keimer listened with thegreatest interest and wonder.

"Governor Burnet has the largest library in this country," continuedBenjamin, "and judging from the number of books I had on the sloop, heconcluded that I loved books, and so wanted to show me his."

"Well," answered Keimer, after being in a sort of reverie someminutes, "if this thing goes on, you will not be willing to associatelong with us fellows in the printing business."

"I will give you due notice when I get to that. I will not cut youracquaintance suddenly." Benjamin could treat the matter jocosely aswell as Keimer.

To return to John Collins. He sought a position as clerk or bookkeeperin several stores; but was unsuccessful. Then he tried other kinds ofwork; but no one appeared to want him. Benjamin went with him toseveral places, to introduce him and intercede for him; but there wasno opening for him. Days passed away, and still he was without aposition; and he kept on drinking, too, not so beast-like as he did inNew York, but enough to be more or less disguised.

"It is your disgusting habit of intemperance; they smell your breathor study your face, and then don't want you around. I told you inBoston, that no one wants a drinking employee about." Benjamin'spatience was nearly exhausted, and he spoke as he felt.

"That is your surmise; you are a fanatic on drink, and are not capableof exercising sound judgement when you come to that," John repliedwith considerable temper.

"And you would not be capable of keeping your soul and body togetherif it were not for my money. You have no regard at all for your word;a promise amounts to nothing with you, and never will until you stopdrinking."

"I shall not stop drinking until I get ready," retorted John, becomingvery angry. "You are an insulting dog, when you get to attackingbrandy."

Brandy was John's favorite beverage in Philadelphia, as it was inBoston. He frequently borrowed money of Benjamin; the latter nothaving the heart to deny him, with which he continued to gratify hisappetite. Benjamin often remonstrated with him, and threatened tocomplain of him; but the old friendship of former days always came into favor John. Frequently they had serious difficulties, for John wasvery irritable, and daily grew more so. Yet, Benjamin continued to payhis board, and loan him a little money from time to time, thoughCollins continued unsuccessful in his search for a position.

Several young men were enjoying a pastime on the Delaware one day,boating, among them Benjamin and John. The latter was under theinfluence of drink sufficiently to be very irritable; and he refusedto take his turn rowing.

"I will be rowed home," he said in anger.

"No, you won't, unless you do your part," replied Benjamin, whothought it was quite time to teach the boozy fellow a lesson.

"Then we will stay here all night on the water," snapped out John.

"Just as you please; I can stay as long as you can," said Benjamin,who had endured about as much of John's impudence as he could.

"Come, Ben, let us row him; he don't know what he is about," said oneof the other boys; "what signifies it?"

"Not one stroke," replied Benjamin emphatically; "it is his turn torow, and he shall row, if he is full of brandy."

"I'll make you row, you insulting dog," exclaimed John, as he rose andmade for Benjamin. "I'll throw you overboard if you don't row."

Approaching Benjamin with the vehemence of a mad bull, determined tothrow him into the river, Benjamin clapped his head under his thighs,when he came up and struck at him, and, rising, pitched him headforemost into the river.

"He'll drown," shouted one.

"No, he won't," answered Benjamin, "he is a good swimmer, and he isnot too drunk to swim."

"Will you row, John?" shouted another.

"No, you ——," he shouted back, with an oath.

"We'll take you in when you will promise to row," said Benjamin.

"I shall not promise to row; I'll drown first." He turned about toreach the boat, but just as he was ready to grasp it with his hand,the rowers pushed it forward out of his reach.

"Will you row now?" shouted Benjamin.

"No; but I will give you a thrashing when I can get at you." And hecontinued to swim after the boat, the rowers pushing it forward out ofhis reach, whenever he got near enough to seize it. Then Benjaminwould cry out:

"Will you row now, John?" and back the defiant answer would come:

"Never; but I'll throw you into the river if I can get at you."

Then forward the rowers would push the boat beyond his reach. Fortwenty minutes this game was played with the miserable fellow in thewater, when one of the number said:

"He is giving out, we must take him in, or he'll drown."

"Well, we don't want to drown him," replied Benjamin; "I guess webetter take him in." Then, turning to John, he continued:

"Say, John, we'll take you in now; you are soaked outside as much asyou were inside," and, stopping the boat, they hauled the poor fellowin, too much exhausted to throw Benjamin or any one else overboard.

"John!" shouted Benjamin, as they laid him down, dripping wet, on thebottom of the boat, "it don't pay to drink too much brandy. You arethe only one in the crowd who can't take care of himself."

Benjamin was rather severe, but then he had endured insult andingratitude so long from his old friend, that his patience wasexhausted. The outcome of this scrape on the Delaware Benjamin shalltell in his own words:

"We hardly exchanged a civil word after this adventure. At length aWest India captain, who had a commission to procure a preceptor forthe sons of a gentleman at Barbadoes, met with him and proposed tocarry him thither to fill the situation. He accepted, and promised toremit what he owed me out of the first money he should receive; but Inever heard of him after."

Probably he died, a miserable sot, in Barbadoes, without a friend tomark his grave or write the story of his shame. Benjamin lost, ofcourse, all the money he had loaned him. In later life he referred tothe end of John Collins, and said that he (Benjamin) receivedretribution for his influence over Collins, when he made him as muchof a skeptic as himself in Boston. It was there that he unsettled hismind as to the reality of religion. At that time he was industrious,temperate, and honest. But, losing his respect for religion, he wasleft without restraint and went rapidly to ruin. Benjamin was thegreatest sufferer by his fall, and thus was terribly rebuked forinfluencing him to treat religion with contempt.

Governor Keith frequently sent for Benjamin to dine with him, that hemight converse with him about the proposed printing house. At lengthBenjamin was able to take with him an inventory of all the articlesnecessary for establishing a printing house.

"It is not on a large scale," said Benjamin. "I think I better beginmoderately. I can enlarge as business increases."

"That is wise," answered the governor; "but you want a suitable outfitfor a first-class printing office."

"Yes; and my inventory contemplates that. The cost will be about onehundred pounds sterling, I judge."

"Not so expensive as I supposed," remarked Governor Keith. "I havebeen thinking whether you better not go to England to purchase thesearticles. You understand what is wanted."

"I had not thought of that," replied Benjamin, both surprised andpleased by the proposition to visit London. "I should defer to yourjudgment in that as in other things."

"If you go it will be necessary for you to sail with Captain Annis,who makes a trip once a year from here to London. It will be somemonths before he will sail, so that you have plenty of time to thinkand plan."

"I think favorably of the proposition now," continued Benjamin. "Icould select the types and see that every thing ordered was good ofthe kind, and this would be of advantage."

"That is what I thought. And more than that; while there you canestablish correspondences in the book-selling and stationery line."

"I think I could; and such acquaintance might prove of advantage to mein other respects."

"It certainly would; and I decide that you get yourself ready to sailwith Captain Annis. You can continue to work for Keimer, still keepingthe secret, but completing your plans."

This was the final agreement, and Benjamin never dreamed that GovernorKeith was not honest. If he had divulged to Mr. Read, or Bradford, oreven to Mr. Keimer, what the governor proposed, they would haveexposed his deceitful, unreliable character, and the enterprise wouldhave been abandoned.

XXV.

WORKING, READING, AND COURTING.

Benjamin continued to work for Keimer, who did not suspect that hisemployee was planning to set up business for himself. Keimer was avery singular, erratic man, believing little in the Christianreligion, and yet given to a kind of fanaticism on certain lines.

"Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard," he quoted from theMosaic law, as a reason for wearing a long beard, when Benjamininquired of him:

"Then you think that passage means 'Thou shalt not shave,' if Iunderstand you?" asked Benjamin.

"Yes, that is about it; and I feel religiously bound to observe it."

"Well, I prefer a religion that is seated in the heart instead of thebeard." And there was a twinkle in Benjamin's eye when he said it.

He enjoyed arguing with Keimer, and frequently had a contest with himin argument. Keimer had come to respect his abilities. Indeed, heconsidered Benjamin the most remarkable young man he ever met.

"It is the religion of the heart that settles the length of the beard,my youthful Socrates." By this reference to Socrates, Keimer meant toslap Benjamin's Socratic method of argument, about which he talkedmuch. "Can't you see it?"

"And it ought to settle the appetite, also; and the quantity and kindof food that goes into the stomach," rejoined Benjamin, quickly.

Keimer was a large eater—never more satisfied than when devouring agood dinner that was exactly to his taste. On the other hand, whileBenjamin had abandoned his "vegetable diet," he cared very littleabout a good dinner, and seemed to eat one thing with about as goodrelish as another. He often discussed the subject with Keimer, andalways maintained that most people ate too much meat. His last remarkhit, and Keimer knew where.

"I shall not dispute you on that point," Keimer answered; "if we hadreligion enough in our hearts, I suppose it would regulate all ouracts."

"It ought to; but there is not much prospect of its regulating you andme at present. Neither of us has much to boast of in that respect."

"Perhaps not. I don't propose to carry my religion so far as manypeople do, and be fanatical," replied Keimer.

"Not much danger of it, I think," retorted Benjamin. "You and I willnever be charged with that."

Benjamin was as much of a skeptic as Keimer, only his skepticism tooka different turn. Keimer believed two things thoroughly: first, towear the beard long, and, second, to keep the seventh day of the weekas the Sabbath. Benjamin, on the other hand, regarded these andkindred dogmas as of little consequence, compared with morality andindustry. He believed in work, self-improvement, and uprightness; andthat was more than Keimer believed or practised. So their disputeswere frequent and animated. Of the two, Benjamin's skepticism was theless dangerous.

"I am seriously thinking of establishing a new sect," continuedKeimer; "if you will join me, I will. I can preach my doctrines, andyou can confound all opponents by your Socratic method."

"I shall want some latitude if I join you. It is narrowing down alittle too much when a creed contains but two articles, like yours,and both of those grave errors."

"In starting a sect I should not insist upon those two articles alone;minor doctrines will naturally gather about them. But I am really inearnest about a new sect, Ben; and I am only waiting to win you over."

"Well, perhaps I will join you after you adopt my creed, to use noanimal food. Your head will be clearer for running your sect, and suchrespect for your stomach will show more religion than a long bearddoes."

"My constitution would not withstand that sort of a diet; it wouldundermine my health."

"Temperance in eating and drinking never undermined any body'sconstitution," retorted Benjamin. "You will live twenty years longerto practise it, and possess a much larger per cent, of self-respect."

"Perhaps I will try it, if you will; and also, if you will adopt mycreed, and go for a new sect."

"I am ready to join you any time in discarding animal food; and, ifyou succeed well, then I will talk with you about the rest of it."

"Agreed," responded Keimer, thinking that Benjamin was really inclinedto embrace his scheme, whereas he was only laying his plans for sport.He knew that a man, who liked a good meal as well as Keimer did, wouldhave a hard time on the diet he proposed. Referring to it in his"Autobiography" he said:

"He was usually a great eater, and I wished to give myself somediversion in half-starving him. He consented to try the practice, if Iwould keep him company. I did so, and we held it for three months. Ourprovisions were purchased, cooked, and brought to us regularly by awoman in the neighborhood, who had from me a list of forty dishes,which she prepared for us at different times, in which there enteredneither fish, flesh, nor fowl. This whim suited me the better at thistime from the cheapness of it,—not costing us above eighteen pencesterling each per week. I have since kept several lents most strictly,leaving the common diet for that, and that for the common, abruptly,without the least inconvenience. So that, I think, there is little inthe advice of making those changes by easy gradations. I went onpleasantly, but poor Keimer suffered grievously, grew tired of theproject, longed for the flesh pots of Egypt, and ordered a roast pig.He invited me and two women friends to dine with him; but, it beingbrought too soon upon the table, he could not resist the temptation,and ate the whole before we came."

The trial resulted about as Benjamin anticipated, and he got out of itas much fun as he expected. Keimer proved himself a greater pig thanthe one he swallowed. At the same time, the result left Keimer withouta claim on Benjamin to advocate the new sect. So the scheme wasdropped.

Keimer was no match for Benjamin in disputation. With the use of theSocratic way of reasoning, Benjamin discomfited him every time; sothat he grew shy and suspicious. In his ripe years, Benjamin wrote ofthose days, and said:

"Keimer and I lived on a pretty good familiar footing, and agreedtolerably well; for he suspected nothing of my setting up. He retaineda great deal of his old enthusiasm, and loved argumentation. Wetherefore had many disputations. I used to work him so with mySocratic method, and had trepanned him so often by questionsapparently so distant from any point we had in hand, yet by degreesleading to the point and bringing him into difficulties andcontradictions, that at last he grew ridiculously cautious, and wouldhardly answer me the most common question, without asking first, 'Whatdo you intend to infer from that?' However, it gave him so high anopinion of my abilities in the confuting way, that he seriouslyproposed my being his colleague in a project he had of setting up anew sect. He was to preach the doctrines, and I was to confound allopponents."

Benjamin found pleasant literary associates in Philadelphia. A giftedyoung man usually attracts to himself bright young men near his age.Such was the case with Benjamin. Three young men especially became hisboon companions, all of them great readers. Their literary tendenciesattracted Benjamin, though their characters were not deficient in highaims and integrity. Their names were Charles Osborne, Joseph Matson,and James Ralph. The first two were clerks of Charles Brockden, aneminent conveyancer of the town, and the other was a merchant's clerk.Matson was a pious young man of sterling integrity, while the otherswere more lax in their religious opinions and principles. All weresensible young men, much above the average of this class inintellectual endowments. Osborne and Ralph were imaginative andpoetical, and frequently tried their talents at verse-making.

They formed a literary club, and spent their leisure time together,reading to each other, discussing questions, and, in other ways,seeking self-improvement. Sundays they devoted chiefly to intellectualpastime, strolling along the banks of the Schuylkill, except Matson,who was too much of a Christian to desecrate the Sabbath. He alwayswent to the house of God on Sundays; nor was he esteemed any lesshighly by his skeptical associates for so doing.

"You estimate your talent for poetry too highly," said Osborne toRalph, at one of their literary interviews. "Poets are born, not made;and I hardly think you was born one."

"Much obliged for your compliment," replied Ralph, not at alldisconcerted by Osborne's rather personal remark; "but I may becomepoet enough for my own use. All poets are not first-best when theybegin. It is practice that makes perfect, you know."

"Practice can't make a poet out of a man who is not born one; and youare not such," continued Osborne. "That piece that you just read isnot particularly poetical. It is good rhyme, but it lacks the realspirit of poesy."

"I agree with you; I do not call it good poetry; but every poet mustbegin; and his first piece can not be his best. Poets improve as wellas clerks."

"Real poets!" responded Osborne, with a peculiar smile at the cornersof his mouth. And he continued:

"You seem to think that a fortune awaits a poet, too; but you arelaboring under a great mistake. There is no money in poetry in ourday, and there never was."

"Perhaps not; nevertheless I am confident that a poet may readily winpopularity and a livelihood. At any rate, I am determined to try it,in spite of your decidedly poor opinion of my abilities."

"Well, my advice is that you stick to the business for which you werebred, if you would keep out of the poor-house." Osborne said it moreto hector Ralph than any thing. "A good clerk is better than a poorpoet; you will agree to that."

Benjamin listened with a good deal of interest to the foregoingdiscussion, and he saw that, from jealousy or some other cause,Osborne was not according to Ralph the credit to which he wasentitled; and so he interrupted, by saying:

"You set yourself up for a critic, Osborne; but I think more of Ralphas a poet than I do of you as a critic. You are unwilling to grantthat his productions have any merit at all; but I think have.Moreover, it is a good practice for him, and for all of us, to writepoetry, even if it does not come quite up to Milton. It will improveus in the use of language."

"Fiddlesticks! It is simply wasting time that might be spent inprofitable reading; and good reading will improve the mind more thanrhyming." Osborne spoke with much earnestness.

"Not half so much as your empty criticisms are wasting your breath,"replied Benjamin, with a smile. "But, look here, I have just thoughtof a good exercise that we better adopt. At our next meeting each oneof us shall bring in a piece of poetry of our own composition, andwe'll compare notes and criticise each other."

"I should like that," responded Ralph; "it is a capital proposition.
Perhaps Osborne may think it will be a waste of time and breath."

"Not at all," answered Osborne; "I agree to the plan, provided thesubject shall be selected now, so that all shall have fair play."

"We will do that, of course," said Benjamin. "Have you a subject tosuggest?"

"None whatever, unless it is a paraphrase of the Eighteenth Psalm,which describes the descent of the Deity."

"That is a grand subject," responded Benjamin. "What do you say totaking that, Ralph?"

"I think it is an excellent subject, and I am in favor of adoptingit."

Thus it was understood that each one should write a poeticalparaphrase of the Eighteenth Psalm for their next meeting, and, withthis understanding, they separated.

Just before the time of their next meeting Ralph called upon Benjaminwith his paraphrase, and asked him to examine it.

"I have been so busy," remarked Benjamin, "that I have not been ableto write any thing, and I shall be obliged to say 'unprepared' when myturn comes to read. But I should like to read yours."

Benjamin read Ralph's article over, and then reread it.

"It is excellent; better than any poetry you have ever written,"remarked Benjamin, when he had finished reading. "Osborne will have topraise that."

"But he won't; you see if he does. Osborne never allows the leastmerit in any thing I write. His envy, or jealousy, or something else,hatches severe criticism, whether there is reason for it or not. Hewill do that with this article; see if he don't."

"If he does, it will be proof that he is prejudiced against you, or isno judge of poetry," replied Benjamin.

"Suppose we try a little game," continued Ralph. "I think we can puthis judgment to a test. He is not so jealous of you as he is of me.Now you take this article, and produce it as your own, and I will makesome excuse for not being prepared. We shall then get at his realopinion of the composition."

"A very ingenious test, Ralph," exclaimed Benjamin. "I will enter intothe plan with all my heart. But I must transcribe the article, so thathe will see that it is in my own handwriting."

"Certainly; and be careful that you do not let the secret out."

So they waited, almost impatiently, for the time of meeting, bothfeeling almost sure that Osborne would fall into their net. Theappointed time came. Matson was the first to read his production.Osborne came next; and his piece was much better than Matson's. Ralphnoticed two or three blemishes, but pointed out many beauties in it.

Next it was Ralph's turn to read. "I am sorry to confess that I havenothing to read; but I promise to atone for this failure by doing mypart faithfully in future."

"Poets ought to be ready at any time," remarked Osborne humorously,looking at Ralph.

"It is in order for them to fail sometimes, I think," replied Ralph;"especially if they are not born poets."

"Well, Ben, we must have yours, then. You will not disappoint us."

"I think you must excuse me this time," Benjamin answered, feigning anunwillingness to read.

"No, Ben, no excuse for you," said Osborne. "You have it written; Isaw it in your hand."

"That is true; but after listening to such fine productions as we haveheard, I am not ambitious to read mine. I think I must correct it, anddress it up a little before I submit it for criticism."

"That was not in the arrangement, Ben, when you suggested theexercise," remarked Ralph.

"You are prepared, and, of course, we shall not excuse you."

After much bantering and urging, Benjamin proceeded to read his,apparently with much diffidence; and all listened with profoundattention.

"You must read that again," said Osborne, when he finished reading it."Two readings of such a poem as that are none too much. Come, read itagain."

Benjamin read the article again, apparently with more confidence thanat first.

"You surprise me, Ben," exclaimed Osborne, when the second reading wasfinished. "You are a genuine poet. I had no idea that you could writelike that."

"Nor I," added Matson. "It is better than half the poetry that isprinted. If the subject had not been given out, I don't know but Ishould have charged you with stealing it."

"What do you say, Ralph?" inquired Osborne. "You are a poet, and poetsought to be good judges of such matters." Another fling at Ralph'sclaim to poetical ability.

"I don't think it is entirely faultless," remarked Ralph, after somehesitation. "I think you have commended it full as highly as itdeserves. Not being a born poet, however, I may not be a goodjudge," glancing his eye at Osborne.

"Well done, Ralph!" exclaimed Osborne. "Your opinion of thatproduction is proof positive that you are destitute of real poeticaltaste, as I have told you before."

Osborne was fairly caught. Ralph and Benjamin exchanged glances, asif to inquire if their time of avowed triumph had not come; but bothappeared to conclude to keep the secret a little longer. Theycontrolled their risibles successfully, and allowed Osborne to go onand express himself still more strongly in favor of the composition.

Ralph walked home with Osborne, in order to play the game a littlemore, and their conversation was very naturally about Benjamin'spoetry.

"I had no idea," remarked Osborne, "that Ben could write poetry likethat. I was ashamed of my own when I heard his. I knew him to be atalented fellow; but I had no idea that he was a poet. His productionwas certainly very fine. In common conversation he seems to have nochoice of words; he hesitates and blunders; and yet, how he writes!"

"Possibly he might not have written it," suggested Ralph; a verynatural suggestion in the circumstances, though Osborne thought it wasan outrageous reflection.

"That is the unkindest cut of all," retorted Osborne; "to charge himwith plagiarism. Ben would never descend to so mean a thing as that."

They separated for that night; but Ralph embraced the firstopportunity to call on Benjamin, to exult over the success of theirlittle scheme. They laughed to their hearts' content, and discussedthe point of revealing the secret. They concluded finally, that thereal author of the article should be known at their next meeting.

Accordingly, the affair was managed so as to bring the facts of thecase before their companions at their next gathering. Osborne wasutterly confounded when the revelation was made, and knew not what tosay for himself. Matson shook his whole frame with convulsive laughterat poor Osborne's expense, and Benjamin joined him with a keen relish.Never was a fellow in a more mortifying predicament than this would-becritic, since it was now perfectly manifest that he was influenced byblind prejudice in his criticisms of Ralph's poetry. For now, disarmedof prejudice, he had given it his most emphatic endorsement.

A few years later, Matson died in Benjamin's arms, much lamented byall 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 occasionto speak hereafter.

Benjamin always spoke well of that literary club. It was an excellentway of using leisure time. It contributed much to his self-advancement,as it did to that of his companions. Such an arrangement converts sparemoments into great blessings.

The time was drawing near for Benjamin to leave for England; and therewas one thing above all others, that he wished to do, viz.: to bebetrothed 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 heventured.

"Both of you are too young," replied Deborah's mother. "You are onlyeighteen! You can not tell what changes may occur before you are oldenough to be married."

"But that need not interfere with an engagement," suggested Benjamin."We only pledge each to the other against the time we are ready to bemarried. Sometimes parties are engaged for years before they aremarried."

"It is not a good plan, however. And why, Benjamin, do you deem anengagement necessary in the circumstances?"

"Simply because a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," answered
Benjamin, laughing. Mrs. Read laughed, too.

"I have not quite satisfied myself that it is best to give up mydaughter to a printer," she added.

"How so?" inquired Benjamin with some anxiety.

"Because there are already several printing houses in the country, and
I doubt whether another can be supported."

"If I can not support her by the printing business, then I will do itby some other," responded Benjamin, emphatically.

"I do not call in question your good intentions, by any means; but youmay not realize the fulfillment of your hopes. I think you had betterleave the matter as it is until you return from England, and see howyou are prospered."

"Of course, I shall yield to your judgment in the matter," said
Benjamin, very politely, "though I shall be somewhat disappointed."

"You and Deborah can have such understanding with each other as youwish; but I object to a formal engagement. Leave that until youreturn." Mrs. Read was decided in her opinions. Her husband died fiveor six weeks before this interview.

So Benjamin had to leave his bird in the bush, instead of having it inhand. And the bird promised to stay there, and sing for him on hisreturn.

XXVI.

A BOGUS SCHEME.

"I'm thinking of going to England with you," said Ralph to Benjamin, oneday in October, 1724.

"You don't mean it."

"I do mean it. I am thinking seriously of going."

"I shall be delighted to have your company, but the news is almost toogood to be true," continued Benjamin.

"I have been looking the matter over ever since you told me that youexpected to go; and now it is settled in my own mind that I shall go."

"Going out for your employer?"

"No, going out to establish a correspondence, if possible, and arrangeto obtain goods to sell on commission."

"That is a capital scheme, it seems to me, Ralph. I think you canestablish a good business with your tact and experience. You'll haveto hurry up; for I expect that Captain Annis will sail in threeweeks." Benjamin's words showed his gladness that one of his intimatecompanions would accompany him.

"It won't take me long to get ready; I have been arranging matters forsome time with reference to going, though I have spoken to no oneabout it." Ralph was careful not to divulge the real reason of hisgoing, lest Benjamin should disapprove.

At length it was announced that the London Hope, Captain Annis,master, would sail about the 10th of November. And now, Benjamin wasfull of business. He made known his intentions to Keimer and otherfriends, without disclosing the real object of his trip, or that hewas going under the patronage of Governor Keith. Considerable surpriseand regret were expressed by several friends that he was going, andyet they were free to say that it would prove an excellent school forsuch a young man as Benjamin. Governor Keith was lavish in hisattentions and interest.

"You will want letters of introduction from me; and I shall have someinstructions, which I will write out carefully," he said.

"The letters will be indispensable; and the instructions I shall mostsurely need to relieve my lack of experience," Benjamin replied.

"I will have them all ready two or three days before Captain Annissails," added the governor, "and you can call for them. I may want tosee you again before I get them ready, and I will send for you."

Benjamin thanked Governor Keith for his great kindness, assuring himthat he should always feel himself under a heavy debt of gratitude,never dreaming that the scheming politician was luring him into asnare. He put his whole heart and soul into preparation to leave. Tohim it was the great event of his life; and it would have been, if SirWilliam Keith had been an honest man instead of a rogue. For anAmerican youth, eighteen years of age, to represent the governor ofPennsylvania in the city of London, to consummate a businessenterprise of the greatest importance to a thriving American town, wasan unusual occurrence. Any youth of considerable ability and ambitionmust have realized the value and dignity of the enterprise; but tosuch a youth as Benjamin was,—talented, aspiring, coveting success,striving for the best,—the opportunity of this business enterprise,proposed and patronized by the highest officer in the colony, musthave appealed strongly to his manly and noble nature. We shall see,however, as it turned out, that all the honesty and high-mindedpurpose that invested it was in Benjamin's soul. Treachery,dishonesty, and perfidy blackened the soul of his patron, loading himdown with infamy almost without a parallel.

Three days before Captain Annis set sail, Benjamin called for hisletters.

"My time has been so thoroughly occupied by public business that Ihave not been able to prepare them, but I will attend to it."

"I can call again without any trouble," answered Benjamin, exceedinglygrateful for the governor's patronage.

"I am sorry that I have not been able to prepare them; but I will notdisappoint you again. Call day after to-morrow." The more the governorsaid and promised, the more thankful Benjamin felt that he had falleninto such generous hands.

"I will call in the afternoon, day after to-morrow," replied Benjamin;and thanking him again for his great kindness, took his leave.

He called as he promised for the letters and other papers. Instead ofbeing ushered into the governor's presence, as usual, his secretary,Colonel French, came out to announce:

"The governor regrets exceedingly that he has not the documents readyyet, and desires that you shall call again to-morrow, just before thevessel sails."

"Very well, I will call," replied Benjamin, without the leastsuspicion that any trouble was brewing for him.

On the next day, with all his baggage on board, and the "good-bye"said to all his friends, he hastened to the governor's head-quartersfor his papers. Again Colonel French met him with the announcement:

"The governor desires me to say that he is really ashamed todisappoint you again; but a constant pressure of business hasprevented. But the vessel will stop at Newcastle, and he will meet youand deliver yours with other letters he has to send; and he hopes thatyou will have a pleasant voyage and meet with great success."

"Please convey my thanks to him for his many kindnesses and presentgood wishes," answered Benjamin, "and say to him that I will executehis commands to the very best of my ability, and report at theearliest possible time."

So saying, Benjamin returned and boarded the vessel, which soondropped down the Delaware, thinking all the while of his good fortunein having so great and good a man as Governor Keith for his friend.

At Newcastle, Benjamin landed and hastened to see the governor, whomhe expected to be there, as Colonel French said; but he met only thesecretary, who announced again:

"The governor is now writing the last dispatch, and will send yourdocuments, with others, on board before the ship weighs anchor. Hewould be glad to see you again before you leave, but requires me tosay that every moment of his time will be occupied to the very lastminute, so he must content himself with sending to you, by me, hislast words of confidence and his best wishes."

"Convey mine, also, to him," Benjamin replied, as he turned away to goto the vessel.

Just as the ship was about to sail, a bag of letters and otherdocuments came on board from the governor. Benjamin supposed that itcontained his indispensable letters, and, at a suitable time, he wentto the captain and said:

"Governor Keith was to furnish me with letters of introduction tofriends in London, and I suppose they are in the bag which he sentaboard. Can I look them over for my letters?"

"Just now I am too busy to give the matter any attention," CaptainAnnis said; "but I assure you that, long before we reach London, youshall have the opportunity to examine and take what belongs to you."

"That will do; I thank you," replied Benjamin, perfectly satisfiedthat all was right; and he settled down to enjoy the voyage.

When the vessel entered the English Channel, Captain Annis brought outthe bag of documents from the governor for Benjamin to inspect. He wassurprised beyond measure not to find any letters addressed to himself.He found several addressed to other parties with his name written uponthem, as under his care, but not one addressed to himself. It was verysingular, he thought, but he concluded that one of the number wasdevoted to his mission, as it was addressed to Baskett, the king'sprinter. He found seven or eight letters addressed to differentparties, "Care of Benjamin Franklin," and he took them all from thebag. He still supposed that every thing about his mission was correct.

They arrived in London on the 24th of December, when Benjamin lackedabout a month of being nineteen years old. With Ralph, he proceeded tofind lodgings at once; and just as soon as that arrangement was made,he hastened to deliver the letters submitted to his care. The firstparty upon whom he called was a stationer.

"I have the honor of bringing a letter to you, sir, from Governor
Keith of Pennsylvania, America," he said, with considerable assurance.

"I have not the honor of his acquaintance," answered the stationer.
"Pray, tell me who Governor Keith may be."

"The letter will inform you, no doubt," replied Benjamin, giving himthe letter.

The stationer opened it; but read scarcely three lines before heexclaimed, to Benjamin's consternation:

"Oh, this is from Riddlesden! I have lately found him to be a completerascal, and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive anyletters from him," and he handed the letter back to Benjamin withoutreading all of it, turned upon his heel and went back to his work.

Benjamin's feelings can be imagined better than described. He waswell-nigh dumbfounded to learn that the letter was not from GovernorKeith. And then it was that the first flash of suspicion that he hadbeen deceived entered his mind. He was still more surprised to learn,on examination, that not one of the letters he had taken from the bagwas written by Governor Keith. There he was without one letter ofintroduction to any person in London, the scheme of establishing aprinting house in Philadelphia discovered to be a myth, a mere boy,friendless and without work, in a great city, three thousand milesfrom home. If another American youth was ever lured into a baser trap,by a baser official, his name has never been recorded. Benjamin was athis wits' end—he knew not what to do. His feelings bordered upondespair. Had he not been a wonderful youth to rise superior todifficulties, he must have yielded to overwhelming discouragement.

To add to his troubles, when he disclosed his situation to Ralph, helearned that his old companion had abandoned his wife and child, neverintending to return to America.

"You are a hard-hearted wretch; I never would have thought such athing of you, Ralph," he exclaimed. "Such meanness ought to be left tobaser men than you are."

"I suppose that you would never look with any favor upon such a planas mine, and so I did not tell you," replied Ralph.

"It is lucky for you that you did not; for I never would haveconsented to be the companion of a young man running away from hiswife and child."

"Well, I have never been treated well by one member of my wife'sfamily from the day I was married, and before, too. I have borne itwithout complaining to any one, until I could bear it no longer. Nowlet them reflect."

"But that is no excuse for a man to abandon his family, no excusewhatever. Why, Ralph, I am almost as much deceived in you as I havebeen in Governor Keith. I did not think that you were capable of suchmeanness." Benjamin meant every word he uttered; and he was notdisposed to spare his old friend at all. Another bit of informationjust here magnified his sorrows.

"I am out of funds entirely, Ben, so that I have begun to be cursedalready, you see, without yours." Ralph spoke as if the remarks of Bencut him to the quick.

"Out of money!" exclaimed Ben. "Come here dead broke? You must becrazy, Ralph. Abandon your family, and shove yourself upon me tosupport in London! I am shocked."

"I am afraid that both of us will be more shocked than that before weget through," answered Ralph with the utmost coolness. "You have beentoo good a friend to desert me now, Ben."

The last remark touched a tender spot in Benjamin's heart. He andRalph had been true friends, and passed many happy hours together. Heabhorred his inhumanity to his wife and child, and his deceitfulnessin claiming to go to London to secure goods to sell on commission andestablish correspondence; but he had no heart to abandon him in astrange city.

"Get work, Ralph, as soon as possible, or we shall be in a bad plight;for I have only fifteen pistoles in all, which will not keep up aconnection between soul and body long." This remark of Benjamin'simplied that he should divide what he had with Ralph as long as itlasted.

"I shall do that, Ben, you may rest assured; for I will not takeadvantage of your generosity any longer than I can help. I mean tocontinue a good friend of yours whether you continue to be a goodfriend of mine or not." This was a shrewd way of putting it. Ralphknew the young man he was talking with thoroughly.

Benjamin resolved to seek the advice of Mr. Denham. He was a Quakermerchant who sailed from Philadelphia with him. He was a stranger tohim; but, when Colonel French came on board with letters from thegovernor at Newcastle, he introduced Benjamin to Denham. For thisreason Denham became deeply interested in Benjamin, and showed himmany favors. Now his advice would be specially useful to Benjamin; sohe sought and found him.

"I find, Mr. Denham, that Governor Keith has been deceiving me. I camehere under his auspices, and he promised me letters of introduction toparties, and the means to purchase an outfit for a first-classprinting house in Philadelphia; and he has not fulfilled eitherpromise. There are no letters for me among the dispatches he sent onboard at Newcastle. He has proved himself a fraud and a cheat."

"He always did that," Mr. Denham replied. "If I had known that youwere depending on Keith for any thing, I could have opened your eyesto his rascality at once. Keith is an official scamp."

"Here is a letter from Riddlesden to a stationer here," and passingthe letter to Denham, he rehearsed his interview with the stationer.

"Riddlesden!" exclaimed Denham; "so base an attorney-at-law nevercursed Pennsylvania. He is matched in perfidy only by Keith. Two worserogues never occupied important positions in any country."

Then, reading the letter through, he went on:

"And this very letter proves that he is an arrant knave. For here isproof of a conspiracy against Mr. Hamilton, who was booked to sailwith Captain Annis, and Keith is in it." Denham read the letter toBenjamin, explaining its meaning as he went along, for he was wellposted about Keith and the villainous attorney.

"You should keep this letter, Franklin, and show it to Mr. Hamiltonwhen he comes," added Denham. "Hamilton will come just as soon as hecan. He came aboard our ship with his son, intending to come; but aparty appeared, offering him a very large fee to wait and conduct acase in court, and he consented. He is the greatest lawyer inPennsylvania. Keep the letter and give it to him."

We may say here, once for all, that Benjamin did keep the letter untilthe arrival of Mr. Hamilton, several months later, when he presentedit to him, for which favor Hamilton was very grateful, and becameBenjamin's life-long friend.

"But what can I do, Mr. Denham?" asked Benjamin. "I am here a strangerin a strange city, with very little money. What would you advise me todo?"

"I do not see but one thing that you can do just now. You are aprinter, and you can get work without doubt in some printing officeuntil you see fit to return."

"I thought of that; but it occurred to me that an American printerwould be at a discount here, where the printing business is so muchbetter understood," suggested Benjamin.

"You can get over that difficulty quickly by showing them what you cando," answered Mr. Denham. "You have more intelligence and culture thanmost of the English printers; and that will help you."

"I will lose no time in making an application for a place," said
Benjamin. "I am under obligations to you for your interest in me."

"It may prove of great advantage to you to have this opportunity tobecome familiar with printing in London," continued Mr. Denham. "Youcan perfect yourself in the art against the time you return, and setup business in Philadelphia. So you may get some good out of yourtrials, after all. 'It is an ill wind that blows no one any good.'"

"It looks so, certainly," Benjamin answered. "I will accept youradvice, and see what I can do."

Benjamin had paid too dear for the whistle again; but he made thebest of it. First of all, he found a permanent boarding-place forhimself and Ralph, where the charges were in proportion to hispecuniary ability. It was in Little Britain Street; and the weeklycharge was only three shillings and sixpence. Then both started out insearch of work. Benjamin went direct to Palmer's famous printing housein Bartholomew Close, where fifty hands were then employed, andapplied for a situation.

"What experience have you had?" inquired the overseer.

"Several years. I learned the business of my brother, James Franklin,in Boston, America; and he came to your country and learned it, beforesetting up the business in his own country."

"You ought to understand it, then. But why do you seek work in thiscountry?"

"I did not come to London for work, but for an outfit with which toestablish the business in Philadelphia." And Benjamin rehearsed hisarrangement with Governor Keith, and the treachery which had beenpractised upon him, which interested the manager very much, and, atthe same time, won his sympathy.

"Though Governor Keith proved so treacherous to you, the facts showhis confidence in your ability as a printer," he remarked; "and,surely, in these misfortunes, a friend in need is a friend indeed. Ithink I can find something for you to do."

"You can try me, and I shall be very thankful for the chance,"Benjamin answered. "I have no desire to work for any man unless I cansuit him."

"That is an honorable view of the matter; and I have no doubt of yourability to satisfy me. You can come at once, and I will give you aposition."

They agreed upon wages that were satisfactory to Benjamin, and thenext day he went to work. The truth was, that the boss of Palmer'sprinting house was very much pleased with Benjamin's appearance. Hesaw at once that he was a young man of uncommon ability. He wassurprised to learn that he was not quite nineteen years of age, sincehis appearance was that of a young man of twenty-two. Therefore, hewas not only desirous of aiding him in his embarrassing situation, buthe was glad to employ a young man of so much promise.

Ralph was not so successful. Here and there he applied for work, butno one appeared to want him. Benjamin rendered him all the assistancepossible evenings; but his efforts met with no success. In advancedlife, Benjamin spoke of Ralph's efforts as follows:

"He first endeavored to get into the playhouse, believing himselfqualified for an actor; but Wilkes, to whom he applied, advised himcandidly not to think of that employment, as it was impossible heshould succeed in it. Then he proposed to Roberts, a publisher inPater Noster Row, to write for him a weekly paper like theSpectator, on certain conditions; which Roberts did not approve.Then he endeavored to get employment as a hackney writer, to copy forthe stationers and lawyers about the Temple; but could not find avacancy."

Ralph possessed considerable ability as an amateur player of tragedyor comedy; and he was quite a racy writer, also; hence his applicationfor a situation as above. Benjamin was familiar with hisqualifications on the lines mentioned, and seconded his efforts asbest he could; but all to no purpose.

As Ralph had no money or work, Benjamin was obliged to support him. Hepaid his board, and loaned him small sums from time to time, so thathe could maintain the appearance of a respectable citizen. But he wasanother elephant on Benjamin's hands. The weeks multiplied, and stillRalph had no employment. He was a constant bill of expense. Willing towork, abhorring a life of idleness, his condition and prospects were atorment to himself. He was more troubled even than Benjamin over hismisfortune. At length, however, he announced:

"I am going to put an end to this sort of a life, Ben. I have stood itas long as I can. I am going out into the country to find a school toteach. I am told that I can easily find one."

"Not a bad idea, in the circumstances," replied Benjamin. "Teaching isan honorable and useful business; and it will make you friends."

"I should much prefer to remain in this city and find a more congenialsituation; but beggars can't be choosers, and so I have concluded tomake the best of it. I am completely discouraged in trying for work inLondon." Ralph spoke as he felt, for he had become disheartened.

"It seems strange, almost," continued Benjamin "that you can find nosituation of any sort in this great city, where——"

"I was not born under a lucky star, as you were, Ben," interrupted
Ralph.

"My experience with Governor Keith doesn't show much of a star anyway," rejoined Benjamin. "Certainly, it is not a lucky one, nor amorning star; if it is a star at all, it must be an evening star,seen only when it is getting dark."

"I wish I could accept disappointment and defeat as philosophically asyou can, Ben; but I can't. It is quite impossible for me to make thebest out of the worst; but you can."

"It is the way I am made, no doubt," said Benjamin in reply. "I nevercould make any thing by fretting."

"Nor any body else," quickly answered Ralph, "and still I fret andworry as if thereby I could mend the matter. But I am going to strikeout for a school, and leave London to suffer the consequences of notemploying me."

"That is philosophical, sure," added Benjamin.

The school was secured within a short time, and Ralph became aschoolmaster a few miles out of London. Benjamin continued to serve inthe Palmer printing house, where he gave satisfaction, and made hismark, as we shall see.

XXVII.

"OUR WATER-DRINKER."

A letter from Ralph to Benjamin informed the latter that the formerwas settled in a small village called Berkshire, where he was teachingabout a dozen boys in reading and writing at a sixpence each per week,—not a very flattering position, but, in the circumstances, betterthan none.

What surprised Benjamin, however, was that Ralph had changed his name,and was known in that village as Franklin. He had assumed Franklin'sname, thinking that such a position was not honorable for James Ralphto occupy. At first, Benjamin was somewhat displeased to find himselfscattered about in such a way, printer and schoolmaster, and he knewnot what next. But, on the whole, he concluded to let the matter rest;and, if his old friend could get success out of his name, allow him todo it. So he corresponded with him from time to time, directing hisletters to "Mr. Franklin, schoolmaster," as Ralph desired.

It was not long before Benjamin began to receive instalments of anepic poem which Ralph was composing, with the request to examine andreturn remarks and corrections. Benjamin did examine and return it,with the advice to cease writing epic poems and attend to hislegitimate business or get into some other. But it was of no use, thepoem continued to come by instalments.

At this juncture, too, another trial was added to his singularexperience. Ralph's English wife called upon him for help. Thefollowing is Franklin's account of the manner in which Ralph came intothese new relations:

"In our house lodged a young woman, a milliner, who, I think, had ashop in the Cloisters. She had been genteelly bred, was sensible,lively, and of a most pleasing conversation. Ralph read plays to herin the evenings, they grew intimate, she took another lodging, and hefollowed her. They lived together some time, but he being still out ofbusiness, and her income not sufficient to maintain them with herchild, he took a resolution of going from London to try for a countryschool."

"I need help, and know not where to go except to you," said Mrs.
Ralph; "indeed, James told me to apply to you."

"I recall," replied Benjamin, "that he asked me in one of his lettersto see that you were not in want. I am not in circumstances to do muchfor you, but I will cheerfully do what I can."

"I shall be very much obliged for the smallest favor. My wants arefew, and I can make a little assistance go a good way."

Benjamin relieved her wants, and from that time continued to call uponher, to see that she was made comfortable and to enjoy her company.These demands upon his purse kept it drained to the last cent all thetime, so that he could lay nothing by for himself. He could see no wayout of his trouble. He must continue penniless, or let Ralph and hisfamily suffer. But just then an indiscreet act on his part offendedRalph, who, coming to London for a day or two, said to Benjamin:

"I consider myself under no obligations to you whatever from thistime. I shall ask no more favors of you for myself or family, and willhave nothing more to do with you."

"Very well," replied Benjamin, "I will so understand it."

In this way Benjamin was relieved of a great burden unexpectedly.Incumbrances thus removed, he devoted himself with remarkable energyand industry to his business and self-improvement.

About this time Benjamin was offered larger pay at Watts' printinghouse, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, and he removed thither. He changedhis boarding-place, also, to Duke Street, opposite the Romish chapel.

Next door to Benjamin's lodgings was a bookstore kept by one Wilcox.He had an immense collection of second-hand books, in which, ofcourse, Benjamin became much interested, spending his leisure timehere.

"I have not the money to make purchases," he said to Wilcox. "I wish Ihad. There are so many valuable books here, and they are so cheap,that I wish I was able to make many of them my own."

"Well, you are at liberty to spend all the time you can reading themhere," answered Wilcox, who had already formed a high opinion of hisabilities. "Perhaps some day you will be able to own some of them."

"You are very kind indeed, Mr. Wilcox, and I shall avail myself ofyour generosity to make the acquaintance of some of these authors."

Benjamin had already rehearsed the story of the fraud through which hebecame a London printer, so that Wilcox understood the reason that hewas penniless.

"Glad to see you here any time; feel perfectly at home, and get allthe good you can out of these books," Wilcox added with greatkindness.

It was not long before an original idea about the use of those bookstook possession of Benjamin's mind, and he made it known to thebookseller.

"A new idea has struck me, Mr. Wilcox. I do not want to take so muchadvantage of your generosity, and it has occurred to me that I can payyou a sum we can agree upon to take out and read such books as I mayselect. I mean, pay you a given amount on each book I read."

"I had not thought of that; it is an excellent plan, I think. We willhave no difficulty about the price," answered Wilcox.

"It will take me longer, of course, to read some books than it willothers," continued Benjamin; "but I am a rapid reader, and shall be asexpeditious as possible with each volume. And, also, I pledge myselfthat each volume shall be returned in as good a condition as when Itake it out."

"That is fair; I accept the proposition."

The price per volume was agreed upon, and Benjamin reveled in booksevery night. He never advanced more rapidly in intellectualattainments than he did after this arrangement with Wilcox.

This is the first instance of loaning books for a price on record—apractice that has become well-nigh universal since that day.

He had not been at Palmer's long before he was employed in composingfor the second edition of Wollaston's "Religion of Nature," which wasjust the kind of a treatise to arouse his intellect, and to set him tothinking and also to speculating.

"Poor reasoning!" he said to Mr. Watts; "very fallacious andsuperficial, too."

"Ah!" replied Mr. Watts, considerably surprised that his new employee,just over from a new and uncultivated country, should handle atreatise like that so gingerly; "how is that? Rather a popular work,that of Wollaston's."

"Popular enough it may be, but error is often popular. The work isillogical, and not altogether in harmony with facts." Benjamin'scriticisms impressed Mr. Watts somewhat, though he thought he waslaboring under a mistake.

"Perhaps the trouble is in your own mind, and not in Wollaston's," hesuggested.

"That may be; but I am going to review it for my own satisfaction andbenefit," answered Benjamin.

"Then I will suspend judgment until I can read your review," said Mr.Watts, at the same time being still more surprised that a youth of hisage should be so familiar with such topics.

Within a short time Benjamin had his review of "Religion of Nature"prepared and printed, bearing the somewhat dignified title, "ADissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain," and it wasinscribed to his friend, James Ralph. A copy was submitted to Mr.Watts for examination, and his opinion awaited with some anxiety.

"I confess that it is a remarkable production for a youth like you tofather—remarkable in its plan, thought, and reasoning—but it is nocredit to your principles," Mr. Watts said.

"How so?"

"It is really deistical in its position. You remember that I suggestedthe trouble might be in yourself, instead of Wollaston; and it is, inmy judgment."

"Wherein is my reasoning illogical or incorrect?" Benjamin's use ofthe Socratic method of reasoning still adhered to him.

"Any reasoning is illogical and fallacious that takes it for grantedthat there is no God," answered Mr. Watts. "Without a God, we arenowhere; and that is where your pamphlet is. There is ingenuity in it,I grant; but it is false."

"From your standpoint, you mean, Mr. Watts?"

"Yes, if you please; but my standpoint is the Bible. Any reasoningthat ignores the Bible is fallacious. To pretend to understand thethings of this world without a God is abominable. 'The fool hathsaid in his heart, There is no God.'"

"Well, you are getting rather personal," Benjamin answered, roguishly. "I suspect that you are rather puritanical in your notions; but I amnot."

"No, that is quite evident; nothing puritanical about your
Dissertation, but a plenty that is fanatical," retorted Mr. Watts.

"Much obliged for your opinion, so frankly expressed," added Benjamin,as Mr. Watts turned to answer a call.

A short time after the publication of the foregoing Dissertation, a
London surgeon, by the name of Lyons, called at Watts' office.

"Is there a man at work in your printing house by the name of
Franklin—Benjamin Franklin?" he inquired of Mr. Watts.

"There is."

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, I will call him."

Benjamin was called and introduced to the gentleman, who said, holdinga pamphlet in his hand:

"Are you the author of this 'Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity,
Pleasure and Pain'?"

"I am, sir." Benjamin had received such a trimming from his employer,that he was almost sure the stranger had come to stigmatize him forwriting that pamphlet. But he was soon relieved by the remark ofLyons:

"I have read it with great interest, and have been very much profitedby it. I did not dream, however, that it was written by so young aperson as you are."

Benjamin thanked him for his complimentary words, and the surgeon wenton:

"I am the author of the book entitled, 'The Infallibility of HumanJudgment,' and I think our views harmonize in the main. I should bepleased to loan you a copy if you care to read it."

"It will afford me real pleasure to read it, Doctor Lyons, and I shallappreciate your favor."

"And when you have read it, I shall be glad to meet you, and comparenotes, and discuss the topics."

"Nothing will suit me better than that," added Benjamin.

Doctor Lyons frequently called on Benjamin to converse upon thesubject-matter of his pamphlet, and, at one time, he says, "He carriedme to the Horns, a pale-ale house in ——— Lane, Cheapside, andintroduced me to Doctor Mandeville, author of the 'Fable of the Bees,'who had a club there, of which he was the soul, being a mostfacetious, entertaining companion."

The religion in Benjamin's pamphlet, and that in Lyons' book, was wellsuited to a "pale-ale house." It was so pale as scarcely to bediscernible in either book or pamphlet—almost entirely faded out.That was why Benjamin's pamphlet pleased Lyons so much—the religionin it was not too much for a "pale-ale house."

Doctor Lyons introduced him, also, to one Doctor Pemberton, "atBatson's Coffee-house," a kindred spirit, whose coffee was strongerthan his religion—a quick-witted, lively sort of a man. He was veryfamiliar with Benjamin.

"Glad to know that your mind is interested in subjects of so graveimportance," he said. "In a youth of your age it is evidence of astrong mind and expanding intellect."

"Most of my friends do not regard my views with the favor you express;they see evidence, rather, of mental weakness and distortion," saidBenjamin in reply.

"It is because they do not investigate for themselves. They arecontent to receive opinions secondhand, labelled and fixed. How wouldyou like to number Sir Isaac Newton among your friends?" DoctorPemberton spoke as a man of authority.

"I should feel myself highly honored," answered Benjamin. "Do you knowhim?"

"I have the honor of his acquaintance; and I will give you anintroduction at some future time."

"I shall accept your favor with thanks"; and Benjamin waited andwaited for the opportunity, but it never came, probably because Newtoncould never be found in "an ale-house."

This was the outcome of Benjamin's literary venture; and thepleasantest part of the whole was that he lived to see the folly ofhis effort, especially its non-religious character. He becamesatisfied that Mr. Watts was right when he declared the principles ofhis Dissertation "abominable."

At another time, while Benjamin worked at Watts', Sir Hans Sloanecalled upon him,—another notable London character of that day.Benjamin was taken aback when he met him,—he could scarcely divinewhat this titled Englishman could want of him.

"I have heard of you, Mr. Franklin, as recently from America, and Ihave called to make your acquaintance," he said.

"Glad to meet you, Sir Hans," replied Benjamin, fully equal to theoccasion. "I am at your service."

"You are the author of a pamphlet called," and he gave the title, "areyou?"

"I am."

"I have not read it; but I have heard it discussed, and I concludedthat a youth of your age must possess a strong mind to undertake sucha treatise. And I understand that you brought many curiosities withyou to this country." Now, Sir Hans was getting to the subject thatwas near to his heart; for he was a curiosity-hunter.

"A few only—very few," replied Benjamin.

"You have a purse, I understand, made of the asbestos, whichpurifies by fire?"

"Yes, sir, I have."

"I should be delighted to have you call upon me in Bloomsbury Square,and bring the purse; and I will show you my great collection ofcuriosities. I think you can spend a pleasant and profitable eveningin that way."

"I will do it with the greatest pleasure, and be obliged for theopportunity," Benjamin answered.

And he did. The first opportunity he improved to take the asbestospurse to Bloomsbury Square, where he had a splendid time examining thebest collection of curiosities he had ever dreamed of, and where hediscussed various topics of interest with the entertaining Sir Hans.

"Now," said the host, as Benjamin was about to leave, "I should beglad to add the asbestos purse to my collection, and I will pay youwell for it," naming the amount.

"I will accommodate you and leave it." Benjamin was happy to add to
Sir Hans' collection, in the circumstances.

Benjamin felt the need of more physical exercise, so that when heentered the printing house, he "took to working at press." He drankwater only; all other employees, about fifty of them, drank strongbeer. He was really a curiosity to them.

"Beer-guzzling is a detestable habit," he said to a fellow-workman,"and it is a very expensive one, too, for a poor fellow like you."

"I could not do a decent day's work without beer. I drink it forstrength."

"So much the worse for you; beer strength is the worst sort ofweakness," continued Benjamin. "Just stop a moment and think what abeer-barrel you make of yourself; a pint before breakfast, a pint atbreakfast, a pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint at dinner, apint in the afternoon, a pint at six o'clock, and a pint when you havedone work—almost a gallon each day! Why, I could not hold half asmuch as that; I should run over."

"Then you don't believe a man can do more work for drinking strongbeer?"

"Of course I don't. I can do more work than any man in theestablishment, and I can lift more than any other man here; and Idrink nothing but water. If beer imparts the strength you imagine, anyone of you ought to do more work and lift more than I can; isn't thatso?"

The workmen had good reason to believe this; for Benjamin had kept hiseyes and ears open from the time he entered the printing house, and hehad learned just what the men thought about beer, why they drank it,how much work they did, and how much they could lift. Without saying aword about it, he took special pains to turn off a large amount ofwork, and to lift more than his fellow-workmen. For example, he wouldcarry two forms of type, one in each hand, up and down stairs, whilethe other workmen carried but one with both hands. Therefore, Watts(the name of the workman) knew that every thing Benjamin claimed aboutstrength was true.

"Are all Americans like you?" inquired the workman.

"No; too many of them are like you, I am sorry to say; they drink beerand other intoxicants, that disqualify them for business. If more ofthem would drink water, as I do, they would be far better offphysically and pecuniarily."

"Some of our best doctors claim that there is much nutriment in beer,"he suggested.

"And every one of them knows that there is more nutriment in apennyworth of bread than there is in a whole gallon of beer.Therefore, if you eat the bread and drink the water, you get morestrength."

The printer acknowledged that there was something in that.

"You see," continued Benjamin, "that all the nutriment there is in thebarley is destroyed to convert it into beer. Your beer is very dirtywater made bitter with malt, out of which nearly every particle ofnutriment has been squeezed. There is as much nourishment in dishwateras there is in that stuff."

"Here, Jake, where are you?" called out another workman. "Bring on thebeer."

Jake was the ale-boy, whose business it was to supply the men withbeer from the ale-house.

"Another nuisance required by your beer business," exclaimed Benjamin."Better by far pay a boy double price to bring water from the well,instead of bringing that stuff to absorb your money and sodden yourbrain."

"A Water-American, indeed!" said Mr. Watts, who heard much of theconversation. "But will you not allow some comfort to hard-workingmen?"

"Certainly; that is what I am after. There is more comfort in oneglass of pure water than there is in a whole barrel of beer. Here isWatts, paying out four or five shillings every week for beer, whenwater would cost him nothing, and he would have that amount to spendfor genuine comforts. Besides, beer unfits him to get real comfort outof any thing, even out of his home."

"You are about right on that," replied Watts; "beer does make a classof men most miserable. But must I discard it because some men use itto their injury?"

"Of course you must," Benjamin answered quickly and triumphantly."There is where duty and right come in. The strong must bear theinfirmities of the weak, or they won't amount to much in the world."

"Many of them won't amount to much any way, beer or no beer,"responded Watts.

"Any of them will amount to more with water than they will with beer,"retorted Benjamin, who felt competent to support his side of thequestion. He went on:

"Look here: I am supplied with a large porringer of hot-water gruel,sprinkled with pepper, crumbled with bread, and a bit of butter in it,for just the price of a pint of beer, three half-pence. Now, honestly,is not this much better for me, or for yourself, than the same amountof filthy beer?"

"Possibly; it is a new view of the case to me," was all that Mr. Wattscould say, evidently conceding that Benjamin was about right.

Benjamin exchanged the press-room for the composing-room, after a fewweeks.

"A treat now, Ben; that is the condition of admission here," said themen.

"I guess not; I fulfilled that condition in the press-room," answered
Benjamin. "Once will do in this establishment."

"But you will," retorted a fellow-worker, enforced by a dozenvoices. "The rule is irrevocable."

"We will see about that," replied Benjamin, with coolness, butdetermination.

"Yes, we will see," chimed in a resolute voice.

"And after all your seeing and blustering I shall not do it," added
Benjamin, in a tone that indicated he meant what he said.

"Ben is right," interrupted Mr. Watts, who had listened to thecolloquy; "he has met that condition once in the press-room, and hewill not be required to repeat it. I forbid his doing it."

"It is a very foolish custom any way," said Benjamin, "and the soonerit is abandoned in England or anywhere else the better."

After all he did not carry his point. His own words about the affairwere as follows:

"I stood out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered as anexcommunicate, and had so many little pieces of private malicepractised on me, by mixing my sorts, transposing and breaking mymatter, etc., etc., if ever I stepped out of the room,—and allascribed to the chapel ghost, which they said ever haunted those notregularly admitted,—that, notwithstanding the master's protection, Ifound myself obliged to comply and pay the money; convinced of thefolly of being on ill terms with those one is to live withcontinually."

Benjamin kept up the fight against beer-drinking until he fairlyconquered. One after another yielded to his example and arguments, andabandoned the old habit of swilling down beer, until a thoroughreformation was wrought in the printing office. The strength, health,tact, and enterprise of the "water-drinker" convinced them that hewas right. The title, "Our Water-drinker" bandied about the printinghouse, came to be really an appellation of esteem.

The printing press, on which Benjamin worked at Watts' printing house,is now in the Patent Office at Washington, where many visitors go tosee it. Forty years after he worked on it, Franklin was in London,where his fame was greater than that of any other man, and he calledat the old printing house, and going up to the familiar press, he saidto the employees:

"It is just forty years since I worked at this press, as you areworking now."

[Illustration: FRANKLIN'S LONDON PRINTING PRESS]

The announcement rather startled them. That a public man of so muchfame should ever have even served in a printing office as they wereserving, was almost too much for them to believe.

The publisher of this volume has in his possession fac-simileletters from different gentlemen in England, fully verifying the pressthe engraving of which appears above.

XXVIII.

AT HOME AGAIN.

We have seen that James Ralph and Benjamin parted company. Ralph hadmore brains than heart. His intellectual powers were greater than hisprinciples. The reader may ask what became of him. After continuingpoor and unsuccessful, engaging in several literary ventures that didlittle more than aggravate his poverty, and changing from one kind ofwork to another, good fortune seemed to become his portion. Mr. Partonsays:

"As a political writer, pamphleteer, and compiler of booksellers'history, he flourished long. Four ministers thought his pen worthpurchasing: Sir Robert Walpole, Mr. Pelham, Lord Bute, and the Duke ofBedford. The nobleman last named evidently held him in high esteem,and furnished the money for one of Ralph's political periodicals. LordBute, it is said, settled upon him an annuity of six hundred pounds.Fox praises the fairness, and Hallam the diligence, displayed in histwo huge folios of the 'History of William III.' His works may beexamined by the curious in the library of Harvard University and inthe Philadelphia city library. In estimating the career of this erringman, we should not forget that many of the noblemen and statesmen withwhom he associated, and for whose advancement he toiled, had lessprinciple than he, and had not his excuse."[3]

"Swimming is one of the fine arts, I think," said Benjamin to Wygate,a printer with whom he was on the most intimate terms. "I feel aboutas much at home in the water as I do on the land."

"Well, I should go to the bottom pretty quick if I should venturewhere the water is over my head, for I can't swim any more than thisprinting-press can," answered Wygate.

"Why don't you learn? It might be of great use to you sometime."

"I should like to know how, but I never tried to learn."

"And that is a good reason for not knowing how to swim. You can'texpect to know any thing without learning. I can teach you without anytrouble."

"I accept your offer, and will try my best to learn; and Hall will trywith me, I think. You can teach two as well as one, can't you?"

"Yes, a dozen, so far as that goes; the more the merrier."

"When will you go?"

"Just when you please. You and Hall fix the time, and I will be onhand."

The result was that Benjamin was in the water with his two pupilswithin a few days, and he taught both of them to swim well in twolessons. At the same time, he gave them an exhibition of what anexpert swimmer can do in the water, performing different feats on andunder the water, that filled his two companions with surprise.

"You are a water-American in more senses than one," remarked Wygate,in admiration of Benjamin's pranks in the water. "You could live inthe water about as well as on the land."

"That is not strange," responded Hall; "he believes in water, insideand outside; he only practises what he preaches, and that is what heought to do."

"Some people can't practise what they preach if they try ever so hard,in business or in morals," rejoined Wygate.

Wygate was the son of a wealthy man, who educated him quitethoroughly. He could read Latin and French about as well as he couldEnglish, and he could write very entertaining articles. He was fond ofreading, too, and loved to discuss important questions. Such a youngman was not often found in a printing office, and he just suitedBenjamin in his literary tastes, so that they became boon companions.Their mutual attachment was strengthened by this experience in the artof swimming.

Not long after Wygate learned to swim, and while the feats thatBenjamin performed in the water were still a subject of remark, somegentlemen proposed an excursion by water to Chelsea, several milesfrom London.

"Wouldn't you like to go, Ben?"

"Of course I would, if you are going."

"I will go if you go. I will call round with some of the party andintroduce you to them."

This was done in due time, and Benjamin learned from them that theywere going to Chelsea "to see the college and Don Saltero'scuriosities," which object of the excursion more than doubled hisinterest.

On the trip Wygate talked much with some of the party about Benjamin'sfeats in the water as almost too wonderful to be believed. Onreturning, one of the gentlemen said:

"Franklin, why can you not give us an exhibition of your antics in thewater?"

"Yes, Ben, do; let them see that what I have told them is literallytrue," entreated Wygate.

"Come, Ben, do it," added Hall; "it will put Saltero's curiositiesinto the shade. These gentlemen will be so interested in yourperformances that they will forget all other curiosities."

"Well, I am always ready to accommodate," replied Benjamin, "and itwill not cross my disposition to have a little frolic in the water, soI will consent."

So saying, he took off his clothing and leaped into the river, and wassoon as much at home there as a water-fowl. Sometimes he was under thewater, and sometimes on it; it did not seem to make much difference tohim which. He swam from Chelsea to Blackfriars, four miles,entertaining the company with many manoeuvres all the way. Then he goton board, arrayed himself in his apparel to hear such words of praiseas these:

"Wonderful! I had no idea that any man could attain to such skill inthe water."

"No one in London who can do that!"

"Nor in all England and Wales."

"Couldn't drown you, Franklin, if you were left in the middle of the
Atlantic ocean."

"You could make a fortune, if you chose to exhibit your skill."

As this brief experience, together with his teaching Wygate and Hallto swim, won him quite a reputation on this line, we may state here,that after Benjamin had decided to return to Philadelphia and arrangedtherefor, he received a note from Sir William Wyndham, a noted publicman, who was Chancellor of the Exchequer in the Bolingbrokeadministration, inviting him to pay him a visit. Benjamin was againperplexed to know what this great man could want of him; but he wentto see him.

"I am happy to see you, Mr. Franklin, and I hope it has been noinconvenience to you to call at this time."

"None at all," answered Benjamin. "On the other hand, I considermyself highly honored by your invitation to call; and I have gladlyembraced the first opportunity to do so."

"I have heard of your great skill in the art of swimming," continued
Sir Wyndham; "and how quickly you taught two young printers to swim."

"Yes," modestly answered Benjamin, "I have some skill in the water,and I did teach two of my companions the art of swimming, so that theyare excellent swimmers now."

"That is what I heard; and I have two sons who are soon to start uponextensive travels, and I want they should learn to swim before theygo. It may be of great service to them."

"I have no doubt it would prove a benefit to them," respondedBenjamin. "I should not want to part with my skill for anyconsideration whatever."

"Can you teach my two sons the art at once?"

"I regret to say that I can not, for the reason that I am soon toleave London and return to America."

"Sorry for that, very sorry indeed. Allow me to suggest that, if youcould prolong your stay here, you might make a real pecuniary successof establishing a swimming school. I should be willing to pay almostany price for the instruction of my two sons." Sir Wyndham was veryearnest in his counsel, and made this suggestion sincerely.

"I really feel under great obligations for your interest and goodopinions," Benjamin answered; "but I have already accepted aninvitation to engage in business in Philadelphia, my home, and mayleave within a few days."

"That settles the matter, of course; but I am sorry that it is so,"added Sir Wyndham. "I trust that you may prosper wherever you are."

Benjamin thanked him heartily for his complimentary words and goodwishes, and left him, almost wishing that he could cancel hisengagement with Mr. Denham and open a swimming school. Wygate and Hallassured him that he could do well in that business.

Soon after the excursion to Chelsea, Wygate made known to Benjamin ascheme that was in his mind.

"I want to travel extensively over Europe," he said, "and I havedecided to do it if you will become my traveling companion. We canstop as necessity requires, from time to time, and work at ourbusiness, so as to pay our way."

"I should like nothing better than to travel all over Europe,"answered Benjamin. "I have a desire to see more than I have seen ofthis part of the world."

"Well, what do you think of the plan?"

"I should say that it is practicable, although the suggestion isentirely new to me. Could we get work at our business?"

"I took it for granted that we could," replied Wygate. "I have no moremeans of knowing than you have."

"I should take it for granted that we could, too," said Benjamin;"still I shall want to consider it; it is quite an enterprise toundertake."

"Somewhat of a scheme; but a very interesting and instructive one ifsuccessfully prosecuted."

"That is so, and I think favorably of it. I will consult my goodfriend, Denham, about it. He has seen more of the world than we have."

Benjamin was evidently favorably impressed with the proposition; forhe embraced the first opportunity to lay the subject before Mr.Denham.

"It does not strike me favorably," said Mr. Denham.

"We could both see and learn a great deal," remarked Benjamin.

"That is true; but other things are to be considered, which are ofequal importance. What might do for Wygate, whose home is here, mightnot do for you, whose home is in America."

"That may be." Benjamin's brief reply indicated that he was not quitecertain on that point.

"It appears to me," continued Mr. Denham, "that your first thoughtsshould be concerned about returning to Philadelphia, that you may setup business for yourself there."

"I do not see much prospect of that at present. Of course I should beglad to return home; for there is no place I prefer to Philadelphia."

"So far as prospects of which you speak are concerned, we can notalways judge; unexpected opportunities sometimes offer; and you do notwant to put yourself where you can not accept and use them."

"Of course not," Benjamin answered, evidently disappointed that hisfriend did not endorse the scheme.

"I should recommend decidedly that you abandon the project entirely,and think no more about it. Then you can continue your work with theintention of returning to America whenever a favorable opportunityoccurs."

Benjamin accepted the advice of Mr. Denham, and reported to Wygate, tothe no small disappointment of the latter; and both discarded thescheme and devoted themselves to honest labor.

Benjamin heard of a place where he could get boarded at two shillingsa week, when he was paying three shillings and sixpence a week in DukeStreet.

"I think I shall be under the necessity of changing," he said to thewidow with whom he was boarding. "I want to save all the money I can,so as to return to America."

"I shall be very sorry to have you leave, Mr. Franklin, if I canpossibly arrange with you to remain."

"I have no desire to leave, except to save a little in my expenses,that I may return to America sooner: that is all."

"Rather than have you go, I will deduct two shillings a week from whatyou are paying me now."

"That is, you propose to board me for one shilling and sixpence aweek?"

"Yes, that is it, and it is a bargain if you say so."

"It is a bargain, then." And Benjamin continued to board there as longas he remained in London.

Before this woman received him for a boarder in the first place, shesent to the printing house to inquire about his character. The reportwas so favorable that she took him to board. And now she had triedhim, and was a greater admirer of his character than ever.

It is one of the things to be said in Benjamin's favor, that, with allhis faults, he always pleased and satisfied his employers andboarding-house keepers.

Benjamin records the following interesting incident respecting hisfriend Denham, of whom we have spoken, and to whom we shall referagain:

"I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerlybeen in business at Bristol, but failed, in debt to a number ofpeople, compounded, and went to America. There, by a close applicationto business as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a fewyears. Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited his oldcreditors to an entertainment, at which he thanked them for the easycomposition they had favored him with, and, when they expected nothingbut the treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate anorder on a banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder, withinterest."

It was this excellent man and friend, who finally approached Benjaminwith a proposition.

"How would you like to return to Philadelphia?" he said to Benjamin.

"I should like nothing better, if the way was open for me to go."

"I will open a way for you if you will go."

"How?"

"I am going myself. I intend to open a store of goods in Philadelphia,and will employ you in the business, if you will go."

"I should like to go; but that will be a new business for me; perhaps
I shall not succeed in it."

"That is my lookout. I think you will succeed; at any rate, I amprepared to take the risk."

"And I am prepared to go if you will." Benjamin was really delightedwith the proposition.

"I will pay you fifty pounds for one year, and increase your wagesthereafter as you become familiar with the business."

"That offer is satisfactory, though it is not as much as I make at mytrade now."

"It will be better if you succeed. When you become well acquaintedwith the business, I will send you with a cargo of bread and flour tothe West Indies, and I will procure you commissions from others thatwill be profitable. In this way you can establish a good business foryourself."

"That is a very generous offer on your part, and I hope that I shallmerit your kindness."

"It will be necessary for you to close up your business at theprinting house at once, as I want you to assist me in purchasing,packing, and shipping goods. My purpose is to carry a large stock toPhiladelphia."

"I shall accept your proposition, and resign my position at Watts'immediately, and be at your service early and late."

Benjamin, no doubt, was more interested to return to America onaccount of his relation to Miss Deborah Read. He had written to herbut once, and that was directly after he began work at Palmer'sprinting house. He told her of Keith's fraud practised upon him,leaving him in London a stranger and nearly penniless, so that hecould not return until he had earned money enough to pay his passage.He did not write to her again, and his conscience had condemned him,so that, at times, he dwelt sadly upon his unfaithfulness. Heneglected to write for so long a time, that he became ashamed to writeat all; and so the correspondence dropped. Yet, he did not forget MissRead, nor cast her off; and he blamed himself every time his thoughtsdwelt upon his sin of omission.

Benjamin's employer was very sorry to part with him.

"I am glad to have you as long as I have," he said, "but I wish youwould stay. I feel safe to commit work or business to your care. Ifever I can do you a favor, let me know, and I will only be too glad todo it."

"I thank you for your confidence. I have done the best for you Icould, as I always mean to do for every employer. I regret to leaveyou, and my companions with whom I have spent so many hours. But Ihave a strong desire to return home." Benjamin spoke with considerablefeeling.

"That is an honorable desire," answered Mr. Watts, "and I have nodoubt that you will be prospered in gratifying it. At any rate, I hopeyou will."

So Benjamin separated from his old friends on the best of terms, andcommenced work for Mr. Denham. Nor was it light work. He accompaniedhis employer from warehouse to warehouse, packing goods that hebought, and forwarding them to the ship Berkshire, which would sailon July 21st. It was new business for him, but he liked it all themore for its novelty; and he performed the labors with his accustomedtact and industry.

Benjamin had been nineteen months in London when he sailed on the 21stof July, 1726. A few months before, he made the acquaintance of PeterCollinson, a young man of noble English birth, whose talents gave himnearly as much standing as his ancestry. Collinson heard of Benjaminand sought him out, forming a life-long friendship. Collinsonaccompanied Benjamin to the ship. Just before the vessel weighedanchor, he handed his walking-stick to Benjamin, saying, "Let usexchange."

Benjamin exchanged, replying, "And let it be a pledge of friendshipforever."

"And a pledge, also, of faithful correspondence with each other,"added Collinson, as they shook hands and parted.

The Berkshire, Henry Clark, master, was eighty-two days on itsvoyage to Philadelphia. Benjamin landed there on the 11th day ofOctober, 1726: and he was at home again.

[3] "Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin," vol. i. p. 136.

XXIX.

UPS AND DOWNS OF LIFE.

One of the first places that Benjamin visited was the printing houseof Keimer, where he worked before leaving the country. Keimer had madeup his mind that Benjamin would never return to America, so that whenhe entered the printing office he was startled.

"Why, Ben! can it be you?" he exclaimed in wonder. "I began to thinkthat you would never be seen in Philadelphia again."

"Why did you think so?"

"Because you planned to be back here a long time ago; I concluded thatyou had forsaken us."

"Not yet; I have seen no place abroad quite equal to Philadelphia. Idid not return as soon as I expected." And Benjamin rehearsed toKeimer substantially his experience with Governor Keith, that he mightunderstand why his return was delayed.

"That is what you got for concealing your purpose," said Keimer. "Icould have told you that Keith was wholly unreliable, and so could agood many other people. He has been turned out of office because ofhis rascality."

"I am glad to hear that. I am a little curious to see how he will act,and hear what he will say, when I meet him."

"He won't meet you if he can help it. I see him occasionally on thestreet, and he looks crestfallen."

"He will look more so, I imagine, when he meets me. I propose to talkmatters over very plainly with him."

"That can do no good. The less breath you waste in that way, thebetter for you," replied Keimer. "But I suppose you want to go to workat your old trade? Plenty of work here, and you are just the man to doit."

Keimer's business had increased largely, and he had added manyfacilities for doing work, so that the establishment presented a moreattractive appearance.

"No; I am a printer no longer," answered Benjamin. "I am booked forthe mercantile business in Philadelphia"

"How is that? Were you not a printer in London?"

"Yes, I followed my trade there, and learned more about it than I everknew before. London is a great place for printing. Two printing housesthere, with more than fifty hands in each."

"Think you can do better in trading than printing?" asked Keimer, whowas really anxious for Benjamin's services.

"Not exactly so. But I should be in London now, had not Mr. Denham'soffer to become his clerk brought me home." And Benjamin told thestory of his acquaintance with Mr. Denham and the outcome, which washis offer to make him his business manager.

"A good opportunity, I should think, if you like that business,"answered Keimer; "but I should like to put you in manager of myprinting office. You have had the experience, and understand thebusiness much better than any man I have."

"That is out of the question now, of course, as I am under obligationsto Mr. Denham."

"Of course; I only meant to tell you what I would do if you were atliberty."

Benjamin was anxious to learn about Miss Read, whom he was quiteashamed to meet because of his neglect. Keimer was acquainted with thefamily, and first introduced him to them, as was stated in a formerchapter. So that he had no doubt he would know all about Deborah. Heventured to inquire:

"What can you tell me about Mrs. Read and her daughter?"

"Mrs. Read lives where she did, and continues to take a few boarders.Her daughter was married to a miserable fellow, nearly a year ago, butlived with him only a few weeks, when she left him."

"Indeed! That was unfortunate for her," Benjamin answered. "Shedeserves a better experience than that."

"She would not have married, had she been left to her own choice, buther mother and other friends persuaded her. Rogers was her husband'sname, and he was a potter by trade, a first-class workman; and theythought he was capable of getting a good living, I suppose."

"A good character would have been of more service to him," suggested
Benjamin; "a very unfortunate affair."

"I was going to sway," continued Keimer, "that she had been marriedbut a few weeks before she found that Rogers had another wife. Ofcourse her marriage was not legal, and she left him at once."

"Probably her mother made no inquiry about Rogers' characterbeforehand," remarked Benjamin. "Mothers ought to be wiser than that."

"We all have to live and learn, and experience is our bestschoolmaster," added Keimer.

Keimer knew nothing of Benjamin's relation to Deborah Read, so that hespoke freely. The revelation was startling to Benjamin, and it set himto thinking. He concluded that Mrs. Read inferred from his first andonly letter to Deborah that he would never return, or never be in asituation to support a wife and family; and, as time went on, and noother letters were received, she became fixed in her conclusion thathe would not return. Benjamin took all the blame upon himself; and thehonest sympathy of his heart asserted itself for the girl. He resolvedto call upon her as soon as possible and confess his wrong-doing, askher forgiveness, and renew his attentions.

"I should have said," Keimer added, "that Deborah has not changed hername. She refuses to be called Mrs. Rogers, and is still called MissRead by her friends. This is all right, I suppose, because hermarriage was illegal."

"Very wise for her, I think," responded Benjamin. "But she mayconsider herself fortunate to get released from such a bondage."

He improved the first opportunity to call at Mrs. Read's, to whom heappeared as one from the dead. She had not heard of his arrival, northat he was expected. The American Weekly Mercury, the onlynewspaper of the town, announced, "Entered inwards, ship Berkshire,Henry Clark, from London." That was all; nothing was said about anypassengers.

"Benjamin Franklin!" exclaimed Mrs. Read in great astonishment,throwing up her hands at first, as if fearing it was his ghost, andthen giving him a most cordial welcome. "Can it be you?"

"It can be," Benjamin replied, with his old-time familiarity, beingreassured by Mrs. Read's friendly appearance. "If I know myself, thisis Benjamin Franklin."

Deborah made her appearance before the last words were fairly off thelips of the new comer, equally surprised and glad to see her oldfriend.

"I am really ashamed to meet you, Deborah, after my inexcusableneglect," he said, "and first of all I ask you to forgive me. Itscarcely seems possible to myself that I should treat you so."

Before Deborah had time to reply her mother spoke:

"If there is any blame to be attached to any one, it is to me; for Iopposed your engagement, and entreated Deborah to marry that apologyfor a man Rogers."

"But all that does not excuse me for not writing to Deborah,"responded Benjamin "It was very wrong in me to treat her with suchneglect. And I did not intend to do so; I meant to continue thecorrespondence, but one thing and another prevented for so long atime, that I really was ashamed to write."

"Well, it is all over now, and there is no help for what has beendone, except to learn a good lesson from it for the future, if we areall bright enough to do that."

Mrs. Read swept the deck by these last remarks. There was no obstaclenow to consummate an engagement with Deborah. She did not tellBenjamin to go ahead and make sure of his bird now, that she would notinterpose the slightest objection; but she might as well have said so;and he so understood it, so that he felt perfectly at ease.

Deborah Read had never lost her first love, and never wholly abandonedthe idea that her lover would return. She had no love for Rogers whenshe married him; she married him to please her mother. Now, her lovefor Benjamin was as fresh and strong as ever; and so was his love forher. Their intimacy was renewed, an engagement consummated.

Benjamin was twenty years old—a fine-appearing, handsome young man.Mr. Denham thought so, and so did Deborah Read. The first wasfortunate in securing him for his clerk, and the second was equallyfortunate in securing him for her future husband. And Benjamin himselfwas as fortunate as either of them in having such an employer asDenham, and such a betrothed as Deborah. It was a tidal wave of goodfortune now.

"And I am prepared to go to work at once."

"I will pay you extra wages to take the whole charge of the printingoffice, so that I can give my attention to the stationer's shop."

"I can do that, or any thing else you desire; am not at allparticular. I am now twenty-one years old, and ought to be a man anyway, and do the best I can wherever I am put."

Keimer's offer was liberal, and Benjamin accepted it, and entered uponhis work as superintendent of the printing house, a very responsibleposition. But, in a short time, he had good reason to believe thatKeimer paid him so liberal wages because he wanted the poor printersto improve under his superintendence; and when that end wasaccomplished, he would cut down his wages, or hire another man forless money. However, he went to work with a will, as he always did,resolved to do the best he could for his employer.

As the workmen improved under Benjamin's supervision, Keimer evidentlybegan to think of discharging him, or cutting down his wages. Onpaying his second quarter's wages, he told him that he could notcontinue to pay him so much. He became uncivil in his treatment,frequently found fault with him, and plainly tried to make hissituation uncomfortable so that he would leave. At length a rareopportunity offered for him to make trouble. An unusual noise in thestreet one day caused Benjamin to put his head out of the window tolearn what was the matter. Keimer happened to be in the street, andseeing him, cried out:

"Put your head in and attend to your business," adding somereproachful words which all the people around him heard. Thenhastening up stairs into the office, he continued his insultinglanguage.

"Men who work for me must give better heed to their business. If theycare more for a noise in the street than they do for their work, it ishigh time they left."

"I am ready to leave any time you please," retorted Benjamin, nettledby such uncalled-for treatment. "I am not dependent on you for aliving, and I shall not bear such treatment long, I assure you."

"That, indeed!" replied Keimer, derisively. "You would not stayanother day were it not for our agreement, in accordance with which Inow warn you that, at the end of this quarter, I shall cease to employyou."

"And I will notify you that I shall not work another minute for you. Aman who is neither honest, nor a gentleman, does not deserve theservice of decent men." Benjamin was aroused.

And, as he spoke these last cutting words, he took his hat and left.
As he passed down, he said to Meredith:

"Bring all my things to my lodgings."

In the evening, Meredith carried all the articles belonging to
Benjamin to his boarding-place, where he had a long interview.

"Keimer lost the last claim for respect that he had on his mento-day," said Meredith. "Not a man in his establishment, who does notcondemn his course."

"Just what I expected. He does not want to pay me my price, now thatthe men have learned their business. This was the first occasion hehas had to drive me off." Benjamin spoke with the utmost coolness.

"It is the worst act for himself that he has done," continuedMeredith. "Every man he employs would leave him if work could be hadelsewhere."

"I think I shall return to Boston, whether I remain there or not. Itis a good time for me to visit my friends."

"I have something better than that to suggest. My thoughts have beenbusy on it all day, and I wanted to see you about it to-night beforeyou laid any plans." Meredith's manner indicated something ofimportance.

"What have you to propose? I am ready for any practicable enterpriseyou can name."

"I want to set up the printing business for myself, and I am notsufficiently acquainted with it, and you are. Can we not arrange to gointo business together?"

Meredith's proposition took Benjamin by surprise, and evidently seemedimpracticable to him.

"And have poverty for our capital?" replied Benjamin with a laugh. "Iam about as rich as you are."

"No; have money for our capital, all that is necessary to start uswell in business," answered Meredith.

"That would be fine, I declare; but I would like to see the moneyfirst," added Benjamin, before Meredith could explain.

"Hold on a minute, let me explain, and you will see that my plan isnot so impracticable as you seem to think. My father has money; and hehas always said that he would start me in business whenever I got agood knowledge of it. He knows, of course, that I have not thatknowledge yet; but he knows, too, that a man who can run Keimer'sestablishment has the requisite knowledge, and would be a good partnerfor me."

"But your father will never advance the necessary capital,"interrupted Benjamin. "If I was ten years older he might do it."

"I am confident that he will; at any rate, I will consult him aboutthe matter, and learn just what he will do. I have told him all aboutyou, and he will think it is a good opportunity for me."

Meredith consulted his father, and received the prompt answer:

"Yes, I will do it gladly. I know of no young man I would select foryour partner in preference to Franklin."

In a subsequent interview with Benjamin, Mr. Meredith said:

"I am all the more ready to furnish the capital, because yourinfluence over my son has been so good. You influenced him to stopdrinking when he was fast becoming intemperate, and I shall alwaysfeel grateful for it. You are just the one to be intimately associatedwith him."

It was settled that they should enter into partnership, and starttheir business as soon as the necessary outfit could be obtained fromEngland.

XXX.

THE LEATHERN-APRON CLUB.

Benjamin began to reflect much upon his religious opinions (or,rather, irreligious), on his return voyage from England, as related tothe errors and mistakes of his life. He had much time, during thosethree long, wearisome months, to study himself, past and present.Evidently he came to possess a more correct knowledge of himself onthat voyage than he ever had before. He was so sincere in the matterthat he drew up a number of rules by which to regulate his futurelife. A year and more afterwards he enlarged and perfected this codeof morals. The rules which he adopted on the Berkshire were prefacedwith the following paragraph:

"Those who write of the art of poetry teach us that, if we would writewhat may be worth reading, we ought always, before we begin, to form aregular plan and design of our piece, otherwise we shall be in dangerof incongruity. I am apt to think it is the same as to life. I havenever fixed a regular design of life, by which means it has been aconfused variety of different scenes. I am now entering upon a newone; let me, therefore, make some resolutions, and form some scheme ofaction, that thenceforth I may live like a rational creature."

The closing sentence shows that his conscience was making himconsiderable trouble, and that he concluded his life had been veryirrational. Perhaps he thought of Collins, whom he made a freethinker, and of Ralph, whom he corrupted in the same way. One of thembecame a drunkard, and the other a polygamist; both of them cheatinghim out of a sum of money; might not their free thinking be related totheir immoralities? He could not help thinking of these things, and sohe wrote down the following rules:

"1. It is necessary for me to be extremely frugal for some time till Ihave paid what I owe.

"2. To endeavor to speak truth in every instance; to give nobodyexpectations that are not likely to be answered, but aim at sincerityin every word and action; the most amiable excellence in a rationalbeing.

"3. To apply myself industriously to whatever business I take in hand,and not divert my mind from my business by any foolish project ofgrowing suddenly rich; for industry and patience are the surest meansof plenty.

"4. I resolve to speak ill of no man whatever, not even in a matter oftruth; but rather by some means excuse the faults I hear charged uponothers, and, upon proper occasions, speak all the good I know of everybody."

This was not all he wrote to guide his future career; but we havecited enough to show the current of Benjamin's thoughts at the time ofwhich we are speaking. We shall see hereafter that he did not cease toreflect upon his career, and resolve upon a nobler life.

Soon after his return from England, perhaps after the death of Mr.Denham, Benjamin organized a literary club, composed, at first, ofeleven members, all of them more or less talented and desirous ofself-improvement, and nearly all of them mechanics, which fact causedthe institution to be christened "THE LEATHERN-APRON CLUB," althoughthe real name of it, as suggested by Franklin, was "THE JUNTO."

The society was patterned after one formed by Cotton Mather in Boston.The first thing done at their meetings was to read the followingquestions, pausing after reading each for any remarks or propositionsmembers might desire to make. The principal questions were as follows:

"1. Is there any remarkable disorder in the place that requires ourendeavor for the suppression of it? And in what fair, likely way maywe endeavor it?

"2. Is there any particular person, whose disorderly behavior may beso scandalous and notorious that we may do well to send unto the saidperson our charitable admonitions? Or, are there any contendingpersons whom we should admonish to quench their contentions?

"3. Is there any special service to the interest of Religion which wemay conveniently desire our ministers to take notice of?

"4. Is there any thing we may do well to mention unto the justices forthe further promoting good order?

"5. Is there any sort of officers among us to such a degree unmindfulof their duty that we may do well to mind them of it?

"6. Can any further methods be devised that ignorance and wickednessmay be chased from our people in general, and that household piety inparticular may flourish among them?

"7. Does there appear any instance of oppression or fraudulence in thedealings of any sort of people that may call for our essays to get itrectified?

"8. Is there any matter to be humbly moved unto the Legislative Power,to be enacted into a Law for the public benefit?

"9. Do we know of any person languishing under sore and sadaffliction; and is there any thing we can do for the succor of such anafflicted neighbor?

"10. Has any person any proposal to make for our own further advantageand assistance, that we ourselves may be in a probable and regularcapacity to pursue the intention before us?"

"I should pronounce that an ingenious society for doing good andgetting good," said Coleman, after the questions were read.

"It was so, and Cotton Mather himself was a member of twenty of thesesocieties," said Benjamin. "They became very popular, and I recallwith what interest my father participated in the meetings. I oftenaccompanied him, and, young as I was, they were very interesting tome. It was that fact which suggested the questions I have reported forour club."

When a person united with the Junto, he was required to stand up, layhis hand on his heart, and answer the following questions:

"1. Have you any particular disrespect to any present member?

"Answer. I have not.

"2. Do you sincerely declare that you love mankind in general, of whatprofession or religion soever?

"Answer. I do.

"3. Do you think any person ought to be harmed in his body, name, orgoods, for mere speculative opinion, or his external way of worship?

"Answer. No.

"4. Do you love truth for truth's sake; and will you endeavorimpartially to find and receive it yourself, and communicate it toothers?

"Answer. Yes."

At one of their earliest meetings Benjamin proposed that each member(the number of members was limited to twelve) should bring his booksto the club-room for reference during their discussions.

"A capital idea," said Coleman, "and I would suggest that each memberhave the privilege of reading the books belonging to other members."

"Another good idea," rejoined Benjamin; "I second that motion with allmy heart."

"It will not take any one of us a great while to read all the books wecan muster," suggested Potts.

At that time there was no bookstore in Philadelphia, nor was there oneof considerable note anywhere in the Colonies, except in Boston. Thepeople of Philadelphia sent to England for the books they wanted,which was expensive and inconvenient.

After this plan had been successfully used for several months,
Benjamin made another proposition.

"I propose that we establish a library, interesting parties outside tojoin us in the enterprise."

"Raising money for the same by subscription, do you mean?" inquired
Maugridge.

"Yes; unless there is a better way of doing it."

"I doubt if outsiders can be interested to join us in such a project,"said Grace. "Few people care enough about books to put money into suchan enterprise."

"Perhaps so; but we can try; if we fail we shall still be as well offas we are now," was Benjamin's answer. "Unless we make the effort weshall never know what we can do."

"And you are the one to solicit subscriptions, Ben," remarked Godfrey."If anybody can succeed, you can. If I should undertake and fail, as Ishould, it would not prove that the scheme is impracticable."

"I am perfectly willing to solicit subscriptions, and I will begin atonce and be able to report success or failure at the next meeting,"was Benjamin's generous offer.

At the following meeting he was able to report success, so far as hehad been able to work; and he continued until fifty young tradesmenhad pledged forty shillings each as a subscription, and, in addition,ten shillings per annum. This was unexpected success, and the membersof the Junto were highly elated. Thus was established the firstcirculating library in this country. Benjamin Franklin was the authorof it; and that library numbers now one hundred thousand volumes.Since that day the library scheme has proved so beneficial toindividuals and the public, that there are thousands of circulatinglibraries in the land. Almost every town of two or three thousandinhabitants has one. It must not be forgotten, however, that BenjaminFranklin conceived and reduced the idea to practice.

The following are some of the questions discussed by members of the
Junto:

"Is sound an entity or body?

"How may the phenomenon of vapors be explained?

"Is self-interest the rudder that steers mankind, the universalmonarch to whom all are tributaries?

"Which is the best form of government, and what was that form whichfirst prevailed among mankind?

"Can any one particular form of government suit all mankind?

"What is the reason that the tides rise higher in the Bay of Fundythan the Bay of Delaware?

"Is the emission of paper money safe?

"What is the reason that men of the greatest knowledge are not themost happy?

"How may the possession of the lakes be improved to our advantage?

"Why are tumultuous, uneasy sensations united with our desires?

"Whether it ought to be the aim of philosophy to eradicate thepassions?

"How may smoky chimneys be best cured?

"Why does the flame of a candle tend upwards in a spire?

"Which is the least criminal, a bad action joined with a goodintention, or a good action with a bad intention?

"Is it inconsistent with the principles of liberty in a freegovernment, to punish a man as a libeller when he speaks the truth?"

The foregoing Rules and Questions show that it could not have been anordinary class of young men to meet and discuss such subjects.Benjamin's talent is manifest both in the organization and the themesconsidered.

Improvements have been the order of the day since the Junto wasorganized; but we doubt if there has been much improvement upon theJunto in literary organizations for the young. It is not surprising,that, of the original twelve members, two became surveyors-general;one the inventor of a quadrant; one a distinguished mechanic andinfluential man; one a merchant of great note and a provincial judge,and all but one respected and honored men. At the same time, Benjamin,the founder, became "Minister to the Court of St. James," "MinisterPlenipotentiary to France," and the greatest Statesman and Philosopherof America, in the eighteenth century.

In old age Doctor Franklin said of the Junto: "It was the best schoolof philosophy, morality, and politics that then existed in theProvince; for our queries, which were read the week preceding theirdiscussion, put us upon reading with attention on the severalsubjects, that we might speak more to the purpose; and here, too, weacquired better habits of conversation, every thing being studied inour rules which might prevent our disgusting each other."

The Junto was copied in England fifty years after Benjamin organizedit in Philadelphia, by Cleming Jenkinson (who became Earl ofLiverpool) and others; and, within it, they began careers that becameillustrious. It has been copied in different parts of our own landdown to the present day, blessing the people and the country in moreways than one.

"I can tell you how to get over the difficulty," said Benjamin: "leteach member get up a club of twelve, and that will give a chance forone hundred and forty-four members."

"And when that number is attained, I suppose you will have each one ofthe one hundred and forty-four organize a Junto, and that will makethe membership seventeen hundred and twenty-eight, enough toconstitute a good township," suggested Coleman, who did not endorseBenjamin's plan.

"One Junto will be of more service to members, as well as to thepublic, than a dozen can be, only abolish the limit to twelve members,and allow all who desire to join," was Coleman's view.

"More interesting, also, to have a larger number of members,"suggested Parsons. "Numbers create enthusiasm."

"And numbers often create friction, too," retorted Benjamin; "we wantto avoid both shoals and rocks."

"Another thing that I object to very much is this: if each one of usorganizes another Junto, we no longer associate with each other—thevery thing for which this Junto was organized." This was the strongestobjection that Coleman urged.

"That is the selfish side of the question," suggested Benjamin. "Onthe other hand, there will be twelve times as many persons to bebenefited. If we twelve are benefited, how much better and grander tohave one hundred and forty-four benefited!"

"Ben is right; and I am of the opinion that the sooner we adopt thisplan the better. It will be unpleasant to sacrifice our socialconnections to form new ones, but the new ones may become equallypleasant." Scull thus supported Benjamin's proposition; and so didMeredith, Maugridge, and others.

This discussion arose from the popularity of the Junto. It became sopopular that large numbers of persons wanted to join it, and besoughtthe members to abolish the rule limiting the membership to twelve.Hence, Benjamin's proposition to meet the exigency, which was carried,with this amendment:

"The new clubs shall be auxiliary to this, the original one, eachreporting its proceedings to the parent society, that one harmoniouspurpose and plan may characterize all."

All the members did not organize a club, but five or six did, andthese clubs flourished for many years, blessing the town and the wholecolony.

The Junto was not many months old, when Benjamin made anotherproposition.

"The books we read have words and phrases in other languages, and I donot know their meaning. I studied Latin some in Boston, before I wasten years old, and Latin words I can guess at, but French I can't.Suppose we study French."

"You can study it if you want to," replied Scull, "but I have not thetime for another study."

"And I have not the taste for it," said Meredith. "One language is allthat I can handle, and I can't handle that as I want to."

"I like the suggestion," responded Coleman "and can give a little timeto French, though not a great deal. If Ben becomes an expert linguisthe can translate the foreign words and phrases for us."

"That last suggestion is best of all," remarked Parsons. "Ben can goahead and become a linguist for our benefit. That is the benevolentside of this question," punning on his argument for the benevolentside of the club question.

Whether other members of the Junto studied the languages we have nomeans of knowing, but Benjamin did, with remarkable success. First hestudied French, and when he could read it quite well, he took upItalian and Spanish. By this time he became so interested in foreignlanguages that he revived his acquaintance with Latin, becoming quitea good scholar therein. It was a mystery to his companions how hefound time to accomplish so much; but he did it by method andindustry, improving the smallest fragments of time, working early andlate. He was very fond of playing chess; but he denied himself thepleasure wholly in order that he might have the more time for study.While at Keimer's he found more time for reading and hard study,because his employer observed Saturday as his Sabbath, giving onlyfive days in the week to work.

XXXI.

BRIGHTER DAYS.

It would require several months for the printing outfit ordered fromEngland to reach Philadelphia. In the mean time, Benjamin wasconsidering what to do; and, while canvassing the field, he receivedthe following note from Keimer:

"PHILADELPHIA, 10 Dec., 1727.

"MR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN:

"Dear Sir,—It is not wise for old friends like you and I to separate for a few words spoken in passion. I was very hasty, and am sorry for it. I want my old foreman back again at the old price. I have plenty of work, and if you think well of my proposition, come and see me.

"Yours truly,

"SAMUEL KEIMER."

Benjamin's first impulse was to destroy the letter and take no furthernotice of it. But the second, sober thought led him to consultMeredith, who continued to work for Keimer. Meredith read the letter,and said:

"I should advise you to accept his proposition, as you have nothing todo."

"But can you tell me what selfish end he has in view, for Keimer wouldnever come down like that unless he had an axe to grind?" Benjaminsaid.

"Most certainly I can. He can have a government job if he can do thework. The Province of New Jersey is going to make a new issue of papermoney, and he can get the job; but you are the only printer inPhiladelphia who can do that work, so he wants you."

"I knew there must be something of that sort, or he never would haveasked for my work again. He is too contemptible a man to work for."Benjamin spoke with much feeling; and he was right, too.

"But here is the point," continued Meredith. "I am poorly equipped toset up business for myself, and you can teach me. It will be anywherefrom six to eight months before our outfit arrives from England, sohere is a good opportunity for me to improve."

"I suppose that is the best way of looking at it; but Keimer has solittle manhood about him that I have no respect for him. I dislike towork for a man whom I despise, and can't help it." Benjamin's languageshowed that it was almost too much to ask him to return to Keimer'sprinting office; but Meredith persevered.

"For my sake, I want you should decide to accept the proposition.Keimer has made an apology, so that you can return withoutcompromising your manhood at all. It looks to me as if it were wiserto accept his proposal than to decline it."

"I will sleep over it to-night before I decide, and let you know inthe morning," replied Benjamin, as he took his leave.

In the morning Benjamin put in his appearance at Keimer's office,ready for work. He received a hearty welcome, and was at once apprizedof the paper-money job of New Jersey.

Benjamin succeeded in contriving and completing a copper-plate press;and when cuts and ornaments were all ready, Keimer and he proceeded toBurlington, N.J., where they remained three months to fulfill thecontract. It proved a rare school for Benjamin. It brought him incontact with many prominent men, who were of much assistance to himafterwards. He was so much more intelligent than Keimer, that thelatter was of little consequence, as very little notice was taken ofhim. One day Isaac Decon, the surveyor-general, said to him:

"You are complete master of your business, and success is before you."

"I have improved my opportunities," modestly answered Benjamin, "anddone the best I could to learn my trade. I don't like the half-waymethod of doing business."

"I commenced business in a very humble way," continued Decon, "withoutdreaming that I should ever possess such an estate as I do now."

"What was your business?"

"I wheeled clay for the brickmakers, and had no opportunity of goingto school in my boyhood. I did not learn to write until I became ofage. I acquired my knowledge of surveying when I carried a chain forsurveyors, who were pleased with my desire to learn the business, andassisted me. By constant industry, and close application, and not alittle perseverance, I have succeeded in reaching the place where younow see me."

"That is the only way any person ever reached an honorable position,"remarked Benjamin, after listening to the interesting story ofsuccess.

"You are right in that view, and one-half of the battle is fought whencorrect views of life are fixed. When an employer like Keimer isinferior to his employee in ability, tact, and enterprise, there is avery poor show for him. If you set up for yourself in Philadelphia,you will work him completely out of his business."

Late in the spring of 1728 the printing outfit arrived from England.Benjamin and Meredith had settled with Keimer, who was unusually happybecause his profits on his paper-money job in New Jersey had tided himover very discouraging embarrassments. Keimer knew nothing of theirplans, however, when a settlement was consummated, as both had keptthe secret. The first intimation that he, or the public, had of suchan enterprise, was the opening of their printing house in the lowerpart of Market Street—"FRANKLIN & MEREDITH."

"Here's a man looking for a printer," said George House, an old friendof Benjamin. "He inquired of me where he could get a job done, and Itold him that here was the place above all others."

"Thank you for the advertisement, George. Yes, sir, we can serve youhere at short notice. What will you have done?" Benjamin won thecustomer over at once by his genial, familiar way.

The man made known his wants; and it proved to be a five-shilling job,all the more acceptable because it was the first.

With the members of the Junto all interested in his success, and thepublic men of New Jersey, who made his acquaintance at Burlington,Benjamin's business was soon well advertised. Many people were takenby surprise, and most of them predicted a failure, since there weretwo printers in town already. One day Samuel Nickle, an old citizen ofthe town, known somewhat as a croaker, was passing by, and, lookingup, he read the sign.

"Another printing house!" he said to himself. "And two in townalready! Who can be so thoughtless?" He stopped and mused a fewmoments, and then entered.

"Are you the young man who has opened this printing house?" heinquired of Benjamin.

"I am, sir."

"I am very sorry for you. You are throwing away your money; you can'tsucceed with two old printing houses here. You will fail."

"What makes you think so?"

"Because Philadelphia is degenerating, and half the people are nowbankrupt, or nearly so, and how can they support so many printers?"

"But the appearance of Philadelphia indicates thrift," answeredBenjamin. "See how many buildings are going up, and how rents arerising every month. This does not look like going backward, it seemsto me."

"These are the very things that will ruin us," responded Nickle. "Theyare no evidence of prosperity, but of extravagance, that will bringdisaster sooner or later."

"That sort of disaster is what we want," suggested Benjamin; "the moreof it the better. If Philadelphia ever becomes much of a town, it willbe in just that way." Benjamin saw at once that he was talking with acroaker and treated him accordingly.

There was an organization of business men in Philadelphia at thattime, known as the "Merchants' Every-Night Club," answering, perhaps,to a "Board of Trade" of our day. Its purpose was to advance thebusiness interests of the town. A member raised the question, "Cananother printing house prosper in town?"

"Not with the present population," was the view of one member.

"It will be a long time before three printing houses will berequired," remarked another.

"They could not have had very discreet advisers, it seems to me,"still another remarked.

In this manner the subject was canvassed, every member but onepredicting the failure of the enterprise. That one was Doctor Baird, aprominent physician, and he said:

"It will prove a success. For the industry of that Franklin issuperior to any thing I ever saw of the kind. I see him still at workwhen I go home from club, and he is at work again before his neighborsare out of bed."

"Doctor, I guess you are right, I did not think of that when I spoke,"remarked one who had predicted failure. This member was so muchimpressed by Doctor Baird's remark that he subsequently went toBenjamin and made this proposition:

"I think you can add a stationer's department to your business, andthus increase your profits; and if you think so, I will furnish youwith stock on credit."

"Your offer is a very generous one, and I thank you for it," answeredBenjamin; "but I think we had better stick to our trade at present andnot put too many irons in the fire at once."

"That is a wise caution, I think, and I am all the more impressed thatyou are a young man of sound judgment, and you will succeed."

He had no doubt now that the printing house would succeed.

"Your good opinion encourages me very much, and I shall do my best tohave it realized," replied Benjamin. "I thank you very much for yourgenerous offer, and, perhaps, at some future day, I shall wish toaccept it."

"Let me know whenever you are ready for it," said the gentleman as hetook his departure.

"We will start a weekly paper as soon as we are able," said Benjaminto Meredith one day; "the Mercury is as near nothing as it can be. Ibelieve that an able paper here, abreast with the times, willsucceed."

"You can make it succeed if any one can," replied Meredith, to whomhis partner had given a full account of his connection with the NewEngland Courant in Boston.

They canvassed the subject until it was decided to start a weeklypaper as soon as their pecuniary condition would permit. Just then theOxford student, whose time Keimer had bought, called upon Benjamin.

"Will you employ me as journeyman printer?" he asked.

"Employ you?" responded Benjamin with much surprise. "I thought yourtime was Keimer's for four years."

"It was; but it is not now; I have bought it back."

"I am glad to hear that; you will be more of a man for it; and, beforelong, I think we should like your work; just now we are not in want ofmore help."

"Your work is increasing, I suppose?" said Webb; "hope I shall nothave to wait long."

"If you can keep a secret, Webb, I will let you into it," continuedBenjamin. "I expect to start a weekly paper before many weeks havepassed; and then I shall have plenty of work."

"How long shall I have to wait?"

"I can't say. It is possible I may want you before I start thenewspaper; work is coming in very well. But you must not let Keimerknow about the paper. When it starts I want it should be a surprise tohim and the public."

"I will not divulge your secret," was Webb's ready promise.

Nevertheless, Webb did disclose the secret to Keimer himself, whoproceeded to start a paper of his own, called the PennsylvaniaGazette, and he hired Webb, at good wages, to work on it. It provedto be a miserable affair, without ability or intelligent enterprise,so that a sharp, witty young man like Benjamin could readily make it a"laughing-stock."

"I will show up his ignorance and conceit in the Mercury" (name ofthe paper already published by Bradford), he said to Meredith. "See ifI don't."

"A good idea, Ben; go ahead; it will create a sensation. Bradford willbe glad to publish any thing you may write."

"I will see him at once." And Benjamin hastened to the office of theMercury, made known his purpose to Bradford, who caught at it atonce."

"Just the thing I want," responded Bradford. "Let me have somethingfor the next issue."

"Certainly; you shall have the first article to-morrow morning."

Benjamin hurried away with his mind completely absorbed upon thesubjects he should take up. The result was a series of amusingarticles, in which he burlesqued Keimer's proposals, and ridiculed hiseditorials, which really deserved nothing better. He continued towrite in this way several months, signing all his articles "BusyBody." The public were greatly interested in the communications,because of their real merit. They were bright, even sparkling, full ofhumor, logical to sharpness, and charged with ability. They drewpublic attention to Bradford's paper, and public ridicule to Keimer's;so that the subscription list of the former increased, while that ofthe latter never had over ninety subscribers. People on every handinquired, "Who is Busy Body?" And, finally, the public learned thatit was "that young Franklin, the printer." Keimer learned who hiscritic was; and, after the lapse of six or eight months from the timethe first number was issued, who should appear before Benjamin at hisoffice but him, saying:

"I understand that you think of starting a weekly newspaper; and Ihave come to sell you mine."

"How is that? Can't you make it go?" Benjamin replied in a familiarway.

"No, not as I want to. I don't think I am exactly qualified to run anewspaper."

"How many subscribers have you?"

"Ninety."

"Only ninety?" exclaimed Benjamin. "That number will be of no aid instarting a paper; might as well start new; new paper, new title, neweditor, new every thing."

The conclusion of the interview was, however, that Benjamin purchasedthe paper, took possession immediately, advertised his literaryenterprise, and "it proved," as he said, "in a few years extremelyprofitable to me."

His economy was equal to his industry. He arrayed himself in theplainest manner, although he aimed to look neat and tidy. His boardwas simple and cheap, and every thing about his business was conductedon the most economical principles. He wheeled home the paper which hebought, boarded himself some of the time, sleeping in the office, andnever stopped to consider whether it was compromising the dignity of aprinter to do such things.

Keimer left no stone unturned to secure business and cripple Franklinand Meredith. He was never half so active and enterprising as hebecame after these two young men set up for themselves. One day Keimerwas in Benjamin's printing office to transact some business, when thelatter said to him:

"Look here, Keimer; come with me into the back room."

"What you got there?" Keimer answered, following.

"See that!" Benjamin said, pointing to a half-devoured loaf andpitcher of water, that he had just made a meal off.

"What of that?" said Keimer, not comprehending the drift of Benjamin'sremark.

"Unless you can live cheaper than I can, it is no use for you toattempt to run me out of business."

Both laughed, and Keimer departed.

The Gazette flourished finely from the time it came under Benjamin'smanagement. He was able to discuss public questions of importance withmanifest ability, and his articles created interest and discussionamong public men, who became subscribers in consequence. A dispute wasgoing on between Governor Burnett and the Massachusetts Assembly, andBenjamin commented upon it with so much wisdom and originality thathis intimate acquaintance was sought by the most distinguished men.

Benjamin's work as a printer excelled that of either Keimer orBradford. The latter did the government printing, and often it wasdone in a very bungling manner. This was notably so when he printed anaddress of the House to the Governor. It was a very inferior job;whereupon Benjamin printed it elegantly and correctly and sent a copyto each member of the House. The House voted to give him thegovernment printing thereafter. By his method of doing the best hecould every time, he built up a business rapidly, and won a reputationfor industry, integrity, and ability that was worth more than money.

To return to Meredith. He had become more intemperate than ever. Hisfather, too, did not find relief from pecuniary embarrassment as heexpected. He was to pay two hundred pounds currency for the printinghouse, and had paid one-half of it. But the other half was not paidwhen due, for which all three were sued.

"Perhaps your father is not pleased with your partner," said Benjaminto Meredith. "If that is the reason he does not advance the money, Iwill retire, and you shall run the whole thing."

"No; my father is well satisfied with my partner, and so am I; so thatyou need not think he is withholding money for the purpose of gettingrid of you. He is really embarrassed."

"Then he could not take the concern into his own hands for you torun?"

"No, indeed; that would be quite impossible. Besides, I do not want iton my hands."

"Why?" inquired Benjamin.

"Because I am satisfied that I am not adapted to this business. I wasbred a farmer, and ought not to have left that occupation."

"Drink water, as I do, and you may succeed as well at printing asfarming. A farmer who drinks to excess never succeeds."

"Drink or no drink," retorted Meredith, "I am sick of this businessand shall quit. Many of our Welsh people are going to settle in NorthCarolina, where land is cheap, and I am going with them, and shallfollow my old employment."

"Then you will sell out your interest to me, if I understand you?"
That was what Benjamin wanted.

"Certainly; you can get enough friends to help you. If you will takethe debts of the company upon you, return to my father the hundredpounds he has advanced, pay my little personal debts, and give methirty pounds and a new saddle, I will relinquish the partnership andleave the whole in your hands."

"I will accept your proposition, and we will draw up the papers atonce," said Benjamin.

The bargain was consummated; and the proper papers were prepared,signed, and sealed. Benjamin accepted the generous aid of Coleman andGrace, and became sole proprietor of the printing house andPennsylvania Gazette. This was near the close of the year 1729, afew months after the Gazette came into his hands.

A few months more elapsed, when he concluded to accept the offer ofthe gentleman, spoken of on a previous page, to provide a stock ofstationery, and opened a stationer's shop in his building. This proveda good investment, and led to his marriage, September 1, 1730, to MissDeborah Read.

While Benjamin was thus prospering, Keimer was going to the wall; andfinally his printing office, with all its furniture, was sold underthe hammer to pay his creditors; and he went to Barbadoes, where helived in poverty.

Thus changes brought Benjamin to the front, and his printing house wasthe best, doing the most business, of any one in the whole country,except Boston. True, Bradford continued his business and paper; but ina very small way, in no sense a rival to our hero. He stood at thehead.

XXXII.

NO LONGER A SKEPTIC.

"Time is money," Doctor Franklin wrote in age. It was what hepractised when he conducted his printing business in Philadelphia. Oneday a lounger stepped into his shop, and, after looking over thearticles, asked:

"What is the price of that book?" holding it up in his hand. Benjaminhad commenced to keep a few books on sale.

"One dollar," answered the apprentice in attendance.

"One dollar," repeated the lounger; "can't you take less than that?"

"No less; one dollar is the price."

Waiting a few moments, and still looking over the book, he said, atlength:

"Is Mr. Franklin at home?"

"He is in the printing office."

"I want to see him; will you call him?"

Franklin was called.

"Mr. Franklin, what is the lowest price you will take for this book?"at the same time holding up the book.

"One dollar and a quarter," answered Franklin, who had heard thelounger's parleying with his apprentice.

"One dollar and a quarter! Your young man asked but a dollar."

"True," answered Franklin, "and I could have better afforded to take adollar then, than to have been called from my business."

The Customer seemed puzzled for a few moments, but, finally, concludedthat the proprietor was joking. He had not been wont to place so greatvalue upon time.

"Come, now, tell me just the lowest you will take for it," he said.

"One dollar and a half."

"A dollar and a half! Why you offered it yourself for a dollar and aquarter."

"True, and I had better taken the price then, than a dollar and a halfnow," retorted Benjamin with a good deal of spirit.

The buyer got the truth into his head at last, paid the price of thebook, and sneaked away, with the rebuke lying heavily on his heart.

Benjamin wrote of his industry at that time, as follows:

"My circumstances, however, grew daily easier. My original habits offrugality continuing, and my father having, among his instructions tome when a boy, frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon, "Seest thoua man diligent in his calling, he shall stand before kings, he shallnot stand before mean men." I thence considered industry as a meansof obtaining wealth and distinction, which encouraged me; though I didnot think that I should ever literally stand before kings,—which,however, has since happened; for I have stood before five, and evenhad the honor of sitting down with one, the King of Denmark, todinner."

It is not strange that such a young man should write such maxims asthe following, in his riper years:

"Pride breakfasts with plenty, dines with poverty, and sups withinfamy."

"It is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog toswell in order to equal the ox."

"It is easier to suppress the first desire, than to satisfy all thatfollow it."

His integrity was no less marked. Strict honesty characterized all hisdealings with men. An exalted idea of justice pervaded his soul. Hisword of honor was as good as his note of hand. Even his disposition tocastigate and censure in his writings, so manifest in Boston, atsixteen years of age, and which his father rebuked, was overcome.After he had set up a paper in Philadelphia, a gentleman handed him anarticle for its columns.

"I am very busy now," said Benjamin, "and you will confer a favor byleaving it for perusal at my leisure."

"That I will do, and call again to-morrow."

The following day the author put in his appearance quite early.

"What is your opinion of my article?" he asked.

"Why, sir, I am sorry to say that I can not publish it."

"Why not? What is the matter with it?"

"It is highly scurrilous and defamatory," replied Benjamin; "but beingat a loss, on account of my poverty, whether to reject it or not, Ithought I would put it to this issue. At night when my work was done,I bought a twopenny loaf, on which I supped heartily, and then,wrapping myself in my great coat, slept very soundly on the flooruntil morning, when another loaf and mug of water afforded a pleasantbreakfast. Now, sir, since I can live very comfortably in this manner,why should I prostitute my press to personal hatred or party passionfor a more luxurious living?"

We have seen that Benjamin began to revise his religious opinions onhis return voyage from England. He continued to reflect much upon hisloose ways; and there is no doubt that his integrity, industry,economy, and desire to succeed in business had something to do withhis moral improvement. He confessed that, along from 1725 to 1730 hewas immoral, and was sometimes led astray; but his conscience made himmuch trouble, and, finally, it asserted its supremacy, and he came offconqueror over his evil propensities. A change from skepticism ordeism to a decided belief in the Christian Religion, no doubt exertedthe strongest influence in making him a better man.

In 1728 he prepared "Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion" forhis own use every day. This was his ritual, beginning and closing withan humble prayer.

Three or four years later, he appears to have taken up this thought ofa religious life anew; and he prepared a code of morals, perhaps arevision of his former Articles of Faith, wrote them out carefully ina blank book for use, as follows:

"1. TEMPERANCE.—Eat not to dulness; drink not to elevation.

"2. SILENCE.—Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid
trifling conversation.

"3. ORDER.—Let all your things have their places; let each part of
your business have its time.

"4. RESOLUTION.—Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without
fail what you resolve.

"5. FRUGALITY.—Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself;
that is, waste nothing.

"6. INDUSTRY.—Lose no time; be always employed in something useful;
cut off all unnecessary actions.

"7. SINCERITY.—Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly;
and, if you speak, speak accordingly.

"8. JUSTICE.—Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits
that are your duty.

"9. MODERATION.—Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as
you think they deserve.

"10. CLEANLINESS.—Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, orhabitation.

"11. TRANQUILITY.—Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents commonor unavoidable.

"12. CHASTITY….

"13. HUMILITY.—Imitate Jesus and Socrates."

At one time he seriously thought of organizing a "United Party for
Virtue," in connection with which he prepared this religious creed:

"That there is one God, who made all things.

"That he governs the world by his providence.

"That he ought to be worshipped by adoration, prayer and thanksgiving.

"But that the most acceptable service to God is doing good to man.

"That the soul is immortal.

"And that God will certainly reward virtue and punish vice, eitherhere or hereafter."

His letters to relatives and friends, from this time, contained strongwords for the Christian Religion, and for the imitation of the virtuespractised by its Author. Through his long and useful life, hecontinued to observe the doctrines and precepts that he named in theforegoing extracts. He was a delegate to the convention for forming aConstitution of the United States, which met at Philadelphia, May,1787, and he introduced the motion for daily prayers, with remarksthus:

"In the beginning of the contest with Britain, when we were sensibleof danger, we had daily prayers in this room for the Divineprotection. Our prayers, Sir, were heard; and they were graciouslyanswered. All of us, who were engaged in the struggle, must haveobserved frequent instances of a superintending Providence in ourfavor. To that kind Providence we owe this happy opportunity ofconsulting in peace on the means of establishing our future nationalfelicity. And have we now forgotten that powerful Friend? or do weimagine we no longer need his assistance? I have lived, Sir, a longtime; and, the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of thistruth, that GOD governs in the affairs of men. And, if a sparrowcan not fall to the ground without his notice, is it probably that anempire can rise without his aid? We have been assured, Sir, in thesacred writings, that 'except the Lord build the house, they labor invain that build it.' I firmly believe this; and I also believe that,without His concurring aid, we shall succeed in this politicalbuilding no better than the builders of Babel; we shall be divided byour little, partial, local interests, our projects will be confounded,and we ourselves shall become a reproach and a by-word down to futureages."

We will only add here an epitaph that he wrote for his own monument attwenty-three years of age, supposed to have been a paper for the Junto:

"THE BODY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, PRINTER (LIKE THE COVER OF AN OLDBOOK, ITS CONTENTS TORN OUT, AND STRIPT OF ITS LETTERING AND GILDING),LIES HERE, FOOD FOR WORMS. BUT THE WORK ITSELF SHALL NOT BE LOST, FORIT WILL, AS HE BELIEVED, APPEAR ONCE MORE, IN A NEW AND MORE ELEGANTEDITION, REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR."

XXXIII.

POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC.

"I shall have to publish an almanac to be in fashion," remarkedFranklin to his old friend Coleman. "Every printer in this countryissues one, so far as I know."

From this point, we shall drop the Christian name, Benjamin, and usethe surname, Franklin.

"A good theme to discuss in the Junto," replied Coleman. "You wouldpublish a better one than the country ever had, if you shouldundertake it."

"I shall make one that differs from all issued hitherto, in somerespects. I have devoted considerable thought to the subject, and haveformed a plan, although it has not taken an exact shape yet in my ownmind. I think I will bring it up in the Junto."

"By all means do it," added Coleman; "two or more heads may be betterthan one alone, even if the one contains more than all the rest."

"Much obliged," answered Franklin. "It will aid me essentially tomature my plans, to exchange views with the members of the Junto. Iwill introduce it at the very next meeting."

The subject was introduced into the Junto, as proposed, and everymember hailed the project with delight. Franklin's paper had becomethe most popular one in the country, in consequence of the abilitywith which it discussed public questions, and the sharp, crisp wisdomand wit that made every issue entertaining; and the members believedthat he could make an almanac that would take the lead. The discussionin the Junto settled the question of issuing the almanac. Itsappearance in 1732 proved a remarkable event in Franklin's life, muchmore so than his most sanguine friends anticipated.

The Almanac appeared, with the title-page bearing the imprint: "By
Richard Saunders, Philomat. Printed and sold by B. Franklin."

From the opening to the close of it proverbial sayings, charged withwisdom and wit, were inserted wherever there was space enough toinsert one. The following is a sample:

"Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears, while the usedkey is always bright."

"Lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough alwaysproves little enough."

"Drive thy business, let not that drive thee."

"Industry need not hope, and he that lives upon hope will diefasting."

"He that hath a trade hath an estate; and he that hath a calling hathan office of profit and honor."

"At the working-man's house hunger looks in, but dares not enter."

"Never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day."

"A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things."

"If you would have your business done, go—if not, send."

"What maintains one vice would bring up two children."

"When the well is dry they know the worth of water."

"Pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great deal more saucy."

"Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other."

"The good paymaster is lord of another man's purse."

These jets of wisdom made the Almanac sparkle. The mechanicalexecution of the work excelled that of any of its predecessors; butthis literary feature marked the Almanac as marvellous. It becamepopular at once. Every body who saw it, admired and bought it. ThePhiladelphians were proud that such a document originated in theirtown. Copies were sent to friends in other parts of the country, until"Poor Richard's Almanac" was known throughout the land. Three editionswere exhausted in about a month. For twenty-five years Franklincontinued to publish a similar Almanac, the average annual circulationof which was ten thousand copies.

The large stock of wisdom and wit which the Almanac contained addedwonderfully to Franklin's fame. From the first issue his mental powerswere widely praised. He was only twenty-six years of age, but now hisintellectual ability was considered superior to that of any otherliving man under fifty years of age. The members of the Junto weregreatly elated over his success.

"You have beaten yourself," remarked Coleman to him, "exceeded by farwhat I expected, high as my expectations were. Nothing has beenpublished yet, that has created so profound interest as the Almanac."

"That is all true," said Grace. "Franklin is the theme of remark noweverywhere. People seem to be surprised that he could produce adocument of so much value. Both his business and newspaper will beadvanced by this stroke of wisdom."

"And the Junto, too," suggested Parsons; "the father of the Junto cannot receive so much applause without benefiting his child. Every bodywill want to join now, to meet him here."

Each member present was too much elated to remain silent. No wordswere too extravagant to express their admiration of Franklin'sability. To their decided friendship and respect was now added anhonorable pride in being able to point to such a friend and associate.

The success of his newspaper and Almanac provided Franklin with asupply of money, which he wisely invested. His own words about itwere:

"My business was now constantly augmenting, and my circumstancesgrowing daily easier; my newspaper having become very profitable, asbeing, for a time, almost the only one in this and the neighboringprovinces. I experienced, too, the truth of the observation, 'thatafter getting the first hundred pounds, it is more easy to get thesecond'; money itself being of a prolific nature."

Franklin was aided very much, in the conduct of his paper, by the
Junto, where different features of journalism were often discussed.

"In Boston I made a mistake," he said. "I was but a boy then, withoutexperience or discretion, and found great delight in personalities. Imean to steer clear of libelling and personal abuse."

"You have so far," replied Coleman; "and thereby you have added to thedignity and influence of your paper. There is a kind of sharpness andcritical remark that ought to characterize a good paper; and theGazette is not deficient in that."

"That is what makes it sparkle, in my judgment," remarked Scull. "Itis not best to be too cautious; some things ought to be hit hard; andthat is true of some men, not to say women."

"That is one thing a newspaper is for," interjected Parsons, "toexpose and remove social and public evils, and, in doing that, somemen will get hit."

"You do not quite understand me," answered Franklin; "I accept allthat Scull and Parsons say, which is not what I mean by libelling andpersonal abuse. Here is a case. A few days ago a gentleman called withan article for the Gazette, I looked it over, and found it veryobjectionable.

"'I can not publish that,' I said to him.

"'Why not?' he asked.

"'Because it deals in personal abuse, if not in downright libelling.'

"'I will pay for its insertion,' he said.

"'So much the worse for me, to insert a libelous article for money,' Isaid. 'On the face of it it appears a personal pique against theparty.'

"'But we have a free press in this country,' he insisted.

"'Free to do right, and be just and honorable toward all men, and notfree to injure or abuse them,' I retorted.

"'I supposed that a newspaper was like a stage coach, in which anyone, who pays for a place, has it,' he continued.

"'That is true of some newspapers, but not of mine,' I answered. 'ButI will do this: I will print your article separately, and furnish youwith as many copies as you want, and you can distribute them where youplease, but I will not lumber my columns with detraction, and insultpatrons to whom I am pledged to furnish a good paper for theirfamilies.' The party did not accept my proposition, but left in hightemper."

Every member acquiesced in Franklin's views, and encouraged him tocontinue the conduct of his paper on that line. It was an age ofvituperation and libelling. Probably there never has been a time sincewhen so many editors, in proportion to the number of papers, believedthat the newspaper was for that purpose. The gentleman of whomFranklin spoke wanted to abuse another; but would have complainedbitterly, no doubt, to have been the object of abuse himself.

Franklin's stationer's shop proved a success; and very soon he added asmall collection of books. From 1733 he imported books from London,and aimed to keep the market supplied with all that were popularthere. His trade in books grew to considerable proportions.

With all his business, and the improvement of odd moments in readingand study, he found time to attend to music, and became quite anaccomplished player on the harp, guitar, and violin. His family andcompany were often entertained by his musical performances.

In 1733 Franklin resolved to visit Boston. He had not visited therefor ten years.

"I must go now," he said to his foreman, "because my brother atNewport is so feeble that he is not expected to live long. I shallstop at Newport on my way back."

"And when will you return?"

"As soon as possible. It is only a flying visit I propose to make. Ihave some business in Boston, and wish to spend a little time with myparents, who are getting old and infirm."

He put every thing into a good condition for his foreman to handle inhis absence, and then left for Boston, where his parents embraced himwith tears of joy. There was no trace of the boy left on him now,—hewas a man in the noblest sense of the word.

Necessity compelled Franklin to cut short his visit and return,stopping at Newport to see his brother. This was his brother James,the printer to whom he was apprenticed in Boston. He had a prosperousprinting business in that town.

"I am very glad to see you," said James, giving his brother a cordialand tender welcome. "You find me very feeble; and I was afraid that Ishould never see you again."

"I hear of your sickness, and felt that I must come to see you atonce," Franklin replied. "I hope that your prospects are morefavorable than you appear to think they are."

"It is only a question of time; and short time, too. My disease isincurable, and I am waiting for the end. We will let by-gones beby-gones; I have only love for you now, my dear brother."

"You can hardly conceive how glad I am to hear you say that; for Icherish only the sincerest affection for you. I am truly sorry for anywrong I did you in Boston."

"That is all blotted out now," continued James, "I have one request tomake, and, if you can grant it, I shall be very happy."

"What is it?"

"My son is now ten years old, and the loss of his father will, indeed,be a great loss to him. I had intended to instruct him in my trade;and, after my death, I want you should take him to your home inPhiladelphia, where he can learn the printer's trade, and, when heunderstands the business well, return him to his mother and sisters,who will continue the printing house here."

"With all my heart I will do it; and I am glad to grant this favor,not only for your sake, but for my own," responded Benjamin. "He shallbe one of my family, and I will be to him as a father, and he shall beto me as a son."

Thus, at the grave's side, the two brothers were thoroughly reconciledto each other, and it was not long before Franklin had James' son inhis own family.

In 1736 Franklin buried a son, four years old, a child so bright andbeautiful that strangers would stop on the street to behold him. Itwas a terrible blow to the parents. He was laid in Christ Churchburying ground, where the defaced and much-broken headstone stillbears this inscription:

"FRANCIS F.,SON OF BENJAMIN AND DEBORAH FRANKLIN,DECEASED NOV. 21, 1736,AGED 4 YEARS, 1 MONTH, AND 1 DAY.THE DELIGHT OF ALL THAT KNEW HIM."

Franklin proved a staunch friend of the celebrated George Whitefieldwhen he visited Philadelphia in 1739. There was great opposition tohis work. At first, one or two pastors admitted him to their pulpits;but the opposition grew so intense, that all the churches were closedagainst him, and he was obliged to preach in the fields. Franklindenounced this treatment in his paper and by his voice, in the Juntoand on the street.

"You talk about being called to the work of the ministry," he said toone of the Philadelphia clergy; "if ability and great power in thepulpit are evidence of being called of God, then Whitefield must havehad a louder call than any of you."

"But he is very peculiar in his methods, and harsh in his treatment ofsinners," suggested the minister.

"But if we sinners do not object, why should you saints? We have heardhim say nothing but the truth yet."

"All that may be true," continued the preacher, "but so muchexcitement is not healthy for the spiritual growth of the people."

"When did you, or any one else, ever see so great moral and spiritualimprovement of the people," said Franklin, "as we have seen sinceWhitefield has been preaching here? The whole population appears to bethinking about religion."

"Excitement! excitement!" exclaimed the minister; "and when Whitefieldis gone, there will be a reaction, and the last state of the peoplewill be worse than the first."

So Franklin supported Whitefield, was a constant attendant upon hisministrations, and a lasting friendship grew up between them.

"Let us put up a building for him to preach in, now that he isexcluded from the churches," proposed Franklin to a number ofWhitefield's friends, who were discussing the situation. "A preacherof so much power and self-denial should be sustained."

"A capital suggestion!" answered one of the number, "and you are theman to carry the measure into effect."

"A rough building is all that is necessary for our purpose; the finishwill be in the preaching," added Franklin. "A preacher of anydenomination whatever, who comes here to instruct the people, withoutmoney and without price, should be provided with a place for worship."

"Yes, even if the Mufti of Constantinople were to send a missionaryhere, I would provide a place for him to hold forth and not turn himinto the street," responded Coleman.

"I will announce in the Gazette at once what our purpose is, andcall a meeting," continued Franklin. "The announcement will test thefeelings of the people on the subject."

"Let it be done in a hurry, too," said Coleman. "Public sentiment isripe for something now, and I think the citizens will endorse thescheme."

The project was announced, a meeting called, and subscriptionsobtained with little effort, to erect a building one hundred feet longand seventy wide. In an almost incredibly short time the house ofworship was completed, and Whitefield occupied it.

XXXIV.

MORE HONORS AND MORE WORK.

Franklin, in 1736, was chosen Clerk of the General Assembly, and in1737 appointed Postmaster of Philadelphia. The first position assuredhim all the Government printing, and introduced him to influentialmen, who would very naturally become the patrons of his printinghouse. The second position was of great value to his newspaper, as it"facilitated the correspondence that improved it, and increased itscirculation" quite largely, thus making it a source of considerableincome. Members of the Junto were as much pleased with his promotionas Franklin himself.

"We are not at all surprised," said Coleman to Colonel Spotswood; "weare familiar with Franklin; I mean, we members of the Junto, as noother persons are. He will fill ably any position you can give him."

"That was my estimate of the man," answered Spotswood, who wasPostmaster-General; "and so I appointed him my deputy here. From all Icould learn of him, I thought he would be exact in his way of doingbusiness and reporting to the Government. His predecessor wascareless, and even neglectful, so that it was difficult to get anysort of a report from him."

"You will find no trouble with Franklin on that score," rejoinedColeman. "He is one of the most exact men I ever knew, and hisjudgment is remarkable for one of his years. He appears to succeed inwhatever he undertakes because of his sound judgment, and greatcapacity for work. His appointment as Postmaster of Philadelphia givesgreat satisfaction."

"I thought it would," continued Spotswood. "The position should beoccupied by a wise man, who challenges public confidence and respect."

"And Franklin is the wisest man I ever knew," interjected Coleman. "Wesee him in this role, in the Junto, as men outside do not. For he laysbefore us his plans, and reads important articles that he writes, onvarious subjects, for criticism, before they are published. He hasjust read a paper on the 'Night-watch,' exposing the worthlessness ofthe present system, and proposing a remedy; also, another paper onestablishing a fire-department for the town. When made public, both ofthese measures will commend themselves to the people."

The discussion over the night-watch and fire-department in the Juntowas both animated and instructive. Both projects were entirely new,and were born of Franklin's fertile brain.

"The most cumbersome and awkward arrangement I ever heard of," saidFranklin, in the Junto; "to have the constable of each ward, in turn,summon to his aid several housekeepers for the night, and suchragamuffins as most of them summon to their assistance!"

"A glass of grog will enlist some of them for a whole night," remarkedParsons. "I think the town is safer without any watchmen, unless moreresponsible men can be employed."

"Of course it is," responded Coleman; "the six shillings paid annuallyto the constable by each man who does not wish to serve is acorruption fund. The constable can pocket three-fourths of it, and,with the other fourth, he can employ the irresponsible characters hedoes. I wonder the people don't rebel."

"That is not all, nor the worst," remarked Breintnal. "A poor widow,with less than fifty pounds to her name, must pay the six shillingsjust as the wealthiest citizen, with thousands of pounds in his ownright, does. It is very unjust."

"And my plan removes all of these difficulties and burdens," addedFranklin. "I propose to hire suitable men, whose business shall be towatch at night, levying a tax to pay for the same in proportion toproperty. A man who makes it his business to watch is worth much morethan one who occasionally serves under the present system."

Franklin ventilated the subject in the Gazette, eliciting remarkspro and con, gradually educating the people; and finally, afterseveral years, he had the satisfaction of seeing his plan adopted.Franklin was the author of the "Night-watch" system of our land.

His paper on the frequency of fires, from carelessness and accidents,with suggestions as to preventing them and, also, extinguishing them,elicited equal interest in the Junto.

"Your suggestion to organize a company to extinguish fires is acapital one," remarked Potts, after listening to Franklin's paper. "Itis not only practical, but it can be done very easily; every citizenmust appreciate the measure."

"If I understand the plan," remarked Maugridge, "each member will beobliged to keep several leathern buckets, in order for instant use,and strong bags, for receiving goods to be conveyed to a place ofsafety, will be provided."

"Yes; and the members must be so well organized and drilled, that whena fire breaks out, each will know just what to do," added Franklin."It will be necessary for the members of the company to meet monthly,or oftener, to exchange views and make suggestions as to the best wayof conducting the organization. Experience will teach us very much."

"How many members should the organization embrace?" inquired Scull.

"That is immaterial," replied Coleman; "a large or small number can beused to advantage, I should say."

"The company must not be too large," responded Franklin. "I shouldthink that thirty members would be as many as could work to advantage.If double that number desire to become members it would be better toorganize two companies, to work in different wards."

"And how about money? Can't maintain such an organization withoutmoney," suggested Potts.

"We can raise money for the outfit of leathern buckets and bags bysubscription," replied Franklin; "and we can impose a fine uponmembers for being absent from meetings."

"Then, why is not the whole subject fairly before us?" remarkedColeman. "I move that we proceed to organize a fire-company of thirtymembers at once."

Coleman's proposition was adopted unanimously. Franklin discussed theplan in the Gazette, and all the members of the Junto worked hardfor it outside. Within a short time the first company was organized,then another, and another, the good work continuing until a large partof the property-owners in town belonged to fire-companies. And thismethod continued until the invention of fire-engines, fire-hooks, andladders, with other modern implements to assist in extinguishingfires. Franklin was the originator of fire-companies.

"It is high time that our people were thinking of paving the streets,"said Franklin, at a meeting of the Junto. "It will facilitate cleaningthem wonderfully."

"You must give us a paper on the subject, and write it up in theGazette," replied Parsons. "People must be enlightened before theywill adopt the measure. The mass of them know nothing about it now."

"You are right," responded Franklin; "and it will take a good while toenlighten them. The expense of the measure will frighten them."

"How expensive will such a measure be? What does paving cost a squareyard?"

"I am not able to say now; I have not examined that part of it yet;but I shall. I will prepare a paper for the Junto at the earliestpossible date."

Franklin had canvassed the subject considerably before he introducedit to the members of the Junto. In wet weather the mud in the streetswas trodden into a quagmire, and quantities of it carried on the feetinto stores and houses. In dry weather the wind blew the abundance ofdust into the faces and eyes of pedestrians, and into the doors andwindows of dwellings and shops. In his paper, read at the Junto,Franklin set forth these discomforts, with others, and showed how theevil would be remedied by pavement. The members of the Junto wereunanimous in supporting his views.

From week to week he discussed the subject in the Gazette, literallygiving line upon line and precept upon precept. Nor did he seem tomake much of an impression for many months. But, finally, a strip ofbrick pavement having been laid down the middle of Jersey Market, hesucceeded in getting the street leading thereto paved.

"Now I have a project to enlist citizens in paving all the streets,"he said at the Junto. "I have hired a poor man to sweep the pavementnow laid, and keep it as clean and neat as a pin, that citizens maysee for themselves the great benefit of paving the streets."

"That is practical," exclaimed Coleman. "You are always practical,
Franklin; and you will make a success of that."

"I expect to succeed. After two or three weeks I shall address acircular to all housekeepers enjoying the advantages of the pavement,asking them to join with me in paying a sixpence each per month tokeep the pavement clean."

"A sixpence a month only!" responded Potts, who had listened to
Franklin's plan; "is that all it will cost?"

"Yes, that is all; and I think that all will be surprised that thework can be done for that price; and, for that reason, they willreadily join in the measure."

Franklin went forward with his enterprise, and every citizen appealedto accepted his proposition; and out of it grew a general interest topave the streets of the city. Franklin drafted a bill to be presentedto the General Assembly, authorizing the work to be done; and, throughthe influence of another party, the bill was amended by a provisionfor lighting the streets at the same time, all of which was agreeableto Franklin. Here, again, we see that Franklin was the originator ofanother method of adding to the comfort and beauty of cities and largetowns.

"I will read you a paper to-night upon smoky chimneys," remarked
Franklin at the Junto, as he drew from his pocket a written document.

"Smoky chimneys!" ejaculated Grace. "I wonder what will command yourattention next. A fruitful theme, though I never expected we shoulddiscuss it here."

"It is, indeed, a fruitful theme," responded Franklin; "for morechimneys carry some of the smoke into the room than carry the wholeout of the top; and nobody can tell why."

"I had supposed it was because masons do not understand the philosophyof chimney-building," remarked Coleman.

"That is it exactly. The subject is not understood at all, because ithas not been examined. Men build chimneys as they do, not because theyknow it is the best way, but because they do not know any thing aboutit. For instance, nearly every one thinks that smoke is lighter thanair, when the reverse is true."

"I always had that idea," remarked Potts; "not because I knew that itwas, but somehow I got that impression. But let us have your paper,and then we will discuss it."

Franklin read his paper, which was more elaborate and exhaustive thanany thing of the kind ever published at that time. It named severaldefinite causes of smoky chimneys, and furnished a remedy for each.What is still more remarkable, it suggested a plan of a fire-place orstove, that might remedy the smoking evil of some chimneys, and savemuch fuel in all. Subsequently, he invented what is known as theFranklin stove, or fire-place, though it was sometimes called the"Pennsylvania stove." It was regarded as a very useful invention, and,for many years, was in general use.

"Apply for a patent on your stove," suggested Coleman; "there is muchmoney in it; and you ought to have it if any one."

"Not I," responded Franklin. "I am not a believer in patents. If theinvention is a real public benefit, the people should have theadvantage of it."

"Nonsense," retorted Coleman; "no one but you harbors such an idea. Ido not see why a man should not receive pay for his invention as muchas another does for a day's work."

"And there is no reason why the inventor should not give the publicthe benefit of it, if he chooses," answered Franklin. "Governor Thomasoffered to give me a patent on it, but I told him this: As we enjoygreat advantages from the invention of others, we should be glad of anopportunity to serve others by any invention of ours; and this weshould do freely and generously."

"And nobody will ever thank you for it," added Coleman.

"I don't ask them to thank me for it; I give it to them without askingone thank-you for it," replied Franklin, who was in a very happy mood.

"Well," added Coleman, "the more I see of you, the more I am satisfiedthat there is but one Ben Franklin in these parts."

In brief, we may add here, that Franklin presented the model to amember of the Junto, Robert Grace, who run a furnace, and, for manyyears, "he found the casting of the plates for these stoves aprofitable thing."

Still another enterprise which Franklin brought to the attention ofthe Junto was the founding of an Academy or University for the highereducation of youth. He wrote often and much for the Gazette upondoing more for the education of the young. At last, he prepared andprinted a pamphlet, entitled "Proposals Relating to the Education ofYouth in Pennsylvania." It was published at his own expense andgratuitously distributed, after it had been read in the Junto, wherehe disclosed his purpose.

"It is the greatest enterprise you have conceived yet," remarkedParsons, after listening to the paper, "and it will be the mostdifficult one to push forward to success, I think."

"Five thousand pounds is a great amount of money to raise," said
Breintnal. "I should not want to be the one to raise it."

"I should, if I could," retorted Franklin. "To be the author of sogreat a blessing to the young is pay enough without any salary. At anyrate, that is all the pay any man will get for such service."

"Do you propose to raise the money yourself?" inquired Coleman.

"Chiefly. I expect that interested parties may assist on that line.The fact that the enterprise is to bless their own children, gives meaccess to them at once. First of all, however, I propose to send thispamphlet, printed, to a long list of persons upon whom I shall callfor aid, after ample time for them to read and digest it has elapsed."

It is sufficient to say that Franklin successfully prosecuted hispurpose, raised all the money necessary, and the academy was founded.Scholars multiplied so rapidly that larger quarters were soondemanded; and now came into use the building which Franklin caused tobe erected for the use of Rev. Mr. Whitefield. With some alterations,it was just the building necessary to meet the wants of the popularinstitution. Franklin was glad when he secured the building forWhitefield; but he was more glad now because it could be used for the"University of Philadelphia," as his school was named afterwards.

Perhaps the Junto did not give attention to a more important measurein its whole history than that of establishing militia for publicsecurity. Franklin read a paper, having the caption, "Plain Truth," inwhich he expatiated upon the defenseless condition of Pennsylvania;that, while New England was all aglow with enthusiasm for armeddefense against foreign invasion, and some of the southern colonies aswell, Pennsylvania was utterly defenseless.

"There is not a battery, fort, or gun, on the banks of the Delaware,"he said; "not a volunteer company in the whole Province; and what isstill more alarming, not guns enough to arm one."

"Our people don't believe in resistance, you know," responded Coleman.
"Quaker influence is decidedly against shot-guns and batteries."

"And that is the trouble," retorted Franklin. "The Legislatures ofother Provinces have established public defenses; but the Quakerinfluence in the Assembly of Pennsylvania has defeated every measureof the kind."

"And will continue to do so until a French privateer seizes and sacksthis town, as one could very easily," added Parsons.

"Or a tribe of savages, so easily set on by French politicians, shallplunder and burn us," added Franklin.

"But John Penn and Thomas Penn are not Quakers, like their father, Ihave been told," remarked Potts; "and certainly the Province has nothad Quaker governors."

"That is very true; but so many of the people are Quakers that theAssembly is under their control," answered Franklin. "But I think theappearance of a privateer in the river, or an attack by a band ofblood-thirsty savages, would knock the non-resistance out of many ofthem."

"Nothing short of that will," responded Coleman; "but Franklin's planof raising a volunteer militia, and all necessary funds bysubscription, will not call out any opposition from them. I believethat many of them will be glad to have such defense if they are notexpected to engage in it."

"It is not true, even now, that all the Quakers oppose defensive war:for some of them do not; they have told me so," continued Franklin."They oppose aggressive warfare; but let a privateer come up theriver, or savages attack our town, and they will fight for their homesas hard as any of us."

"But how do you propose to reach the public, and interest them in yourplan?" inquired Maugridge.

"I shall publish the paper I have read, with some additions, suggestedby our discussion, and distribute it freely throughout the town. Atthe same time, I shall discuss it in the Gazette, and appeal toQuakers themselves, on Bible grounds, to co-operate for the publicdefense. And when they have had time to read the pamphlet and weighthe proposition, I shall call a public meeting."

"Wise again, Franklin," answered Coleman, who was delighted with theplan. "Your scheme will work to a charm; I have no doubt of it. Butjust what will you do at your public meeting?"

"Organize an 'Association for Defense,' after I have harangued theaudience upon the perils of the hour. I shall urge every man present,as he values his home and life, to join the league, of whatever sector party."

"Each man to arm himself at his own expense, I suppose?" inquired
Grace.

"As far as possible," answered Franklin; "and to raise money for abattery, I have thought of a lottery." Lotteries were generallyresorted to, at that day, for raising money.

"That scheme for raising a battery will succeed, too," said Colemanwith a smile. "I can not see why the whole thing will not carry thepublic by storm."

The plan of Franklin succeeded beyond the most sanguine expectations.His pamphlet and articles in the Gazette moved the public to greatenthusiasm. When the public meeting was called, there was a generalrush to it. It was held in the large building erected for Rev. Mr.Whitefield, and it was filled to overflowing. Twelve hundred menjoined the "Association for Public Defense" on that night, and thenumber was increased to ten thousand within a few days. Within a fewweeks, eighty companies were organized in the Province, armed, anddrilled, ready to march to any point of danger at a moment's warning.The companies in Philadelphia united to form a regiment, and Franklinwas elected Colonel—an honor which he declined because he "consideredhimself unfit," and recommended a Mr. Lawrence, who was a prominentand influential citizen.

The lottery scheme succeeded, also, and eighteen cannon were borrowedof the Governor of New York until the authorities could import therequisite number from England. Not a few Quakers approved of thesemeasures for the public defense.

In the midst of the excitement Franklin intensified the feeling, byinducing the Governor to appoint a day of fasting and prayer. Such aday had never been observed in Pennsylvania, and so the Governor andhis associates were too ignorant of the measure to undertake it alone.Hence, Franklin, who was familiar with Fast Days in Massachusetts,wrote the proclamation for the Governor, and secured the co-operationof ministers in the observance of the day.

It is claimed that Quakers often lent their influence to defensivewarfare in an indirect manner. As, for example, when the Assembly madeappropriations for the army, "for the purchase of bread, flour, wheatand other grain," the latter phrase covered gunpowder. Perhapsthis suggested to Franklin, when trying to get an appropriationthrough the Assembly, the following remark: "If we fail, let us movethe purchase of a fire-engine with the money; the Quakers can have noobjection to that; and then, if you nominate me, and I you, as acommittee for that purpose, we will buy a great gun, which iscertainly a fire-engine."

The fears of the colonists were allayed, and these warlikepreparations discontinued, when the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle wasdeclared, and signed by the British Commissioners, Oct. 7, 1748.

XXXV.

PHILOSOPHER AND STATESMAN.

"I have a proposition to make to you, an important one," remarkedFranklin to David Hall, who had worked for him four years. "Come intothe office, and I will tell you what it is."

Hall followed him into the office, wondering what the propositioncould be. When they were seated, Franklin continued:

"I must have a partner in this business; and I think you are just theman I want, if we can agree upon the terms. I desire to be releasedfrom the care of the printing office, that I may pursue my scientificstudies more thoroughly and satisfactorily."

"Your proposition is very unexpected to me, and I feel very muchflattered by it," answered Hall; "but I hardly know what to say, for Ihave no capital to put into the business."

"And you need none," interrupted Franklin. "My plan is that you takethe office just as it is, pay me one thousand pounds a year, foreighteen years, releasing me from all care of the business, and, atthe close of eighteen years, the whole business shall be yours,without further consideration."

"Well, I ought to be satisfied with that offer, if you are; it iscertainly a generous one, and I shall accept it."

"And you will get out of it three or four times the amount of yourpresent salary every year," suggested Franklin. "I mean it shall be aprofitable enterprise for you; for your long service here hassatisfied me that you are the partner I want."

This plan was carried into effect, and Franklin was no longer obligedto visit the printing office daily, whither he had been for overtwenty years. His printing and newspaper business had been veryprofitable, so that he was comparatively wealthy for that day. Hisinvestments had proved fortunate; and these, with the thousand poundsannually from Hall, and five hundred pounds from two public offices heheld, gave him an annual income of about fifteen thousand dollars,which was large for those times—one hundred and forty years ago.

"Now I can pursue my studies to my heart's content," Franklin said tohis wife. "I have only had fragments of time to devote to electricityand other studies hitherto; but now I can command time enough to makeresearch an object."

"I am very glad that you are able to make so favorable arrangements,"Mrs. Franklin replied. "You have had altogether too much on your handsfor ten years and more. You ought to have less care."

"And I have an intense desire to investigate science, especiallyelectricity," Franklin continued. "I see a wide field for research andusefulness before me. But I have time enough to prosecute my plans."

Franklin was forty-two years old at this time; and it is a singularfact that his career as a philosopher did not begin really until hehad passed his fortieth birthday. But from the time he was releasedfrom the care of the printing office, his advancement in science wasrapid. His fame spread abroad, both in this country and Europe, sothat, in a few years, he became one of the most renowned philosophersin the world. In a former chapter we described his experiment with akite, to prove that lightning and the electric fluid are identical;and this discovery established his fame as the greatest electrician ofthe world.

The Royal Society of London elected him a member by a unanimous vote,and the next year bestowed upon him the Copley medal. Yale Collegeconferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts; and HarvardUniversity did the same. Suddenly Franklin found himself the mostconspicuous character in American history—a philosopher of the mosthonored type.

Mignet said of him, "Thus all at once distinguished, the Philadelphiasage became the object of universal regard, and was abundantly loadedwith academic honors. The Academy of Sciences of Paris made him anassociate member, as it had Newton and Leibnitz. All the learnedbodies of Europe eagerly admitted him into their ranks. Kant, thecelebrated German philosopher, called him 'the Prometheus of moderntimes.' To this scientific glory, which he might have extended if hehad consecrated to his favorite pursuits his thoughts and his time, headded high political distinction. To this man, happy because he wasintelligent, great because he had an active genius and a devotedheart, was accorded the rare felicity of serving his country,skilfully and usefully, for a period of fifty years; and after havingtaken rank among the immortal founders of the positive sciences, ofenrolling himself among the generous liberators of the nations."

A few years later, the three Universities of St. Andrew's, Oxford, andEdinburgh, conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Laws. Europevied with America in tributes of honor and praise.

His electrical experiments made him the author of several usefulinventions, among which the LIGHTNING ROD was the foremost. It cameinto general use, not only in our country, but also in Europe. Thecelebrated Kinnersley wrote to him, "May this method of security fromthe destructive violence of one of the most awful powers of Naturemeet with such further success as to induce every good and gratefulheart to bless God for the important discovery! May the benefitthereof be diffused over the whole globe! May it extend to the latestposterity of mankind, and make the name of Franklin, like that ofNewton, IMMORTAL!"

Franklin did not intend to continue in political life, when he enteredinto partnership with Mr. Hall; and he so announced to his friends. Atthat time he had served as Councilman in the city, been a member ofthe General Assembly, acted as Commissioner on several importantoccasions, and served the public in various other ways; but now hedesigned to stop and devote himself entirely to scientific pursuits.

Within five years, however, he found himself more deeply involved inpolitical plans and labors than ever before. He was as wise instatesmanship as he was in philosophy; and the services of such a manwere in constant demand. The following list of public offices hefilled shows that he stood second to no statesman in the land inpublic confidence and ability in public service:

A LEGISLATOR OF PENNSYLVANIA AT TWENTY-SIX YEARS OF AGE, CONTINUED FORTWENTY YEARS.

FOUNDER AND LEADING TRUSTEE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA.

COLONEL OF MILITIA, WHICH HE ORIGINATED.

LEADER OF COMMITTEE OF PUBLIC SAFETY FOR YEARS, IN TIME OF WAR.

POSTMASTER-GENERAL.

AGENT OF PENNSYLVANIA, MASSACHUSETTS, NEW JERSEY, AND GEORGIA TO THEKING OF ENGLAND.

MINISTER TO THE COURT OF ENGLAND IN 1764.

ONE OF THE AUTHORS OF THE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS IN 1775, AND A MEMBEROF IT.

MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY TO FRANCE IN 1776.

AUTHOR OF FIRST TREATY FOR AMERICA IN 1778.

MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY TO FRANCE IN 1778.

ONE OF FIVE TO DRAFT THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

A LEADER IN THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

ONE OF THE FRAMERS OF THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES.

LIKE WASHINGTON, "FIRST IN WAR, FIRST IN PEACE, AND FIRST IN THEHEARTS OF HIS COUNTRYMEN."

Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingstonwere associated with Franklin in drafting the Declaration ofIndependence, which Congress adopted, July 4, 1776. The original draftwas by Jefferson, but it contained many interlineations in thehand-writing of Franklin. When they were signing the memorabledocument, after its passage by Congress, John Hancock remarked:

"We must be unanimous,—we must all hang together."

"Yes, if we would not hang separately," replied Franklin.

Jefferson was viewing, with evident disappointment, the mutilation ofhis draft of the Declaration in Franklin's hand-writing, when thelatter remarked:

"I have made it a rule, whenever in my power, to avoid becoming thedraftsman of papers to be reviewed by a public body. I took my lessonfrom an incident which I will relate to you. When I was ajourneyman-printer, one of my companions, an apprentice-hatter, havingserved out his time, was about to open shop for himself. His firstconcern was to have a handsome sign-board, with a proper inscription.He composed it in these words: John Thompson, hatter, makes and sellshats for ready money, with a figure of a hat subjoined. But hethought he would submit to his friends for their amendments. The firsthe showed it to thought the word hatter tautologous, becausefollowed by the words makes hats, which showed he was a hatter. Itwas struck out. The next observed that the word makes might as wellbe omitted, because his customers would not care who made the hats; ifgood and to their mind, they would buy, by whomsoever made. He struckit out. A third said he thought the words for ready money wereuseless, as it was not the custom of the place to sell on credit.Every one who purchased expected to pay. They were parted with, andthe inscription now stood: John Thompson sells hats. 'Sells hats?'says his next friend; 'why, nobody will expect you to give them away.What, then, is the use of that word?' It was stricken out, and hatsfollowed, the rather as there was one painted on the board. So hisinscription was reduced, ultimately, to John Thompson, with thefigure of a hat subjoined."

It is doubtful if American Independence would have been achieved whenit was, but for the services of Franklin at the Court of England. Hisfirst appearance there was when his fame as a philosopher was at itszenith, and the greatest men of that country sought his acquaintance.William Strahan, a member of Parliament, wrote to Mrs. Franklin, "Inever saw a man who was, in every respect, so perfectly agreeable tome. Some are able in one view, some in another, he in all."

The Tories, who meant to keep the Colonies in subjection and burdenthem with taxes, were the leaders in governmental affairs and themajority in numbers. Of course, the Colonies could not expect manyfavors from them without the mediation of their strongest statesmen;and Franklin was the one above all others on whom they depended. Hisfirst diplomatic career in England, when he was the Agent ofPennsylvania and other Colonies, lasted from 1757 to 1762. He remainedat home only a year and a half, when he was appointed "Minister toEngland," whither he went in 1764, remaining there ten years, a long,stormy period of political troubles, culminating in the Declaration ofIndependence and the American Revolution.

We have only to mention the Boston Port Bill, the Stamp Act,quartering British troops in the public buildings of Boston, and othermeasures which the Colonies considered oppressive, and eventyrannical, to show the line of Franklin's intercession in behalf ofhis countrymen, and how they came to throw off the yoke of bondage.

The Tory hatred towards Franklin was something fearful at times,exceeded only by their hatred towards the people whom he represented."I am willing to love all mankind except an American," exclaimed Dr.Johnson. And when rebuked for his unchristian disposition, "hisinflammable corruption bursting into horrid fire," says Boswell, "hebreathed out threatenings and slaughter, calling them rascals,robbers, pirates, and exclaiming that he would burn and destroy them."When Mr. Barclay hinted to Franklin that he might have almost anyplace of honor if he would consent to a certain line of action, ourloyal hero spurned the bribe, saying, "The ministry, I am sure, wouldrather give me a place in a cart to Tyburn [prison] than any otherplace whatever." He could neither be coaxed nor frightened intosubmission to the British crown.

In February, 1766, he was summoned before the House of Commons, wherehe met the enemies of his country face to face, and stood firm throughthe searching examination.

"Will the Americans consent to pay the stamp duty if it is lessened?"he was asked.

"No, never; unless compelled by force of arms," he answered.

"May not a military force carry the Stamp Act into execution?"

"Suppose a military force sent into America; they will find nobody inarms; what are they, then, to do? Then can not force a man to takestamps who chooses to do without them. They will not find arebellion; they may, indeed, make one."

"If the Stamp Act is enforced, will ill-humor induce the Americans togive as much for the worse manufactures of their own, and use them inpreference to our better ones?"

"Yes. People will pay as freely to gratify one passion asanother,—their resentment as their pride."

"Would the people of Boston discontinue their trade?"

"The merchants of Boston are a very small number, and must discontinuetheir trade, if nobody will buy their goods."

"What are the body of the people in the Colonies?"

"They are farmers, husbandmen, or planters."

"Would they suffer the produce of their lands to rot?"

"No; but they would not raise so much. They would manufacture more andplow less. I do not know a single article imported into the NorthernColonies that they can not do without, or make themselves."

To Lord Kames he said, "America must become a great country, populousand mighty; and will, in a less time than is generally conceived, beable to shake off any shackles that may be imposed upon her, andperhaps place them on the imposers."

But his labors availed nothing, although Chatham, Pitt, Burke, Fox,and others, espoused the cause of the Colonies. Affairs hastened tothe crisis of 1775, and Franklin returned to Philadelphia, reachingthat city soon after the battles of Lexington and Concord were fought,in 1776.

A few months before he left England for America, his wife died. Herdeath occurred on Dec. 17, 1774, though the sad tidings did not reachFranklin until a short time before he took passage for home.

It was at this time that his famous letter to his old English friend,William Strahan, was written, of which we are able to furnish afac-simile.

The scenes of the Revolution followed. Through the agency of Franklin,as Minister Plenipotentiary to France, the French Government formed analliance with the Colonies, and the eight years' war was waged to thesurrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown; and Freedom was achieved.

No American exerted greater influence in securing the independence ofthe Colonies than Franklin. He was one of the originators of theContinental Congress, and was the author of the plan for a Union ofthe States. On his way to the Albany Conference in 1754 he drew up aplan of Union, which he presented to said Conference, composed ofdelegates from seven Northern Colonies. Other members presented plans,but his was preferred and adopted, with some amendments, and commendedto the favorable consideration of the King and Parliament of England.Franklin's plan of Union was substantially that which, subsequently,united the thirteen States into one nation.

No name is more conspicuous in history than that of Franklin. At onetime in France, "prints, medallion portraits, and busts of him weremultiplied throughout that country." In England, the most renownedstatesmen and scholars acknowledged his abilities and praised hisremarkable career. In America, his statue was set up in halls oflearning and legislation, literary societies and institutions werefounded in his name, and numerous towns were called after him. Perhapsthe author's native town—Franklin, Mass.—was the first toappropriate his name. A few years thereafter, a nephew called hisattention to this fact, suggesting that the present of a bell from himwould be very acceptable, as the people were erecting a house ofworship. Franklin was in Passy, France, at the time, and heimmediately addressed the following letter to his old friend, Dr.Price, asking him to select and forward a library:

"PASSY, 18 March, 1785.

"DEAR FRIEND,—My nephew, Mr. Williams, will have the honor of delivering you this line. It is to request from you a list of a few books, to the value of about twenty-five pounds, such as are most proper to inculcate principles of sound religion and just government. A new town in the State of Massachusetts having done me the honor of naming itself after me, and proposing to build a steeple to their meeting-house if I would give them a bell, I have advised the sparing themselves the expense of a steeple for the present, and that they would accept of books instead of a bell, sense being preferable to sound. These are, therefore, intended as the commencement of a little parochial library for the use of a society of intelligent, respectable farmers, such as our country people generally consist of. Besides your own works, I would only mention, on the recommendation of my sister, Stennett's 'Discourses on Personal Religion,' which may be one book of the number, if you know and approve it.

"With the highest esteem and respect, I am ever, my dear friend, yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN."

The inhabitants of Franklin got sense instead of sound, and werenever sorry.

Doctor Price, in the course of a letter dated at Newington Green, June3, 1785, in which he speaks of Mr. Williams' visit, says: "I have,according to your desire, furnished him with a list of such books onreligion and government as I think some of the best, and added apresent to the parish that is to bear your name, of such of my ownpublications as I think may not be unsuitable. Should this be thecommencement of parochial libraries in the States, it will do greatgood."

The books were duly forwarded to the town of Franklin. The Rev.Nathaniel Emmons, clergyman of the parish for which the library wasdesigned, preached a sermon in commemoration of this bounty, entitled"The Dignity of Man: a Discourse Addressed to the Congregation inFranklin upon the Occasion of their Receiving from Doctor Franklin theMark of his Respect in a Rich Donation of Books, Appropriated to theUse of a Parish Library." This sermon was printed in the year 1787,with the following dedication: "To his Excellency Benjamin Franklin,President of the State of Pennsylvania, the Ornament of Genius, thePatron of Science, and the Boast of Man, this Discourse is Inscribed,with the Greatest Deference, Humility, and Gratitude, by his Obligedand Most Humble Servant, the Author."

The library contained one hundred and sixteen volumes, chieflyrelating to Government, Science, and Religion, of which about ninetyvolumes are still in a good state of preservation.

On the 17th of April, 1790, Franklin expired, mourned by a gratefulnation and honored by the world. For two years he had lived inanticipation of this event. One day he rose from his bed, saying tohis daughter, "Make up my bed, that I may die in a decent manner."

"I hope, father, that you will yet recover, and live many years,"replied his daughter.

"I hope not," was his answer.

When told to change his position in bed, that he might breathe moreeasily, he replied:

"A dying man can do nothing easy."

His sufferings were so great as to extort a groan from him at onetime, whereupon he said:

"I fear that I do not bear pain as I ought. It is designed, no doubt,to wean me from the world, in which I am no longer competent to act mypart."

To a clerical friend, who witnessed one of his paroxysms as he wasabout to retire, he said:

"Oh, no; don't go away. These pains will soon be over. They are for mygood; and, besides, what are the pains of a moment in comparison withthe pleasures of eternity?"

He had a picture of Christ on the cross placed so that he could lookat it as he lay on his bed. "That is the picture of one who came intothe world to teach men to love one another," he remarked. His lastlook, as he passed away, was cast upon that painting of Christ.

In a codicil to his will was this bequest.

"My fine crab-tree walking-stick, with a gold head, curiously wroughtin the form of a cap of liberty, I give to my friend, and the friendof mankind, George Washington. If it were a sceptre, he has meritedit, and would become it."

Philanthropist, Scholar, Philosopher, Statesman, were the titles wonby the Boston Printer Boy!

End of Project Gutenberg's From Boyhood to Manhood, by William M. Thayer