TRUE TO HIS HOME

A TALE OF THE BOYHOOD OF FRANKLIN

Books by Hezekiah Butterworth. 

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=In the Boyhood of Lincoln. =

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=The Patriot Schoolmaster;=

_Or, The Adventures of the Two Boston Cannon, the "Adams" and the"Hancock. "_ A Tale of the Minute Men and the Sons of Liberty. WithIllustrations by H. WINTHROP PEIRCE. 

The true spirit of the leaders in our War for Independence is picturedin this dramatic story. It includes the Boston Tea Party and BunkerHill; and Adams, Hancock, Revere, and the boys who bearded General Gage, are living characters in this romance of American patriotism. 

=The Knight of Liberty. =

_A Tale of the Fortunes of Lafayette. _ With 6 full-page Illustrations. 

"No better reading for the young man can be imagined than thisfascinating narrative of a noble figure on the canvas of time. "--_BostonTraveller. _

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[Illustration: LITTLE BEN'S ADVENTURE AS A POET. 

(See page 113. )]

TRUE TO HIS HOME

A Tale of the Boyhood of Franklin

BY

HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH

AUTHOR OF THE WAMPUM BELT, IN THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN, ETC. 

 The noblest question in the world is, What good may I do in it? POOR RICHARD

_ILLUSTRATED BY H. WINTHROP PEIRCE_

[Illustration]

 NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 1897

 COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 

PREFACE. 

THIS volume is an historical fiction, but the plan of it was suggestedby biography, and is made to include the most interesting andpicturesque episodes in the home side of the life of Benjamin Franklin, so as to form a connected narrative or picture of his public life. 

I have written no book with a deeper sympathy with my subject, for, although fiction, the story very truthfully shows that the goodintentions of a life which has seemed to fail do not die, but live inothers whom they inspire. Uncle Benjamin Franklin, "the poet, " who wassomething of a philosopher, and whose visions all seemed to end indisappointment, deeply influenced his nephew and godson, BenjaminFranklin, whom he morally educated to become what he himself had failedto be. 

The conduct of Josiah Franklin, the father of Benjamin Franklin, incomforting his poor old brother in England by naming his fifteenth childfor him, and making him his godfather, is a touching instance of familyaffection, to the memory of which the statesman was always true. 

Uncle Benjamin Franklin had a library of pamphlets that was very dear tohim, for in the margins of the leaves he had placed the choicestthoughts of his life amid great political events. He was very poor, andhe sold his library in his old age; we may reasonably suppose that heparted with it among other effects to get money to come to America, thathe might give his influence to "Little Ben, " after his brother hadremembered him in his desolation by giving his name to the boy. Thefinding of these pamphlets in London fifty years after the old man wascompelled to sell them was regarded by Benjamin Franklin as one of themost singular events of his remarkable life. 

Mr. Parton, in his Life of Franklin, thus alludes to the circumstance:

 A strange occurrence brought to the mind of Franklin, in 1771, a vivid recollection of his childhood. A dealer in old books, whose shop he sometimes visited, called his attention one day to a collection of pamphlets, bound in thirty volumes, dating from the Restoration to 1715. The dealer offered them to Franklin, as he said, because many of the subjects of the pamphlets were such as usually interested him. Upon examining the collection, he found that one of the blank leaves of each volume contained a catalogue of its contents, and the price each pamphlet had cost; there were notes and comments also in the margin of several of the pieces. A closer scrutiny revealed that the handwriting was that of his Uncle Benjamin, the rhyming friend and counselor of his childhood. Other circumstances combined with this surprising fact to prove that the collection had been made by his uncle, who had probably sold it when he emigrated to America, fifty-six years before. Franklin bought the volumes, and gave an account of the circumstance to his Uncle Benjamin's son, who still lived and flourished in Boston. "The oddity is, " he wrote, "that the bookseller, who could suspect nothing of any relation between me and the collector, should happen to make me the offer of them. "

It may please the reader to know that "Mr. Calamity" was suggested by areal character, and that the incidents in the life of "Jenny, "Franklin's favorite sister, are true in spirit and largely in detail. Itwould have been more artistic to have had Franklin discover UncleBenjamin's "pamphlets" later in life, but this would have been, whileallowable, unhistoric fiction. 

Says one of the greatest critics ever born in America, in speaking ofthe humble birth of Franklin:

 That little baby, humbly cradled, has turned out to be the greatest man that America ever bore in her bosom or set eyes upon. Beyond all question, as I think, Benjamin Franklin had the largest mind that has shone on this side of the sea, widest in its comprehension, most deep-looking, thoughtful, far-seeing, the most original and creative child of the New World. 

 For the last four generations no man has shed such copious good influence on America, nor added so much new truth to popular knowledge; none has so skillfully organized its ideals into institutions; none has so powerfully and wisely directed the nation's conduct and advanced its welfare in so many respects. No man has so strong a hold on the habits or the manners of the people. 

"The principal question in life is, What good can I do in the world?"says Franklin. He learned to ask this question in his home in "belovedBoston. " It was his purpose to answer this all-important question afterthe lessons that he had received in his early home, to which his heartremained true through all his marvelous career. 

This is the seventh volume of the Creators of Liberty Series of books ofhistorical fiction, based for the most part on real events, in thepurpose of presenting biography in picture. 

The former volumes of this series of books have been very kindlyreceived by the public, and none of them more generously than the lastvolume, The Wampum Belt. For this the writer is very grateful, for he isa thorough believer in story-telling education, on the Pestalozzi andFroebel principle that "life must be taught from life, " or from thehighest ideals of beneficent character. 

 H. B. 

28 WORCESTER STREET, BOSTON, MASS. , _June, 1897_. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. --THE FIRST DAY 1 II. --UNCLE BENJAMIN, THE POET 10 III. --BENJAMIN AND BENJAMIN 18 IV. --FRANKLIN'S STORY OF A HOLIDAY IN CHILDHOOD 24 V. --THE BOY FRANKLIN'S KITE 28 VI. --LITTLE BEN'S GUINEA PIG 34 VII. --UNCLE TOM, WHO ROSE IN THE WORLD 39 VIII. --LITTLE BEN SHOWS HIS HANDWRITING TO THE FAMILY 46 IX. --UNCLE BENJAMIN'S SECRET 50 X. --THE STONE WHARF, AND LADY WIGGLEWORTH, WHO FELL ASLEEP IN CHURCH 56 XI. --JENNY 70 XII. --A CHIME OF BELLS IN NOTTINGHAM 74 XIII. --THE ELDER FRANKLIN'S STORIES 78 XIV. --THE TREASURE-FINDER 83 XV. --"HAVE I A CHANCE?" 92 XVI. --"A BOOK THAT INFLUENCED THE CHARACTER OF A MAN WHO LED HIS AGE" 99 XVII. --BENJAMIN LOOKS FOR A PLACE WHEREIN TO START IN LIFE 102 XVIII. --LITTLE BEN'S ADVENTURE AS A POET 111 XIX. --LEAVES BOSTON 132 XX. --LAUGHED AT AGAIN 138 XXI. --LONDON AND A LONG SWIM 148 XXII. --A PENNY ROLL WITH HONOR. --JENNY'S SPINNING-WHEEL 160 XXIII. --MR. CALAMITY 168 XXIV. --FRANKLIN'S STRUGGLES WITH FRANKLIN 174 XXV. --THE MAGICAL BOTTLE 179 XXVI. --THE ELECTRIFIED VIAL AND THE QUESTIONS IT RAISED 186 XXVII. --THE GREAT DISCOVERY 192 XXVIII. --HOME-COMING IN DISGUISE 200 XXIX. --"THOSE PAMPHLETS" 209 XXX. --A STRANGE DISCOVERY 213 XXXI. --OLD HUMPHREY'S STRANGE STORY 220 XXXII. --THE EAGLE THAT CAUGHT THE CAT. --DR. FRANKLIN'S ENGLISH FABLE. --THE DOCTOR'S SQUIRRELS 225 XXXIII. --OLD MR. CALAMITY AGAIN 230 XXXIV. --OLD MR. CALAMITY AND THE TEARING DOWN OF THE KING'S ARMS 242 XXXV. --JENNY AGAIN 250 XXXVI. --THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. --A MYSTERY 257 XXXVII. --ANOTHER SIGNATURE. --THE STORY OF AUVERGNE SANS TACHE 267 XXXVIII. --FRANKLIN SIGNS THE TREATY OF PEACE. --HOW GEORGE III RECEIVES THE NEWS 281 XXXIX. --THE TALE OF AN OLD VELVET COAT 287 XL. --IN SERVICE AGAIN 293 XLI. --JANE'S LAST VISIT 299 XLII. --FOR THE LAST TIME 307 XLIII. --A LESSON AFTER SCHOOL 311 APPENDIX. --FRANKLIN'S FAMOUS PROVERB STORY OF THE OLD AUCTIONEER 314

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

 FACING PAGE

 Little Ben's adventure as a poet _Frontispiece_

 Uncle Benjamin's secret 52

 "Are you going to swim back to London?" 156

 A strange discovery 215

 The destruction of the royal arms 247

 Franklin's last days 295

TRUE TO HIS HOME. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE FIRST DAY. 

IT was the Sunday morning of the 6th of January, 1706 (January 17th, oldstyle), when a baby first saw the light in a poor tallow chandler'shouse on Milk Street, nearly opposite the Old South Church, Boston. Thelittle stranger came into a large and growing family, of whom at a laterperiod he might sometimes have seen thirteen children sit down at thetable to very hard and simple fare. 

"A baby is nothing new in this family, " said Josiah Franklin, thefather. "This is the fifteenth. Let me take it over to the church andhave it christened this very day. There should be no time lost inchristening. What say you, friends all? It is a likely boy, and it isbest to start him right in life at once. "

"People do not often have their children christened in church on the dayof birth, " said a lusty neighbor, "though if a child seems likely to dieit might be christened on the day of its birth at home. "

"This child does not seem likely to die, " said the happy tallowchandler. "I will go and see the parson, and if he does not object Iwill give the child to the Lord on this January day, and if he shouldcome to anything he will have occasion to remember that I thought of thehighest duty that I owed him when he first opened his eyes to thelight. "

The smiling and enthusiastic tallow chandler went to see the parson, andthen returned to his home. 

"Abiah, " he said to his wife, "I am going to have the child christened. What shall his name be?"

Josiah Franklin, the chandler, who had emigrated to Boston town that hemight enjoy religious freedom, had left a brother in England, who was anhonest, kindly, large-hearted man, and "a poet. "

"How would Benjamin do?" he continued; "brother's name. Benjamin is afamily name, and a good one. Benjamin of old, into whose sack Joseph putthe silver cup, was a right kind of a man. What do you say, AbiahFolger?"

"Benjamin is a good name, and a name lasts for life. But your brotherBenjamin has not succeeded very well in his many undertakings. "

"No, but in all his losses he has never lost his good name. His honorhas shown over all. 'A good name is rather to be chosen than greatriches, and loving favor rather than silver or gold. ' A man may getriches and yet be poor. It is he that seeks the welfare of others morethan wealth for himself that lives for the things that are best. "

"Josiah, this is no common boy--look at his head. We can not do for himas our neighbors do for their children. But we can give him a name tohonor, and that will be an example to him. How would Folger do--FolgerFranklin? Father Folger was a poet like your brother Benjamin, and hedid well in life. That would unite the names of the two families. "

John Folger, of Norwich, England, with his son Peter, came to thiscountry in the year 1635 on the same ship that bore the family of Rev. Hugh Peters. This clergyman, who is known as a "regicide, " or kingmurderer, and who suffered a most terrible death in London on theaccession of Charles II, succeeded Roger Williams in the church atSalem. He flourished during the times of Cromwell, but was sentenced tobe hanged, cut down alive, and tortured, his body to be quartered, andhis head exposed among the malefactors, on account of having consentedto the execution of Charles I. 

Among Hugh Peters's household was one Mary Morrell, a white slave, orpurchased serving maid. She was a very bright and beautiful girl. 

The passengers had small comforts on board the ship. The passage was along one, and the time passed heavily. 

Now the passengers who were most interesting to each other becameintimate, and young Peter Folger and beautiful Mary Morrell of thePeterses became very interesting to each other and very social. PeterFolger began to ask himself the question, "If the fair maid would marryme, could I not purchase her freedom?" He seems somehow to have foundout that the latter could be done, and so Peter offered himself to theattractive servant of the Peterses. The two were betrothed amid theAtlantic winds and the rolling seas, and the roaring ocean could havelittle troubled them then, so happy were their anticipations of theirlife in the New World. 

Peter purchased Mary's freedom of the Peterses, and so he bought thegrandmother of that Benjamin Franklin who was to "snatch thethunderbolts from heaven and the scepter from tyrants, " to sign theDeclaration of Independence which brought forth a new order ofgovernment for mankind, and to form a treaty of peace with England whichwas to make America free. 

Peter Folger and his bride first settled in Watertown, Mass. , where theyoung immigrant became a very useful citizen. He studied the Indiantongue. 

About 1660 the family removed to Martha's Vineyard with Thomas Mayhew, of colonial fame, where Peter was employed as a school teacher and aland surveyor, and he assisted Mr. Mayhew in his work among the Indians. He went to Nantucket as a surveyor about 1662, and was induced to removethere as an interpreter and as land surveyor. He was assigned by theproprietors a place known as Roger's Field, and later as Jethro Folger'sLane, now a portion of the Maddequet Road. Their tenth child was Abiah, born August 15, 1667. She was the second wife of Josiah Franklin, tallowchandler, of the sign of the Blue Ball, Boston, and the mother of theboy whom she would like to have inherit so inspiring a name. 

Peter Folger, the Quaker poet of the island of Nantucket, was a mostworthy man. He lived at the beginning of the dark times of persecution, when Baptists and Quakers were in danger of being publicly whipped, branded, and deported or banished into the wilderness. Stories of thecruelty that followed these people filled the colonies, and caused theQuaker's heart to bleed and burn. He wrote a poem entitled ALooking-glass for the Times, in which he called upon New England topause in her sins of intoleration and persecution, and threatened thejudgments foretold in the Bible upon those who do injustice to God'schildren. 

"Abiah, " said the proud father, "I admire the character of your father. It stood for justice and human rights. But, wife, listen:

"Brother Benjamin has lost all of his ten children but one. I pity him. Wife, listen: Brother Benjamin is poor through no fault of his, butbecause he gave himself and all that he was to his family. 

"Listen: It would touch his heart to learn that I had named this boy forhim. It would show the old man that I had not forgotten him, but stillthought of him. 

"I can not do much for the boy, but I can give Brother Benjamin a homewith me, and, as he is a great reader, he can instruct the boy by wiseprecept and a good example. If the boy will only follow brother'sprinciples, he may make the name of Benjamin live. 

"And once more: if we name the boy Benjamin, it will make BrotherBenjamin feel that he has not lost all, but that he will have anotherchance in the world. How glad that would make the poor old man! I wouldlike to name him as the boy's godfather. I do pity him, don't you? Youhave the heart of Peter Folger. "

There was a silence. 

"Abiah, what now shall the boy's name be?"

"Benjamin. "

"You have chosen that name out of your heart. May that name bring youjoy! It ought to do so, since you have given up your own wish andbreathed it out of your heart and conscience. To give up is to gain. "

He took up the child. 

"Then we will give that name to him now, and I will take the child andgo to the church, and I will name Brother Benjamin as his godfather. "

"It is a very cold day for the little one. "

"And a healthy one on which to start out in the world. There is nothinglike starting right and with a good name, which may the Lord help thischild to honor! And, Abiah, that He will. "

He wrapped the babe up warmly, and looked him full in the face. 

Josiah Franklin was a genial, provident, hard-sensed man. He probablyhad no prophetic visions; no thought that the little one given him onthis frosty January morning in the breezy town of Boston by the seawould command senates, lead courts, and sign a declaration of peace thatwould make possible a new order of government in the world, could haveentered his mind. If the boy should become a good man, with a littlepoetic imagination like his Uncle Benjamin, the home poet, he would becontent. 

He opened the door of his one room on the lower floor of his house andwent out into the cold with the child in his arms. In a short time hereturned and laid little Benjamin in the arms of his mother. 

"I hope the child's life will hold out as it has begun, " he added. "_Benjamin Franklin, day one; started right. May Heaven help him to getused to the world!_"

As poor as the tallow chandler was, he was hospitable on that day. Hedid not hold the birth of the little one--which really was an event ofgreater importance to the world than the birth of a king--as anythingmore than the simple growth of an honest family, who had left thecrowded towns and a smithy in old England to enjoy freedom of faith andconscience and the opportunities of the New World. He wished to livewhere he might be free to enjoy his own opinions and to promote a colonywhere all men should have these privileges. 

The house in which Franklin was born is described as follows:

 Its front upon the street was rudely clapboarded, and the sides and rear were protected from the inclemencies of a New England climate by large, rough shingles. In height the house was about three stories; in front, the second story and attic projected somewhat into the street, over the principal story on the ground floor. On the lower floor of the main house there was one room only. This, which probably served the Franklins as a parlor and sitting-room, and also for the family eating-room, was about twenty feet square, and had two windows on the street; and it had also one on the passageway, so as to give the inmates a good view of Washington Street. In the center of the southerly side of the room was one of those noted large fireplaces, situated in a most capacious chimney; on the left of this was a spacious closet. On the ground floor, connected with the sitting-room through the entry, was the kitchen. The second story originally contained but one chamber, and in this the windows, door, fireplace, and closet were similar in number and position to those in the parlor beneath it. The attic was also originally one unplastered room, and had a window in front on the street, and two common attic windows, one on each side of the roof, near the back part of it. 

Soon after this unprophetic event Josiah Franklin and Abiah his wifewent to live at the sign of the Blue Ball, on what was then thesoutheast corner of Hanover and Union Streets. The site of the birth ofFranklin was long made notable as the office of the Boston Post, apolitical paper whose humor was once proverbial. The site is stillvisited by strangers, and bears the record of the event which was tocontribute so powerful an influence to the scientific and politicalhistory of the world. 

Wendell Phillips used to say that there were two kinds of people in theworld--one who went ahead and did something, and another, who showed howthat thing ought to have been done in some other way. The boy belongedto the former class. 

But I doubt if any reader of this volume was ever born to so hard anestate as this boy. Let us follow him into the story land of childhood. In Germany every child passes through fairyland, but there was no suchland in Josiah Franklin's tallow shop, except when the busy mansometimes played the violin in the inner room and sang psalms to themusic, usually in a very solemn tone. 

There were not many homes in Boston at this period that had even so nearan approach to fairyland as a violin. Those were hard times forchildren, and especially for those with lively imaginations, which giftlittle Benjamin had in no common degree. There were Indians in thosetimes, and supposed ghosts and witches, but no passing clouds boreangels' chariots; there were no brownies among the wild rose bushes andthe ferns. There was one good children's story in every home--that of"Joseph" in the Bible, still, as always, the best family story in allthe world. 

CHAPTER II. 

UNCLE BENJAMIN, THE POET. 

MRS. FRANKLIN has said that she could hardly remember the time in herson's childhood when he could not read. He emerged almost from babyhooda reader, and soon began to "devour"--to use the word then applied tohis habit--all the books that fell within his reach. 

When about four years old he became much interested in stories told himby his father of his Uncle Benjamin, the poet, who lived in England, andfor whom he had been named, and who, it was hoped, would come to the newcountry and be his godfather. 

The family at the Blue Ball was quick to notice the tendencies of theirchildren in early life. Little Benjamin Franklin developed a curiousliking for a trumpet and a gun. He liked to march about to noise, andthis noise he was pleased to make himself--to blow his own trumpet. Thefamily wrote to Uncle Benjamin, the poet, then in England, in regard tothis unpromising trait, and the good man returned the following letterin reply:

 _To my Namesake, on hearing of his Inclination to Martial Affairs. July 7, 1710. _

 "Believe me, Ben, it is a dangerous trade; The sword has many marred as well as made; By it do many fall, not many rise-- Makes many poor, few rich, not many wise; Fills towns with ruin, fields with blood beside; 'Tis sloth's maintainer, and the shield of pride; Fair cities, rich to-day in plenty flow, War fills with want to-morrow, and with woe; Ruined estates, victims of vice, broken limbs, and scars Are the effects of desolating wars. "

One evening, as the tallow chandler was hurrying hither and thither inhis apron and paper cap, the door opened with a sharp ring of the bellfastened by a string upon it. The paper cap bobbed up. 

"Hoi, what now?" said the tallow chandler. 

"A letter from England, sirrah. The Lively Nancy has come in. There itis. "

The tallow chandler held the letter up to the fire, for it had been a_melting_ day, as certain days on which the melting of tallow for themolds were called. He read "Benjamin Franklin, " and said: "That'scurious--that's Brother Ben's writing. I would know that the worldover. " He put the letter in his pocket. He saw Dame Franklin lookingthrough the transom over the door, and shook his head. 

He sat down with his large family to a meal of bread and milk, and thentook the letter from his pocket and read it over to himself. 

"Ben, " said he, "this is for you. I am going to read it. As I do so, yourepeat after me the first letter of the first and of every line. Are youready? Now. 

"'_Be to thy parents an obedient son. _'"

"B, " said little Ben. 

"'_Each day let duty constantly be done. _'"

"E, " the boy continued. 

"'_Never give way to sloth, or lust, or pride. _'"

"N, father. "

"'_Just free to be from thousand ills beside. _'"

"J, father. "

"'_Above all ills be sure avoid the shelf. _'"

"A, father. "

"'_Man's danger lies in Satan, sin, and self. _'"

"M, father. "

"'_In virtue, learning, wisdom, progress make. _'"

"I, father. "

"'_Ne'er shrink at suffering for thy Saviour's sake. _'"

"N, father. I know what that spells. "

"What?"

"Benjamin. "

"'_Fraud and all falsehood in thy dealings flee. _'"

"F, " said the boy. 

"'_Religious always in thy station be. _'"

"R, father. "

"'_Adore the Maker of thy inward heart. _'"

"A, father. "

"'_Now's the accepted time, give him thy heart. _'"

"N, father; and now I can guess the rest. "

"'_Keep a good conscience, 'tis a constant friend. _'"

"K, father. "

"'_Like judge and witness this thy acts attend. _'"

"L. "

"'_In heart with bended knee alone adore. _'"

"I. "

"'_None but the Three in One forever more. _'"

"N. "

"And to whom are all these things written?"

"'To BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, ' sir. "

"Well, my boy, if you will only follow the advice of your UncleBenjamin, the poet, you never will need any more instruction. --Wife, hear this: Brother Ben writes that he is coming to America as soon as hecan settle his affairs, and when he arrives I will give over thetraining of little Ben to him. He is his godfather, and he takes a greatinterest in a boy that he has never seen. Sometimes people are drawntoward each other before they meet--there's a kind of sympathy in thisworld that is felt in ways unseen and that is prophetic. Your father wasa poet, and Uncle Ben, he is one, after a fashion. I wonder what littleBen will be!"

He put on his paper cap and opened the door into the molding-room. Thefire was dying out on the hearth, and the candles in the molds werecooling and hardening. He opened the weather door, causing the bellattached to it to ring. He stood looking out on the bowery street ofBoston town. 

On the hill rose the North Church in the shadows near the sea. A hornrent the still air. A stage coach from Salem came rolling in and stoppedat the Boston Stone, not far away. A little girl tripped down thestreet. 

"A pound of candles, sir. "

"Hoi, yes, yes, " and he took some candles out of a mold and laid them inthe scales. The girl courtesied, and the tallow chandler closed the doorwith a ting-a-ling. 

Then Josiah sat down with his family and played the violin. He loved hisbrother Benjamin, and the thought of his coming made him a happy man. 

One day the old man came. Soon after there happened a great event in thefamily. 

It was a windy night. The ocean was dashing and foaming along the seawall on the beach where Long Wharf, Lewis Wharf, and Rowe's Wharf noware. The stars shone brightly, and clouds flew scudding over the moon. 

Abiah Franklin opened the weather door and looked out. She returned toher great chair slowly with a cloud in her face. 

"It is a bad night for those on the sea, " she said. "It is now nineyears since Josiah went away. Where he found an ocean grave we shallnever know. It is hard, " she added, "to have hope leave you in this way. It is one long torture to live in suspense. There hasn't been a daysince the first year after Josiah left us that my ear has not waited tohear a knock on the door on a night like this. 

"Josiah, you may say that I have faith in the impossible, but Isometimes believe that I shall hear that knock yet. There is oneScripture that comforts me when I think that; it is, 'Commit thy wayunto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass. '"

Josiah Franklin sat silent. It was now indeed nine years since his sonJosiah had left home against his will and gone to sea--"run away tosea, " as his departure was called. It was a kind of mental distemper inold New England times for a boy "to run away and go to sea. "

There had been fearful storms on the coast. Abiah Franklin was a silentwoman when the winds bended the trees and the waves broke loudly on theshore. She thought then; she inwardly prayed, but she said little of thestorm that was in her heart. 

"I shall never see Josiah again, " at last said Josiah Franklin. "It is apity; it is hard on me that the son who bears my name should leave me, to become a wanderer. Boys will do such things. I may have made his hometoo strict for him; if so, may the Lord forgive me. I have meant to domy best for all my children. --Ben, let Josiah be a warning to you; youhave been having the boy fever to go to sea. Hear the winds blow and thesea dash! Josiah must have longed to be back by the fire on nights likethese. "

Josiah went to the window and tapped upon the pane. He did that oftenwhen his mind was troubled. To tap upon the pane eased his heartache. Itwas an old New England way. 

Josiah took his violin, tuned it, and began to play while the familylistened by the fading coals. 

"I thought I heard something, " said Abiah between one of the tunes. 

"What was it, Abiah?" asked her husband. 

"It sounded like a step. "

"That's nothing strange. "

"It sounded familiar, " she said. "Steps are peculiar. "

"Oh, I know of whom you are thinking, " said Josiah. "May the Lordcomfort you, for the winds and waves do not to-night. "

He played again. His wife grew restless. 

"Josiah, " said she when he ceased playing, "you may say that I havefancies, but I thought I saw a face pass the window. "

"That is likely, Abiah. "

"But this one had a short chin and a long nose. "

She choked, and her eyes were wet. 

There came a rap upon the door. It was a strong hand that made it; therewas a heart in the sound. 

"I'll open the door, Josiah, " said Abiah. 

She removed the wooden bar with a trembling hand, and lifted the latch. 

A tall, rugged form stood before her. She started back. 

"Mother, don't you know me?"

"Yes, Josiah, I knew that you were coming to-night. "

She gazed into his eyes silently. 

"Who told you, mother?"

"My soul. "

"Well, I've come back like the prodigal son. Let me give you a smack. You'll take me in--but how about father? I thought I heard him playingthe violin. "

"Josiah, that is your voice!" exclaimed Josiah the elder. "Now my cupof joy is full and running over. Josiah, come in out of the storm. "

Josiah Franklin rushed to the door and locked his son in his arms, butthere was probably but little sentiment in the response. 

"Now I _know_ the parable of the prodigal son, " said he. "I had onlyread it before. Come in! come in! There are brothers and sisters herewhom you have never seen. Now we are all here. "

Uncle Benjamin wrote a poem to celebrate young Josiah's return. It wasread in the family, with disheartening results. Sailor Josiah said thathe "never cared much for poetry. " The poem may be found in the largebiographies of Franklin. 

CHAPTER III. 

BENJAMIN AND BENJAMIN. 

AN old man sat by an open fire in a strange-looking room with a littleboy on his knee. Beside him was a middle-aged man, the father of theboy. 

"Brother Josiah, " said the old man, "I have had a hard, disappointedlife, but I have done the best that I could, and there has nothinghappened since my own children died and my hair turned gray that hasmade me so happy as that letter that you sent to me in England in whichyou told me that you had named this boy for me. "

"It makes me happy to see you here by my fire to-night, with the boy inyour lap, " said the father. "Benjamin and Benjamin! My heart has beentrue to you in all your troubles and losses, and I would have helped youhad I been able. How did you get up the resolution to cross the sea inyour old age?"

"Brother Josiah, it was because my own son is here, and he was all thatI had left of my own family. But that was not all. In one sense my ownlife has failed; I have come down to old age with empty hands. When yourletter came saying that you had named this boy for me, and had made mehis godfather, I saw that you pitied me, and that you had a place forme in your heart. I thought of all the years that we had passed togetherwhen we were young; of the farm and forge in Ecton; of Banbury; of thechimes of Nottingham; of all that we were to each other then. 

"I was all alone in London, and there my heart turned to you as it didwhen we were boys. That gave me resolution to cross the sea, BrotherJosiah, although my hair is white and my veins are thin. 

"But that was not all, brother; he is a poor man indeed who gives uphope. When a man loses hope for himself, he wishes to live in another. The ancients used to pray that their sons might be nobler thanthemselves. When I read your letter that said that you had named thisboy for me and had made me his godfather, you can not tell how liferevived in me--it was like seeing a rainbow after a storm. I said tomyself that I had another hope in this world; that I would live in theboy. I have come over to America to live in this boy. 

"O brother, I never thought that I would see an hour like this! I ampoor, but I am happy. I am happy because you loved me after I becamepoor and friendless. That was your opportunity to show what your heartwas. I am happy because you trusted me and gave my name to this boy. 

"Brother Josiah, I have come over to America to return your love, inteaching this boy how to live and how to fulfill the best that is inhim. A boy with your heart can succeed in life, even if he have butcommon gifts. The best thing that can be said of any man is that he istrue-hearted. Brother, you have been true-hearted to me, and the boyinherits your nature, and I am going to be true-hearted to him and todo all I can to make his life a blessing to you and the world. We do noself-sacrificing thing without fruit. "

The old man put his arm about the boy, and said:

"Ben, little Ben, I loved you before I saw you, and I love you more thanever now. I have come across the ocean in my old age to be with you. Iwant you to like me, Ben. "

"I do, uncle, " said little Ben. "I would rather be with you than withany one. I am glad that you have come. "

"That makes me happy, that makes my old heart happy. I did everything aman could do for his wife and children and for everybody. I was leftalone in London, poor; I seemed to be a forsaken man, but this makes upfor all. "

"Benjamin and Benjamin!" said the younger brother, touching the stringsof the violin that he held on his lap--"Benjamin and Benjamin! BrotherBenjamin, how did you get the money to cross the ocean?"

"I sold my goods and my pamphlets. _They_ were my life; I had put mylife into them. But I sold them, for what were they if I could have thechance to live another life in little Ben?"

"What were your pamphlets?" asked little Ben. 

"They were my life, and I sold them for you, that I might make your lifea blessing to your father, who has been a true brother to me. I willtell you the whole story of the pamphlets some day. "

"Uncle, I love you more than ever before, because you sold the treasuresfor me. I wish that I might grow up and help folks, so that my namemight honor yours. 

"You can make it that, my boy. If you will let me teach you, you maymake it that. There can nothing stand before a will that wills to dogood. It is the heart that has power, my boy. My life will not have beenlost if I can live in you. "

"I have not much time for educating my children, " said the youngerbrother. "I am going to give over the training of the boy to you. Trueeducation begins with the heart first, so as to make right ideas fixedin the mind and right habits, in the conduct. It may be little that Ican send him to school, but it is what you can do for him that will givehim a start in life. I want you to see that he starts right in life. Ileave his training to you. I have a dozen mouths to feed, and small timefor anything but toil. "

He tuned his violin and played an old English air. There were candlemolds in the room, long rows of candle wicks, great kettles, a gun, aBible, some old books, and a fireplace with a great crane, hooks, andandirons. 

Little Benjamin looked up into the old man's face and laid his hand onhis shoulder. 

"I am glad father did not forget you, " said he. 

The old man's lip quivered. 

"He has been a true brother to me. Always remember that, boy, as long asyou live. It is such memories as that that teach. His heart is true tome now as when we used to leave the forge and roam the woods of Banburytogether in springtime, when the skylark rose out of the meadows and thehedgerows bloomed. It is good for families to be so true to each other. If one member of a family lacks anything, it is good for another tomake up for it. Yes, boy, your father has a good heart, else you wouldnot now be in my arms. "

"Why do you cry, papa?" said the boy, for his father's eyes were filledwith tears which coursed down his cheeks. Something that aged Benjaminhad said about the forge, the nightingale, or the thorn had touched hisheart. 

"We can never be young again, brother, " said Josiah Franklin. "I shallnever see the thorn bloom or hear the nightingale sing as I once did. No, no, no; but I am glad that I have brought you and Ben together. Thatwould have pleased our old mother's heart, long dead and gone to theviolets and primroses. Do you suppose the dead know? I sometimes thinkthey do, and that it makes them happy to see things like these. I willtalk with the parson about these things some day. "

The younger brother smiled through his tears and straightened himselfup, as though he felt that he had yielded to weakness, for he was aplain, hard-working man. Suddenly he said:

"Brother, you remember Uncle Tom?"

"Yes, yes; he set the chimes of Nottingham ringing in the air. I canhear them ringing now in my memory. Brother, I think little Ben favorsUncle Tom. "

"Who was Uncle Tom?" asked the boy. 

"They used to say that he was a wizard. I will tell you all about himsome day. Let us listen now to your father's violin. "

The house was still, save that the sea winds stirred the crisp autumnleaves in the great trees near and the nine o'clock bell fell solemnlyon the air. A watchman went by, saying, "All is well!"

Yes, all is well in hearts like these--hearts that can pity, love, forbear, and feel. 

CHAPTER IV. 

FRANKLIN'S STORY OF A HOLIDAY IN CHILDHOOD. 

AS barren as was the early Puritan town in things that please the fancyof the child, Josiah Franklin's home was a cheerful one. It keptholidays, when the violin was played, and some pennies were bestowedupon the many children. 

Let us enter the house by the candle-room door. The opening of the doorrings a bell. There is an odor of tallow everywhere. One side is hungwith wickings, to be cut and trimmed. 

When the tallow is boiling the room is very hot, close, and theatmosphere oily. 

There is a soap kettle in the room. The odor of the lye is moreagreeable than that of the melted tallow. 

Little Ben is here, short, stout, rosy-faced, with a great head. Wherehe goes the other children go; what he does, they do. Already a littleworld has begun to follow him. 

Look at him as he runs around among the candle molds, talking like aphilosopher. Does he seem likely to stand in the French court amid thesplendors of the palace of Versailles, the most popular and conspicuousperson among all the jeweled multitude who fill the mirrored, thegolden, the blazing halls except the king himself? Does he look asthough he would one day ask the French king for an army to helpestablish the independence of his country, and that the throne would bowto him?

Homely as was that home, the fancy of Franklin after he became greatalways loved to return to it. 

In his advanced years he wished to prepare a little story or parablethat would show that people spend too much time and money on things thatcould be more cheaply purchased or that they could well do without. Hewrote out an anecdote of his childhood that illustrated in a clear way, like so many flashes, how the resources of life may be wasted. The storyhas been printed, we may safely say, a thousand times. Few stories haveever had a wider circulation or been more often quoted. It has in it apicture of his old home, and as such we must give it here. Here is theparable again, as in the original:

"When I was a child, at seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where theysold toys for children, and, being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offeredhim all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all overthe house, much pleased with my _whistle_, but disturbing all thefamily. My brothers and sisters and cousins, understanding the bargain Ihad made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the restof the money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly that I criedwith vexation, and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the_whistle_ gave me pleasure. 

"This, however, was afterward of use to me, the impression continuing onmy 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 so 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 the whistle_. 

"When I saw any one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his timein attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, andperhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, _This man gavetoo much for his whistle. _

"When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself inpolitical bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them byneglect, _He pays, indeed_, says I, _too much for this whistle. _

"If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all thepleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship for the sake of accumulatingwealth, _Poor man_, says I, _you do, indeed, pay too much for yourwhistle. _

"When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvementof mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, _Mistakenman_, says I, _you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure;you give too much for your whistle. _

"If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, allabove his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career inprison, _Alas!_ says I, _he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle. _

"When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-naturedbrute of a husband, _What a pity it is_, says I, _that she had paid somuch for a whistle!_

"In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind werebrought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value ofthings, and by their giving too much for their _whistle_. "

CHAPTER V. 

THE BOY FRANKLIN'S KITE. 

LITTLE Ben now began to lead the sports of the boys. As there came toFroebel an inspiration to found a system of education in which theplayground should be made a means of forming character when life was inthe clay, so to young Franklin came a desire to make sports and pastimesuseful. This caused him to build the little wharf in the soft marshwhence the boys might catch minnows and sail their boats. 

Boys of nearly all countries and ages have found delight in flyingkites. A light frame of wood, covered with paper, held by a long string, and raised by propelling it against the air, has always peculiarattractions for the young. To see an object rise from the earth by a lawof Nature which seems to overcome gravitation to the sky while thestring is yet in the hand, gives a boy a sense of power which exciteshis imagination and thrills his blood. 

In Franklin's time the boy who could fly his kite the highest, or whocould make his kite appear to be the most picturesque in the far-awayblue sky, was regarded as a leader among his fellows, and youngFranklin, as we may infer, made his kite fly very high. 

But he was not content with the altitude to which he could raise hiskite or its beauty in the sky. His inquiry was, What can the kite bemade to teach that is useful? What can it be made to _do_? What good canit accomplish?

Ben was an expert swimmer. After he had mastered the art of overcomingthe water, he sought how to make swimming safe and easy; and when he hadlearned this himself, he taught other boys how to swim safely andeasily. 

One day he was flying his kite on the shore. His imagination had wingsas well as the kite, and he followed it with the eye of fancy as itdrifted along the sky pulling at his fingers. 

It was a warm day, and the cool harbor rippled near, and he began tofeel a desire to plunge into the water, but he did not like to pull downhis kite. 

He threw off his clothes and dropped into the cool water, still holdinghis kite string, which was probably fastened to a short stick in hishand. 

He turned on his back in the water and floated, looking up to the kitein the blue, sunny sky. 

But something, was happening. The kite, like a sail in a boat, wasbearing him along. He was the boat, the kite high in the sky was thesail, between the two was a single string. He could sail himself on thewater by a kite in the sky!

So he drifted along, near the Mystic River probably, on that warmpleasant day. The sense of the power that he gained by thus obeying alaw of Nature filled him with delight. He could not have then dreamedthat the simple discovery would lead up to another which would enableman to see how to control one of the greatest forces in the universe. Hesaw simply that he could make the air _work_ for him, and he probablydreamed that sometime and somewhere the same principle would enable aninventor to show the world how to navigate the air. 

The kite now became to him something more than a plaything--a wonder. Itcaused his fancy to soar, and little Ben was always happy when his fancywas on the wing. 

There was a man named Jamie who liked to loiter around the Blue Ball. Hewas a Scotchman, and full of humor. 

"An' wot you been doin' now?" said Jamie the Scotchman, as the boyreturned to the Blue Ball with his big kite and wet hair. "Kite-flyingand swimming don't go together. "

"Ah, sirrah, don't you think that any more! Kite-flying and floating onone's back in the water do go together. I've been making a boat ofmyself, and the sail was in the sky. "

"Sho! How did that come about?"

"I floated on my back and held the kite string in my hand, and the kitedrew me along. "

"It did, hey? Well, it might do that with a little shaver like you. Whatmade you think of that, I would like to know? You're always thinkin' outsomethin' new. You'll get into difficulties some day, like the dog thatsaw the moon in the well and leaped down to fetch it up; he gave onehowl, only one, once for all, and then they fetched _him_ up; he hadnothing more to say. So it will be with you if you go kiting about aftersuch things, flyin' kites for boat sails. "

"But, Jamie, I think that I am the first boy that ever sailed on thewater without a boat--now don't you?"

"Well, I don't know. There's nothin' new under the sun. People like youthat are always inquirin' out the whys and wherefores of thingscommonly get into trouble. Ben, wot will ever become of you, I wonder?"

"Archimedes made water run uphill. "

"He did, hey? So he did, as I remember to have read. But he lost hislife broodin' over a lot of figers that he was drawin' on thesand--angles and triangles an' things. The Roman soldier cut him downwhen he was dreamin', and they let his tomb all grow up to briers. Doyou think, Ben, that you will ever make the river run uphill? Perhapsyou'll turn the water up to the sky on a kite string, and then we canhave rain in plantin' time. Who knows?"

He added thoughtfully:

"I wouldn't wonder, Ben, if you invented somethin' if you live. But theprospect isn't very encouragin' of your ever doin' anything alarmin'. "

"Did you ever hear what Archimedes exclaimed when he discovered the lawthat a body plunged in water loses as much of its weight as is equal tothe weight of an equal volume of the fluid, and applied it to the alloyin the king's crown?"

"No. Wot did he exclaim?"

"_Eureka! Eureka!_"

"Wot did he do that for?"

"It means, 'I have found it. '"

"Maybe you'll find out something sometime, Ben. You all run to dreamsabout such things, and some boys turn their dreams into facts, asarchitects build their imaginations and make money. But the fifteenthchild of a tallow chandler, who was the son of a blacksmith and of awoman whose mother was bought and sold, a boy whose wits are offkite-flyin' instead of wick-cuttin' and tallow-moldin', has no greatchance in the future, so it looks to me. But one can't always tell. Idon't think that you'll never get to be an Archimedes and cry out'Eureka!' But you've got imagination enough to hitch the world to a kiteand send it off among the planets and shootin' stars, no one knowswhere. I never did see any little shaver that had so much kite-flyin' inhis head as you. "

"Archimedes said that if he only had a lever long enough he would movethe world. "

"He did, hey? Well, little Ben Franklin, you just put up your kite andattend to the candle molds, and let swimmin' in the air all go. Whatevermay happen on this planet, _you'll_ never be likely to move the worldwith a kite, of all things, nor with anything else, for that matter. Soit looks to me, and I'm generally pretty far-sighted. It takes practicalpeople to do practical things. Still, the old Bible does say that 'wherethere is no vision the people perish. ' Well, I don't know--as I said, wecan not always tell--David slew a giant with a pebble stone, and you maycome to somethin' by some accident or other. I'm sure I wish you well. It may be that your uncle Benjamin, the poet, will train you when hecomes to understand you, but his thoughts run to kite-flyin' and suchthings, and he never has amounted to anything at all, I'm told. You wasnamed after him, and rightly, I guess. He would like to have been aSocrates. But the tape measure wouldn't fit his head. "

He saw a shade in the boy's face, and added:

"_He's_ going to live here, they say. Then there will be two of you, andyou could fly kites and make up poetry together, if it were not for adozen mouths to feed, which matters generally tend to bring one downfrom the sky. "

An older son of Josiah Franklin appeared. 

"James, " said Jamie, "here's your brother Ben; he's been sailin' withthe sail in the sky. He ought to be keerful of his talents. There's noknowin' what they may lead up to. When a person gets started in suchways as these there's no knowin' how far he may go. "

Brother James opened the weather door at the Blue Ball. The bell tinkledand Ben followed him in, and the two sat down to bowls of bread, sweetapples, and milk. 

"What have you been doing, Ben?" asked Brother James. 

Little Ben did not answer. He got up from the table and went awaydownhearted, with his face in his jacket sleeve. It hurt him to belaughed at, but his imagination was a comforting companion to him inhours like these. 

He could go kite-flying in his mind, and no one could see the flight. 

"One can not make an eagle run around a barnyard like a hen, " said asage observer of life. There was the blood of noble purposes in littleBen Franklin's vein, if his ancestors were blacksmiths and hisgrandmother had been a white slave whose services were bought and sold. He had begun kite-flying; he will fly a kite again one day. 

CHAPTER VI. 

LITTLE BEN'S GUINEA PIG. 

BEN loved little animals. He not only liked to have them about him, butit gave him great joy to protect them. One of his pets was a guinea pig. 

"There are few traits of character that speak better for the future of aboy than that which seeks to protect the helpless and overlooked in thebrute creation, " said Uncle Benjamin to Abiah Franklin one day. "Thereare not many animals that have so many enemies as a guinea pig. Cats, dogs, and even the hens run after the harmless little thing. I wonderthat this one should be alive now. He would have been dead but for Ben. "

Abiah had been spinning. It was a windy day, and the winds, too, hadbeen spinning as it were around the house. She had stopped to rest inher work. But the winds had not stopped, but kept up a sound like thatof the wheel. 

"You are always saying good things about little Ben, " said Abiah. "Whatis it that you see in him that is different from other boys?"

"_Personality_, " said Uncle Ben. "Look at him now, out in the yard. Hehas been protecting the pigeon boxes from the wind, and after them therabbit warren. He is always seeking to make life more comfortable foreverybody and everything. Now, Abiah, a heart that seeks the good ofothers will never want for a friend and a home. This _personality_ willmake for him many friends and some enemies in the future. The power oflife lies in the heart. "

The weather door opened, and little Ben came into the room and asked fora cooky out of the earthen jar. 

"Where's your guinea pig, my boy?" asked Uncle Benjamin. "I only see himnow and then. "

"Why do you call him a guinea pig, uncle?" asked little Ben. "He did notcome from Guinea, and he is not a pig. He came from South America, whereit is warm, and he is a covey; he is not a bit of a rabbit, and not apig. "

"Where do you keep him?" asked Uncle Benjamin. 

"I keep him where he is warm, uncle. It makes my heart all shrink up tosee the little thing shiver when the wind strikes him. It is cruel tobring such animals into a climate like this. "

"There are tens of thousands of guinea pigs, or coveys, in the landwhere they are found. Yes, millions, I am told. One guinea pig don'tcount for much. "

"But, uncle, one feels the cold wind as much as another would--as muchas each of all the millions would. "

"But, Ben, you have not answered my question. Where is the little coveynow?"

Little Ben colored red, and looked suspiciously toward the door of theroom in which his father was at work. He presently saw his father'spaper hat through the light over the door, and said:

"Let me tell you some other time, uncle. They will laugh at me if I tellyou now. "

"Benjamin, " said his mother, "we are going to have a family gatheringthis year on the anniversary of the day when your father landed here in1685. The family are all coming home, and the two Folger girls--theschoolmarms--will be here from Nantucket. You will have to take theguinea-pig box out of your room under the eaves. The Folger girls arevery particular. What would your aunts Hannah and Patience Folger, theschoolmarms, say if they were to find your room a sty for a guinea pig?"

"My little covey, mother, " said Ben. "I'll put the cage into the shop. No, he would be killed there. I'll put him where he will not offend myaunts, mother. "

Abiah Folger began to spin again, and the wheel and the wind united didindeed make a lonely atmosphere. Uncle Benjamin punched the fire, whichroared at times lustily under the great shelf where were a row of pewterplatters. 

Little Ben drew near the fire. Suddenly Uncle Ben started. 

"Oh, my eyes! what is that, Ben?"

Ben looked about. 

"I don't see anything, uncle. "

"Your coat sleeve keeps jumping. I have seen it four or five times. Whatis the matter there?"

Uncle Ben put the tongs in the chimney nook, and said:

"There is a bunch on your arm, Ben. "

"No, no, no, uncle. "

"There is, and it moves about. "

"I have no wound, or boil, nor anything, uncle. "

"There it goes again, or else my head is wrong. There! there! Abiah, stop spinning a minute and come here. "

The wheel stopped. Abiah, with a troubled look, came to the hearth andleaned over it with one hand against the shelf. 

"What has he been doing now?" she asked in a troubled tone. 

"Look at his arm there! It bulges out. "

Uncle Ben put out his hand to touch the protrusion. He laid his fingeron the place carefully, when suddenly the bunch was gone, and just thenappeared a little head outside the sleeve. 

"I told you that there was something there! I knew that there was allthe time. "

There was--it was the little covey or guinea pig. 

"What did I tell you before Ben came in?" said Uncle Benjamin. 

Little Ben did not know what his uncle had said to his mother before heopened the door; but he heard him say now mysteriously:

"It is a cold day for shelterless things. That little bunch on his armillustrates what I mean by personality. There are more guinea pigs thanone in this cold world. "

Abiah went to her wheel in silence, and it began to buzz again. 

Little Ben went into the room where his father was at work. 

The wheel stopped. 

"I do love that boy, " said Abiah, "notwithstanding all the fault theyfind with him. "

"So do I, Abiah. I'm glad that you made him my godson. All people arecommon in this world except those who have personality. He had agreat-uncle that was just like him, and, Abiah, he became a friend ofLord Halifax. "

"I am afraid that poor little Ben, after all his care of the guinea pig, will never commend himself to Lord Halifax. But we can not tell. "

"No, Abiah, we can not tell, but stranger things have happened, and suchthings begin in that way. "

CHAPTER VII. 

UNCLE TOM, WHO ROSE IN THE WORLD. 

LITTLE Ben had some reasons to dread the visits of his two stately auntsfrom Nantucket, the schoolmarms, whom his mother called "the girls. "

But one November day, as he came home after the arrival of the stagefrom Salem, he was met at the door by his uncle with the question:

"Who do you think has come?"

"I don't know, uncle. Josiah?"

"No. "

"Brother John from Rhode Island? Esther and Martha from school? Zacharyfrom Annapolis?"

"Not right yet. "

"Esther and Martha from school at Nantucket?"

"Yes; and your Aunt Hannah and Aunt Prudence have come with them, withbandboxes, caps, snuffboxes, and all. They came on the sloop. It is atime for little boys to be quiet now, and to keep guinea pigs and suchthings well out of sight. "

"How long are _they_ going to stay, uncle?"

By "they" he referred to his aunts. 

"A week or more, I guess. This will be your still week. "

"But I can not keep still, uncle; I am a boy. "

Little Benjamin went into the home room and there met his stately aunts, the school teachers. 

There was a great fire in the room, and the pewter platters shone therelike silver. His aunts received him kindly, but in a very condescendingway. They had not yet discovered any "personality" in the short, littleboy of the numerous family. 

The aunts delighted in imparting moral instruction, and they saw inlittle Ben, as they thought, a useful opportunity for such culture. 

That night the family, with the aunts from Nantucket, sat down by thegreat fire under the shining platters to hear Uncle Benjamin relate amarvelous story. Every family has one wonder story, and this was the onewonder story of the Franklin side of the family. Uncle Benjamin wishedthe two "aunts" to hear this story "on his side of the house. "

"There was only one of our family in England who ever became great, andthat was my Uncle Thomas, " he began. 

"Only think of that, little Ben, " said Aunt Hannah Folger, "only one. "

"Only one, " said Aunt Prudence Folger, "and may you become like him. "

"He was born a smith, and so he was bred, for it was the custom of ourfamily that the eldest son should be a smith--a Franklin. "

"Sit very still, my little boy, " said the two aunts, "and you shall betold what happened. He was a smith. "

"There was a man in our town, " continued Uncle Ben, "whose name wasPalmer, and he became an esquire. "

"Maybe that _you_ will become an esquire, " said Aunt Esther to Ben. 

"He became an esquire, " said Aunt Prudence. "Sit very still, and youshall hear. "

"This man liked to encourage people; he used to say good things of themso as to help them grow. If one encourage the good things which onefinds in people it helps them. It is a good thing to say good words. "

"If you do not say too many, " said Josiah Franklin. "I sometimes thinkwe do to little Ben. "

"Well, this Esquire Palmer told Uncle Tom one day that he would make agood lawyer. Tom was very much surprised, and said, 'I am poor; if I hadany one to help me I would study for the bar. ' 'I will help you, ' saidEsquire Palmer. So Uncle Tom dropped the hammer and went to school. "

"And _you_ may one day leave the candle shop and go to school, " saidAunt Esther, moralizing. 

"I hope so, " said little Ben humbly. 

"Not but that the candle shop is a very useful place, " said the otheraunt. 

"Uncle Tom read law, and began to practice it in the town and county ofNorthampton. He was public-spirited, and he became a leader in all theenterprises of the county, and people looked up to him as a great man. Everything that he touched improved. "

"Just think of that, " said Aunt Esther to Ben. "Everything that hetouched improved. That is the way to make success for yourself--helpothers. "

"May you profit by his example, Ben, " said Aunt Prudence, bobbing hercap border. 

"He made everything better--the church, the town, the public ways, thesocieties, the homes. He was a just man, and he used to say that whatthe world wanted was _justice_. Everybody found him a friend, except hewho was unjust. And at last Lord Halifax saw how useful he had become, and he honored him with his friendship. When he died, which was somefourteen years ago, all the people felt that they had lost a friend. "

The two aunts bowed over in reverence for such a character. Aunt Estherdid more than this. She put her finger slowly and impressively on littleBen's arm, and said:

"It may be that you will grow up and be like him. "

"Or like Father Folger, " added Aunt Prudence, who wished to remind UncleBenjamin that the Folgers too had a family history. 

Little Ben was really impressed by the homely story which he now heard asecond time. It presented a looking-glass to him, and he saw himself init. He looked up to his Uncle Ben with an earnest face, and said:

"I would like to help folks, too; why can I not, if Uncle Tom did?"

"A very proper remark, " said Aunt Esther. 

"Very, " said Aunt Prudence. 

"Good intentions are all right, " said Josiah Franklin. "They do to sailaway with, but where will one land if he has not got the steering gear?That is a good story, Brother Ben. Encourage little Ben here all youcan; it may be that you might have become a man like Uncle Tom if youhad had some esquire to encourage you. "

The aunts sat still and thought of this suggestion. 

Then Josiah played on his violin, and the two aunts told tales of thework of _their_ good father among the Indians of Martha's Vineyard andNantucket. 

A baby lay in Abiah Franklin's arms sleeping while these family storieswere related. It was a girl, and they had named her Jane, and called her"Jenny. "

Amid the story-telling Jenny awoke, and put out her arms to Ben. 

"The baby takes to Ben, " said the mother. "The first person that sheseemed to notice was Ben, and she can hardly keep her little eyes off ofhim. "

Ben took little Jenny into his arms. 

As Uncle Benjamin grew older the library of pamphlets that he had soldand on whose margins he had written the best thoughts of his lifehaunted him. He would sometimes be heard to exclaim:

"Those pamphlets! those pamphlets!"

"Why do you think so much of the lost pamphlets, uncle?" said littleBen. 

"Hoi, Ben, hoi! 'tis on your account, Ben. I want you to have them, Ben, and read them when you are old; and I want my son Samuel to have them, although his mind does not turn to philosophy as yours does. It tore myheart to part with them, but I did it for you. One must save or be aslave. You see what it is to be poor. But it is all right, Ben, as thebook of Job tells us; all things that happen to a man with goodintentions are for his best good. "

It was Uncle Benjamin's purpose to mold the character of his littlegodson. He had the Froebel ideas, although he lived before the time ofthe great apostle of soul education. 

"The first thing for a boy like you, Ben, is to have a definite purpose, and the next is to have fixed habits to carry forward that purpose, tomake life automatic. "

"What do you mean by _automatic_, uncle?"

"Your heart beats itself, does it not? You do not make it beat. Yourmuscles do their work without any thought on your part; so the stomachassimilates its food. The first thing in education, more thancultivation of memory or reason, is to teach one to do right, right allthe time, because it is just as the heart beats and the muscles or thestomach do their work. I want so to mold you that justice shall be thelaw of your life--so that to do right all the time will be a part ofyour nature. This is the first principle of home education. "

Little Ben only in part comprehended this simple philosophy. 

"But, uncle, " said he, "what should be my purpose in life?"

"You have the nature of your great-uncle Tom--you love to be doingthings to help others, just as he did. The purpose of your life shouldbe to improve things. Genius creates things, but benevolence improvesthings. You will understand what I mean some day, when you shall grow upand go to England and hear the chimes of Northampton ring. "

Uncle Benjamin liked to take little Ben out to sea. They journeyed sofar that they sometimes lost sight of the State House, the lions andunicorns, and the window from which new kings and royal governors hadbeen proclaimed. 

These excursions were the times that Uncle Ben sought to mold the willof little Ben after the purpose that he saw in him. He told him thestories of life that educate the imagination, that help to make fixedhabit. 

"If I only had those pamphlets, " he said on these excursions, "what ahelp they would be to us! You will never forget those pamphlets, willyou, Ben?"

CHAPTER VIII. 

LITTLE BEN SHOWS HIS HANDWRITING TO THE FAMILY. 

MR. GEORGE BROWNELL kept a writing school, and little Ben was sent tohim to learn to write his name and to "do sums. "

Franklin did indeed learn to write his name--very neatly and with thecustomary flourish. In this respect he greatly pleased the genial oldmaster. 

"That handwriting, " he said, "is fit to put before a king. Maybe it willbe some day, who knows? But, Ben, " he added, "I am sorry to say it, although you write your name so well, you are a dunce at doing yoursums. Now, if I were in your place I would make up for that. "

In picturing these encouraging schooldays in after years, BenjaminFranklin kindly says of the old pedagogue: "He was a skillful master, and successful in his profession, employing the mildest and mostencouraging methods. Under him I learned to write a good hand prettysoon, but he could not teach me arithmetic. "

One afternoon, toward evening, after good Master Brownell had encouragedhim by speaking well of his copy book, he came home with a light heart. He found his Uncle Benjamin, and his cousin, Samuel Franklin, UncleBenjamin's son, at the candle shop. 

"Uncle Benjamin, " he said, "I have something to show you; I have broughthome my copy book. Master Brownell says it is done pretty well, but thatI ought to do my sums better, and that I 'must make up for that. '"

"He is right, little Ben. We have to try to make up for our defects allour lives. Let me look at the book. Now that is what I call right goodwriting. "

"Do you see anything peculiar about it?" asked Ben. "Master Brownellsaid that it was good enough to set before a king, and that it might be, some day. "

Little Ben's big brothers, who had come in, laughed, and slapped theirhands on their knees. 

Josiah Franklin left his tallow boiling, and said:

"Let me see it, Ben. "

He mounted his spectacles and held up the copy book, turning his eyesupon the boy's signature. 

"That flourish to your name does look curious. It is all tied up, andseems to come to a conclusion, as though your mind had carried out itsoriginal intention. There is character in the flourish. Ben, you havedone well. But you must make up for your sums. --Brother Ben, that is agood hand, but I guess the sun will go around and around the world manytimes before kings ever set their eyes on it. But it will tell for sure. The good Book says, 'Seest thou a man diligent in his business----'Well, you all know the rest. I repeat that text often, so that my boyscan hear. "

Samuel Franklin, Uncle Ben's son, examined the copy book. 

"Samuel, " said Uncle Ben, "I used to write a hand something like that. Iwish that I had my pamphlets; I would show you my hand at the time ofthe Restoration. I used to write political proverbs in my pamphlets inthat way. 

"I want you, " he continued, "to honor that handwriting, and do yourmaster credit. The master has tried to do well by you. I hope thathandwriting may be used for the benefit of others; live for influences, not for wealth or fame. My life will not fail if I can live in you andSamuel here. Remember that everything that you do for others will sendyou up the ladder of life, and I will go with you, even if the daisiesdo then blow over me. 

"Ben, you and Samuel should be friends, and, if you should do well inlife, and he should do the same--which Heaven grant that he may!--I wantyou sometimes to meet by the gate post and think of me. 

"If you are ever tempted to step downward, think of me, Ben; think ofme, Samuel. Meet sometimes at the gate post, and remember all thesethings. You will be older some day, and I will be gone. "

The old man held up the copy book again. 

"'Fit to set before kings, '" he repeated. "That was a great compliment. "

Little Jane, the baby, seeing the people all pleased, held out her handsto Ben. 

"Jenny shall see it, " said Ben. He took the copy book and held it upbefore her eyes. She laughed with the rest. 

That signature was to remap the world. It was to be set to fourdocuments that changed the history of mankind. Reader, would you like tosee how a copy of it looked? We may fancy that the curious flourishfirst saw the light in Mr. Brownell's school. 

[Illustration: Handwritten:

 Philad Oct 9 1755 Your most hum Serv^t B Franklin]

CHAPTER IX. 

UNCLE BENJAMIN'S SECRET. 

LITTLE Ben was fond of making toy boats and ships and sailing them. Hesometimes took them to the pond on the Common, and sometimes to wharvesat low tide. 

One day, as he was going out of the door of the sign of the Blue Ball, boat in hand, Uncle Benjamin followed him. 

The old man with white hair watched the boy fondly day by day, and hefound in him many new things that made him proud to have him bear hisname. 

"Ben, " he called after him, "may I go too?"

"Yes, yes, Uncle Benjamin. I am going down beside Long Wharf. Let ustake Baby Jane, and I will leave the boat behind. The baby likes to goout with us. "

The old man's heart was glad to feel the heart that was in the voice. 

Little Ben took Baby Jane from his mother's arms, and they went towardthe sea, where were small crafts, and sat down on board of one of thesafely anchored boats. It was a sunny day, with a light breeze, and theharbor lay before them bright, calm, and fair. 

"Ben, let us talk together a little. I am an old man; I do not know howmany years or even days more I may have to spend with you. I hopemany, for I have always loved to live, and, since I have come to knowyou and to give my heart to you, life is dearer to me than ever. I havea secret which I wish to tell you. 

"Ben, as I have said, I have found in you _personality_. You do notfully know what that means now. Think of it fifty years from now, thenyou will know. You just now gave up your boat-sailing for me and thebaby. You like to help others to be more comfortable and happy, and thatis the way to grow. That is the law of life, and the purpose of life isto grow. You may not understand what I mean now; think of what I sayfifty years from now. 

"Ben, I have faith in you. I want that you should always remember me asone who saw what was in you and believed in you. "

"Is that the secret that you wanted to tell me, uncle?" asked littleBen. 

"No, no, no, Ben; I am a poor man after a hard life. You do pity me, don't you? Where are my ten children now, except one? Go ask the Englishgraveyard. My wife is gone. I am almost alone in the world. All brightthings seemed to be going out in my life when you came into it bearingmy name. I like to tell you this again and again. Oh, little Ben, you donot know how I love you! To be with you is to be happy. 

[Illustration: UNCLE BENJAMIN'S SECRET. ]

"One after one my ten children went away to their long rest where theEnglish violets come and go. Two after one they went, three after two, and four after three. I lost my property, and Samuel went to America, and I was told that Brother Josiah had named you for me and made meyour godfather. Then, as there was nothing but graves left for me inold England, I wished to come to America too. 

"Ben, Ben, you have heard all this before, but, listen, I must tell youmore. I wanted to cross the ocean, but I had little money for such aremoval, and I used to walk about London with empty hands and wish for£100, and my wishes brought me nothing but sorrow, and I would go to mypoor lodgings and weep. Oh, you can not tell how I used to feel!

"I had a few things left--they were as dear to me as my own heart. I amcoming to the secret now, Ben. You are asking in your mind what thosethings were that I sold; they were the things most precious of all tome, and among them were--were my pamphlets. "

The old man bowed over, and his lip quivered. 

"What were your pamphlets, uncle? You said that you would explain to mewhat they were. "

"Ben, there are some things that we come to possess that are a part ofourselves. Our heart goes into them--our blood--our life--our hope. Itwas so with my pamphlets, Ben. This is the secret I have to tell. 

"I loved the cause of the Commonwealth--Cromwell's days. In the lastdays of the Commonwealth, when I had but little money to spare, I usedto buy pamphlets on the times. When I had read a pamphlet, thoughtswould come to me. I did not seem to think them; they came to me, and Iused to note these thoughts down on the margins of the leaves in thepamphlets. Those thoughts were more to me than anything that I ever hadin life. "

"I would have felt so too, uncle. "

"Years passed, and I had a little library of pamphlets, the marginsfilled with my own thoughts. Poetry is the soul's vision, and I wrote mypoetry on those pamphlets. Ben, oh, my pamphlets! my pamphlets! Theywere my soul; all the best of me went into them. 

"Well, Ben, times changed. King Charles returned, and the Commonwealthvanished, but I still added to my pamphlets for years and years. Then Iheard of you. I always loved Brother Josiah, and my son was on this sideof the water, and the longing grew to sail for America, where my heartthen was, as I have told you. "

"I see how you felt, uncle. "

"I dreamed how to get the money; I prayed for the money. One day aLondon bookseller said to me: 'You have been collecting pamphlets. Haveyou one entitled Human Freedom'? I answered that I had, but that it wascovered with notes. He asked me to let him come to my lodgings and readit. He came and looked over all my pamphlets, and told me that a part ofthe collection had become rare and valuable; that they might have avalue in legal cases that would arise owing to the change in the times. He offered to buy them. I refused to sell them, on account of what I hadwritten on the margins of the leaves. What I wrote were my revelations. 

"He went away. Then my loneliness increased, and my longing to come toAmerica. I could sell my valuables, and among them the pamphlets, andthis would give me money wherewith to make the great change. "

"You sold them, uncle?"

"When I thought of Brother Josiah, I was tempted to do it. But I atfirst said 'No. ' When I heard that my son was making a home for himselfhere, I again was tempted to do it. But I said, 'No. ' I could not sellmyself. 

"Then there came a letter from Brother Josiah. It said: 'I have anotherson. We have named him Benjamin, after you. We have named you as hisgodfather. '

"Then I sat down on the side of the bed in my room, and the tears fell. 

"'_We have named him Benjamin_'--how those words went to my heart!"

"It was the first time that you ever heard of me, wasn't it, uncle?"

"Yes, yes; it makes me happy to hear you say that. And you will neverforget me, will you, Ben?"

"Never, uncle, if I live to be eighty years old! But, uncle, you soldthe pamphlets!"

"Yes. When I read your name in Josiah's letter I felt a weight liftedfrom my mind. I said to myself that I would part with myself--that is, the pamphlets--for you. "

"Did you sell them for me, uncle?"

"Yes, I sold them for you, Benjamin. "

"What was the man's name that bought them, uncle?"

"I hoped that you would ask me that. His name was Axel. Repeat it, Ben. "

"Axel. "

"It is a hard name to forget. "

"I shall never forget it, uncle. "

"Ben, you may go to London sometime. "

"We are all poor now. "

"But you have _personality_, and people who look out for others areneeded by others for many things. Maybe they will sometime send youthere. "

"Who, uncle?"

"Oh, I don't know. But if ever you should go to London, go to all theold bookstores, and what name will you look for?"

"Axel, uncle. "

"Ben, those are not books; they are myself. I sold myself when I soldthem--I sold myself for you. Axel, Ben, Axel. "

Little Ben repeated "Axel, " and wondered if he would ever see London ormeet with his uncle in those pamphlets which the latter claimed to behis other self. 

"Axel, " he repeated, pinching Baby Jane's cheek. Baby Jane laughed inthe sunlight on the blue sea when she saw the excitement in Ben's face. 

The tide was coming in, the boat was rocking, and Ben said:

"We must go home now, for Jenny's sake. "

CHAPTER X. 

THE STONE WHARF, AND LADY WIGGLEWORTH, WHO FELL ASLEEP IN CHURCH. 

Did little Ben's trumpet and gun indicate that he would become astatesman whose cause would employ armies? We do not know. The free willof a boy on the playground is likely to present a picture of his leadingtraits of character. In old New England days there was a custom oftesting a child's character in a novel way. A bottle, a coin, and aBible were laid on the floor at some distance apart to tempt the noticeof the little one when he first began to creep. It was supposed that theone of the three objects that he crept toward and seized upon wasprophetic of his future character--that the three objects representedworldly pleasure, the seeking for wealth, and the spiritual life. 

Franklin's love for public improvements was certainly indicated in hisearly years. He liked the water and boats, and he saw how convenient alittle wharf near his house would be; so he planned to build one, andlaid his plans before his companions. 

"We will build it of stone, " he said. "There are plenty of stones nearthe wharf. "

"But the workmen there would not let us have them, " said a companion. 

"We will take them after they have gone from their work. We can buildthe wharf in a single evening. The workmen may scold, but they will notscold the stone landing out of the water again. "

One early twilight of a long day the boys assembled at the place chosenby young Franklin for his wharf, and began to work like beavers, andbefore the deep shadows of night they had removed the stones to thewater and builded quite a little wharf or landing. 

"We can catch minnows and sail our boats from here now, " said youngFranklin as he looked with pride on the triumphs of his plan. "All theboys will be free to use this landing, " he thought. "Won't it make thepeople wonder!"

It did. 

The next morning the weather door of the thrifty tallow chandler openedwith a ring. 

"Josiah Franklin, where is that boy of yours?" asked a magistrate. 

The paper cap bobbed up, and the man at the molds bent his head forwardwith wondering eyes. 

"Which boy?"

"Ben, the one that is always leading other boys round. "

"I dunno. He's making a boat--or was. --Benjamin!" he called; "I say, Benjamin!"

The door of the living room opened, and little Ben appeared. 

"Here's a man who has come to see you. What have you been doing now?"

"Boy, " said the man--he spoke the word so loudly that the little boyfelt that it raised him almost to the dignity of a man. 

"What, sir?" gasped Ben, very intelligent as to what would follow. 

"Did you put those stones into the water?"

"Yes, sir. "

"What did you do that for?"

"To make a wharf, sir. "

"'To make a wharf, sir!' Didn't you have the sense to know that thosestones were building stones and belonged to the workmen?"

"No, sir; I didn't know that they belonged to any one. I thought thatthey belonged to everybody. "

"You did, you little rascal! Then why did you wait to have the workmengo away before you put them into the water?"

"The workmen would have hindered us, sir. They don't think thatimprovements can be made by little shavers like us. I wanted to surprisethem, sir--to show them what we could do, sir. "

"Benjamin Franklin, " said Josiah, "come here, and I will show you what Ican do. --Stranger, the boy's godfather has come to live with us and totake charge of him, and he does need a godfather, if ever a striplingdid. "

Josiah Franklin laid his hand on the boy, and the workman went away. Thefather removed the boy's jacket, and showed him what he could do, thememory of which was not a short one. 

"I did not mean any harm, father, " young Benjamin said over and over. "It was a mistake. "

"My boy, " said the tallow chandler, softening, "never make a secondmistake. There are some people who learn wisdom from their firstmistakes by never making second mistakes. May you be one of them. "

"I shall never do anything that I don't think is honest, father. Ithought stones and rocks belonged to the people. "

"But there are many things that belong to the people in this world thatyou have no right to use, my son. When you want to make any more publicimprovements, first come and talk with me about them, or go to yourUncle Ben, into whose charge I am going to put you--and no small job hewill have of it, in my thinking!"

Benjamin Franklin said, when he was growing old and was writing his ownlife, that his father _convinced_ him at the time of this event that"that which is not honest could not be useful. "

We can see in fancy his father with a primitive switch thus _convincing_him. He never forgot the moral lesson. 

Where was Jamie the Scotchman during this convincing episode? When heheard that the little wharf-builder, bursting with desire for publicimprovement, had fallen into disgrace, he came upon him slyly:

"So you've been building a wharf for the boys of the town. When onebegins so soon in life to improve the town, there can be no telling whathe will do when he grows up. Perhaps you will become one of the greatbenefactors of Boston yet. Who knows?"

"We can't tell, " said the future projector of Franklin Park, philosophically. 

"No, that is a fact, bubby. Take your finger out of your mouth and go tocutting candle wicks. It must make a family proud to have in it such apromising one as you! You'll be apt to set something ablaze some day ifyou keep on as you've begun. "

He did. 

Jamie the Scotchman went out, causing the bell on the door to ring. Hewhistled lustily as he went down the street. 

Little Benjamin sat cutting wicks for the candle molds and wondering atthe ways of the world. He had not intended to do wrong. He may havethought that the stones, although put aside by the workmen, were commonproperty. He had made a mistake. But how are mistakes to be avoided inlife? He would ask his Uncle Benjamin, the poet, when he should meethim. It was well, indeed, never to make a _second_ mistake, but betternot to make any mistake at all. Uncle Benjamin was wise, and could writepoetry. He would ask him. 

Besides Jamie the Scotchman, who spent much time at the Blue Ball, little Benjamin's brother James seems to have looked upon him as onewhose activities of mind were too obvious, and needed to be suppressed. 

The evening that followed the disgrace of little Ben was a serious onein the Franklin family. Uncle Ben had "gone to meeting" in the Old SouthChurch. 

The shop, with its molded candles, dipped candles, ingot bars of soap, pewter molds, and kettles, was not an unpleasant place in the evening, and old sea captains used to drop in to talk with Josiah, and sometimesthe leading members of the Old South Church came to discuss churchaffairs, which were really town affairs, for the church governed thetown. 

On this particular night little Ben sat in the corner of the shop veryquietly, holding little Jane as usual. The time had come for a perfectcalm in his life, and he himself was well aware how becoming was silencein his case. 

Among those who used to come to the shop evenings to talk with Josiahand Uncle Ben, the poet, was one Captain Holmes. He came to-night, stamping his feet at the door, causing the bell to ring very violentlyand the faces of some of the Franklin children to appear in the windowframed over the shop door. How comical they looked!

"Where's Ben to-night?" asked Captain Holmes. 

Little Ben's heart thumped. He thought the captain meant _him_. 

"He's gone to meetin', " said Josiah. "Come, sit down. Ben will be athome early. "

Little Ben's heart did not beat so fast now. 

"Where's that boy o' yourn?" asked the captain. 

Ben's heart began to beat again. 

"There, in the corner, " said Josiah, with a doubtful look in his face. 

"He'll be given to making public improvements when he grows up, " saidthe captain. "But I hope that he will not take other people's propertyto do it. If there is any type of man for whom I have no use it is hewho does good with what belongs to others. "

The door between the shop and the living room opened, and the grieved, patient face of Abiah appeared. 

"Good evening, Captain Holmes, " said Abiah. "I heard what you said--howcould I help it?--and it hurt me. No descendant of Peter Folger willever desire to use other people's property for his own advantage. Benwon't. "

"That's right, my good woman, stand up for your own. Every drop of anEnglish exile's blood is better than its weight in gold. "

"Ben is a boy, " said Abiah. "If he makes an error, it will be followedby a contrite heart. "

Little Ben could hear no more. He flew, as it were, up to the garretchamber and laid down on the trestle bed. A pet squirrel came to comforthim or to get some corn. He folded the squirrel in his bosom. 

Ting-a-ling! It was Uncle Ben, the poet, whose name he had disgraced. Hecould endure no more; he began to sob, and so went to sleep, his littlesquirrel pitying him, perhaps. 

There was another heart that pitied the boy. It was Uncle Ben's. PoorUncle Ben! He sleeps now at the side of the Franklin monument in theGranary burying ground, and we like to cast a kindly glance that way aswe pass the Park Street Church on Tremont Street, on the west side. Itis a good thing to have good parents, and also to have a good uncle witha poetic mind and a loving heart. 

There was one trait in little Benjamin's character that Josiah Franklinsaw with his keen eye to business, and it gave him hope. He wasdiligent. One of Josiah Franklin's favorite texts of Scripture was, "Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings;he shall not stand before mean men. " This text he used to often repeat, or a part of it, and little Ben must have thought that it applied tohim. Hints of hope, not detraction, build a boy. 

Jamie the Scotchman had little expectation that puttering Ben would ever"stand before kings. " Not he. He had not that kind of vision. 

"Ah, boy, I could tell you a whole history of diligent boys who not onlycame to stand before kings, but who overturned thrones; and he whodiscrowns a king is greater than a king, " said he one day. "Think whatyou might become. "

"Maybe I will. "

"Will what?"

"Be some one in the world. "

"Sorry a boy you would make to 'stand before kings, ' and I don't thinkyou'll ever be likely to take off the crown from anybody. So your poorold father might as well leave that text out of the Scriptures. Thereare no pebbles in your sling of life. If there were, wonders would nevercease. You are just your Uncle Ben over again. I'm sorry for ye, and forall. "

Little Ben looked sorry too, and he wondered if there really were in thetext something prophetic for him, or if Jamie the Scotchman were thetrue seer. But many poor boys had come to stand before kings, and somesuch boys had left tyrants without a crown. 

Jamie the Scotchman thought that he had the gift of "second sight, " asa consciousness of future events was called, but he usually saw shadows. He liked to talk to himself, walking with his hands behind him. 

After his dire prophecy concerning the future of little Ben he walkeddown to Long Wharf with Uncle Benjamin, talking to himself for thelatter to hear. 

"Ye can't always tell, " said he; "I didn't speak out of the true inwardspirit when I said those things. It hurt the little shaver to tell himthere was no future in him; I could see it did. The boy has a curiousway of saying wise things; such words fly out of his mouth like swallowsfrom a cave. If I were to take up a dead brand in the blacksmith's shopand he was around, as he commonly is, he would say, 'The more you handlea burned stick the smuttier you become'; or if I were to pick up ahorseshoe there, and say, 'For the want of a nail the shoe was lost, ' hewould answer, 'And for want of a shoe the horse was lost. ' Then, after atime, he would add, 'For want of a horse the rider was lost, ' and so on. His mind works in that way. Maybe he'll become a philosopher. Philosophers stand before kings. I now have the true inner sight andopen vision. I can see a streak of light in that curious gift of his. But blood tells, and his folks on his father's side were blacksmithsover in England, and philosophers don't come from the forge more'neagles do from the hen yard. 

"I said what I did to stimulate him. It cut the little shaver to thequick, didn't it? Now he wouldn't have been so cut if there had beennothing there. The Lord forgive me if I did wrong!"

He walked down the wharf to the end. Beyond lay the blue harbor and thegreen islands. The town had only some ten thousand inhabitants then, butseveral great ships lay in the harbor under the three hills, two ofwhich now are gone. 

The harbor was girded with oaks and pines. Here and there a giant elm, still the glory of New England, lifted its bowery top like a cathedralamid towns of trees. Sea birds screamed low over the waters, and ospreyswheeled high in the air. 

Jamie the Scotchman had not many things to occupy his thoughts, so hesat down to wonder as to what that curious Franklin boy might become. 

A new thought struck him. 

"He has French blood in him--the old family name used to be Franklein, "he said to himself. "Now what does that signify? French blood is gentle;it likes to be free. I don't see that it might not be a good thing tohave; the French like to find out things and give away to others whatthey discover. "

A shell fell into the water before him from high in the air. The waterspouted up, causing an osprey to swoop down, but to rise again. 

Jamie the Scotchman turned his head. 

"You, Ben? You follow me 'round everywhere. What makes ye, when I treatye so?"

"If a boy didn't hope for anything he would never have the heartache. "

"True, true, my boy; and what of that?"

"I would rather expect something and have the heartache. "

"No one ever misses his expectations who looks for the heartache in thisworld. But what queer turns your mind does take, and what curiousquestions you do ask! Let us return to the Blue Ball. "

They did, through winding streets, one or more of which were said tofollow the wanderings of William Blackstone's cow from the Common. Boston still follows the same interesting animal. 

There were windmills on the hills and tidemills near the water. Therewas a ferryboat between Boston and Charlestown, and on the now Chelseaside was the great Rumney Marsh. On the Common, which was a pasture, wasa branching elm, a place of executions. Near it was a pond into whichhad been cast the Wishing Stone around which, it was reported, that ifone went three times at night and repeated the Lord's Prayer _backward_at each circuit one might have whatever he wished for. Near the pond andthe great tree were the Charles River marshes. Such was Boston in1715-'20. 

Little Ben went to the South Church on Sundays, and the tithingman wasthere. The latter sat in the gallery among the children with his longrod, called the tithing stick, with which he used to touch or correctany boy or girl who whispered in meeting, who fell asleep, or whomisbehaved. Little Ben must have looked from the family pew in awe atthe tithingman. The old-time ministers pictured the Lord himself asbeing a kind of a tithingman, sitting up in heaven and watching out forthe unwary. Good Josiah Franklin governed the conduct of the childrenin his own pew. You may be sure that none of them whispered there orfell asleep or misbehaved. 

The tithingman, who was a church constable, was annually elected to keeppeace and order in the church. In England he collected tithes, or atenth part of the parish income, which the people were supposed, afterthe Mosaic command, to offer to the church. He sometimes wore a peculiardress; he was usually a very solemn-looking man, the good man of whomall the children, and some of the old women, stood in terror. 

A crafty man was the tithingman in the pursuit of his duties. He was onthe watch all the time, and, as suspicion breeds suspicion, so thechildren were on the watch for him. The sermons were long, the hourglasswas sometimes twice turned during the service, and the children oftenkept themselves awake by looking out for the tithingman, who waswatching out for them. This was hardly the modern idea of heart cultureand spiritual development, but the old Puritan churches made strong menwho faced their age with iron purposes. 

We said that the tithingman was sometimes a terror to old women. Why washe so? It was sweet for certain good old people to sleep in church, andhis duties extended to all sleepers, young and old. But he did not smitethe good old ladies with a stick. In some churches, possibly in thisone, he carefully tickled their noses with a feather. This led to agentle awakening, very charitable and kindly. 

It is a warm summer day. Josiah Franklin's pew is crowded, and littleBen has gone to the gallery to sit among the boys. Uncle Ben, the poet, is there, for he sees that the family pew is full. 

How can little Ben help whispering now, when the venerable poet is byhis side and will not harshly reprove him, and when so many littlethings are happening that tempt him to share his thoughts with hisamiable godfather?

But he restrained himself long and well. 

In her high-backed pew, provided with the luxury of the cushion, satfine old Lady Wiggleworth, all in silks, satins, and plumes. Little Ben, looking over the gallery rail, saw that my lady's plumes nodded, and hegently touched Uncle Ben and pointed down. Suddenly there came a tap ofthe tithing stick on his head, and he was in disgrace. He looked verysolemn now; so did Uncle Ben. It was a solemn time after one had beentouched by the tithing rod. 

But the tithingman had seen Lady Wiggleworth's nodding plumes. Could itbe possible that this woman, who was received at the Province House, hadlost her moral and physical control?

If such a thing had happened, he must yet do his duty. He would havedone that had the queen been there. The law of Heaven makes noexception, nor did he. 

He tiptoed down the stair and stood before the old lady's pew. All herplumes were nodding, something like the picture of a far ship in arolling sea. My lady was asleep. 

The tithingman's heart beat high, but his resolution did not falter. Ifit had, it would soon have been restored, for my lady began to snore. 

Gently, very gently, the tithingman took from his side pocket afeather. He touched with it gently, very gently, a sensitive part of theoblivious old lady's nose. She partly awoke and brushed her nose withher hand. But her head turned to the other side of her shoulders, andshe relapsed into slumber again. 

The sermon was still beating the sounding-board, and a more vigorousduty devolved upon the tithingman. 

He pushed the feather up my lady's nose, where the membrane was moresensitive and more quickly communicated with the brain. He did thisvigorously and more vigorously. It was an obstinate case. 

"Scat!"

The tithingman jumped. My lady opened her eyes. The sermon was stillbeating the sounding-board, but she was not then aware that she, too, had spoken in meeting. 

There were some queer church customs in the days of Boston town. 

CHAPTER XI. 

JENNY. 

JENNY FRANKLIN, the "pet and beauty of the family, " Benjamin's favoritesister, was born in 1712, and was six years younger than he. 

"My little Jenny, " said Josiah, "has the Franklin heart. " Little Benfound that heart in her baby days, and it was true to him to the end. 

Uncle Benjamin had entertained such large hopes of the future of littleBen since the boy first sent to him a piece of poetry to England, thathe wrote of him:

 "For if the bud bear grain, what will the top?"

and again:

 "When flowers are beautiful before they're blown, What rarities will afterward be shown! If trees good fruit un'noculated bear, You may be sure't will afterward be rare. If fruits are sweet before they've time to yellow, How luscious will they be when they are mellow!"

He also saw great promise in bright little Jenny, who had heart full ofsympathy and affection. Jenny, Ben, and Uncle Benjamin became one inheart and companionship. 

Beacon Hill was a lovely spot in summer in old Boston days. Below it wasthe Common, with great trees and winding ways. It commanded a view ofthe wide harbor and far blue sea. It looked over a curve of the riverCharles, and the bright shallow inlet or pond, where the Boston andMaine depot now stands, that was filled up from the earth of the fineold hillside. The latter place may have been the scene of Ben's bridge, which he built in the night in a forbidden way. The place is notcertainly known. 

Uncle Benjamin, one Sunday after church, took Ben and little Jenny, whowas a girl then, to the top of the hill. It was a showery afternoon insummer--now bright, now overcast--and all the birds were singing on theCommon between the showers. 

In one of the shining hours between the showers they sat down under anancient forest tree, and little Jenny rested her arms on one of theknees of Uncle Benjamin, and Ben leaned on the other. The old man lookeddown on the harbor, which was full of ships, and said:

"I wish I had my sermons that I left behind. I would read one of them toyou now. "

"I would rather hear you talk, " said Ben, with conscientious frankness. 

"So would I, " said Jenny, who thought that Ben was a philosopher even atthis early age, and who echoed nearly everything that he said. 

"Look over the harbor, " said the old man. "There are more and more shipscoming in every year. This is going to be a great city, and America willbecome a great country. Ben, I hope there will never be any wars on thisside of the water. War is sloth's maintainer, and the shield of pride;it makes many poor and few rich, and fewer wise. [A] Ben, this is goingto be a great country, and I want you to be true to the new country. "

"I will always be true to my country, " said Ben. 

"And I will be true to my home, " said little Jenny. 

"So you will, so you will, my darling little pet; I can see that, " saidUncle Benjamin. 

Ben was so pleased at his echo that he put his arm around his sister'sneck and kissed her many times. 

The old man's heart was touched at the scene. He thought of his lostchildren, who were sleeping under the cover of the violets now. 

"It is going to rain again, " he said. "The robins are all singing, andwe will have to go home. But, children, I want to leave a lesson in yourminds. Listen to Uncle Ben, whose heart is glad to see you so lovingtoward each other and me. 

"_More than wealth, more than fame, more than anything, is the power ofthe human heart, and that power is developed by seeking the good ofothers. _ Live for influences that multiply, and for the things thatlive. Now what did I say, Ben?"

"You said that more than wealth, more than fame, more than anything, wasthe power of the human heart, and that that power was developed inseeking the good of others. "

"That's right, my man. --Now, Jenny, what did I say?"

"I couldn't repeat all those big words, uncle. "

"Well, you lovely little _creeter_, you; you do not need to repeat it;you know the lesson already; it was born in you; you have the Franklinheart!"

"Beloved Boston, " Franklin used to say when he became old. What wonder, when it was associated with memories like these!

FOOTNOTE:

[A] The old man's own words to Benjamin on war. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A CHIME OF BELLS IN NOTTINGHAM. 

SOME time after Uncle Benjamin, who became familiarly known as UncleBen, had revealed to little Ben his heart's secret, and how that he hadfor his sake sold his library of pamphlets, which was his other self, the two again went down to the wharves to see the ships that had comein. 

They again seated themselves in an anchored boat. 

"Ben, " said Uncle Benjamin, "I have something more on my mind. I did nottell you all when we talked here before. You will never forget what Itold you--will you?"

"Never, uncle, if I live to be old. My heart will always be true toyou. "

"So it will, so it will, Ben. So it will. I want to tell you somethingmore about your Great-uncle Thomas. You favor him. Did any one ever tellyou that the people used to think him to be a wizard?"

"No, no, uncle. You yourself said that once. What is a wizard?"

"It is a man who can do strange things, no one can tell how. They cometo him. "

"But what made them think him a wizard?"

"Oh, people used to be ignorant and superstitious, like Reuben of theMill, your father's old friend and mine. There was an inn called theWorld's End, at Ecton, near an old farm and forge. The people used togather there and tell stories about witches and wizards that would havemade your flesh creep, and left you afraid to go to bed, even with aguinea pig in your room. 

"Your Great-uncle Thomas was always inventing things to benefit thepeople. At last he invented a way by which it might rain and rain, andthere might be freshets and freshets, and yet their meadows would not beoverflown. The water would all run off from the meadows like rain from aduck's back. He made a kind of drain that ran sideways. Now the piousBrownites thought that this was flying in the face of Providence, andpeople began to talk mysteriously about him at the World's End. 

"But it was not that which I have heavy on my mind or light on my mind, for it is a happy thought. There are not many romantic things in ourfamily history. The Franklins were men of the farm, forge, and fire. Butthere was one thing in our history that was poetry. It was this--listennow. 

"What was the name of that man to whom I sold the pamphlets?" he askedin an aside. 

"Axel. "

"That is right--always remember that name--Axel. 

"Now listen to that other thing. Your uncle, or great-uncle Thomas, started a subscription for a chime of bells. The family all lovedmusic--that is what makes your father play the violin. Your Great-uncleThomas loved music in the air. You may be able to buy a spinet for Jennysome day. 

"Now your Great-uncle Thomas's soul is, as it were, in those chimes ofNottingham. I pray that you may go to England some day before you dieand hear the chimes of Nottingham. You will hear a part of your ownfamily's soul, my boy. It is the things that men do that live. If youever find the pamphlets, which are myself--myself that is gone--you willread in them my thoughts on the Toleration Act, and on Liberty, and onthe soul, and the rights of man. What was the man's name?"

"Axel. "

"Right. "

Little Jenny, who loved to follow little Ben, had come down to the wharfto hear "Uncle Benjamin talk. " She had joined them in the boat on thesunny water. She had become deeply interested in Uncle Tom and thechimes of Nottingham. 

"Uncle Ben, " she asked, "was Uncle Tom ever laughed at?"

"Yes, yes; the old neighbors who would hang about the smithy used tolaugh at him. They thought him visionary. Why did you ask me that?"

"What makes people who come to the shop laugh at Ben? It hurts me. Ithink Ben is real good. He is good to me, and I am always going to begood to him. I like Ben better than _almost_ anybody. "

"A beneficent purpose is at first ridiculed, " said Uncle Benjamin. 

Little Ben seemed to comprehend the meaning of this principle, but the"big words" were lost on Jenny. 

"He whose good purpose is laughed at, " said Uncle Benjamin, "will belikely to live to laugh at those who laughed at him if he so desired;but, hark! a generous man does not laugh at any one's right intentions. Ben, never stop to answer back when they laugh at you. Life is tooshort. It robs the future to seek revenge. "

Uncle Benjamin was right. 

Did little Ben heed the admonition of his uncle on this bright day inBoston, to follow beneficence with a ready step, and not to stop to"answer back"? Was little Jenny's heart comforted in after years infinding Ben, who was so good to her now, _commended_? We are to follow afamily history, and we shall see. 

As the three went back to the Blue Ball, Ben, holding his uncle by theone hand and Jane by the other, said:

"I do like to hear Jane speak well of me, and stand up for me. I caremore for that than _almost_ any other thing. "

"Well, live that she may always speak well of you, " said Uncle Benjamin;"so that she may speak well of you when you two shall meet for the lasttime. "

"Uncle, " said Jenny, "why do you always have something solemn to say?Ben isn't solemn, is he?"

"No, my girl, your brother Ben is a very lively boy. You will have tohold him back some day, I fear. "

"No, no, uncle, I shall always push him on. He likes to go ahead. I liketo see him go--don't you?"

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE ELDER FRANKLIN'S STORIES. 

PETER FOLGER, Quaker, the grandfather of Benjamin Franklin, was one ofthose noblemen of Nature whose heart beat for humanity. He had beenassociated in the work of Thomas Mayhew, the Indian Apostle, who was theson of Thomas Mayhew, Governor of Martha's Vineyard. The younger Mayhewgathered an Indian church of some hundred or more members, and theIndians so much loved him that they remained true to him and theirchurch during Philip's war. 

What stories Abiah Franklin could have told, and doubtless did tell, ofher old home at Nantucket!--stories of the true hearts of the pioneers, of people who loved others more than themselves, and not like thesea-rovers who at this time were making material for the Pirate's OwnBook. 

Josiah, too, had his stories of Old England and the conventicles, heroictales of the beginning of the long struggle for freedom of opinion. Hardand rough were the stories of the Commonwealth, of Cromwell, Pym, andSir Henry Vane, the younger. 

There was one very pleasing old tale that haunted Boston at this time, of the Hebrew parable order, or after the manner of the German legend. Such stories were rare in those days of pirates, Indians, and ghosts, the latter of whom were supposed to make their homes in their graves andto come forth in their graveclothes, and to set the hearts of unquietsouls to beating, and like feet to flying with electrical swiftnessbefore the days of electricity. 

Governor Winthrop--the same who got lost in the Mystic woods, and cameat night to an Indian hut in a tree and climbed into it, and was orderedout of it at a later hour when the squaw came home--took a verycharitable view of life. He liked to reform wrongdoers by changing theirhearts. Out of his large love for every one came this story of oldBoston days. 

We will listen to it by the Franklin fire in the candle shop. It was anearly winter tale, and it will be a good warm place to hear it there. 

"It is a cold night, " said Josiah, "and Heaven pity those without fuelon a night like this! There are not overmany like Governor Winthrop inthe world. "

Abiah drew her chair up nearer to the great fire, for it made one chillyto hear the beginning of that story, but the end of it made the heartwarm. 

"It was in the early days of the colony, " said Josiah, "and the woods inthe winter were bare, and the fields were cold. There was a lack of woodon the Mystic near the town. 

"A poor man lived there on the salt marsh with his family. He had had ahard time to raise enough for their support. A snowstorm came, and hisfuel was spent, his hearth was cold, and there was nothing to burn. 

"The great house of the Governor rose over the ice-bordered marshes. Near it were long sheds, and under them high piles of wood brought fromthe hills. 

"The poor man had no wood, but after a little time smoke was seen comingout of his chimney. 

"There came one day a man to the Governor, and said:

"'Pardon me, Governor, I am loath in my heart to accuse any one, but inthe interest of justice I have something which I must tell you. '

"'Speak on, neighbor. '

"'Some one has been stealing your wood. '

"'It is a hard winter for the poor. Who has done this?'

"'The man who lives on the marsh. '

"'His crop was not large this year. '

"'No, it failed. '

"'He has a wife and children. '

"'True, Governor. '

"'He has always borne a good reputation. '

"'True, Governor, and that makes the case more difficult. '

"'Neighbor, don't speak of this thing to others, but send that man tome. '

"The man on the marsh came to the Governor's. His face was as white assnow. How he had suffered!

"'Neighbor, ' said the Governor, 'this is a cold winter. '

"'It is, your Honor. '

"'I hope that your family are comfortable. '

"'No, your Honor; they have sometimes gone to bed supperless and cold. '

"'It hurts my conscience to know that. Have you any fuel?'

"'None, your Honor. My children have kept their bed for warmth. '

"'But I have a good woodpile. See the shed: there is more wood therethan I can burn. I ought not to sit down by a comfortable fire nightafter night, while my neighbor's family is cold. '

"'I am glad that you are so well provided for, for you are a good man, and have a heart to feel for those in need. '

"'Neighbor, there is my woodpile. It is yours as well as mine. I wouldnot feel warm if I were to sit down by my fire and remember that you andyour wife and your children were cold. When you need any fuel, come tomy woodpile and take all the wood that you want. '

"The man on the marsh went away, his head hanging down. I believe thatthere came into his heart the powerful resolution that he would neversteal again, and we have no record that he ever did. The Governor's hopefor him had made him another man. 

"He came for the wood in his necessity one day. The Governor looked athim pleasantly. 

"'Why did you not come to me before?'"

Josiah Franklin looked around on the group at the fireside, and openedthe family Bible. 

"Do you think that the Governor did right, Brother Ben?"

"Well, it isn't altogether clear to me. "

"What do you think, Abiah?"

"Father would have done as he did. He hindered no one, but helped everyone. He saw life on that side. "

"Well, little Ben, what have you to say?"

"The Governor looked upon the heart, didn't he? He felt for the man. Would it not be better for all to look that way? The worth of lifedepends upon those we help, lift, and make, not in those we destroy. Ilike the old Governor, I do, and I am sorry that there are not many morelike him. That seems like a Luke story, father. Read a story from Luke. "

Josiah read a story from Luke. 

There followed a long prayer, as usual. Then the children kissed theirmother and Jenny and crept up to their chamber. The nine-o'clock bellhad rung, and the streets were still. The watchman with his lantern wentby, saying, "Nine o'clock, and all is well!" None of the family heardhim say, "Ten o'clock, and all is well!" They were in slumberland aftertheir hard, homely toil, and some of them may have been dreaming of thegood old Governor, who followed literally the words of the Master whotaught on the Mount of Beatitudes. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE TREASURE-FINDER. 

LITTLE Benjamin once had the boy fever to go to sea. This fever was akind of nervous epidemic among the boys of the time, a disease of theimagination as it were. Many boys had it in Boston; they disappeared, and the town crier called out something like this:

 "Hear ye! Hear ye! Boy lost--lost--lost! Who returns him will be rewarded. "

He rang the bell as he cried. The crier's was the first bell that wasrung in Boston. 

But why did boys have this peculiar fever in Boston and other NewEngland towns at this time? It was largely owing to the stories thatwere told them. Few things affect the imagination of a boy like a story. De Foe's Robinson Crusoe was the live story of the times. Sindbad thesailor was not unknown. 

Old sailors used to meet by the Town Pump and spin wonderful "yarns, " asstory-telling of the sea was then described. 

But there was one house in Boston that in itself was a story. It wasmade of brick, and rose over the town, at the North End, in the "FaireGreen Lane, " now decaying Chatham Street. In it lived Sir William Phips, or Phipps, the first provincial Governor under the charter which hehimself had brought from England. 

Sir William had been born poor, in Maine, and had made his great fortuneby an adventure on the sea. 

The story of Sindbad the Sailor was hardly more than a match for his, with its realities. 

He was one of a family of twenty-six children; he had been taught toread and write when nearly grown up; had come to Boston as anadventurer, and had found a friend in a comely and sympathetic widow, who helped to educate him, and to whom he used to say:

"All in good time we will come to live in the brick house in the FaireGreen Lane. "

A Boston boy like young Franklin, among the pots and kettles of life, could not help recalling what this poor sailor lad had done for himselfwhen he saw the brick house looming over the bowery lane. 

The candle shop at the Blue Ball, that general place for story-tellingby winter fires, when it was warm there and the winds were cold outside, often heard this story, and such stories as the Winthrop Silver Cup, which may still be seen; of lively Anne Pollard, who was the first toleap on shore here from the first boat load of pioneers as it came nearthe shore at the North End, when the hills were covered withblueberries; of old "sea dogs" and wonderful ships, like Sir FrancisDrake and the Golden Hynde, or "Sir Francis and his shipload of gold, "which ship returned to England one day with chests of gold, but notwith Sir Francis, whose body had been left in many fathoms of sea! Benlistened to these tales with wonder, with Jenny by his side, leaning onhim. 

What was the story of Sir William Phipps, that so haunted the minds ofBoston boys and caused their pulses to beat and the sea fever to rise?

It was known in England as well as in America; it was a wonder tale overthe sea, for it was associated with titled names. Uncle Ben knew itwell, and told it picturesquely, with much moralizing. 

Let us suppose it to be a cold winter's night, when the winds are abroadand the clouds fly over the moon. Josiah Franklin has played his violin, the family have sung "Martyrs"; the fire is falling down, and "peopleare going to meetin', " as a running of sparks among the soot was called, when such a thing happened in the back of the chimney. 

Little Ben's imagination is hungry, and he asks for the twice-told taleof Sir William. He would be another Sir William himself some day. 

By the dying coals Uncle Ben tells the story. What a story it was! Nowonder that it made an inexperienced boy want to go to sea, andespecially such boys as led an uneventful life in the ropewalk or in thecandle shop!

Uncle Ben first told the incident of Sir William's promise to the widowwho took him to her home when he was poor, that she should live in thebrick house; and then he pictured the young sailor's wonderful voyagesto fulfill this promise. He called the sailor the "Treasure-finder. "

Let us snuggle down by the fire on this cold night in Boston town, beside little Ben and Jenny, and listen to the story. 

Uncle Ben, mayhap, shakes his snuffbox, and says:

"That boy dreamed dreams in the daytime, but he was an honest man. "Uncle Ben rang these words like a bell in his story. 

"He was an honest man; but a man in this world must save or be a slave, and young William's mind went sailing far away from the New Englandcoast, and a-sailing went he. What did he find? Wonders! Listen, and Iwill tell you. 

"William Phips, or Phipps, went to the Spanish Main, and he began tohear a very marvelous story there. The sailors loitering in the portsloved to tell the legend of a certain Spanish treasure ship that hadgone down in a storm, and they imagined themselves finding it andbecoming rich. The legend seized upon the fancy of William the sailorand entered his dreams. It was only a vague fancy at first, but in thetwilight of one burning day a cool island of palms appeared, and as itfaded away a sailor who stood watching it said to him:

"'There is a sunken reef off this coast somewhere; we are steering forit, and I have been told that it was on that reef that the Spanishtreasure ship went down. They say that ship had millions of gold onboard. I wonder if anybody will ever find her?'

"William, the sailor, started. Why might not he find her?--William wasan honest man. 

"It was early evening at sea. The shadows of night fell on the BahamaIslands. The sea and the heavens seemed to mingle. The stars were inthe water; the heavens were there. A stranger on the planet could nothave told which was the sea and which was the sky. 

"The sails were limp. There was a silence around. The ship seemed tomove through some region of space. William Phipps sat by himself on thedeck and dreamed. Many people dream, but it is of no use to dream unlessyou _do_. 

"He seemed to see her again who had been the good angel of his life; hesaw the gabled house in the bowery lane, and two faces looking out ofthe same window over Boston town. --William was honest. 

"He dreamed that he himself was the captain of a ship. He saw himself inEngland, in the presence of the king. He is master of an expedition now, in his sea dream. He finds the sunken treasure ship. He is made rich byit, and he returns to Boston and buys the gabled house in the cool greenlane by the sea. An honest man was Sir William. He was not _Sir_ Williamthen. 

"He returned to Boston with his dream. William stayed in port for atime, and then prepared for a long voyage; but before he went away heobtained a promise from the widow that if she ever married any one itshould be himself. There was nothing wrong in that. 

"The ship owners saw that he had honor, and that they could trust him. He was advanced in the service, and he learned how to command a ship. 

"He returned and married the widow, and went forth again to try to reapthe harvest of the sea for her, carrying with him his dreams. --He was anhonest man. 

"William Phipps, the sailor, heard more and more in regard to the sunkentreasure ship, and he went to England and applied to the king for shipsand men to go in search of this mine of gold in the sea. 

"Gold was then the royal want, and King James's heart was made rightglad to hear the bold adventurer's story. The king put at his commandships and men, and young William Phipps--now Commander Phipps--went tothe white reef in the blue Bahama Sea and searched the long sea wall fortreasures faithfully, but in vain. He was compelled to return to Englandas empty-handed as when he went out. 

"He heard of the great admiral, the Duke of Albemarle, and wasintroduced to him by William Penn. The duke heard his story, andfurnished him with the means to continue the search for the golden shipin the coral reef. 

"Ideals change into realities and will is way. Commander Williambethought him of a new plan of gaining the needed intelligence. Mightnot some very old person know the place where the ship was wrecked? Thethought was light. He found an old Indian on a near island whoremembered the wreck, and who said he could pilot him to the very spotwhere the ship had gone down. 

"Captain William's heart was light again. With the Indian on board hedrifted to the rippling waters over the reef. 

"Below was a coral world in a sea as clear as the sky. Out of itflying-fish leaped, and through it dolphins swam in pairs, and over itsargasso drifted like cloud shadows. 

"Captain William looked down. Was it over these placid waters that thestorm had made wreckage many years ago? Was it here that the exultantSpanish sailors had felt the shock that turned joy into terror, and sentthe ship reeling down, with the spoils of Indian caciques, or ofIncarial temples, or of Andean treasures?

"The old Indian pointed to a sunken, ribbed wall in the clear sea. Thehearts of the sailors thrilled as they stood there under the fierynoonday sky. 

"Down went the divers--down!

"Up came one presently with the news--'The wreck is there; we have foundit!'

"'Search!' cried Captain William, with a glad wife and a gable house inBoston town before his eyes. 'Down!'

"Another diver came up bringing a bag. It looked like a salt bag. 

"An officer took an axe and severed the bag. The salt flew; the sailorsthrew up their hands with a cry--out of the bag poured a glitteringstream of gold!

"Captain William reeled. His visions were now taking solid forms; theyhad created for him a new world. 

"'Down! down!' he commanded. 

"They broke open a bag which was like a crystal sack. It was full oftreasure, and in its folds was a goblet of gold. 

"They shouted over the treasure and held up the golden cup to the balmyair. It had doubtless belonged to a Spanish don. 

"More salt bags of gold! The deck was covered with gold! It is relatedthat one of the officers of the ship went mad at the sight. But CaptainWilliam did not go mad as he surveyed the work of the men in thevanishing twilight. He had been there in spirit before; he had expectedsomething, and he was on familiar ground when he had found it. He hadbeen a prophetic soul. 

"He carried home the treasure to England, and, soul of honor that hewas, he delivered every dollar's worth of it to the duke. His namefilled England; and his honesty was a national surprise, though why itshould have been we can not say. But didn't I tell you he was an honestman?

"The duke was made happy, and began to cast about how to bestow upon hima fitting reward. 

"'What can I do for you?' asked his Highness. 

"I have a wife in Boston town, over the sea. She is a good woman. Herfaith in me made me all I am. She is the world to me, for she believedin me when no one else did. '

"'You are a fortunate man. We will send her the goblet of gold, and itshall be called the Albemarle Cup. '

"The imagination of Captain William Phipps must have kindled and glowedas he received the 'dead don's cup, ' which in itself was a fortune. 

"'And to you, for your honor and honesty, shall be given an amplefortune, and there shall be bestowed upon you the honor of knighthood. You shall be able to present to your good wife, whose faith has been sowell bestowed, the Albemarle Cup, in the name of the Duke of Albemarleand of Sir William Phipps!'

"Captain William Phipps returned to Boston a baronet, with the AlbemarleCup. The widow that he had won was Lady Phipps. New England never had awonder tale like that. 

"The Albemarle Cup! The fame of it filled Boston town. There it stood inmassive gold, in Lady Phipps's simple parlor, among humbler decorations. How strange it looked to her as she saw it! Then must have arisen beforeher the boy from the Maine woods, one of twenty-six school-deniedchildren; the ungainly young sailor with his hot temper and scars; thedreamer of golden dreams; the captain, the fortune-finder, the knight. Another link was soon added to this marvelous chain of events. The houseof gables in the green lane was offered for sale. Sir William purchasedit, and the Albemarle Cup was taken into it, amid furnishings worthy ofa knight and lady. 

"The two looked out of the upper window over Boston town. --He was anhonest man. 

"After this many-time repeated declaration that Sir William was anhonest man, " he added: "A man must get a living somehow--he must get aliving somehow; either he must save or be a slave. "

Little Ben thought that he would like to earn a living in some such wayas that. The brick house in the "Faire Green Lane" meant much to himafter stories like those. He surely was almost as poor as Sir Williamwas at his age. Could he turn his own dreams into gold, or into thatwhich is better than gold?

"Jenny, " he said, "I would like to be able to give a brick house in theFaire Green Lane to father and mother, and to you. Maybe I will someday. I will be true to my home!"

CHAPTER XV. 

"HAVE I A CHANCE?"

BLESSED is he who lends good books to young people. There was such a manin Boston town named Adams, one hundred and ninety years ago. Hisinfluence still lives, for he lent such books to young BenjaminFranklin. 

The boy was slowly learning what noble minds had done in the world; howthey became immortal by leaving their thought and works behind them. Hisconstant question was, What have I the chance or the opportunity to do?What can I do that will benefit others?

It was a November evening. The days were short; the night came on at sixo'clock. These were the dark days of the year. 

"There is to be a candle-light meeting in the South Church, and I mustgo, " said Uncle Benjamin. "It will be pretty cold there to-night, Ben;you had better get the foot stove. "

The foot stove was a tin or brass box in a wooden frame with a handle. It was filled with live coals, and was carried to the church by ahandle, as one would carry a dinner pail. 

Little Benjamin brought the stove out of a cupboard to the hearth, tookout of it a pan, which he filled with hard coals and replaced it. 

"Ben, " said Uncle Ben, "you had better go along with us and carry thestove. "

"I will go, too, " said Josiah Franklin. "There is to be a lectureto-night on the book of Job. I always thought that that book is thegreatest poem in all the world. Job arrived at a conclusion, and onethat will stand. He tells us, since we can not know the first cause andthe end, that we must be always ignorant of the deepest things of life, but that we must do just right in everything; and if we do that, everything which happens to us will be for our best good, and the verybest thing that could happen whether we gain or lose, have or want. Imay be a poor man, with my tallow dips, but I have always beendetermined to do just right. It may be that I will be blessed in mychildren--who knows? and then men may say of me, 'There was a man!'"

"'And he dwelt in the land of Uz'" said Uncle Ben. 

"Wait for me a few minutes while I get ready, " said Josiah Franklin. "Iwill have to shave. "

The prospect of a lecture in the old South Church on the philosophicalpatriarch who dwelt in the land of Uz, and led his flocks, and saw theplanets come and go in their eternal march, on the open plains orthrough the branches of pastoral palms, was a very agreeable one tolittle Ben. 

He thought. 

"Uncle Benjamin, " he said, "a man who writes a book like Job leaves histhoughts behind him. He does not die like other men; his life goes on. "

"Yes, that is what some people call an objective life. I call it a_projective_ life. A man who builds men, or things, for the use of men, lives in the things he builds. He has immortality in this world. A manwho builds a house leaves his thought in the form of the house hebuilds. If he make a road, he lives in the road; if he invent a usefulthing, he lives in the invention. A man may live in a ship that he hascaused to be constructed, or his mind may see the form of a church, ahall, or a temple, and he may so build after what he sees that he makeshis thoughts creative, and he lives on in the things that he createsafter he dies. It was so with the builders of cities, of the Pyramids. So Romulus--if there were such a man--lives in Rome, and Columbus in thelands that he discovered. The Pilgrim Fathers will always live in NewEngland. Those who do things and make things leave behind them a lifeoutside of themselves. I call such works a man's projected life. "

Little Ben sat swinging the foot stove. 

"He lives the longest in this world who invents the most useful thingsfor others, " continued Uncle Benjamin. "The thoughts of Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton changed the world. Those men can never die. "

Little Ben swung the stove in his hand. 

Suddenly he looked up, and we fancy him to have said:

"Uncle Benjamin, have _I_ a chance?"

Jamie the Scotchman came into the house, jingling the door bell as heshut the door. 

"Philosophizing?" said he. 

"Little Ben here is inquiring in regard to his chance of doing somethingin the world--of living so as to leave his thoughts in creative formsbehind. What do you think about it, Jamie?"

"Well, I don't know; it is a pretty hard case. Drumsticks will make anoise, so any man may make himself heard if he will. Certain it is Benhas no gifts; at least, I have never discerned any. There are no Atticbees buzzing around him, none that I have seen, unless there be suchthings up in the attic, which would not be likely in a new house likethis. "

Uncle Ben pitied the little boy, whose feelings he saw were hurt. 

"Jamie, I have read much, and have made some observation, and life tellsme that character, industry, and a determined purpose will do much for aman that has no special gifts. The Scriptures do not say that a man ofgifts shall stand before kings, but that the man 'diligent in hisbusiness' shall do so. Ben here can rise with the best of the world, andif he has thoughts, he can project them. It is thinking that makes menwork. He thinks. --Ben, you can do anything that any one else of youropportunities has ever done. There--I hate to see the boy discouraged. "

"The fifteenth child among seventeen children would not seem likely tohave a very broad outlook, " said Jamie, "but it is good to encouragehim; it is good to encourage anybody. He is one of the human family, like all the rest of us. --Are you going to the lecture? I will go alongwith you. "

Josiah Franklin was now ready to go, and the party started. Josiahcarried a lantern, and little Benjamin the foot stove with the coals. As they walked along they met other people with lanterns and footstoves. 

Uncle Benjamin felt hurt at what Jamie had said, so he proceeded toencourage the boy as they went along. 

"If you could invent a stove that would warm the whole church, you wouldhave a _projected_ life, for example, " said he. 

"Have I a chance?" asked again the future inventor of the Franklinstove. 

"Or if you could print something original that might live; or found asociety to study science--something might come out of that; or couldmake some scheme for a better government of the people in these parts;but that would be too great for you. There I go!"

Uncle Benjamin stumbled. Little Ben helped him up. 

They came to the South Church, where many lanterns, foot stoves, andtallow dips were gathered, and shadowy forms were moving to and fro. 

Little Ben set down the stove in the pew. The lecture began. He heardthe minister read the sublime passage of the ancient poem beginning, "Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said. " He heardabout the "morning stars singing together, " the "sweet influences ofPleiades, " and the question, "Canst thou bind the sea?"

The boy asked, "Have I a chance? have I a chance?" The discouragingwords of Jamie the Scotchman hung over his mind like a cloud. 

The influence of the coals led Josiah Franklin to slumberland after hishard day's work. Little Ben saw his father nod and nod. But UncleBenjamin was in the Orient with the minister, having a hard experiencefor the good of life with the patriarch Job. 

"Have I a chance?" The boy shed tears. If he had not gifts, he knew thathe had personality, but there was something stirring within him that ledhis thoughts to seek the good of others. 

The nine-o'clock bell rang. The lecture was over. 

"Good--wasn't it?" said Jamie the Scotchman as they went out of thechurch and looked down to the harbor glimmering under the moon andstars, and added:

"Ben, you will be sure to have one thing to spur you on to lead that'projected life' your Uncle Benjamin tells about. "

"What is that, sir?"

"A hard time, like Job--a mighty hard time. "

"The true way to knowledge, " said Uncle Benjamin encouragingly. 

Uncle Benjamin felt a hand in his great mitten. It was little Ben's. Theconfidence touched his heart. 

"Ben, you are as likely to have a projected life as anybody. A man risesby overcoming his defects. Strength comes in that way. "

Little Ben went through the jingling door with a heart now heavy, nowlight. He set down the lantern, and climbed up to his bed under theroof. 

He was soon in bed, the question, "Have I a chance?" still haunting him. 

In summer there would be the sound of the wings of the swallows orpurple swifts in the chimney at night as they became displaced fromtheir nests. He would start up to listen to the whirring wings, thensink into slumber, to awake a blithe, light-hearted boy again. 

All was silent now. He could not sleep. His fancy was too wide awake. Was Uncle Benjamin right, or Jamie the Scotchman? Had he a chance?

CHAPTER XVI. 

"A BOOK THAT INFLUENCED THE CHARACTER OF A MAN WHO LED HIS AGE. "

"YOU must read good books, " said Benjamin Franklin's godfather. "Howsorry I am that I had to sell my pamphlets!"

Books have stamped their character on young men at the susceptible ageand the turning points of life. But their influence for good or evilcomes to receptive characters. "He is a genius, " says Emerson, "whogives me back my own thoughts. " The gospel says, "He that hath ears tohear, let him hear. "

Abraham Lincoln would walk twenty miles to borrow a law book, and wouldsit down on a log by the wayside to study it on his return from such ajourney. Horace Greeley says that when he was a boy he would go readingto a woodpile. "I would take a pine knot, " he said, "put it on the backlog, pile my books around me, and lie down and read all through the longwinter evenings. " He read the kind of books for which his soul hungered. He read to find in books what he himself wished to be. A true artistsees and hears only what he wishes to see and hear. An active, earnest, resolute soul reads only that which helps him fulfill the hauntingpurpose of his life. Almost every great man's books that were hiscompanions in early years were pictures of what he most wished to beand to do. 

How many men have had their spiritual life quickened by a hymn! How manyby a single poem! Homer and Ossian filled the imagination of Napoleon. Plutarch's Lives has helped form the characters of a thousand heroes, and Emerson placed Plutarch next to the Bible in the rank of beneficentinfluences. We would say to every boy, Read Plutarch; read the bestbooks first. 

A few books well read would be an education. Let a boy read the Bible, Josephus, Plutarch's Lives, Rawlinson's, Hallam's Macaulay's, Bancroft's, and Prescott's histories, Shakespeare, Tennyson, andLongfellow, and he would have a basis of knowledge of such substantialworth and moral and literary standard as to cause his intelligence to berespected everywhere and to become a power. Yet all these books could bepurchased for twenty-five dollars, and the time that many waste inunprofitable reading for three years would be sufficient to master them. 

"I am a part of all that I have met, " says Tennyson, and a man becomes apart of all the books that color his mind and character. Ask a companyof people what books they most sought in childhood, and you may have amental photograph of each. 

Benjamin Franklin says that his opinions and character were so greatlyinfluenced by his reading Cotton Mather's Essays to do Good, that heowed to that book his rise in life. A boy, he says, should read thatbook with pen and note-book in hand. 

Benjamin Franklin declared that it was in this book that he found thestatements of the purposes in life that met his own views. "To do good, "he said, was the true aim of existence, and the resolution became fixedin his soul to seek to make his life as beneficent as possible to allmen. How to help somebody and to improve something became the dreams ofhis days and nights. "A high aim is curative, " says Emerson. Franklinhad some evil tendencies of nature and habit, but his purpose to livefor the welfare of everybody and everything overcame them all in theend, and made him honestly confess his faults and try to make amends forhis lapses. To do good was an impelling purpose that led him to thebuilding of the little wharf, where boys might have firm footing whenceto sail their boats, and it continued through many wiser experiences upto the magic bottle, in which was stored the revelation of that agent ofthe earth and skies that would prove the most beneficent of all newdiscoveries. 

The book confirmed all that Uncle Benjamin had said. In it he saw whathe should struggle to be: he put his resolution into this vision, and sotook the first step on the ladder of life which was to give him a largeview of human affairs. 

He turned from the candle molds to Cotton Mather's strong pages, whichfew boys would care to read now, and from them, a little later, toAddison, and from both to talk with Jenny about what he would like to doand to become, and, like William Phips to the widow, he promised Jennythat they, too, should one day live in some "Faire Green Lane in Bostontown. " He would be true to his home--he and Jenny. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

BENJAMIN LOOKS FOR A PLACE WHEREIN TO START IN LIFE. 

BESIDES his instruction from encouraging Mr. Brownell and his UncleBenjamin, little Benjamin Franklin had spent one year at school andseveral years of self-instruction under helps. His father needed him inthe candle shop, and he could not give him a larger education with somany mouths to feed. 

Young Ben did not like his occupation in the candle shop. He worked withhis hands while his heart was absent, and his imagination was evenfarther away. 

He had a brother John who had helped his father when a boy, who marriedand moved to Rhode Island to follow there his father's trade as a candleand soap maker. John's removal doubled the usefulness of little Benamong the candle molds and soap kettles. He saw how this kind of workwould increase as he grew older; he longed for a different occupation, something that would satisfy his mental faculties and give himintellectual opportunities, and his dreams went sailing to the seas andlands where his brother Josiah had been. There were palms in his fancy, gayly plumed birds, tropical waters, and a free life under verticalsuns--India, the Spanish Main, the ports of the Mediterranean. He talkedso much of going to sea that his father saw that his shop was not theplace for this large-brained boy with an inventive faculty. 

"Ben, " said Josiah Franklin one day, "this is no place for you--you arenot balanced like other boys; your head is canted the _other_ way. You'll be running off to sea some day, just as Josiah did. Come, let usgo out into the town, and I will try to find another place for you. Youwill have to become an apprentice boy. "

"Anything, father, but this dull work. I seem here to be giving all mytime to nothing. Soap and candles are good and useful things, but peoplecan make them who can do nothing else. I want a place that will give mea chance to work with my head. What is my head for?"

"I don't know, Ben; it will take time to answer that. You do seem tohave good faculties, if you _are_ my son. I would be glad to have you dothe very best that you are capable of doing, and Heaven knows that Iwould give you an education if I were able. Come, let us go. "

They went out into the streets of Boston town. The place then containedsomething more than two thousand houses, most of them built of timberand covered with cedar shingles; a few of them were stately edifices ofbrick and tiles. It had seven churches, and they were near the sign ofthe Blue Ball: King's Chapel, Brattle Street, the Old Quaker, the NewNorth, the New South, the New Brick, and Christ Church. There was a freewriting school on Cornhill, a school at the South End, and anotherwriting school on Love Lane. Ben Franklin could not enter these simpleschool doors for the want of means. To gain the Franklin Medal, provided by legacy of Benjamin Franklin, is now the high ambition ofevery Boston Latin schoolboy. There were fortifications on Fort Hill anda powder house on the Common. There were inns, taverns, and ordinarieseverywhere. Boston was a town of inns with queer names; Long Wharf wasthe seaway to the ships. Chatham Street now was then a fair green lane;Salem Street was a place of property people or people of "quality. "

In King's Chapel was a state pew for the royal Governors. On the pulpitstood an hourglass in a frame of brass. The pillars were hung withescutcheons of the king. 

Ben may have passed the old Latin School which at first was establishedat a place just east of King's Chapel. If so, he must have wished to beentered there as a pupil again. The school has distributed his medalsnow for several generations. He may have passed the old inns like theBlue Anchor Tavern, or the Royal Exchange, or the fire of 1711 may havewiped out some of these old historic buildings, and new ones to taketheir places may have been rising or have been but recently completed. The old Corner Bookstore was there, for it was built directly after thefire of 1711. It is the oldest brick building now standing in the city, and one of the few on which little Ben's eyes could have rested. A newtown arose after the fire. 

Josiah Franklin and little Ben visited the workshops of carpenters, turners, glaziers, and others, but, although they had a good timetogether in the study, the kind father could not find a place thatsuited his son. Ben did not like to be apprenticed to any of thetradesmen that he met. 

He had a brother James, of a bright mind but of no very amiabledisposition, who was a printer. He had been to London to improve histrade, and on his return he became the one printer in the town. 

One evening, between the violin and the Bible, Josiah Franklin suddenlysaid:

"Ben, you look here!"

"What, father?" asked the boy, starting. 

"It all comes to me what you ought to do. You should become a printer. "

"That I would like, father. "

"Then the way is clear--let me apprentice you to James. "

"Would he have me, father? We do not always get on well together. I wantto learn the printer's trade; that would help me on to an education. "

Josiah Franklin was now a happier man. Ben would have no more desire togo to sea. If he could become anything out of the ordinary, theprinter's trade would be the open way. 

He went to his son James and presented the matter. As a result, theydrew up an indenture. 

This indenture, which may be found in Franklin's principal biographies, was a very queer document, but follows the usual form of the times ofGeorge I. It was severe--a form by which a lad was practically sold intoslavery, and yet it contained the demands that develop right conduct inlife. Ben was not constituted to be an apprentice boy under these sharpconditions even to his own brother. But all began well. His mother, whoworried lest he should follow the example of his brother Josiah, now hadheart content. His father secured an apprentice, and probably had drawnup for him a like form of indenture. 

Benjamin, too, was happy now. He saw that his new way of life led tosomewhere--where? He would do his best to make it lead to the best inlife. He started with a high resolve, which we are sorry he did notalways fulfill in the letter, though the spirit of it never was lost. 

His successor in the tallow shop does not seem to have been more happythan he. His name was Tinsley. There appeared in the New England Courantof 1722 the following queer advertisement, which we copy because itaffords a picture of the times:

 Ran away from his Master, Mr. Josiah Franklin, of Boston, Tallow-Chandler, on the first of this instant July, an Irish Man-servant, named William Tinsley, about 20 Years of Age, of a middle Stature, black Hair, lately cut off, somewhat fresh-coloured Countenance, a large lower Lip, of a mean Aspect, large Legs, and heavy in his Going. He had on, when he went away, a felt Hat, a white knit Cap, striped with red and blue, white Shirt, and neck-cloth, a brown coloured Jacket, almost new, a frieze Coat, of a dark Colour, grey yarn Stockings, leather Breeches, trimmed with black, and round to'd Shoes. Whoever shall apprehend the said runaway Servant, and him safely convey to his above said Master, at the blue Ball, in Union street, Boston, shall have forty Shillings Reward, and all necessary Charges paid. 

As this advertisement was continued for three successive weeks, we areat liberty to conclude that William Tinsley was not "apprehended. "

Let the reader be glad that he did not live in those days. The best ofall ages is now. 

"And so you have begun life as a printer?" said Uncle Benjamin. "Aprinter's trade is one after my own heart. It develops thought. If Icould have only kept my pamphlets until now, you would have printed thenotes that I made. One of them says that what people want is not favorsor patronage of any kind, but _justice_. Remember that, Ben. What theworld wants is justice. You may become a printer in your own right someday. "

"I want to become one, uncle. That is just what is in my heart. I cansee success in my mind. "

"But you can do it if you will. Everything goes down before 'I will!'The Alps fell before Hannibal. Have a deaf ear, Ben, toward all who say'You _can't_!' Such men don't count with those in the march; they arestragglers. Don't you be laughed down by anybody. Hold your head high;there is just as much royal blood in your veins as there is in any kingon earth. There is no royal blood but that which springs from trueworth. I put that down in my documents years ago. 

"Life is too short to stop to quarrel with any one by the way. If a mancalls you a fool, you need not come out under your own signature anddeny it. Your life should do that. I am quoting from my pamphlets again. 

"If you meet old Mr. Calamity in your way, the kind of man who tells youthat you have no ground of expectation, and that everything in the worldis going to ruin, just whistle, and luck will come to you, my boy. Ionly wish that I had my documents--my pamphlets, I mean. I would haveleft them to you in my will. In the present state of society one mustsave or be a slave--that also I wrote down in my documents. It is a pitythat it is so, but it is. Save what you can while you are young, and itwill give your mind leisure to work when you are older. _That_ was in mypamphlets. I hope that I may live to see you the best printer in thecolonies. "

The boy absorbed the spirit of these proverbial sayings. They were tohis liking and bent of mind. But there came into his young face ashadow. 

"Uncle Ben, I know what you say is true. I have listened to you; now Iwould like you to hear me. You saw the boys going to the Latin Schoolthis morning?"

"Yes, Ben. "

"I can not go there. "

"O Ben! that is hard, " said Jenny, who was by his side. 

"But you can go to school, Ben, " said Uncle Benjamin. 

"Where, uncle?"

"To life--and graduate there as well as any of them. "

"I would like to study Latin. "

"Well, what is to hinder you, Ben? One only needs to learn the alphabetto learn all that can be known through books. You know _that_ now. "

"I would like to learn French. Other boys can; I can not. "

"The time will come when you can. The gates open before a purpose. Youcan study French later in life, and, it may be, make as good use ofFrench as any of them. "

"Why can not I do as other boys?"

"You can, Ben. You can so live that the Boston Latin School to which youcan not go now will honor you some day. "

"I would be sorry to see another boy feel as I have felt when I haveseen the boys going to that school with happy faces to learn the thingsthat I want to know. But father has done the best that he can for me. "

"Yes, Ben, he has, and you only need to do the best that you can foryourself to graduate at the head of all in the school of life. I knowhow to feel for you, Ben. I have stood in shoes like yours many times. When you have done as I have told you, then think of me. The world maysoon forget me. I want you so to live that it will not as soon forgetyou. "

The cloud passed from the boy's face. Hope came to him, and he was merryagain. He locked Jenny in his arms, whirled her around, and said:

"I am glad to hear the bells ring for other boys, even if I must go tomy trade. "

"I like the spirit of what you say, " said Uncle Benjamin. "You have theblood of Peter Folger and of your Great-uncle Tom in your veins. Petergave his heart to the needs of the Indians, and to toleration; yourGreat-uncle Tom started the subscription for the bells of Nottingham, and became a magistrate, and a just one. You may not be able to answerthe bell of the Latin School, but if you are only true to the best thatis in you, little Ben, you may make bells ring for joy. I can hear themnow in my mind's ear. Don't laugh at your old uncle; you can do it, little Ben--can't he Jenny?"

"He just can--I can help him. Ben can do anything--he may make the LatinSchool bell ring for others yet--like Uncle Tom. He is the boy to do it, and I am the sister to help him to do it--ain't I, Uncle Benjamin?"

CHAPTER XVIII. 

LITTLE BEN'S ADVENTURES AS A POET. 

THAT was a charmed life that little Ben Franklin led in the early daysof his apprenticeship. He always thought of provincial Boston as his"beloved city. " When he grew old, the Boston of his boyhood was to him adelightful dream. 

He and his father were on excellent terms with each other. His father, though a very grave, pious man, whose delight was to go to the Old SouthChurch with his large family, allowed little Ben to crack his jokes onhim. 

He was accustomed to say long graces at meals, at which the food was notovermuch, and the hungry children many. One day, after he had salteddown a large quantity of meat in a barrel, he was surprised to hear Benask:

"Father, why don't you say grace over it now?"

"What do you mean, Ben?"

"Wouldn't it be saving of time to say grace now over the whole barrel ofprovisions, and then you could omit it at meals?"

But the strong member of the Old South Church had no such ideas ofreligious economy as revealed his son's mathematical mind. 

The Franklin family must have presented a lively appearance at churchin old Dr. Joseph Sewell's day. They heard some sound preaching there, and Dr. Sewell lived as he preached. He was offered the presidency ofHarvard College, but honors were as bubbles to him, and he refused itfor a position of less money and fame, but of more direct spiritualinfluence, and better in accord with the modest views of his ability. Hebegan to preach in the Old South Church when Ben was seven years of age;he preached a sermon there on his eightieth birthday. 

These were fine old times in Boston town. Some linen spinners came overfrom Londonderry, in Ireland, and they established a spinning school. They also brought with them the potato, which soon became a greatluxury. 

Josiah Franklin probably pastured his cows on the Common, and little Benmay often have sat down under the old elm by the frog pond and lookedover the Charles River marshes, which were then where the Public Gardennow is. 

But the delight of the boy's life was still Uncle Benjamin, the poet. The two read and roamed together. Now Ben had a poetic vein in him, asmall one probably inherited from his grandfather Folger, and it beganto be active at this time. 

There were terrible stories of pirates in the air. They kindled theboy's lively imagination; they represented the large subject ofretributive justice, and he resolved to devote his poetic sense to oneof these alarming characters. 

There was a dreadful pirate by the name of Edward Teach, but commonlycalled "Blackbeard. " He was born in Bristol, England. He became theterror of the Atlantic coast, and had many adventures off the Carolinas. He was at length captured and executed. 

One day little Ben came to his brother James with a paper. 

"James, I have been writing something, and I have come to read it toyou. "

"What?"

"Poetry. "

"Like Uncle Ben's?"

"No; it is on Blackbeard. "

James thought that a very interesting subject, and prepared to listen tohis poet brother. 

Little Ben unfolded the paper and began to read his lines, which wereindeed heroic. 

 "Come, all you jolly sailors, You all so stout and brave!"

"Good!" said James. "That starts off fine. "

Ben continued:

 "Come, hearken and I'll tell you What happened on the wave. "

"Better yet--I like that. Why, Uncle Ben could not excel that. Whatnext?"

 "Oh, 'tis of that bloody Blackbeard I'm going now to tell, And as how, by gallant Maynard, He soon was sent to _hell_, With a down, down, down, derry down!"

James lifted his hands at this refrain after the old English balladstyle. 

"Ben, I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll print the verses for you, andyou shall sell them on the street. "

The poet Arion at his coronation at Corinth could not have felt prouderthan little Ben at that hour. He would be both a poet and bookseller, and his brother would be his publisher. 

He may have cried on Boston street:

"Blackboard--broadside!" or something like that. It would have beenhonorable advertising. 

His success as a poet was instantaneous. His poem sold well. Complimentsfell upon him like a sun shower. He wrote another poem of like value, and it sold "prodigiously. " He thought indeed he was a great poet, andhad started out on Shakespeare's primrose way to fame and glory. Alas!how many under like circumstances have been deceived. He lived to callhis ballads "wretched stuff. " How many who thought they were poets havelived to take the same view of their work!

His second poem was called the Light-House Tragedy. It related to arecent event, and set the whole town to talking, and the admiration forthe young poet was doubled. 

In the midst of the great sale of his poems by himself, and of all theflatteries of the town, he went for approval to his father. The resultwas unexpected; the rain of sunshine changed into a winter storm indeed. 

"Father, you have heard that I have become a poet?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Josiah, in his paper cap and leather breeches. "Like your Uncle Ben, my boy, and he amounted to nothing at all as apoet. A poet--my stars!"

"I thought that you looked upon Uncle Ben as the best man in all theworld. The people love him. When he enters the Old South Church there issilence. "

"That is all very true, my boy, but he lives between the heavens andthe earth, and can not get up to the one or down to the other. Poets arebeggars, in some way or other. They live in garrets among the mice andbats. Their country is the imagination, and that is the next door tonowhere. You a poet! What puckers my face up--_so_?"

"But my poetry sells, father, " looking into his father's droll face, hisheart sinking. 

"Your poetry! It sells, my boy, because you are a little shaver andappear to be smart, and also because your rhymes refer to events inwhich everybody is interested. But, my son, your poetry, as you call it, has no merit in itself. It is full of all kinds of errors. It is stylethat makes a poem live; yours has no style. "

"But, father, many people do not think so. "

"But they will. You will think so some day. "

"But isn't there something good in it?"

"Nothing, Ben. You never was born to be a poet. You have the ability toearn a living, same as I have done. Poets don't have that kind ofability; they beg. There are not many men who can earn a living byselling their fancies, which is mostly moonshine. "

This was unsympathetic. Ben looked at the soap kettles and candle moldsand wondered if these things had not blinded his father's poeticperceptions. There was no Vale of Tempe here. 

But Josiah Franklin had hard common sense. Little Ben's dreams of poeticfame came down from the skies at one arrow. That was a bitter hour. 

"If I can not be a poet, " he thought, "I can still be useful, " and hereverted from heroic ballads to stern old Cotton Mather's Essays to doGood. The fated poet is always left a like resource. 

Yet many people who have not become poets, but who have risen to beeminent men, have had poetic dreams in early life; they have had thepoetic mind. A little poetry in one's composition is no common gift; itis a stamp of superiority in some direction. Josiah Franklin was a wiseman, but his views of poetry as such were of a low standard. Poetry isthe highest expression of life, the noblest exercise of the spiritualfaculties. 

So poor little Ben had soared to be laughed at again. But there wassomething out of the common stirring in him, and he would fly again someday. The victories of the vanquished are the brightest of all. 

Franklin, after having been thus given over to the waste barrel by hisfather, now resolved to acquire a strong, correct, and impressive prosestyle of writing. He found Addison's Spectator one of the best of allexamples of literary style, and he began to make it a study. In works ofthe imagination he read De Foe and Bunyan. 

This good resolution was his second step up on the ladder of life. 

Others were contributing to his brother James's paper, why should nothe? But James, after the going out of the poetic meteor, might not bewilling to consider his plain prose. 

Benjamin Franklin has now written an article in plain prose, which hewishes to appear in his brother's paper. If it were accepted, he wouldhave to put it into type himself, and probably to deliver the paper toits patrons. He is sixteen years old. He has become a vegetarian, andlives by himself, and seeks pleasure chiefly in books. 

It is night. There are but few lamps in the Boston streets. With amanuscript hidden in his pocket Benjamin walks slyly toward the officeof James Franklin, Printer, where all is dark and still. He looksaround, tucks his manuscript suddenly under the office door, turns andruns. Oh, how he does glide away! Is he a genius or a fool? He wonderswhat his brother will say of the manuscript, when he reads it in themorning. 

In the morning he went to his work. 

Some friends of James came into the office. 

"I have found something here this morning, " said James, "that I think isgood. It was tucked under the door. It seems to me uncommonly good. Youmust read it. "

He handed it to one of his friends. 

"That is the best article I have read for a long time, " said one of thecallers. "There is force in it. It goes like a song that whistles. Itcarries you. I advise you to use it. Everybody would read that and likeit. I wonder who wrote it? You should find out. A person who can writelike that should never be idle. He was born to write. "

James handed it to another caller. 

"There are brains in that ink. The piece flows out of life. Who do youthink wrote it?"

"I have no idea, " said James. --"Here, Ben, set it up. Here's nuts foryou. If I knew who wrote it I would ask the writer to send in otherarticles. "

Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography and Charles Dickens's novels have hada sale equaled by a few books in the world. The two authors began theirliterary life in a like manner, by tucking their manuscripts under theeditor's door at night and running away. They both came to wonder atthemselves at finding themselves suddenly people of interest. Still, wecould hardly say to the literary candidate, "Fling your article into theeditor's room at night and run, " though modesty, silence, and prudenceare commendable in a beginner, and qualities that win. 

What pen name did Ben Franklin sign to this interesting article? It wasone that implies his purpose in life; you may read his biography init--SILENCE DOGOOD. 

The day after the name of Silence Dogood had attracted the attention ofBoston town, Benjamin said to Jane, his sympathetic little sister:

"Jenny, let's go to walk this evening upon Beacon Hill. I have somethingto tell you. "

They went out in the early twilight together, up the brow of the hillwhich the early settlers seem to have found a blackberry pasture, to thetree where they had gone with Uncle Benjamin on the showery, shiningmidsummer Sunday. 

"Can you repeat what Uncle Benjamin said to us here, two years ago?"asked Ben. 

"No; it was too long. You repeat it to me again and I will learn it. "

"He said, 'More than wealth, or fame, or anything, is the power of thehuman heart, and that that power is developed in seeking the good ofothers. ' Jenny, what did father say when he read the piece by SilenceDogood in the Courant?"

"He clapped his hand on his leather breeches so that they rattled; hedid, Ben, and he exclaimed, 'That is a good one!' and he read the pieceto mother, and she asked him who he supposed wrote it, and she shook herhead, and he said, 'I wish that I knew. '"

"Would you like to know who wrote it, Jenny?"

"Yes. Do you know?"

"_I_ wrote it. Jenny, you must not tell. I am writing another piece. James does not know. I tucked the manuscript under the door. I am goingto put another one under the door at night. "

"O Ben, Ben, you will be a great man yet, and I hope that I will live tosee it. But why did you take the name of _Silence Dogood_?"

"That carries out Uncle Ben's idea. It stands for seeking the good ofothers quietly. That name is what I would like to be. "

"It is what you will be, Ben. Uncle would say that the Franklin heart isin that name. If you should ever become a big man, Ben, and I shouldcome to see you when we are old, I will say, 'Silence Dogood, more thanwealth, more than fame, and more than anything else, is the power of thehuman heart. ' There, I have quoted it correctly now. Maybe the day willcome. Maybe we will live to be old, and you will write things thateverybody will read, and I will take care of father and mother while yougo out into the world. "

"Wherever I may go, and whatever I may become or fail to be, my heartwill always be true to you, Jenny. "

"And I will do all I can for father and mother; I will be your heart tothem, so that you may give your time to your pen. Every one in a familyshould seek to do for the family what others lack or are not able to do. You can write; I can not, but, Ben, I can love. "

She walked about the wild rose bushes, where the red-winged blackbirdswere singing. 

"O Ben, " she continued, "I am so glad that you wrote that piece, andthat father liked it so well! I would not have been more glad had youreceived a present from a king. Maybe you will receive a present from aking some day, if you write as well as that. "

"You will keep the secret, Jenny?"

"Yes, Ben, I will look for the paper to-morrow. How glad Uncle Ben wouldbe if he knew it. Why, Ben, that name, Silence Dogood, is a piece initself. It is a picture of your heart. You are just like Uncle Ben, Silence Dogood. "

The name of Silence Dogood became famous in Boston town. Jenny obtainedBen's permission to tell Uncle Benjamin the great secret, and UncleBenjamin's heart was so delighted that he went to his room and told thesecret "to the Lord. "

The three hearts were now very, very happy for a time. Jenny was growingup a beautiful girl, and her thoughts were much given to herhard-working parents and to laughed-at, laughing little Ben. 

When Uncle Benjamin had heard of Ben's failure as a poet and success asSilence Dogood, he took him down to Long Wharf again. 

"I am an old man, " he said. "But here I have a lesson for you. If youare conscious that you have any gift, even in small degree, never letthe world laugh it away. See 'that no man take thy crown, ' the Scripturesays. Every one who has contributed anything to the progress of theworld has been laughed at. Stick a pin in thee, Ben. 

"Now, Ben, you may not have the poet's imagination or art, but if youhave the poetical mind do not be laughed out of an attempt to expressit. You may not become a poet; I do not think that you ever will. Perhaps you will write proverbs, and proverbs are a kind of poems. I amgoing to reprove Brother Josiah for what he has said. He has given overyour education to me, and it is my duty to develop you after your owngifts. 

"Let us go back to the shop. I want to have a talk with Josiah; but, before we leave, I have a short word to say to you. 

"Hoi, Ben, hoi!--I don't know what makes me repeat these words; they arenot swear words, Ben, but they come to me when my feelings are awakened. 

"It is hard, hard for one to see what he wants to be and to be keptback. I wanted to be a philosopher and a poet. Don't you laugh, Ben. Idid; I wanted to be both, and I was so poor that I was obliged to writemy thoughts on the margin of the leaves of my pamphlets, which I sold tocome to teach you. Ben, Ben, listen: I can never be a philosopher or apoet, but you may. Don't laugh, Ben. Don't let any one laugh you out ofyour best ideas, Ben. You may. The world will never read what I wrote. They may read what you will write, and if you follow my ideas and theyare read, you will be content. Hoi, Ben, hoi!"

They went to the candle shop. 

"Josiah, you do wrong to try to suppress Ben's gift at rhyme. A manwithout poetry in his soul amounts to no more than a chopping block. Theworld just hammers itself on him, and that is all. You would not makeBen a dunce!"

"No, brother, no; but a goose is not a nightingale, and the world willnot stop to listen if she mounts a tree and attempts to sing. "

"No, Brother Josiah, but a goose that would like to sing like anightingale would be no common goose; she would find better pasture thanother geese. Small gifts are to be prized. 'A little diamond is worth amountain of glass, ' as the proverb says. "

"Well, if you must write poetry, don't publish it until it is calledfor. "

"Well, Brother Josiah, your advice will do for me, for I am an old man;but I must teach Ben never to be laughed out of any good idea that maycome to him. Is not that right, brother?"

"Yes, Uncle Ben. But you can't make a hen soar to the skies like aneagle. If you are not a poet, you have a perfect character, and that iswhy I leave the training of Ben to you. If you can make a man of him, the world will be better for him; and if you can make something else ofhim besides a poet out of his poetical gift, I shall be very glad. Yourpoetry has not helped you in life, has it, Benjamin?"

"I don't know. You think it is that that has made me a burden to you. "

Josiah looked his brother in the face. 

"A burden? No, brother. One of the greatest joys of my life was to haveyou come here, and it will be the greatest blessing to my life if youcan make the life of little Ben a blessing to the world. I am not muchof a musician, but I like to sound the fiddle, and if you have anypoetic light, let it shine--but as a tallow dip, like my fiddling. Youare right, brother, in teaching little Ben never to be laughed down. Idon't blame any one for crying his goods if he has anything to sell. Butif he has not, he had better be content to warm his hands by his ownfire. "

"Brother Josiah, listen to me. Little Ben here has something tosell. --Hoi, Ben, hoi! you listen. --There have thoughts come to me that Iknow did not rise out of the dust. I have been too poor to publish them. You may laugh at me, and call me a poor philosopher and say that myphilosophy has kept me poor. But Benjamin here is going to give mythoughts to the world, and the things that I put into my pamphlets aregoing to live. It was not you that gave Ben to me: it was Heaven. A veilhangs over us in this world, and if a man does good in his heart, thehand behind that veil moves all the events of his life for good. 

"Don't laugh at us, Josiah; we are weaving together thoughts that willfeed the world. That we are. --Hoi, Ben, hoi!"

"Well, Brother, your faith makes you a happy old man. I hope that youwill be able to make something of Ben, and that he may do credit to yourgood name. It may be so. Faith sees. 

"I love to see you go into the South Church, Brother. As soon as yourface appears all the people look very happy, and sit still. Thechildren all sit still. The tithingman stands still; he has nothing todo for a time. 

"It is something, Brother Ben, to be able to cast such an influence asthat--something that money can not buy. I am sorry if I have hurt yourfeelings. Heaven be praised for such men as you are, Brother Ben! I hopethat I may live to see all that you see by faith. I think I may, BrotherBen. 'Men do not gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles, ' but theydo gather grapes of grapes and figs of figs. I hope that Ben will be thebook of your life, and make up for the pamphlets. It would be a goodbook for men to read. "

"Hoi, Ben, hoi!" said the old man, "I can see that it will. "

One Sunday, after church, in summer, Uncle Ben the poet and SilenceDogood went down on Long Wharf to enjoy the breezes from the sea. UncleBen was glad to learn more of the literary successes of Silence Dogood. 

"To fail in poetry is to succeed in prose, " said the fine old man. "Butmuch that we call prose is poetry; rhymes are only childish jingles. Thegreatest poetry in the world is written without rhyme. It is the magicspirit and the magic words that make true poetry. The book of Job, in myopinion, is the greatest poetry ever written. Poetry is not made, itexists; and one who is prepared to receive it catches it as it flows. Ben, you are going to succeed in prose. You are going to become a readywriter. Study Addison more and more. "

"Uncle Ben, do you not think that it is the hardest thing in life forone to be told that he can not do what he most wants to do?"

"Yes, Ben, that is the hardest thing in life. It is a cruel thing tocrush any one in his highest hope and expectation. "

"Was Solomon a poet? Are the Proverbs poetry?"

"Yes, yes. The book of Proverbs is a thousand poems. "

"Then, Uncle Ben, I may be a poet yet. That kind of little poems come tome. "

"Ha! ha! ha!"

A voice rang out behind them. 

It was Jamie the Scotchman. 

"Well, Ben, it is good to fly high. I infer that you expect to become aproverb poet, after the manner of Solomon. The people here will all bequoting you some day. It may be that you will be quoted in England andFrance. Ha! ha! ha! What good times, " he added, "you two havetogether--dreaming! Well, it costs nothing to dream. There is no tolldemanded of him who travels in the clouds. Move along, young Solomon, and let me sit down on the sea wall beside you. When you write a book ofproverb poetry I hope I'll be living to read it. One don't make a silkpurse out of a sow's ear--there's a proverb for you!--nor gather wisdomexcept by experience--there's another; and some folks do not get wisdomeven from experience. " He looked suspiciously toward Uncle Ben. 

"Experience keeps a dear school, " said Uncle Ben in a kindly way. 

"And some people can learn of no other, " added Silence Dogood. 

"And some folks not even there, " said Jamie the Scotchman. 

The loons came semicircling along the sea wall, their necks aslant, anduttering cries in a mocking tone. 

"Well, I declare, it makes the loons laugh--and no wonder!" said Jamiethe Scotchman. He lighted his pipe, whose bowl was a piece of corncob, and whiffed away in silence for a time, holding up one knee in hisclasped hands. 

Silence Dogood surveyed his surroundings, which were ship cargoes. 

"The empty bags do not stand up, " he said. 

"Well, what do you infer from that?" asked Jamie. 

Silence Dogood did not answer, but the thought in his mind was evident. It was simply this: that, come what would in life, he would not fail. Heput his hand on Uncle Benjamin's shoulder, for who does not long toreach out his hand toward the fire in the cold, and to touch the formthat entemples the most sympathetic heart? He dreamed there on the seawall, where the loons seemed to laugh, and his dreams came true. Everyattainment in life is first a dream. 

Silence Dogood, dream on! Add intelligence to intelligence, virtue tovirtue, benevolence to benevolence, faith to faith, for so ascends theladder of life. 

Uncle Benjamin was right. Let no man be laughed out of ideals that aretrue, because they do not reach their development at once. 

Many young people stand in the situation in which we find young Franklinnow. Many older people do in their early work. England laughed atBoswell, but he came to be held as the prince of biographers, and hismethods as the true manner of picturing life and making the past live inletters. 

People with a purpose who have been laughed at are many in the historyof the world. From Romulus and the builders of the walls of Jerusalem toColumbus, ridicule makes a long record, and the world does not seem togrow wiser by its mistakes. Even Edison, in our own day, was ridiculed, when a youth, for his abstractions, and his efforts were ignored byscientists. 

Two generations ago a jeering company of people, uttering comical jestsunder the cover of their hands, went down to a place on the banks of theHudson to see, as they said, "a crazy man attempt to move a boat bysteam. " They returned with large eyes and free lips. _That boat moved. _

In the early part of the century a young Scotchman named Carlyle laidbefore the greatest of English scholars and critics a manuscriptentitled Sartor Resartus. The great critic read the manuscript andpronounced it "the stupidest stuff that he ever set eyes on. " He laughedat a manuscript that became one of the literary masterpieces of thecentury. A like experience had Milton, when he once said that he wouldwrite a poem that should be the glory of his country. 

A young graduate named Longfellow wrote poems that came to him amid thewoods and fields, and published them in newspapers and magazines, andgathered them into a book. The book fell into the hands of one then heldto be supreme as a literary judge--Edgar Allen Poe. It was laughed at inink that made the literary world laugh. The poet Longfellow's bust nowholds an ideal place in Westminster Abbey, between the memorials ofDryden and Chaucer, and at the foot of the tombs of England's kings. 

Keats was laughed at; Wordsworth was deemed a fool. 

A number of disdainful doctors met on October 16, 1846, in theamphitheater of the Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, to see ayoung medical student try to demonstrate that a patient upon whom asurgical operation was to be performed could be rendered insensible topain. The sufferer was brought into the clear light. The young studenttouched his face with an unknown liquid whose strange odor filled theroom. He was in oblivion. The knives cut and the blood flowed, and heknew it not. Pain was thus banished from the room of surgery. That youngmedical student and dentist was Dr. W. T. G. Morton, whose monument maybe seen in the Boston Public Garden, and in whose honor thesemicentennial of the discovery of anæsthesia has but recently beencelebrated. 

"So, with a few romantic boys and crazy girls you expect to see theworld converted, " said a wise New York journal less than a century ago, as the first missionaries began to sail away. But the song still aroseover the sea--

 "In the desert let me labor, On the mountain let me till"--

until there came a missionary jubilee, whose anthems were repeated fromland to land until they encircled the earth. 

When Browning first published Sordello, the poem met with commonridicule. Even Alfred Tennyson is said to have remarked that "there werebut two lines in it that he could understand, and they were bothuntrue. " The first line of the poem was, "Who will, _may_ hearSordello's story told"; and the last line of the poem was, "Who would, _has_ heard Sordello's story told. " Yet the poem is ranked now amongthe intellectual achievements of the century in the analysis of one ofthe deeper problems of life. 

Samuel F. B. Morse was laughed at. McCormick, whose invention reaps thefields of the world, was ridiculed by the London Times, "the Thunderer. ""If that crazy Wheelwright calls again, do not admit him, " said aBritish consul to his servant, of one who wished to make new ports and anew commerce for South America, and whose plans are about to harness theAndes with railways. William Wheelwright's memory lives in gratefulstatues now. 

Columbus was not only laughed at by the Council of Salamanca, but wasjeered at by the children in the streets, as he journeyed from town totown holding his orphan boy by the hand. He wandered in the visions ofGod and the stars, and he came to say, after the shouts of homage thatgreeted him as the viceroy of isles, "God made me the messenger of thenew heavens and new earth, and told me where to find them!"

Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, presents a picture of theunfortunate condition of many lives of whom the world expected nothing, and for whom it had only the smile of incredulity when in them theGodlike purpose appeared. He says:

"Hannibal had but one eye; Appius Claudius and Timoleon were blind, aswere John, King of Bohemia, and Tiresais the prophet. Homer was blind;yet who, saith Tully, made more accurate, lively, or better descriptionswith both his eyes! Democritus was blind, yet, as Laertius writes ofhim, he saw more than all Greece besides. . . . Æsop was crooked, Socrates purblind, Democritus withered, Seneca lean and harsh, ugly tobehold; yet show me so many flourishing wits, such divine spirits. Horace, a little, blear-eyed, contemptible fellow, yet who sosententious and wise? Marcilius Ficinus, Faber Stapulensis, a couple ofdwarfs; Melanchthon, a short, hard-favored man, yet of incomparableparts of all three; Galba the emperor was crook-backed; Epictetus, lame;the great Alexander a little man of stature; Augustus Cæsar, of the samepitch; Agesilaus, _despicabili forma_, one of the most deformed princesthat Egypt ever had, was yet, in wisdom and knowledge, far beyond hispredecessors. "

Why do I call your attention to these struggles in this place inassociation of an incident of a failure in life that was ridiculed?

It has been my lot, in a somewhat active life in the city of Boston fortwenty-five years, to meet every day an inspiring name that all theworld knows, and that stands for what right resolution, the overcomingof besetting sins in youth, and persevering energy may accomplishagainst the ridicule of the world. There have been many books writtenhaving that name as a title--FRANKLIN. 

I have almost daily passed the solemn, pyramidal monument in the oldGranary Burying Ground, between the Tremont Building and Park StreetChurch, that bears the names of the Franklin family, in which theparents have found eternal honor by the achievements of their son. 

As I pass the Boston City Hall there appears the Franklin statue. 

As I face the Old South Church and its ancient neighborhood I am in theplace of the traditions of the birth of Benjamin Franklin and of hisbaptism. It may be that I will return by the way of Franklin Street, orvisit the Franklin School, or go to the Mechanics' Building, where I maysee the primitive printing press at which Franklin worked, and which wasburied in the earth at Newport, Rhode Island, at the time of theRevolutionary War. 

If I go to the Public Library, I may find there two original portraitsof Franklin and a Franklin gallery, and a picture of him once owned byThomas Jefferson. 

If I go to the Memorial Hall at Harvard College, I will there seeanother portrait of the philosopher in the grand gallery of noble men. Or I may go to Boston's wide pleasure ground, the Franklin Park, by anelectric car made possible by the discoveries of Franklin. 

Nearly all of Franklin's early efforts were laughed at, but he would notbe laughed down. Time is the friend of every true purpose. 

Boys with a purpose, face the future, do good in silence, and trust. Youwill find some Uncle Benjamin and sister Jenny to hold you by the hand. Be in dead earnest, and face the future, and forward march! The captainsof industry and the leaders of every achievement say, "Guide right! Turnto the right, and advance!"

CHAPTER XIX. 

LEAVES BOSTON. 

THESE were fine old times, but they were English times; English ideasruled Boston town. There was little liberty of opinion or of the pressin those days. The Franklins belonged to a few families who hoped tofind in the province freedom of thought. James Franklin was a testy man, but he breathed free air, and one day in his paper, the Courant, hepublished the following simple sentences, the like of which any onemight print anywhere in the civilized world to-day: "If Almighty Godwill have Canada subdued without the assistance of those miserableSavages, in whom we have too much confidence, we shall be glad thatthere will be no sacrifices offered up to the Devil upon the occasion;God alone will have all the glory. "

What had he done? He had protested against the use of Indians in the warthen being waged against Canada. 

He was arrested on a charge that the article in which this paragraphappeared, and some like articles, "contained reflections of a very highnature. " He was sentenced to a month's imprisonment and forbidden topublish the paper. So James went to jail, and he left the management ofthe paper to Benjamin. 

This incident gives us a remarkable view of the times. But Boston wasonly following the English law and custom. 

The printing office was now carried on in Benjamin's name. Little Bengrew and flourished, until his popularity excited the envy of hisbrother. One day they quarreled, and James, almost in the spirit ofCain, struck his bright, enterprising apprentice. Benjamin had a proudheart. He would not stand a blow from James without a protest. What washe to do?

He resolved to leave the office of his brother James forever. He did so, and tried to secure work elsewhere. His brother's influence preventedhim from doing this. His resentment against his brother grew morebitter, and blinded him to all besides. This was conduct unworthy of ayoung philosopher. In his resentment he does not seem to have regardedthe feelings of his good father, or the heart of his mother that wouldache and find relief in tears at night, nor even of Jenny, whom heloved. He took a sloop for New York, and bade good-by to no one. Thesail dipped down the harbor, and the three hills of Boston faded fromhis view. 

He was now on the ocean, and out in the world alone. We are sorry to saythat he faced life with such a deep resentment toward his brother in hisheart. He afterward came to regard his going away in this manner as oneof the mistakes of his life which he would wish to correct. His betterheart came back again, true to his home. 

He was not popular in Boston in his last days there. New influences hadcome into his life. He had loved argument and disputation, and there isa subtile manner of discussion called the "Socratic method, " which hehad found in Xenophon, in which one confuses an opponent by askingquestions and never making direct assertions himself, but using thesubjunctive mood. It is an art of entanglement. The boy had delighted in"twisting people all up, " and making them contradict themselves after aperversion of the manner described by Xenophon in his Life of Socrates. 

As religion and politics formed the principal subjects of thesediscussions, and he liked to take the unpopular view in order to throwhis mental antagonist, he had fallen into disfavor, to which disesteemhis brother's charges against him had added. These things made Jenny'sheart ache, but she never ceased to believe in Ben. 

Few boys ever left the city in provincial times with less promise of anygreat future, so far as public opinion is concerned. But, notwithstanding these errors of judgment, he still carried with him apurpose of being a benefactor, and his dream was to help the world. Thestar of this purpose ever shone before him in the deserts of hiswanderings. 

But how was he to succeed, after thus following his own personal feelingin matters like these? By correcting his own errors as soon as he sawthem, and never repeating them again. This he did; he openlyacknowledged his faults, and tried to make amends for them. He whoconfesses his errors, and seeks to retrieve them, has a heart andpurpose that the public will love. But it is a higher and nobler lifenot to fall into such errors. 

This was about the year 1723. A curious incident happened on the voyageto New York. Young Franklin had become a vegetarian--that is, he hadbeen convinced that it was wrong to kill animals for food, and wrong toeat flesh of any kind. 

The ship became becalmed, and the sailors betook themselves to fishing. Franklin loved to argue still, notwithstanding his unhappy experiences. 

"Fishing is murder, " said he. "Why should these inhabitants of the seabe deprived of their lives and opportunities of enjoyment? They havenever done any one harm, and they live the lives for which Nature madethem. They have the same right to liberty that they have to life. "

This indicated a true heart. But when the steward began to cook the fishthat the sailors had caught, the frying of them did have a savory smell. 

Young Franklin now began to be tempted from theory by appetite. Howcould he get over his principles and share the meal with the sailors?The cook seized a large fish to prepare it for the frying-pan. As he cutoff its head and opened him he found in him a little fish. 

"So you eat fish, " said Franklin, addressing the prize; "then why may Inot eat _you_?" He did so, and from this time left off his vegetarianhabits, which habits, like his aspiration to be a poet, did credit tohis heart. 

His argument in this case had no force. The fish had not a moral nature, and because an animal or reptile without such a nature should eat otheranimals or reptiles would furnish no reason why a being governed by lawsoutside of himself should do the same. 

October found him in New York, a Dutch town of less than ten thousandinhabitants. He was about eighteen years of age. New York then hadlittle in common with the city of to-day. Its streets were marked bygable ends and cobble stones. Franklin applied for work to a printerthere, and the latter commended him to go to Philadelphia. He followedthe advice, going by sea, friendless and forlorn, with only a fewshillings in his pocket. 

He helped row the boat across the Delaware. He offered the boatman hisfare. 

"No, " said the boatman, "I ought to take nothing; you helped row. "

Franklin had just one silver dollar and a shilling in copper coin. Heinsisted that the ferryman should take the coin. He said of this liberalsense of honor afterward that one is "sometimes more generous when hehas little money than when he has plenty. "

Philadelphia, the city of Penn, now rose before him, and he entered it afriendless lad, whom none knew and few could have noticed. Would any onethen have dreamed that he would one day become the governor of theprovince?

Benjamin Franklin had now found the world indeed, and his brother Jameshad lost the greatest apprentice that the world ever had. Both wereblind. Each had needed that early training that develops the spiritualpowers, and makes it a delight to say "No" to all the lower passions ofhuman nature. 

Josiah and Abiah Franklin had had great hopes of little Ben. The boy hada large brain and a tender heart. From their point of view they hadtrained him well. They had sent him to the Old South Church and had madehim the subject of their daily prayers. In fact, these good people haddone their best to make him a "steady boy, " according to their light. The education of the inner life was like a sealed book to them. But theywere yet people upon whom a larger light was breaking. The poor old soapand candle maker went on with his business at the Blue Ball with a heavyheart. 

"Gone, gone, " said Jamie the Scotchman. "He'll find proverbs enough onhis way of life. This is a hard world, but he has a heart to return tothe right. I pity good Abiah Franklin, but we often have to trust wherewe can not see. "

CHAPTER XX. 

LAUGHED AT AGAIN. 

FRANKLIN'S first day in Philadelphia is well known to the world. He hasrelated it in Addisonian English, and it has been read almost as widelyas the adventures of Robinson Crusoe or Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 

We must give a part of the narrative here in his own language, for amerry girl is about to laugh at the Boston boy as she sees him pass, andhe will cause this lovely girl to laugh with him many times in hisrising career and in different spirit from that on the occasion when shefirst beheld him, the awkward and comical-looking boy wandering he knewnot where on the street. 

Let us follow him through his own narrative until he meets the eyes ofDeborah Read, a fair lass of eighteen. 

On his arrival at Philadelphia, he tells us, he was in his workingdress; his best clothes were to come by sea. He was covered with dirt;his pockets were filled with shirts and stockings. He was unacquaintedwith a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek for alodging. Fatigued with walking, rowing, and having passed the nightwithout sleep, he was extremely hungry, and all his money consisted of aDutch dollar and about a shilling's worth of coppers, which latter hegave to the boatman for his passage. 

He walked toward the top of the street, looking eagerly on both sides, till he came to Market Street, where he met with a child with a loaf ofbread. Often he had made his dinner on dry bread. He inquired of thechild where he had bought the bread, and went straight to the baker'sshop which the latter pointed out to him. He asked for some biscuits, expecting to find such as they had in Boston; but they made, it seems, none of that sort in Philadelphia. He then asked for a threepenny loaf. They made no loaves of that price. Finding himself ignorant of theprices as well as of the different kinds of bread, he desired the bakerto let him have threepenny worth of bread of some kind or other. Thebaker gave him three large rolls. He was surprised at receiving so much;he took them, however, and having no room in his pockets, he walked onwith a roll under each arm, eating the third. In this manner he wentthrough Market Street to Fourth Street, and passed the house of Mr. Read, the father of his future wife. The girl was standing at the door, observed him, and thought with reason that he made a very singular andgrotesque appearance, and laughed merrily. We repeat the many-times-toldtale in nearly his own words. 

So here we find our young adventurer laughed at again. We can fancy theyoung girl standing on her father's doorsteps on that mellow autumn day. There comes up the street a lad with two rolls of bread under his arm, and eating a third roll, his pockets full of the simpler necessities ofclothing, which must have made him look like a ragman; everything abouthim was queer and seemingly wrong. She may have seen that he was justfrom the boat, and a traveler, but when did ever a traveler look soentirely out of his senses as this one did?

Never mind, Ben Franklin. You will one day stand in Versailles in thevelvet robes of state, and the French king will give you his portraitframed in four hundred and eight diamonds. 

"I then turned the corner, " he continues, "and went through ChestnutStreet, eating my roll all the way; and having made this round, I foundmyself again on Market Street Wharf, near the boat in which I arrived. Istepped into it to take a draught of river water, and finding myselfsatisfied with my first roll, I gave the other two to a woman and herchild who had come down the river with us in the boat and was waiting tocontinue her journey. Thus refreshed, I regained the street, which wasnow full of well-dressed people, all going the same way. I joined them, and was thus led to a large Quakers' meeting-house near themarket-place. I sat down with the rest, and, after looking round me forsome time, hearing nothing said, and being drowsy from my last night'slabor and want of rest, I fell into a sound sleep. In this state Icontinued till the assembly dispersed, when one of the congregation hadthe goodness to wake me. This was consequently the first house I enteredor in which I slept at Philadelphia. 

"I began again to walk along the streets by the riverside, and, lookingattentively in the face of every one I met with, I at length perceived ayoung Quaker whose countenance pleased me. I accosted him, and beggedhim to inform me where a stranger might find a lodging. We were thennear the sign of the Three Mariners. 'They receive travelers here, 'said he, 'but it is not a house that bears a good character. If you willgo with me I will show you a better one. ' He conducted me to the CrookedBillet, in Water Street. There I ordered something for dinner, andduring my meal a number of curious questions were put to me, my youthand appearance exciting the suspicion of my being a young runaway. Afterdinner my drowsiness returned, and I threw myself upon a bed withouttaking off my clothes, and slept till six o'clock in the evening, when Iwas called to supper. I afterward went to bed at a very early hour, anddid not awake till the next morning. 

"As soon as I got up I put myself in as decent a trim as I could, andwent to the house of Andrew Bradford, the printer. I found his father inthe shop, whom I had seen at New York. Having traveled on horseback, hehad arrived at Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his son, whoreceived me with civility and gave me some breakfast, but told me he hadno occasion at present for a journeyman, having lately procured one. Headded that there was another printer newly settled in the town, of thename of Keimer, who might perhaps employ me, and that in case of refusalI should be welcome to lodge at his house. He would give me a littlework now and then till something better should be found. 

"The old man offered to introduce me to the new printer. When we were athis house, 'Neighbor, ' said he, 'I bring you a young man in the printingbusiness; perhaps you may have need of his services. '

"Keimer asked me some questions, put a composing stick in my hand tosee how I could work, and then said that at present he had nothing forme to do, but that he should soon be able to employ me. At the same timetaking old Bradford for an inhabitant of the town well disposed towardhim, he communicated his project to him and the prospect he had ofsuccess. Bradford was careful not to discover that he was the father ofthe other printer; and from what Keimer had said, that he hoped shortlyto be in possession of the greater part of the business of the town, ledhim, by artful questions and by starting some difficulties, to discloseall his views, what his hopes were founded upon, and how he intended toproceed. I was present and heard it all. I instantly saw that one of thetwo was a cunning old fox and the other a perfect novice. Bradford leftme with Keimer, who was strangely surprised when I informed him who theold man was. 

"I found Keimer's printing materials to consist of an old, damaged pressand a small font of worn-out English letters, with which he himself wasat work upon an elegy upon Aquilla Rose, an ingenious young man and ofexcellent character, highly esteemed in the town, Secretary to theAssembly and a very tolerable poet. Keimer also made verses, but theywere indifferent ones. He could not be said to write in verse, for hismethod was to set the lines as they followed from his muse; and as heworked without copy, had but one set of letter cases, and as the elegywould occupy all his types, it was impossible for any one to assist him. I endeavored to put his press in order, which he had not yet used, andof which indeed he understood nothing; and, having promised to come andwork off his elegy as soon as it should be ready, I returned to thehouse of Bradford, who gave me some trifles to do for the present, forwhich I had my board and lodging. 

"In a few days Keimer sent for me to print off his elegy. He had nowprocured another set of letter cases, and had a pamphlet to reprint, upon which he set me to work. 

"The two Philadelphia printers appeared destitute of every qualificationnecessary in their profession. Bradford had not been brought up to it, and was very illiterate. Keimer, though he understood a little of thebusiness, was merely a compositor, and wholly incapable of working atpress. He had been one of the French prophets, and knew how to imitatetheir supernatural agitations. At the time of our first acquaintance heprofessed no particular religion, but a little of all upon occasion. Hewas totally ignorant of the world, and a great knave at heart, as I hadafterward an opportunity of experiencing. 

"Keimer could not endure that, working with him, I should lodge atBradford's. He had indeed a house, but it was unfurnished, so that hecould not take me in. He procured me a lodging at Mr. Read's, hislandlord, whom I have already mentioned. My trunk and effects being nowarrived, I thought of making, in the eyes of Miss Read, a morerespectable appearance than when chance exhibited me to her view, eatingmy roll and wandering in the streets. 

"From this period I began to contract acquaintance with such youngpeople as were fond of reading, and spent my evenings with themagreeably, while at the same time I gained money by my industry, and, thanks to my frugality, lived contentedly. I thus forgot Boston as muchas possible, and wished every one to be ignorant of the place of myresidence, except my friend Collins, to whom I wrote, and who kept mysecret. 

"An accident, however, happened which sent me home much sooner than Iproposed. I had a brother-in-law, of the name of Robert Holmes, masterof a trading sloop from Boston to Delaware. Being at Newcastle, fortymiles below Philadelphia, he heard of me, and wrote to inform me of thechagrin which my sudden departure from Boston had occasioned my parents, and of the affection which they still entertained for me, assuring methat, if I would return, everything should be adjusted to mysatisfaction; and he was very pressing in his entreaties. I answered hisletter, thanked him for his advice, and explained the reasons which hadinduced me to quit Boston with such force and clearness that he wasconvinced I had been less to blame than he had imagined. 

"Sir William Keith, Governor of the province, was at Newcastle at thetime. Captain Holmes, being by chance in his company when he received myletter, took occasion to speak of me and showed it to him. The Governorread it, and appeared surprised when he learned of my age. He thoughtme, he said, a young man of very promising talents, and that ofconsequence I ought to be encouraged; that there were at Philadelphianone but very ignorant printers, and that if I were to set up for myselfhe had no doubt of my success; that, for his own part, he would procureme all the public business, and would render me every other service inhis power. My brother-in-law related all this to me afterward at Boston, but I knew nothing of it at the time. When, one day, Keimer and I beingat work together near the window, we saw the Governor and anothergentleman, Colonel French, of Newcastle, handsomely dressed, cross thestreet and make directly for our house. We heard them at the door, andKeimer, believing it to be a visit to himself, went immediately down;but the Governor inquired for me, came upstairs, and, with acondescension and politeness to which I had not at all been accustomed, paid me many compliments, desired to be acquainted with me, obliginglyreproached me for not having made myself known to him on my arrival inthe town, and wished me to accompany him to a tavern, where he andColonel French were going to have some excellent Madeira wine. 

"I was, I confess, somewhat surprised, and Keimer appearedthunderstruck. I went, however, with the Governor and the colonel to atavern at the corner of Third Street, where he proposed to me toestablish a printing house. He set forth the probabilities of success, and himself and Colonel French assured me that I should have theirprotection and influence in obtaining the printing of the public papersof both governments; and as I appeared to doubt whether my father wouldassist me in this enterprise, Sir William said that he would give me aletter to him, in which he would represent the advantages of the schemein a light which he had no doubt would determine him. It was thusconcluded that I should return to Boston by the first vessel with theletter of recommendation from the Governor to my father. Meanwhile theproject was to be kept secret, and I continued to work for Keimer asbefore. 

"The Governor sent every now and then to invite me to dine with him. Iconsidered this a very great honor, and I was the more sensible of it ashe conversed with me in the most affable, familiar, and friendly mannerimaginable. 

"Toward the end of April, 1724, a small vessel was ready to sail forBoston. I took leave of Keimer upon the pretext of going to see myparents. The Governor gave me a long letter, in which he said manyflattering things of me to my father, and strongly recommended theproject of my settling at Philadelphia as a thing which could not failto make my fortune. "

What is there prophetic of a great life in this homely narrative? Readover again the incident of the three rolls, one of which he ate, and twoof which he gave to the poor woman and her child who needed them morethan he. All his money on that day was one silver dollar. In thatincident we see the heart and the persistent purpose to do good. He hadmade mistakes, but the resolution that he had made on reading CottonMather's meaty book was unshaken. He would correct his errors and yieldto his better nature, and this purpose to help others would grow, and sohe would overcome evil with good. 

He who helps one helps two. The poor woman may never have been heard ofin public, except in this story, but that act of sharing the rolls, withone for the little child, made Ben Franklin a larger man. "The purposeof life is to grow. "

Benjamin Franklin is now a seed in the wind, but he is a good seed inthe wind--good at heart, with a right purpose. The stream of life isturned aside, but it will flow true again toward the great ocean ofthat which is broadest and best. 

For this little Jenny at home is hoping, and Abiah Franklin praying, andJosiah Franklin keeping silence in regard to his family affairs. 

These were hard days for Uncle Benjamin and his philosophy, and forJenny and her human faith. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

LONDON AND A LONG SWIM. 

WHAT kind of a man was Governor Sir William Keith? There are not manysuch, but one such may be found in almost every large community. Hedesired popularity, and he loved to please every one. He was constantlypromising what he was not able to fulfill. He had a lively imagination, and he liked to think what he would do if he could for every brightperson he met; and these things which he would like to do he promised, and his promises often ended in disappointment. It delighted him to seefaces light up with hope. Did he intend to deceive? No. He had a heartto bless the whole world. He was for a time a very popular Governor, buthe who had given away expectations that but disappointed so many heartswas at last disappointed in all his expectations. He was greatly pleasedwith young Benjamin Franklin when he first met him, just as he had beenwith many other promising young men. He liked a young man who had thehope of the future in his face. This young printer who had entertainedBoston under the name of Silence Dogood won his heart on a furtheracquaintance, and so he used to invite him to his home. He there showedhim how essential a good printer would be to the province; how such ayoung man as he would make a fortune; and he urged him to go back tohis father in Boston and borrow money for such an enterprise. He gavehim a long letter of commendation to his father, a droll missive indeedto carry to clear-sighted, long-headed Josiah Franklin. 

With this grand letter and twenty-five pounds in silver in his pocketand a gold watch besides, and his vision full of rainbows, he returnedto the Puritan town. He went to the printing office, which was againunder the charge of his brother James. He was finely dressed, and as hehad come back with such flattering prospects he had a grain of vanity. 

He entered James's office. The latter looked at him with wide eyes, thenturned from him coldly. 

But Silence Dogood was not to be chilled. The printers flocked aroundhim with wonder, as though he had been a returning Sindbad, and he beganto relate to them his adventures in Philadelphia. James heard him withenvy, doubtful of the land "where rocs flew away with elephants. " Butwhen Benjamin showed the men his watch, and finally shared with them asilver dollar in hospitalities, he fancied that his brother had comethere to insult him, and he felt more bitterly toward him than everbefore. Benjamin had much to learn in life. He and his brother, notwithstanding their good Quaker-born mother, had not learned thesecret of the harmony of Abraham and Lot. 

But one of these lessons of life our elated printer was to learn, and atonce. 

He returned to his home at the Blue Ball. His parents had not heard fromhim since he went away some seven months before, and they, thoughgrieved at his conduct, received him joyfully. There was always an opendoor in Abiah Folger's heart. The Quaker blood of good Peter Folgernever ceased to course warm in her veins. 

Ben told his marvelous story. After the literary adventures of SilenceDogood in Boston, his parents could believe much, but when he came totell of his intimacy with Sir William Keith, Governor of the Province ofPennsylvania, successor to the great William Penn, they knew not what tothink. Either Sir William must be a singular man, or they must haveunderrated the ability of young Silence Dogood. 

"This is great news indeed. But what proof do you bring of your goodfortune, my son?" asked the level-headed Josiah, lifting his spectaclesupon his forehead and giving his son a searching look. 

Young Benjamin took from his pocket the letter of Sir William and laidit before his father. It indeed had the vice-royal seal of the province. 

His father put down his spectacles from his forehead, and his wife Abiahdrew up her chair beside him, and he read the letter to himself and thenreviewed it aloud. 

The letter told him what a wonderfully promising young man Benjamin was;how well he was adapted to become the printer of the province, and howhe only needed a loan wherewith to begin business to make a fortune. 

Josiah Franklin could not doubt the genuineness of the letter. He satthinking, drumming on a soap shelf. 

"But why, my boy, if you are so able and so much needed does notGovernor Keith lend you the money himself?"

Ben sat silent. Not all the arts of the Socratic method could suggestany answer to this question. 

"I am glad that you have an influential patron, " said Josiah, "but to aman of hard sense it would seem very strange that he should not advancethe money himself to help one so likely to become so useful to theprovince to begin business. People are seldom offered something fornothing in this world, and why this man has made himself your patron Ican not see, even through my spectacles. "

"He wishes, father, to make me a printer for the advancement of theprovince. "

"Then why, my son, should not a governor of a rich province himselfprovide you with means to become a printer for the advancement of theprovince?"

Socrates himself could not have answered this question. 

"Did you tell him that your father was an honest, hard-working soapboiler and candle maker?"

"No, " said the young man. 

"Benjamin, I have a large family, and I am unable to lend you the moneythat the Governor requests. But even if I had the money I shouldhesitate to let you have it for such a purpose. You are too young tostart in business, and your character is not settled. That troubles me, Ben. Your character is not settled. You have made some bad mistakesalready. You went away without bidding your mother good-by, and nowreturn to me with a letter from the Governor of Pennsylvania who asks meto loan you money to set you up in business, because you are soagreeable and promising. O Ben, Ben, did you not think that I had moresense than that?"

Josiah lifted his spectacles up to his forehead, and looked his finelydressed son fully in the face. The pride of the latter began to shrink. He saw himself as he was. 

But Abiah pleaded for her large-brained boy--Abiah, whose heart wasalways open, in whom lived Peter Folger still. Jenny had but one thingto say. It was, "Ben, don't go back, don't go back. "

"I will tell you what I will do, " said Josiah. "I will write a letter toGovernor Keith, telling him the plain truth of my circumstances. That isjust right. If when you are twenty years of age you will have saved apart of the money to begin business, I will do what I can for you. "

With this letter Silence Dogood returned to Philadelphia in humiliation. We think it was this Silence Dogood who wrote the oft-quoted proverb, "Agood kick out of doors is worth all the rich uncles in the world. "

Young Franklin presented his father's letter to Governor Keith. 

"Your father is too prudent, " said the latter. "He says that you are tooyoung and unsettled for business. Some people are thirty years old ateighteen. It is not years that are to be considered in this case, butfitness for work. I will start you in business myself. "

Silence Dogood rejoiced. Here was a man who was "better than afather"--the "best man in all the world, " he thought. 

"Make out an inventory of the things that you need to begin the businessof a printer, and I will send to London for them. "

Benjamin did so, an inventory to the amount of one hundred pounds. Hebrought it to the Governor, who greatly surprised him by a suggestion. 

"Perhaps, " said Sir William, "you would like to go to London and get themachinery yourself. I would give you a letter of credit. "

Was it raining gold?

"I would like to go to London, " answered the young printer. 

"Then I will provide for your journey. You shall go with Captain Annis. "This captain sailed yearly from Philadelphia to London. 

Waiting the sailing of the ship months passed away. Governor Keithentertained the young printer at his home. The sailing time came. Franklin went to the office of the Governor to receive the letter ofcredit and promised letters of introduction. 

"All in good time, my boy, " said the Governor's clerk, "but the Governoris busy and can not see you now. If you will call on Wednesday you willreceive the letters. "

Young Franklin called at the office on the day appointed. 

"All in good time, my boy, " said the clerk. "The Governor has not hadtime to fix them up and get them ready. They will be sent to you onboard the ship with the Governor's mail. "

So Franklin went on board the ship. As the Governor's mail came on boardhe asked the captain to let him see the letters, but the latter told himthat he must wait until the ship got under way. 

Out at sea the Governor's letters were shown to him. There were severaldirected to people "in the care of Benjamin Franklin. " He supposed thesecontained notes of introduction and the letter of credit, so he passedhappily over the sea. 

He reached London December 24, 1724. He rushed into the grand old citybearing the letters directed in his care. He took the one deemed mostimportant to the office of the gentleman to whom it was directed. "Thisletter is from Governor Keith, of the Province of Pennsylvania, " saidFranklin. 

"I know of no such person, " said the man. The latter opened the letter. "Oh, I see, " said he, "it is from one Riddleson. I have found him out tobe a rascal, an exile, and refuse to entertain any communication fromhim. "

Franklin's face fell. His heart turned heavy. He went out wondering. "Was his father's advice sound, after all?"

The rest of the letters that had been directed in his care were notwritten by Governor Keith, but by people in the province to theirfriends, of which he had been made a postboy. There were in the mail noletters of introduction from Governor Keith to any one, and no letter ofcredit. 

He found himself alone in London, that great wilderness of homes. OfKeith's conduct he thus speaks in his autobiography:

"What shall we think of a Governor playing such pitiful tricks, andimposing so grossly upon a poor ignorant boy? It was a habit he hadacquired; he wished to please everybody, and having little to give, hegave expectations. He was otherwise an ingenuous, sensible man, a prettygood writer, and a good Governor for the people, though not for hisconstituents, the Proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimesdisregarded. Several of our best laws were of his planning, and passedduring his administration. "

He found work as a journeyman printer in London, and we are sorry to saylived like most journeymen printers there. But Silence Dogood had tomake himself useful even among these unsettled people. He instituted newways of business and life of advantage to journeymen printers, and sokept the chain of his purpose lengthening. 

There was a series of curious incidents that happened during the lastpart of this year of residence in London that came near changing hiscareer. It was in 1726; he was about twenty years old. He had alwaysloved the water, to be on it and in it, and he became an expert swimmerwhen he was a lad in Boston town. 

He had led a temperate life among the London apprentices, and had kepthis physical strength unimpaired. He drank water while they drank beer. They laughed at him, but he was able to carry up stairs a heavier caseof type than any of them. They called him the "American water-drinker, "but there came a day when he performed a feat that became the admirationof the young London printers. He loved companionship, and had manyintimate friends, and among them there was one Wygate, who went swimmingwith him, probably in the Thames, and whom he taught to swim in twolessons. 

One day Wygate invited him to go into the country with him and some ofhis friends. They had a merry time and returned by water. After they hadembarked from Chelsea, a suburb which was then some four and a halfmiles from St. Paul's Cathedral, Wygate said to him:

[Illustration: "ARE YOU GOING TO SWIM BACK TO LONDON?"]

"Franklin, you are a water boy; let us see how well you can swim. "

Franklin knew his strength and skill. He took off his clothing andleaped into the river, and probably performed all the old feats that onecan do in the water. 

His dexterity delighted the party, but it soon won their applause. 

He swam a mile. 

"Come on board!" shouted they. "Are you going to swim back to London?"

"Yes, " came a voice as if from a fish in the bright, sunny water. 

He swam two miles. 

The wonder of the party grew. 

Three miles. 

They cheered. 

Four miles to Blackfriars Bridge. Such a thing had never been knownamong the apprentice lads. The swim brought young Franklin immediatefame among these apprentices, and it spread and filled London. 

Sir William Wyndham, once Chancellor of the Exchequer, heard of thisexploit, and desired to see him. He had two sons who were about totravel, to whom he wished Franklin to teach swimming. But the two boyswere detained in another place, and Franklin never met them. It wasproposed to Franklin that he open a swimming school. 

But while he was favorable to such agreeable employment, there occurredone of those incidents that seem providential. 

He met one day at this shifting period Mr. Denham, the uprightmerchant, whose integrity came to honor his profession and Philadelphia. This man had failed in business at Bristol, and had left England under acloud. But he had an honest soul and purpose, and he resolved to payevery dollar that he owed. To this end he put all the energies of hislife into his business. He went to America to make a fortune, and hemade it. He then returned to Bristol, which he had left in sorrow andhumiliation. 

He gave a banquet, and invited to it all the merchants and people whomhe owed. They responded to the unexpected invitation, and wondered whatwould happen. When they had seated themselves at the table, and the timeto serve the meal came, the dinner plates were lifted, and each onefound before him the full amount of the money due to him. The banquet ofhonor made the name of the merchant famous. 

Mr. Denham was a friend to men in need of good influences. He sawFranklin's need of advice, and he said to him:

"My young friend, you should return to Philadelphia. It is the place ofopportunity. "

"But I have not the means. "

"I have the means for you. I am about to return to America with a cargoof merchandise. You must go back with me. Your place in life is there. "

Should he go?

It was early summer. He went out on London Bridge one night. It grewdark late. But at last there gleamed in the dark water the lights ofLondon like stars. Many voices filled the air as the boats passed by. The nine o'clock bells rang. It may be that he heard the Bow bells ring, the bells that said, "Come back! come back! come back!" to young DickWhittington when he was running away from his place in life. If so, hemust have been reminded of all that this man accomplished by heeding thevoice of the bells, and of how King Henry had said, after all hisbenefactions, "Did ever a prince have such a subject?"

He must have thought of Uncle Tom and the bells of Nottingham on thisclear night of lovely airs and out-of-door merriments. Over the greatcity towered St. Paul's under the rising moon. Afar was the Abbey, withthe dust of kings. 

Then he thought of Uncle Benjamin's pamphlets. It seemed useless for oneto look for books in this great city of London. 

Franklin never saw ghosts, except such as arise out of conscience intothe eye of the mind. But the old man's form and his counsels now cameinto the view of the imagination. His old Boston home came back to hisdreams; Jenny came back to him, and the face of the young woman whom hehad learned to love in Philadelphia. 

He resolved to return. America was his land, and he must build with herbuilders. He sailed for America with his good adviser, the honestmerchant, July 21, 1726, and left noblemen's sons to learn to swim inthe manner that he himself had mastered the water. 

Did he ever see Governor Keith again? Yes. After his return toPhiladelphia he met there upon the street one who was becoming adiscredited man. The latter recognized him, but his face turned intoconfusion. He did not bow; nor did Franklin. It was Governor Keith. ThisGovernor Please-Everybody died in London after years of poverty, at theage of eighty. 

Silence Dogood may have thought of his father's raised spectacles whenhe met Sir William that day on the street, and when they did not wish torecognize each other, or of Jenny's words, "Ben, don't go back. "

He had learned some hard lessons from the book of life, and he wouldhenceforth be true to the most unselfish counsels on earth--the heartand voice of home. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

A PENNY ROLL WITH HONOR. --JENNY'S SPINNING-WHEEL. 

BENJAMIN became a printer again. By the influence of friends he openedin Philadelphia an office in part his own. 

Benjamin Franklin had no Froebel education. The great apostle of theeducation of the spiritual faculties had not yet appeared, and evenPestalozzi, the founder of common schools for character education, couldnot have been known to him. But when a boy he had grasped the idea thatwas to be evolved by these two philosophers, that the end of educationis character, and that right habits become fixed or automatic, thusvirtue must be added to virtue, intelligence to intelligence, benevolence to benevolence, faith to faith. 

One day, when he was very poor, there came into his printing office abustling man. 

"See here, my boy, I have a piece for you; there's ginger in it, and itwill make a stir. You will get well paid for giving it to the public;all Philadelphia will read it. "

"I am glad to get something to give the paper life, " said Franklin. "Iwill read the article as soon as I have time to spare. "

"I will call to-morrow, " said the man. "It is running water that makesthings grow. That article will prove very interesting reading to manypeople, and it will do them good. It is a needed rebuke. You'll say sowhen you read it. "

Franklin at this time did a great part of the work in the officehimself, and he was very busy that day. At last he found time to take upthe article. He hoped to find it one that would add to the circulationof the paper. He found that it was written in a revengeful spirit, thatit was full of detraction and ridicule, that it would answer no goodpurpose, that it would awaken animosities and engender bitter feelingsand strife. But if used it would be read, laughed at, increase the saleof the paper, and secure him the reputation of publishing a _smart_paper. 

Should he publish an article whose influence would be harmful to thepublic for the sake of money and notoriety?

He here began in himself as an editor that process of moral educationwhich tends to make fixed habits of thought, judgment, and life. Heresolved _not_ to print the article. 

But the author of it would laugh at him--might call him puritanic; wouldprobably say that he did not know when he was "well off"; that he stoodin his own light; that he had not the courage to rebuke private evils. 

The young printer had the courage to rebuke wrong, but this article wasa sting--a revengeful attempt to make one a laughing stock. It had nogood motive. But it haunted him. He turned the question of his duty overand over in his mind. 

Night came, and he had not the money to purchase a supper or to secure abed. Should he not print the lively article, and make for himself betterfare on the morrow?

No. Manhood is more than money, worth more than wealth. He went to thebaker's and bought a twopenny roll; he ate it in his office, and thenlay down on the floor of his office and went to sleep. 

The boy's sleep was sweet. He had decided the matter in his own heart, and had given himself a first lesson in what we would to-day call thenew education. In this case it was an editorial education. 

It was a lovely winter morning. There was joy in all Nature; the air wasclear and keen; the Schuylkill rippled bright in the glory of the sun. He rose before the sun, and went to his work with a clear conscience, but probably dreading the anger of the patron when he should give himhis decision. 

When the baker's shop opened he may have bought another twopenny roll. He certainly sat down and ate one, with a dipper of water. 

In the later hours of the morning the door opened, and the patron camein with a beaming face. 

"Have you read it?"

"Yes, I have read the article, sir. "

"Won't that be a good one? What did you think of it?"

"That I ought not to use it. "

"Why?" asked the man, greatly astonished. 

"I can not be sure that it would not do injustice to the person whom youhave attacked. There are always two sides to a case. I myself would notlike to be publicly ridiculed in that manner. Detraction leads todetraction, and hatred begets hate. "

"But you must have money, my Boston lad. Have you thought of that?" wasthe suggestion. 

Franklin drew himself up in the strength and resolution of youngmanhood, and made the following answer, which we give, as we think, almost in his very words:

"I am sorry to say, sir, that I think the article is scurrilous anddefamatory. But I have been at a loss, on account of my poverty, whetherto reject it or not. I therefore put it to this issue. At night, when mywork was done, I bought a twopenny loaf, on which I supped heartily, andthen wrapping myself in my greatcoat slept very soundly on the flooruntil morning, when another loaf and a 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 passion fora more luxurious living?"

This experience may be regarded as temporizing, but it was inwardeducation in the right direction, a step that led upward. It shows thetrend of the way, the end of which is the "path of the just, that leadsmore and more unto the perfect day. "

A young man who was willing to eat a twopenny roll and to sleep on thefloor of his pressroom for a principle, had in him the power that liftslife, and that sustains it when lifted. He who puts self under himselffor the sake of justice has in him the gravitation of the skies. UncleBen's counsels were beginning to live in him. Jenny's girl's faith wasbudding in his heart, and it would one day bloom. He was turning to theright now, and he would advance. There are periods in some people'slives when they do not write often to their best friends; such a one hadjust passed with Ben. During the Governor Keith misadventures he had notwritten home often, as the reader may well imagine. But now that he hadcome back to Philadelphia and was prosperous, the memory of lovingJenny began to steal back into his heart. 

He had heard that Jenny, now at sweet sixteen, was famous for herbeauty. He may have been jealous of her, we do not know; but he wasapprehensive that she might become vain, and he regarded modesty, evenat his early age of twenty-one or twenty-two, as a thing very becoming ablooming girl. 

One day he wrote to her, "Jenny, I am going to send you a present by thenext ship to Boston town. "

The promise filled the girl's heart with delight. Her faith in him hadnever failed, nor had her love for him changed. 

What would the present be?

She went to her mother to help her solve this riddle. 

"Perhaps it will be a ring, " she said. "I would rather have that fromBen than any other thing. "

"But he would not send a ring by ship, " said her mother, "but by thepost chaise. "

"True, mother; it can not be that. It may be a spinet. I think it is aspinet. He knows how we have delighted in father's violin. He might liketo send me a harp, but what is a spinet but a harp in a box?"

"I think it may be that, Jenny. He would send a spinet by ship, and heknows how much we all love music. "

"Yes, and he must see how many girls are adding the music of the spinetto their accomplishments. "

"Wouldn't a spinet be rather out of place in a candle shop?" asked themother. 

"Not out of place in the parlor of a candle shop, " said Jenny withdignity. 

"Do you think that you could learn to play the spinet, Jenny?"

"I would, if Ben were to send me one. I have been true to Ben all along. I have never given him up. He may get out of place in life, but he issure to get back again. A true heart always does. I am sure that it is aspinet that he will send. I dreamed, " she added, "that I heard a hummingsound in the air something like a harp. I dreamed it in the morning, andmorning dreams come true. "

"A humming sound, " said Josiah Franklin, who had come within hearing;"there are some things besides spinets that make humming sounds, and Benmust know how poor we are. I am glad that his heart is turning homeagain, after his _scattering_ adventures with the Governor. It is notevery one who goes to sea without a rudder that gets back to portagain. "

Jenny dreamed daily of the coming ship and present. The ship came in, and one evening at dark an old sailor knocked at the door. He presentlycame in and announced that they had a "boxed-up" thing for one JaneFranklin on board the ship. Should he send it by the cartman to thehouse?

"Yes, yes!" cried Jenny. "Now I know it is a spinet I heard humming--Itold you about it, mother. "

The girl awaited the arrival of the gift with a flushed cheek and abeating heart. It came at last, and was brought in by candlelight. 

It was indeed a "boxed-up" thing. 

The family gathered around it--the father and mother, the boys and thegirls. 

Josiah Franklin broke open the box with his great claw hammer, whichmight have pleased an Ajax. 

"O Jenny!" he exclaimed, "that will make a humming indeed. Ben has notlost his wits yet--or he has found them again. "

"What is it? What is it, father?"

"The most sensible thing in all the world. See there, it is aspinning-wheel!"

Jane's heart sank within her. Her dreams vanished into the air--thedelights of the return of Sindbad the Sailor were not to be hers yet. The boys giggled. She covered her face with her hands to hide herconfusion and to gain heart. 

"I don't care, " she said at last, choking. "I think Ben is real good, and I will _forgive him_. I can spin. The wheel is a beauty. "

The gift was accompanied by a letter. In it Benjamin told her that hehad heard that she had been much praised for her beauty, but that it wasindustry and modesty that most merited commendation in a young girl. Thecounsel was as homely as much of that that Uncle Benjamin used to givelittle Benjamin, but she choked down her feelings. 

"Benjamin was thinking of you as well as of me when he sent me thatpresent, " she said to her mother. "I will make music with the wheel, andthe humming will make us all happy. I think that Ben is real good--and aspinet would have been out of place here. I will write him a beautifulletter in return, and will not tell him how I had hoped for a spinet. Itis all better as it is. That is best which will do the most good. "

If Franklin sent a practical spinning-wheel to Jenny when she was agirl, with much advice in which there was no poetry, such a sense ofhomely duties soon passed away. He came to send her beautiful presentsof fabrics, "black and purple gowns, " wearing apparel of eleganttexture, and ribbons. When he became rich it was his delight to makehappy the home of Jane Mecom--his poetic, true-hearted sister "Jenny, "whose heart had beat to his in every step of his advancing life. 

She became the mother of a large family of children, and when one ofthem ran away and went to sea she took all the blame of it to herself, and thought that if she had made his home pleasanter for him he wouldnot have left it. In her self-blame she wrote to her brother to confesshow she had failed in her duty toward the boy. Franklin read her heart, and wrote to her that the boy was wholly to blame, which could hardlyhave been comforting. Jenny would rather have been to blame herself. There was but little wrong in this world in her eyes, except herself. 

She saw the world through her own heart. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

MR. CALAMITY. 

THERE was a fine, busy old gentleman that young Franklin met about thetime that he opened his printing office, whose course it will beinteresting to follow. Almost every young man sometimes meets a man ofthis type and character. He is certain to be found, as are any of thedeterrent people in the Pilgrim's Progress. He is the man in whose eyesthere is ruin lurking in every form of prosperity, who sees only thedark side of things--to whom, as we now say, everything "is going to thedogs. "

We will call him Mr. Calamity, for that name represents what he had cometo be as a prophet. [B]

One day young Franklin heard behind him the tap, tap, tap of a cane. Itwas a time when Philadelphia was beginning to rise, and promisedunparalleled prosperity. The cane stopped with a heavy sound. 

"What--what is this I hear?" said Mr. Calamity. "You are starting aprinting office, they say. I am sorry, sorry. "

"Why are you sorry, sir?" asked the young printer. 

"Oh, you are a smart, capable young man, one who in the right placewould succeed in life. I hate to see you throw yourself away. "

"But is not this the right place?"

"What, Philadelphia?"

"Yes, it is growing. "

"That shows how people are deceived. Haven't you any eyes?"

"Yes, yes. "

"But what were they made for? Can't you see what is coming?"

"A great prosperity, sir. "

"Oh, my young man, how you are deceived, and how feather-headed peoplehave deceived you! Don't you know that this show of prosperity is alldelusion; that people of level heads are calling in their bills, andthat this is a hard time for creditors? The age of finery has gone, andthe age of rags has come. Rags, sir, rags!"

"No, sir, no. I thought the people were getting out of debt. See howmany people are building. "

"They are building to be ready for the crash--they do not know what elseto do with their money; calamity is coming. "

"But how do you know, sir?"

"Know? It requires but little wit to know. I can feel it in my head. Thetimes are not what they used to be. William Penn is dead, and none ofhis descendants are equal to him. Look at the Quakers, see how worldlythey are becoming! Most people are living beyond their means! Property, "he added, "is all on the decline. In a few years you will see peoplemoving away from here. You will hear that the Proprietors have failed. Young man, don't go into business here. Let me tell you a secret, thoughI hate to do it, as your heart is bent upon setting up the printingbusiness here; listen to me now--the whole province is going to fail. Before us is bankruptcy. Do you hear it--that awful, awful word_bankruptcy_? The Governor himself, in my opinion, is on the way tobankruptcy now. The town will have to all go out of business, and thenthere will be bats and owls in the garrets, and the wharves will rot. Isometimes think that I will have to quit my country. "

"Do other folks think as you do?"

"Ay, ay, don't they? All that have any heads with eyes. Some folks haveeyes for the present, some for the past, and some for the future. I amone of those that have eyes for the future. I expect to see grassgrowing in the streets before I die, and I shall not have to live longto pluck buttercups under the King's Arms. I pity young chickens likeyou that will have no place to run to. "

"But, sir, " said young Franklin, "suppose things do take another turn. The young settlers are all building; the old people are enlarging theirestates. It is easy to borrow money, and it looks to me that we willhave here twice as many people in another generation as we have now. Ifthe city should grow, what an opening there is for a printer! I shalltake the risk. "

"Risk--risk? Jump off a ship on the high sea with an iron ball on yourfeet! Go down, and stick there. Business, I tell you, is going to diehere, and who would want to read what a stripling like you would writeoutside of business? You would print that this one had failed, thatthat one had failed, and one don't collect bills handy from people whohave failed. I tell you that the whole province is about to fail, andPhiladelphia is going to ruin, and I advise you to turn right about andpack up, and go to some other place. There will never be any chance foryou here. "

Tap, tap, tap, went his cane, and he moved away. 

Young Franklin started to go to his work with a heavy heart. The canestopped. Old Mr. Calamity looked around. 

"I've warned you, " said he with a flourish of the cane. "I tell you, Itell you everything is going back to the wilderness, and I pity you, butnot half so much as you will pity yourself if you embark in the printingbusiness, and print failures for nothing, to fail yourself some day. This is the age of rags, rags!"

Tap, tap, tap, went on the cane, and the old gentleman chuckled. 

Young Franklin went on in his business. What was he to do? He saweverything with hopeful eyes. But he was young. His heart told him to goon in his undertaking, and he went on. 

He had been laughed at in Boston, and old Mr. Calamity had risen up hereto laugh at him again. 

He knew not how it was, but it was in him to become a printer. As theyoung waterfowl knows the water as soon as it toddles from his nest, soyoung Franklin from his boyhood saw his life in this new element; thepress was to be the source of America's rise, power, and glory, thethrone of the republic; it was to make and mold and fulfill by itsinfluence public opinion; the same public opinion was to rule America, and the young printer of Philadelphia was to lead the way now, and toreap the fruits of his spiritual resolution after he was seventy yearsof age. He saw it, he felt it, he knew his own mind. So he left behindold Mr. Calamity for the present, but he was soon to meet him again. 

He had now taken a third step on the ladder of life. His business shouldbe built upon honor. 

The next time that he met Mr. Calamity, the old gentleman gave him aview of the prospects of a printer. 

"If you think that you are going to get your foot on the ladder of lifeby becoming a printer, you will find that you have mistaken yourcalling. None of the great men of old were printers, were they? Homerwas no printer, was he?"

"I have never heard that he was. "

"Nor did you hear of any one who ever printed the Iliad or the Odyssey. No printer was ever heard of among the immortals. A printer justprints--that is all. Solomon never printed anything, did he?"

"I never read that he did, sir. "

"Nor Shakespeare?"

"I never heard that he did, sir. "

"A printer has no chance to rise; he just builds the ark for Noah tosail in, and is left behind himself. "

"I hope to print some of my own thoughts, sir. "

"You do? Ha! ha! ha! Who do you think is going to read them? Your ownthoughts--that does give me a stitch in the side, and makes me laugh soloud and swing my cane so high that it sets the cats and dogs torunning. See them go over the garden fence! I shall watch your course, and when you begin to scatter your ideas about in the world, I hope Iwill be living to gather some of them up. I hope they will never lead arevolution!"

Franklin's "Ça Ira" were the words that led the French Revolution. 

FOOTNOTE:

[B] The old gentleman who suggests this character was named Mickle orMikle. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

FRANKLIN'S STRUGGLES WITH FRANKLIN. 

AT the age of fifteen Franklin had avowed himself a deist, or theist, which must have grieved his parents, who were people of positiveChristian faith. He loved to argue, and when he had learned the Socraticart of asking questions so as to lead one to confuse himself, and ofanswering questions in the subjunctive mood, he sought nothing more thandisputations in the stanch Puritan town. His intimate friends weredeists, but they came to early failure through want of faith or anypositive moral conviction. Governor Keith was a deist. 

The reader may ask what we mean by a deist here. A deist or theist inFranklin's time was one who believed in a God, but questioned theChristian faith and system. He was not an atheist. He held that apersonal governing power directed all things after his own will andpurpose. Under the providence of this Being things came and went, andman could not know how or why, but could simply believe that all thatwas was for the good of all. 

At the age of twenty-two young Franklin began to see that life withoutfaith had no meaning, but was failure. In the omnipotence of spirituallife and power the soul must share or die. Negations or denials did notsatisfy him. This was a positive world, governed by spiritual law. Todisobey these laws was loss and death. 

He had been doing wrong. He had done wrong in yielding to his personalfeelings in leaving home in the manner which he did. He had committedacts of social wrong. He had followed at times the law of the lowernature instead of the higher. He had become intimate with two friendswho had led him into unworthy conduct, and over whom his own influencehad not been good. He saw that the true value of life lies in itsinfluence. There were things in his life that tended to ruin influence. There were no harvests to be expected from the barren rocks of negationand denials of faith in the highest good. Sin gives one nothing that onecan keep. He must change his life, he must obey perfectly the spirituallaws of his being. He saw it, and resolved to begin. 

Now began a struggle between Benjamin Franklin the natural man andBenjamin Franklin the spiritual man that lasted for life. It became hispurpose to gain the spiritual mastery, and to obey the laws ofregeneration and eternal life. 

Here are his first resolutions:

"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 danger ofincongruity. I am apt to think it is the same as to life. I have neverfixed a regular design in life, by which means it has been a confusedvariety of different scenes. I am now entering upon a new life; let me, therefore, make some resolutions, and form some scheme of action, thathenceforth I may live in all respects like a rational creature. 

"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 sincerity inevery word and action; the most amiable excellence in a rational being. 

"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 means ofplenty. 

"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 ofeverybody. "

But there must be a personal God, since he himself had personality, andhe must seek a union of soul with his will beyond these mere moralresolutions. 

At the age of twenty-two he composed a litany after the manner of theEpiscopal Church, but adapted to his own conditions. In this he praysfor help in the points where he had found himself to be morally andspiritually weak. 

These petitions and resolutions show his inward struggles. They revealhis ideals, and to fulfill these ideals became the end of his life. Forthe acts of wrong which he had done in his period of adventures, and theunworthy life that he had then led, he tried to make reparation. Thespiritual purpose of Benjamin Franklin had obtained the mastery over thenatural man. Honor was his star, and more spiritual light was hisdesire and quest. 

He married Miss Read, the young woman who had laughed at him when he hadentered Philadelphia eating his penny roll, with two rolls of breadunder his arm, and his superfluous clothing sticking out of his pocket. He had neglected her during his adventures abroad, but she forgave him, and he had become in high moral resolution another man now. 

As a printer in Philadelphia his paper voiced the public mind and hearton all which were then most worthy. To publish a paper that advocatesthe best sentiments of a virtuous people is the shortest way toinfluence in the world. Franklin found it so. The people sought in himthe representative, and from the printing office he was passed bynatural and easy stages to the halls of legislation. 

So these resolutions to master himself may be regarded as another stepon the ladder of life. To benefit the world by inventions is a goodthing, but to lift it by an example of self-control and an unselfishlife is a nobler thing, and on this plane we find young Franklinstanding now. Franklin is the master of Franklin, and the influence ofSilence Dogood through the press is filling the province ofPennsylvania. The paper which he established in Philadelphia was calledthe Pennsylvania Gazette. In connection with this he began to publish avery popular annual called Poor Richard's Almanac, about which we willtell you in another chapter. 

Right doing is the way to advancement--Franklin had this resolution; anewspaper that voices the people is a way to advancement--such a oneFranklin had founded; and good humor is a way to advancement, and ofthis Franklin found an expression in Poor Richard's Almanac which hasnot yet ceased to be quoted in the world. It was the means of conveyingSilence Dogood's special messages to every one. It made the whole worldhappier. Franklin, on account of the wise sayings in the almanac, himself came to be called "Poor Richard. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE MAGICAL BOTTLE. 

FRANKLIN is now a man of character, benevolence, wisdom, and humor. Heis a printer, a publisher, a man whose thoughts are influencing publicopinion. He is a very prosperous man; he is making money and reputation, but it is not the gaining of either of these that is true success, butof right influence. It is not the answer to the question, What are youworth? or What is your popularity? but What is your influence? thatdetermines the value of a man. 

He had founded life on right principles, and he had well learned thetrade in his youth that leads a poor young man of right principles andnobility to success. He took the right guideboard, and the"Please-everybody" Governor did him a good service when he showed himthat to become a printer in Philadelphia would bring him influence, fame, and fortune. People who are well meaning, beyond the ability tofulfill their intentions, sometimes reveal to others what may be of mostuse to them. It was not altogether an unfortunate day when the wanderingprinter boy met Governor Keith. 

In the midst of his prosperity Silence Dogood was constantly seeking outinventions to help people. When he was about thirty-four years of age, in the Poor Richard days, he saw that the forests were disappearing, and that there would be a need for the people to practice economy in theuse of fuel. The fireplaces in the chimneys were great consumers ofwood, and in many of them, to use the housewife's phrase, "the heat allwent up the chimney. " But that was not all; many of the chimneys of thegood people smoked, and in making a fire rooms would be filled withsmoke, or, to use again the housewife's term, "the smoke would all comeout into the room. "

When this was so the people would all flee to cold rooms with smartingeyes. New houses in which chimneys smoked were sometimes taken down oraltered to make room for new chimneys that would draw. Franklin soughtto bring relief to this sorry condition of affairs. 

He invented the Franklin stove, from which the heat would go out intothe room, and not "up the chimbly, " to use a provincial word. Thischeerful stove became a great comfort to the province, and to foreigncountries as well. It saved fuel, and brought the heat of the fire intothe room. 

He long afterward began to study chimneys, and after much experimentfound that those that smoked need not be taken down, but that only adraught was needed to cause the smoke to rise in rarefied air. The nameof the Franklin stove added very greatly to Poor Richard's wisdom, inmaking for Franklin an American reputation, which also extended toEurope. His fame arose along original ways. Surely no one ever walked insuch ways before. 

He formed a club called the Junto, which became very prosperous, andgave strength to his local reputation. He also began a society for thestudy of universal knowledge, which was called the PhilosophicalSociety. 

A man can do the most when he is doing the most. One thing leads toanother; one thing feeds another, and one does not suffer in health ornerves from the many things that one loves to do. It is disinclinationor friction that wears one down. People who have been very busy in whatthey most loved to do have usually lived to be old, and come down to oldage in the full exercise of their powers. 

While Franklin was thus seeking how he could make himself useful toevery one in many ways--for a purpose of usefulness finds manypaths--his attention was called to a very curious discovery that hadbeen made in the Dutch city of Leyden, in November, 1745. It was anelectrical bottle called the Leyden jar. 

Nature herself had been discharging on a stupendous scale her own Leydenjars through all generations, but no one seems to have understood thesephenomena until this memorable year brought forth the magical littlebottle which was a flashlight in the long darkness of time. 

The Greeks had found that amber when rubbed would attract certain lightsubstances, and the ancient philosophers and doctors had discovered thevalue of an electric shock from a torpedo in rheumatic complaints; thatsparks would follow the rubbing of the fur of animals in cold air hadalso been noticed, but of magnetism, and of electricity, which is acurrent of magnetism, the world was ignorant, except as to some of itsmore common and obvious effects. 

In 1600 Dr. Gilbert, of England, discovered that many other substancesbesides amber could be made to develop an attractive power. He alsodiscovered that there are many substances that can not be electricallyexcited. 

In 1650 Otto von Guericke, the inventor of the air-pump, made a machinewhich looked like a little grindstone--a wheel of sulphur mounted on aturning axle, which being used with friction produced powerfulelectrical sparks and lights. He found by experiments with this machinethat bodies thus exerted by friction may impart electricity to otherbodies, and that bodies so electrified may repel as well as attract. 

Sir Isaac Newton made an electrical machine of glass, and Stephen Gray, in 1720, said that if a large amount of electricity could be _stored_, great results might be expected from it. 

Charles François Dufay detected that there were two kinds ofelectricity, which he called "vitreous" and "resinous. "

A great discovery was coming. The first beams of a new planet wererising. How did there come into existence the "magical bottle" known asthe Leyden jar?

At Leyden three philosophers were experimenting in electricity. "We canproduce electrical effects, " said one. "If we could accumulate andretain electricity we would have power. "

They electrified a cannon suspended by silk cords. A few minutes afterceasing to turn the handle of the electrical machine which supplied thecannon with fluid, the charge was gone. 

"If we could surround an electrified body with a nonconductingsubstance, " said Professor Musschenbroek, "we could imprison it; wecould accumulate and store it. " He added: "Glass is a nonconductor ofelectricity, and water is a good conductor. If I could charge withelectricity water in a bottle, I could possess it and control it likeother natural powers. "

He attempted to do this. He suspended a wire from a charged cannon tothe water in a bottle, but for a time no result followed. 

One day, however, Mr. Cuneus, one of the scientists, while engaged inthis experiment, chanced to touch the conductor with one hand and theelectrified bottle with the other. It was a mere accident. He leaped interror. What had happened? He had received an electric shock. What didit mean? A revolution in the use of one of the greatest of the occultforces of Nature. 

Terror was followed by amazement. Mr. Cuneus told ProfessorMusschenbroek what had happened. 

The professor repeated the experiment, with the same result. 

If electricity could be secured, accumulated, and discharged, what mightnot follow as the results of further experiments?

It was several days before the professor recovered from the shock. "Iwould not take a second shock, " he said, "for the kingdom of France!"

Thus the Leyden jar came into use. The news of the experiment flew overGermany and Europe. Scientific people everywhere went to making Leydenjars and imprisoning electricity. 

Society took up the invention as a wonder toy. Gunpowder was dischargedfrom the point of the finger by persons charged on an insulating stool. Electrical kisses passed from bold lips to lips in social circles. Eventimid people mounted up on cakes of resin that their friends might seetheir hair stand on end. Sir William Watson, of London, completed theelectrical fountain by coating the bottle in and out with tinfoil. 

The great news reached America. Franklin heard of it; no ears were morealert than his to profit by suggestions like this. 

Mr. Peter Collinson, of London, sent to him an account of ProfessorMusschenbroek's magical bottle. 

He told his friends of the Junto Club of the invention, and set them allto rubbing electric substances for sparks. 

He had invented many useful things. A new force had fallen under thecontrol of man. He must investigate it; he must experiment with it; hetoo must have a magical bottle. 

"I never, " he wrote in 1747, "was before engaged in any study that sototally engrossed my attention and time as this has lately done; forwhat with making experiments when I can be alone, and repeating them tomy friends and acquaintances who from the novelty of the thing comecontinually in crowds to see them, I have during some months past hadlittle leisure for anything else. "

What was magnetism? What was electricity? What secrets of Nature mightthe magical bottle reveal? To what use might the new power which mightbe stored and imprisoned be put? Silence Dogood, ponder night and dayover the curious toy. The world waits for you to speak, for Nature isabout to reveal one of her greatest secrets to you--you who gave twopenny rolls to the poor woman and child on the street, after DeborahRead, your wife now, had had her good laugh. Your good wife will laughagain some day, when you have further poked around among electricaltubes and bottles, and have brought your benevolent mind to bear uponsome of the secrets contained in the magical bottle. You have addedvirtue to virtue; you are adding intelligence to intelligence; suchthings grow. Discoveries come to those who are prepared to receivethem. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE ELECTRIFIED VIAL AND THE QUESTIONS IT RAISED. 

THERE came from Europe to America at this time some electrical tubes, which being rubbed produced surprising results. To the curious they weretoys, but to Franklin they were prophecies. There were threePhiladelphians who joined with Franklin in the study of the effects thatcould be produced by these tubes and the Leyden vial. 

Franklin's son William was verging on manhood. He was beyond the yearsthat we find him experimenting with his father in the old pictures. Hebecame the last royal Governor of New Jersey some years afterward, and aTory, and his politics at that period was a sore grief to his father'sheart. But he was a bright, free-hearted boy now, nearly twenty, and hisfather loved him, and the two were harmonious and were companions foreach other. 

Franklin, we may suppose, interested the boy in the bristling tubes andthe magical bottle. The stored electricity in the latter was like theimprisoned genii of the Arabian Nights. Let the fairy loose, he suddenlymingled with native elements, and one could not gather him again. Butanother could be gathered. 

The Philadelphia philosophers wondered greatly at the new effects thatFranklin was able to produce from the tubes and the bottle. Did not thegenii in the vial hold the secret of the earth, and might not the earthitself be a magnet, and might not magnetism fill interstellar space?

The wonder grew, and its suggestions. One of the Philadelphiaphilosophers, Philip Sing, invented an electrical machine. A likemachine had been made in Europe, but of this Mr. Sing did not know. 

The Philadelphia philosophers discovered the power of metallic points todraw off electricity. 

"Electricity is not created by friction, " observed one of these men. "Itis only collected by it. "

"And all our experiments show, " argued Franklin, "that electricity ispositive and negative. "

During the winter of 1746-'47 these men devoted as much of their time asthey could spare to electrical experiments. 

"William, " said one of the philosophers to the son of Franklin one day, "you have brought your friends here to see the vial genii; he is alively imp. Let me show you some new things which I found he can do. "

He brought out a bottle of spirits and poured the liquid into a plate. "Stand up on the insulating stool, my boy, and let me electrify you, andsee if the imp loves liquor. "

The lively lad obeyed. He pointed his finger down to the liquor in theplate. It burst into flame, startling the audience. 

"Now, " said another of the philosophers, "let me ask you to give me amagic torch. "

He presented to his finger a candle with an alcoholic wick. The candlewas at once lighted, emitting sparks as it began to burn. 

"Hoi, hoi!" said the philosopher to the young visitors, "what do youthink of a young man whose touch is fire? We have a Faust among us, sure!"

"Now, girls, which of you would like to try an experiment?" we maysuppose Father Franklin to say, in the spirit of Poor Richard. 

William stepped down, and an adventurous girl took his place on theexperimental stool. 

"You have all heard of the electric kiss, " said Poor Richard. "Let thisyoung lady give you one. I will prepare her for it. "

He did. 

Another girl stepped up to receive it. She expected to receive a sparkfrom her friend's lips; but instead of a spark she received a shock thatcaused her to leap and to bend double, and to utter a piercing cry. 

"I don't think that the kissing of young men and young women in publicis altogether in good taste, " said the philosophers, "but if any of youyoung men want to salute this lively young lady in that way, there willbe in this case no objections. "

But none of the young men cared to be thrown into convulsions by theinnocent-looking lass, who seemed to feel no discomfort. 

Experiments like these filled the city and province with amazement. Thephilosopher made a spider of burned cork that would _run_, and causeother people to run who had not learned the wherefore of the curiousexperiment. 

The wonderful Leyden vial became Franklin's companion. He liked ever tobe experimenting in what the new force would do. What next? what next?How like lightning was this electricity! How could he increaseelectrical force?

He says at the end of a long narrative:

"We made what we called an _electrical battery_, consisting of elevenpanes of large sash-glass, armed with thin leaden plates pasted on eachside, placed vertically, and supported at two inches distance on silkcords, with thick hooks of leaden wire, one from each side, standingupright, distant from each other, and convenient communications of wireand chain, from the giving side of one pane to the receiving side of theother, that so the whole might be charged together. "

Franklin at this time was a stanch royalist. He made a figure of GeorgeII, with a crown, and so arranged it that the powerful electrical forcemight be stored in the _crown_. 

"God bless him!" said the philosopher. 

A young man seeing that the crown was very attractive, attempted toremove it. It was a thing that the philosopher had expected. 

The youth touched the crown. He reeled, and started back with a strokethat filled him with amazement. 

"So be it with all of King George's enemies!" said the philosophers. "Never attempt to discrown the king. "

"God bless him!" said Franklin. His son always continued to say this, but Franklin himself came to see that he who discrowns kings may begreater than kings, and that it became the duty of a people to discrowntyrannical kings, and to make a king of the popular will. 

Franklin now resolved to give up his business affairs to others, torefuse political office, and to devote himself to science. The latterresolution he did not keep. He went to live on a retired spot on theDelaware, where he had a large garden, and could be left to hisexperiments and thoughts upon them. With him went the magical bottle andhis interesting son William. 

The power of metallic points to draw off lightning now filled his mind. "Could the lightning be controlled?" he began to ask. "Could the powerof the thunderbolt be disarmed?"

Every element can be made to obey its own laws. Water will bear up ironif the iron be hollow. But deeply and more deeply must the thoughtsengage the mind of the philosopher. "Is lightning electricity? Doeselectricity fill all space?" He wrote two philosophical papers at thiscritical period of his life, when he sought to give up money-making andpolitical life for the study of that science which would be most usefulto man. He who gives up gains. He who is willing to deny himself themost shall have the most. He that loseth his life shall save it. He whoseeketh the good of others shall find it in himself. 

One of these papers was entitled "Opinions and Conjectures concerningthe Properties and Effects of the Electrical Matter, and the Means ofpreserving Ships and Buildings from Lightning, arising from Experimentsand Observations at Philadelphia in 1749. "

In this treatise, which at last made his fame, he shows the similarityof electricity to lightning, and gives a description of an experiment inwhich a little lightning-rod had drawn away electricity from anartificial storm cloud. He says:

"If these things are so, may not the knowledge of this power of pointsbe of use to mankind in preserving houses, churches, ships, etc. , fromthe stroke of lightning, by directing us to fix on the highest part ofthose edifices upright rods of iron made sharp as a needle, and gilt toprevent rusting, and from the foot of those rods a wire down the outsideof the building into the ground, or down round one of the shrouds of aship, and down her side till it reaches the water? Would not thesepointed rods probably draw the electrical fire silently out of a cloudbefore it came nigh enough to strike, and thereby secure us from thatmost sudden and terrible mischief?"

A great discovery was at hand. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE GREAT DISCOVERY. 

IT was a June day, 1752--one of the longest days of the year. BenjaminFranklin was then forty-six years of age. 

The house garden was full of bloom; the trees were in leafage, and therewas the music of blooms in the hives of the bees. 

Beyond the orchards and great trees the majestic Delaware rolled inpurple splendor, dotted with slanting sails. 

Nature was at the full tide of the year. The river winds swept over themeadows in green waves, where the bobolinks toppled in the joy of theirsongs. 

It had been a hot morning, and billowy clouds began to rise in the stillheat on the verge of the sky. 

Benjamin Franklin sat amid the vines and roses of his door. 

"William, " he said to his son, "I am expecting a shower to-day. I havelong been looking for one. I want you to remain with me and witness anexperiment that I am about to make. "

Silence Dogood, or Father Franklin, then brought a kite out to the greenlawn. The kite had a very long hempen string, and to the end of it, which he held in his hand, he began to attach some silk and a key. 

"When I was a boy, " said Franklin, "and lived in the town of Boston bythe marshes, I made a curious experiment with a kite. I let it tow mealong the water where I went swimming. I have always liked flying kites. I hope that this one will bring me good luck should a shower come. "

"What do you expect to do with it, father?"

"If the cloud comes up with thunder, and lightning be electricity, I amgoing to try to secure a spark from the sky. "

The air was still. The cloud was growing into mountain-like peaks. Therobins and thrushes were singing lustily in the trees, as before ashower. The men in the cornfields and gardens paused in their work. 

Presently a low sound of thunder rolled along the sky. The cloud nowloomed high and darkened in the still, hot air. 

"It is coming, " said Franklin, "and the cloud will be a thunder gust. Itis early in the season for such a cloud as that. See how black itgrows!"

The kite was made of a large silk handkerchief fastened to aperpendicular stick, on the top of which was a piece of sharpened ironwire. The philosopher examined it carefully. 

"What if you should receive a spark from the cloud, father?" asked theyoung man. 

"I would then say lightning was electricity, and that it could becontrolled, and that human life might be protected from thethunderbolt. "

"But would not that thwart the providence of God?"

"No, it would merely cause a force of Nature to obey its own laws so asto protect life instead of destroying it. "

The sky darkened. The sun went out. The sea birds flew inland andscreamed. The field birds stood panting on the shrubs with droopingwings. 

A rattling thunder peal crossed the sky. The wind began to rise, and tocause the early blasted young fruit to fall in the orchards. The waveson the Delaware curled white. 

"Let us go to the cattle-shed, " said Father Franklin. "I have beenlaughed at all my life, and do not care to have my neighbors tell thestory of my experiment to others if I should fail. "

The two went together to the cattle-shed on the green meadow. 

The wind was roaring in the distance. The poultry were running home, andthe cattle were seeking the shelter of the trees. 

The cloud was now overhead. Dark sheets of rain in the horizon lookedlike walls of carbon reared against the sky. The lightning was sharp andfrequent. There came a vivid flash followed by a peal of thunder thatshook the hills. 

"The cloud is overhead now, " said Franklin. 

He ran out into the green meadow and threw the kite against the wind. 

It rose rapidly and was soon in the sky, drifting in the clouds thatseemed full of the vengeful fluid. 

At the termination of the hempen cord dangled the key, and the silk endwas wound around the philosopher's hand. 

The young man took charge of a Leyden jar which he had brought to theshed, in which to collect electricity from the clouds, should theexperiment prove successful. 

The cloud came on in its fury. The rain began to fall. Franklin and hisson stood under the shed. 

The air seemed electrified, but no electricity appeared in the hempenstring. Franklin presented his knuckle to the key, but received nospark. 

What was that?

The hempen string began to bristle like the hair of one electrified. Wasit the wind? Was it electricity?

Benjamin Franklin now touched the key with thrilling emotion, while hisson looked on with an excited face. It was a moment of destiny not onlyto the two experimenters in the dashing rain, but to the world. IfFranklin should receive a spark from the key, it would change thecurrents of the world's events. 

Flash!

It came clear and sharp. The heavens had responded to law--to thecommand of the human will guided by law. 

Again, another spark. 

The boy touches the key. He, too, is given the evidence that has beengiven to his father. 

The two looked at each other. 

"Lightning is electricity, " said Silence Dogood. "It can be drawn awayfrom points of danger; no one need be struck by lightning if he willprotect himself. "

"God himself, " once said a writer, "could not strike one by lightning ifone were insulated, without violating his own laws. "

And now came the consummation of one of the grandest experiments oftime. He charged the Leyden jar from the clouds. 

"Stand back!"

He touched his hand boldly to the magical bottle. A shock thrilled him. His dreams had come true. He had conquered one of the most potentelements on earth. 

The storm passed, the clouds broke, the wind swept by, and the birdssang again over the bending clover. Night serene with stars came on. That was probably the happiest day in all Franklin's eventful life. Likethe patriarch of old, "his children were about him. " He shared histriumph with the son whom he loved. 

But--he sent a paper on the results of his observation in electricity tothe Royal Society at London, in which he announced his discovery thatlightning was electricity. The society did not deem it worth publishing;it was a neglected manuscript, and as for his theory in regard to theelectric fluid and universality, that, we are told by Franklin'sbiographers, "was laughed at. "

But his views had set all Europe to experimenting. Scientists everywherewere proving that his theories were true. France had become very muchexcited over the discovery, and was already hailing the philosopher'sname with shouts of admiration. Franklin's fame filled Europe, and thegreatest of British societies began to honor him. It was Doctor Franklinnow!--The honorary degree came to him from many institutions. --Doctorfrom England, Doctor from France, Doctor from American colleges. 

The boy who had shared his penny rolls with the poor woman and her childsat down to hear the world praising him. 

The facts that lightning was electricity or electricity was lightning, that it was positive and negative, that it could be controlled, thatlife could be made safe in the thunder gust, were but the beginning of aseries of triumphs that have come to make messengers of the lightning, and brought the nations of the world in daily communication with eachother. But the wizardlike Edison has shown that the influences directand indirect of that June day of 1752 may have yet only begun. Whatmagnetism and its currents are to reveal in another century we can nottell; it fills us with silence and awe to read the prophecies of thescientists of to-day. The electrical mystery is not only moving us andall things; we are burning it, we are making it medicine, health, life. What may it not some day reveal in regard to a spiritual body or thehuman soul?

The centuries to come can only reveal what will be the end of Franklin'sdiscovery that lightning might be controlled to become the protector andthe servant of man. Even his imagination could hardly have forecast theachievements which the imp of the magical bottle would one dayaccomplish in this blind world. It is not that lightning is electricity, but that electricity is subject to laws, that has made the fierysubstance the wonder-worker of the age. 

If Uncle Ben, the poet, could have seen this day, how would his hearthave rejoiced!

Jane Mecom--Jenny--heard of the fame of her brother by every paperbrought by the post. She delighted to tell her old mother the weeklynews about Benjamin. One day, when he had received honors from one ofthe great scientific societies, Abiah said to her daughter:

"You helped Ben in his early days--I can see now that you did. "

"How, mother?"

"By believing in him when hardly any one else did. We build up people bybelieving in them. My dim eyes see it all now. I love to think of thepast, " she continued, "when you and Ben were so happy together--the daysof Uncle Benjamin. I love to think of the old family Thanksgivings. Whatwonderful days were those when the old clock-cleaner came! How he tookthe dumb, dusty clock to pieces, and laid it out on the table! How Benwould say, 'you can never make that clock tick again!' and you, Jenny, whose faith never failed, would answer, 'Yes, Ben, he can!' How the oldman would break open a walnut and extract the oil from the meat, andapply it with a feather to the little axles of the wheels, and then putthe works together, and the clock would go better than before! Do youremember it, Jane? How, then, your wondering eyes would look upon theclock miracle and delight in your faith, and say, 'I told you so, Ben. 'How he would kiss you in your happiness that your prophecy had cometrue. He had said 'No' that you might say 'Yes. '"

"Do you think that his thoughts turn home, mother?"

There was a whir of wings in the chimney. 

"More to a true nature than a noisy applause of the crowd is the simplefaith of one honest heart, " said Abiah Folger in return. "In the silenceand desolation of life, which may come to all, such sympathy is theonly fountain to which one can turn. Our best thoughts fly homeward likeswallows to old chimneys, where they last year brooded over their young, and center in the true hearts left at the fireside. Every true heart istrue to his home, and to the graves of those with whom it shared theyears when life lay fair before it. Yes, Jane, he thinks of you. "

She was right. Jenny had helped her brother by believing in him when hemost needed such faith. 

There is some good angel, some Jenny, who comes into every one's life. Happy is he who feels the heart touch of such an one, and yields to suchunselfish spiritual visions. To do this is to be led by a gentle handinto the best that there is in life. 

In sacred hours the voices of these home angels come back to the silentchambers of the heart. We then see that our best hopes were in them, andwish that we could retune the broken chords of the past. The home voiceis always true, and we find it so at last. 

Franklin had little of his sister's sentiment, but when he thought ofthe old days, and of the simple hearts that were true to him there, hewould say, "Beloved Boston. " His heart was in the words. Boston was thetown of Jenny. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

HOME-COMING IN DISGUISE. 

THERE is a very delightful fiction, which may have blossomed from fact, which used to be found in schoolbooks, under the title of "The Story ofFranklin's Return to his Mother after a Long Absence. "

It would have been quite like him to have returned to Boston in theguise of a stranger. Some one has said that he had a joke foreverything, and that he would have put one into the Declaration ofIndependence had he been able. 

The tendency to make proverbs that Franklin showed in his early yearsgrew, and if he were not indeed as wise as King Solomon, no one sincethe days of that Oriental monarch has made and "sought out" so manyproverbs and given them to the world. 

The maxims of Poor Richard, which were at first given to the worldthrough an almanac, spread everywhere. They were current in most Bostonhomes; they came back to the ears of Jamie the Scotchman--back, we say, for some of them were the echoes of Silence Dogood's life in the Puritanprovince. 

Poor Richard's Almanac was a lively and curious miscellany, and itscoming was an event in America. Franklin put the wisdom that he gainedby experience into it. In the following resolution was the purpose ofhis life at this time: "I wished to live, " he says, "without committingany fault at any time, and to conquer all that either naturalinclination, custom, or company might lead me into. "

"But--but, " he says, "I was surprised to find myself so much fuller offaults than I had imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing themdiminish. " In the spirit of this effort to correct life and to learnwisdom from experience, he gave Poor Richard's Almanac annually to theworld. Like some of the proverbs of Solomon, it taught the people lifeas he himself learned it. For years Franklin lived in Poor Richard, andit was his pulse beat, his open heart, that gave the annual its power. All the sayings of Poor Richard were not original with Franklin. When acritical proverb, or a line from one of the poets, would express hisidea or conviction better than he could himself, he used it. Forexample, he borrowed some beautiful lines from Pope, who in turn hadreceived the leading thought from a satire of Horace. 

While Franklin was learning wisdom from life, and expressing it throughPoor Richard, he was studying French, Italian, and Spanish, and makinghimself the master of philosophy. "He who would thrive must rise atfive, " he makes Poor Richard say. He himself rose at five in themorning, and began the day with a bath and a prayer. Intelligence tointelligence!

Such was his life when Poor Richard was evolved. 

Who was Poor Richard, whose influence came to lead the thought of thetime?

Poor Richard was a comic almanac, or a character assumed by BenjaminFranklin, for the purpose of expressing his views of life. Havingestablished a paper, Franklin saw the need of an annual and of analmanac, and he chose to combine the two, and to make the pamphlet amedium of hard sense in a rough, keen, droll way. 

He introduces himself in this curious annual as "Richard Saunders, ""Poor Richard. " He has an industrious wife named Bridget. He publisheshis almanac to earn a little money to meet his pressing wants. "Theplain truth of the matter is, " says this pretended almanac maker, "I amexcessive poor, and my wife, good woman, is, I tell her, excessiveproud; she cannot bear, she says, to sit spinning in her gown of tow, while I do nothing but gaze at the stars; and has threatened more thanonce to burn all my books and rattling-traps (as she calls myinstruments) if I do not make some profitable use of them for the goodof my family. The printer has offer'd me some considerable share of theprofits, and I have thus began to comply with my dame's desire. "

This Titian Leeds was a pen name for his rival publisher, who alsoissued an almanac. The two had begun life in Philadelphia together asprinters. 

The way in which he refers to his rival in his new almanac, as a manabout to die to fulfill the predictions of astrology, was so comical asto excite a lively interest. Would he die? If not, what would the _next_almanac say of him? Mr. Leeds (Keimer) had a reputation of a knowledgeof astronomy and astrology. In what way could Franklin have introduced acharacter to the public in the spirit of good-natured rivalry that wouldhave awakened a more genuine curiosity?

The next year Poor Richard announced that his almanac had proved asuccess, and told the public the news that they were waiting for andmuch desired to hear: his wife Bridget had profited by it. She was nowable to have a dinner-pot of her own, and something to put into it. 

But how about Titian Leeds, who was to die after the astrologicalprediction? The people awaited the news of the fate of this poor man, aswe await the tidings of the end of a piece of statesmanship. He thusanswers, "I can not say positively whether he is dead or alive, " but asthe author of the rival almanac had spoken very disrespectfully of him, and as Mr. Leeds when living was a gentleman, he concludes that Mr. Leeds must be dead. 

In these comic annuals there is not only the almanacs and the play uponTitian Leeds, but a large amount of rude wisdom in the form of proverbs, aphorisms, and verses, most of which is original, but a part of which, as we have said, is apt quotation. The proverbs were everywhere quoted, and became a part of the national education. They became popular inFrance, and filled nearly all Europe. They are still quoted. Let us giveyou some of them:

"Who has deceived thee so oft as thyself?"

"Fly pleasures, and they will follow thee. "

"Let thy child's first lesson be obedience, and the second will be whatthou wilt. "

"Industry need not wish. "

 "In things of moment, on thyself depend, Nor trust too far thy servant or thy friend; With private views, thy friend may promise fair, And servants very seldom prove sincere. "

Besides these quaint sayings, which became a part of the proverbialwisdom of the world, Franklin had a comical remark for every occasion, as, when a boy, he advised his father to say grace over the whole porkbarrel, and so save time at the table. He once admonished Jenny inregard to her spelling, and that after she was advanced in life, bytelling her that the true way to spell wife was _yf_. After the treatyof peace with England, he thought it only a courtesy that America shouldreturn deported people to their native shores. Once in Paris, onreceiving a cake labeled _Le digne Franklin_, which excited the jealousyof Lee and Dean, he said that the present was meant forLee-Dean-Franklin, that being the pronunciation of the French label. Every event had a comical side for him. 

Let us bring prosperous Benjamin Franklin back to Boston to see hiswidowed mother again, after the old story-book manner. She is nearlyblind now, and we may suppose Jamie the Scotchman to be halting and old. 

He comes into the town in the stagecoach at night. Boston has grown. Thegrand old Province House rises above it, the Indian vane turning hitherand thither in the wind. The old town pump gleams under a lantern, asdoes the spring in Spring Lane, which fountain may have led to thesettlement of the town. On a hill a beacon gleams over the sea. Hepasses the stocks and the whipping-post in the shadows. 

There is a light in the window of the Blue Ball. He sees it. It is verybright. Is his mother at work now that she is nearly blind?

He dismounts. He passes close to the old window. His father is not inthe room; he never will be there again. But an aged man is there. Who ishe?

The man is reading--what? The most popular pamphlet or little book thatever appeared in the colonies; a droll story. 

He knocks at the door. The old man rises and opens the door; the bell isgone. 

"Abiah, there's a stranger here. "

"Ask him who he is. "

"Say that he used to work here many years ago, and that he knew JosiahFranklin well, and was acquainted with Ben. "

"Tell him to come in, " said the bent old woman with white hair. 

The stranger entered, and avoided questions by asking them. 

"What are you reading to-night, my good friend?" he asked. 

"The Old Auctioneer, " answered the aged man. "Have you read it?"

"Yes; it is on the taxes. "

"So it is--I've read it twice over. I'm now reading it to Abiah. Let metell you a secret--her son wrote it. My opinion is that it is thesmartest piece of work that ever saw the light on this side of thewater. What's yourn?"

"There's sense in it. "

"What did he say his name was?" asked Abiah. 

"Have you ever read any of Poor Richard's maxims?" asked the strangerquickly. 

"Yes, yes; we have taken the Almanac for years. Ben publishes it. "

"What did he say?" asked Abiah. "I can not hear as well as I oncecould. --Stranger, I heard you when you spoke loud at the door. "

"Repeat some of 'Poor Richard's' sayings, " said the stranger. 

"You may well say 'repeat, '" said the old man. "I used to hear BenFranklin say things like that when he was a 'prentice lad. "

"Like what, my friend?"

"Like 'The noblest question in the world is what good may I do in it?'There! Like 'None preaches better than the ant, and she says nothing. 'There!"

"I see, I see, my good friend, you seem to have confidence in PoorRichard?"

"Sir, I taught him much of his wisdom--he and I used to be greatfriends. I always knew that he had a star in his soul that wouldshine--I foresaw it all. I have the gift of second sight. I am aScotchman. "

"And you prophesied good things to him when he was a boy?"

"Yes, yes, or, if I did not, I only spoke in a discouraging way toencourage him. He and I were chums; we used to sit on Long Wharftogether and _prognosticate_ together. That was a kind of HarvardCollege to us. Uncle Ben was living then. "

"Maybe the stranger would like you to read The Old Auctioneer, " saidAbiah to the Scotchman. "My boy wrote that--he told you. My boy has goodsense--Jamie here will tell you so. I'm older now than I was. "

"Yes, yes, read, and let me rest. When the bell rings for nine I will goto the inn. "

"Maybe we can keep you here. We'll talk it over later. I want to hearBen's piece. I'm his mother, and they tell me it is interesting topeople who are no relation to him. --Jamie, you read the piece, and thenwe will talk over the past. It seems like meeting Ben again to hear hispieces read. "

Jamie the Scotchman read, and while he did so Abiah, wrinkled and old, looked often toward the stranger out of her dim eyes, while she listenedto her son's always popular story of The Old Auctioneer. 

"That is a very good piece, " said Abiah Franklin; "and now, stranger, let me say that your voice sounds familiar, and I want you to tell me ina good strong tone who you be. I didn't hear you give any name. "

"Is it almost nine?" asked the stranger. 

Jamie opened the door. 

A bell smote the still air, a silverlike bell. It spoke nine times. 

"I never heard that bell before, " said the stranger. 

Suddenly music flooded the air; it seemed descending; there were manybells--and they were singing. 

"The Old North chimes, " said the Scotchman; "they have just been put up. I wish Ben could hear them; I sort of carry him in my heart. "

"Don't speak! It is beautiful, " said the stranger. "Hear what they aresaying. "

"O Jamie, Jamie, _father_ used to play that tune on his violin. "

"_Father!_" The old woman started. 

"Ben, Ben, how could you! Come here; my eyes are failing me, Ben, but myheart will never fail me. --Jamie, prepare for him his old room, andleave us to talk together!"

"I will go out to Mrs. Mecom's, and tell her that Benjamin has comehome. "

"Yes, yes, go and call Jenny. "

They talked together long: of Josiah, now gone; of Uncle Benjamin, longdead; and of Parson Sewell, and the deacons of the South Church, who hadpassed away. 

The door opened. Jenny again stood before him. She led on a boy by thehand, and said to her portly brother:

"This, Benjamin, is Benjamin. "

They talked together until the tears came. 

He heard the whir of the swallows' wings in the chimney. 

"The swallows come back, " he said, "but they will never come again. Itfills my heart with tenderness to hear these old home sounds. "

"No, _they_ will never come back from the mosses and ferns under theelms, " said his mother. "The orioles come, the orchards bloom, andsummer lights up the hills, and the leaves fall, but they will know nomore changes or seasons. And I am going after their feet into thesilence, Ben; I have almost got through. You have been a true son in themain, and Jenny has never stepped aside from the way. Always be good toJenny. "

"Jenny, always be true to mother, and I will be as true to you. "

"Brother, I shall always be true to my home. "

CHAPTER XXIX. 

"THOSE PAMPHLETS. "

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN loved to meet Samuel Franklin, Uncle Benjamin's son, who also had caught the gentle philosopher's spirit, and was making goodhis father's intention. Samuel was a thrifty man in a growing town. 

"It is the joy of my life to find you so prosperous, " said Franklin, "for it would have made your father's heart happy could he have knownthat one day I would find you so. Samuel, your father was a good man. Ishall never cease to be grateful for his influence over me when I was aboy. He was my schoolmaster. "

"Yes, my father was a good man, and I never saw it as I do now. I wasnot all to him that I ought to have been. He was a poor man; he lived asit were on ideas, and people were accustomed to look upon him as a manwho had failed in life. "

"He will never fail while you are a man of right influence, " saidFranklin. "He lives in you. "

"I feel his influence more and more every day, " said Samuel. 

"Samuel Franklin, I do. Success does not consist in popularity ormoney-making. Right influence is success in life. I have been anunworthy godson of your father, but I am more than ever determined tocarry out the principles that he taught me; they are the only thingsthat will stand in life; as for the rest, the grave swallows all. Yourfather's life shall never be a failure if my life can bring to it honor. 

"Samuel, I have not always done my best, but I resolve more and more tobe worthy of the love of all men when I think of what a character yourfather developed. He thought of himself last. He did not die poor. Hishands were empty, but not his heart, and there sleeps no richer man inthe Granary burying ground than he. 

"Samuel, he parted with his library containing the notes of his bestthoughts in life in his efforts to come to America to give me the truelessons in life because I bore his name. It was a brotherly thoughtindeed that led my father who loved him to name me for him. "

"You speak of his library--his collection of religious books andpamphlets, which he wrote over with his own ideas; you have touched atender spot in my heart. He wanted that I should have those pamphlets, and that I should try to recover them through some London agent. You aregoing to London. Do you think that they could be recovered after so manyyears?"

"Samuel, there is a strange thing that I have observed. It is this: Whena man looks earnestly for a thing that some one has desired him to have, his mind is curiously influenced and has strange directions. It is likeblindfolded children playing hot and cold. There is some strangeinstinct in one who seeks a hidden object for his own or others' goodthat leads his feet into mysterious ways. I have much faith in thathidden law. Samuel, I may be able to find those pamphlets; I thought ofthem when I was in London. If I do, I will buy them at whatever cost, and will bring them to you, and may both of us try to honor the name ofthat loving, forgiving, noble man until we see each other again. It maybe that when I shall come here another time, if I do, I will bring withme the pamphlets. "

"If you were to find them, I would indeed believe in a specialProvidence. "

The two parted. Poor Uncle Benjamin had sold his books for money, butwas his life a failure, or was he never living more nobly than now?

Franklin went to the Granary burying ground, where the old man slept. Great elms stood before the place. He thought of what his parents hadbeen, how they had struggled and toiled, and how glad they were thatUncle Benjamin had come to them for his sake. He resolved to erect amonument there. 

He recalled Uncle Benjamin's teaching, that a man rises by overcominghis defects, and so gains strength. 

He had tried to profit by the old man's lesson in answer to his ownquestion, "Have I a chance?"

He had not only struggled to make strong his conscious weaknesses ofcharacter, but those of his mental power as well. 

His old pedagogue, Mr. Brownell, had been unable to teach himmathematics. In this branch of elementary studies he had proved afailure and a dunce. But he had struggled against this defect of Nature, as against all others, with success. 

He was going to London as the agent of the colonies. He would carryback to England those principles that the old man had taught him, andwould live them there. His Uncle Benjamin had written those principlesin his "pamphlets, " and again in his own life. Would he ever see thesedocuments which had in fact been his schoolbooks, but which had come tohim without the letter, because the old man had been too poor to keepthe books?

CHAPTER XXX. 

A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 

FRANKLIN went to London. 

Franklin loved old bookstores. There were many in London, moldy andmusty, in obscure corners, some of them in cellars and in narrowpassageways, just off thronging streets. 

One day, when he was sixty years of age, just fifty years after hisassociation with Uncle Benjamin, he wandered out into the byways of theold London bookstores. 

It was early spring; the winter fogs of London had disappeared, thesquares were turning green, the hedgerows blooming, the birds weresinging on the thorns. Such a sunny, blue morning might have called himinto the country, but he turned instead into the flowerless ways of thebook stalls. He wandered about for a time and found nothing. Then hethought of old Humphrey, of whom he had bought books perhaps out ofpity. There was something about this man that held him; he seemedsomehow like a link of the unknown past. He compelled him to buy booksthat he did not want or need. 

"This is a fine spring morning, " said old Humphrey, as he saw the portlyform of Franklin enter the door. "I have been thinking of you much oflate. I do not seem to be able to have put you out of my mind; and whyshould I, a fine gentleman like you, and uncommonly civil. I havesomething that I have been allotting on showing you. It is very curious;it is a library of thirty-six volumes of pamphlets, and it minds me thata more interesting collection of pamphlets was never made. I read themmyself in lonesome days when there is no trade. Let me show you one ofthe volumes. "

"No, never mind, my friend. I could not buy the whole library, howeverinteresting it might be. I will look for something smaller. This is avery old bookstore. "

"Ay, it is that. It has been kept here ever since the times of theRestoration, and before. My wife's father used to keep it when he was anold man and I was a boy. And now I am an old man. I must show you one ofthose books or pamphlets. They are all written over. "

Benjamin Franklin sat down on a stool in the light, and took up an oddvolume of the Canterbury Tales. 

Old Humphrey lighted a candle and went into a dark recess. He presentlyreturned, bringing one of the thirty-six volumes of pamphlets. 

"My American friend, if one liked old things, and the comments of onedead and gone, this library of pamphlets would be food for thought. Justlook at this volume!"

He struck the book against a shelf to remove the dust, and handed it toFranklin. 

The latter adjusted his spectacles to the light, and turned over thevolume. 

"As you say, " he said to old Humphrey, "it is all written over. "

[Illustration: A STRANGE DISCOVERY. ]

"And uncommonly interesting comments they are. That library ofpamphlets and comments, in my opinion, is as valuable as Pepys's Diary. 

Old Humphrey had struck the right chord. In Pepys's Diary, which waskept for nine years during the gay and exciting period of the reign ofCharles II, one lives, as it were, amid the old court scenes. 

Franklin turned over the leaves of the volume. "It is a curious book, "said he. 

The light was poor, and he took the book to the door. Above the tallhouses of the narrow street was a rift of sunny blue sky. 

"There is something in the handwriting that looks familiar, " said he. "It seems as though I had seen that writing somewhere before. Where didyou find these books?"

"They came to me from my wife's father, who kept the storeway until hewas nigh upon ninety years old. He set great store by these books, whichled me to read them. 

"When Pepys's Diary was printed I was reminded of them, and read themover again, the comments and all. The person who made those notes had avery interesting mind. I think him to have been a philosopher. "

The ink on the margin of the volume was fading, and Franklin strainedhis eyes to read the comments. Suddenly he turned and came into thestore and sat down. 

"Father Humphrey, bring me another volume. "

Father Humphrey lighted the candle again and went into the same dark andtomblike recess, and brought out two more volumes, striking them againstthe corners of shelves to remove from them the dust and mold. 

He noticed that his patron seemed overcome. Franklin was not anemotional man, but his lip quivered. 

"You think that the book is interesting?"

He lifted his face and seemed lost in thought. 

"Ecton--Ecton--Ecton, " he said. "Uncle Tom lived there--Uncle Tom, whostarted the subscription for the chime of bells. "

He had found the word "Ecton" in the pamphlets, and he again began toturn the leaves. 

"Squire Isted, " he said, "Squire Isted. " He had found the name of SquireIsted on one of the leaves. He had heard the name in his youth. 

"The World's End, " he said. He stood up and turned round and round. 

"How queer he acts!" thought Father Humphrey. "I thought him a very calmman. What is it about the World's End?" he asked. 

"Oh, it is the name of an old tavern that I have found here. I had somegreat-uncles that used to have a farm and forge near an inn of thatname. That was very long ago, before I was born. Old names seem to melike voices of the past. "

He put his spectacles to his eyes and held the book again up to thelight. 

He presently said: "Luke Fuller--that is an old English name; there wassuch a one who was ousted for nonconformity in the days of theConventicles. "

He turned round and lifted his face and stood still, like a statue. 

Was he going mad? Poor old Father Humphrey began to look toward thedoor to see if there were clear way of escape for him should the strangeman become violent. 

Presently he said:

"Earls--Barton, " and lifted his brows. 

Then he said:

"Mears--Ashby, " and lifted his brows higher. 

"What, sir, is it about Earls--Barton, and Mears--Ashby?" asked thetimid Father Humphrey. 

"Oh, you are _here_. I've heard of these places before--it was manyyears ago. Some folks came over to America from there. "

He turned to the book again. "An Essay on the Toleration Act, " said he. "Banbury, " he continued. He dropped the book by his side, and lifted hisbrows again. 

Poor Father Humphrey now thought that his customer had indeed gone daft, and was beginning to repeat an old nursery rhyme that that namesuggested. 

The book went up to the light again. Old Humphrey, frightened, passedhim and went to the door, so that he might run if his strange visitorshould be incited to do him harm. 

Suddenly a very alarming expression came over the book-finder's face. What would he do next, this calm, grand old man, who was going out ofhis senses in this unfortunate place?

He dropped the book by his side again, and said, as in the voice ofanother, a long-gone voice:

"Reuben of the Mill--Reuben of the Mill!"

Poor Father Humphrey thought he was summoning the ghost of some strangebeing from the recesses of the cellar. He began to walk away, when thesupposed mind-shattered American seemed to be returning to himself, andsaid in a very calm and dignified manner:

"Father Humphrey, you must think that I have been acting strangely. There are some notes here that recall old names and places. They carriedmy thoughts away back to the past. "

The timid man came into the shop hopeful of a bargain. 

"It is a useful book, I should think, " said Franklin, as if holdinghimself in restraint. 

He took the two other volumes that Father Humphrey had brought him andbegan to look them over. 

"Father Humphrey, what do you want for the whole library of thepamphlets?"

"I do not exactly know what price to fix upon them. They might bevaluable to an antiquarian some day, perhaps to some solicitor, or to alibrary. I would be glad to sell them to you, for somehow--and I speakout of my heart, and use no trade language--somehow I want you to buythem. Would five pounds be too much for the thirty volumes?"

"No, no. There are but few that would want them or give them room. Iwill pay you five pounds for them. I will take one volume away, but forthe present you shall keep the others for me. "

He left the store. It was a bright day. Happy faces passed him, but hesaw them not. He walked, indeed, the streets of London, but it was theBoston of his childhood that was with him now. He wondered at what hehad found--he wondered if there were mysterious influences behind life;for he was certain that these pamphlets were those that his godfatherUncle Benjamin had so valued as a part of himself, and that the notes onthe margin of the leaves were in the handwriting of the samekind-hearted man whose influence had so molded his young life. 

He went to his apartments, and sat down at his table and read thepamphlet and the notes. He found in the notes the very thoughts and thesame expressions of thought that he had received from Uncle Benjamin inhis childhood. 

What a life had been his, and how much he owed to this honest, pure-minded old man!

He started up. 

"I must go back to Father Humphrey, " he said, "and find of whom heobtained these books. If these are Uncle Benjamin's pamphlets, this isthe strangest incident in all my life; it would look as though there wasa finger of Providence in it. I must go back--I must go back. "

CHAPTER XXXI. 

OLD HUMPHREY'S STRANGE STORY. 

IN his usual serene manner--for he very rarely became excited, notwithstanding that his conduct and his absentmindedness had surprisedold Humphrey--Mr. Franklin made his way again to the bookstore in thealley. 

Old Humphrey welcomed him with--

"Well, I am glad to see you again, my American patron. Did you find thevolume interesting?"

"Yes, Father Humphrey, that was an interesting book, and there were somevery curious comments in it. The notes on the Conventicles and theToleration Act greatly interested me. The man who was the compiler ofthat book of pamphlets seems to have been a poet, and to have hadrelatives who were advocates of justice. I was struck by many wisecomments that I found in it written in a peculiar hand. Father Humphrey, who do you suppose made those notes? Where did you find those pamphlets?How did they come to you?"

"Well, that would be hard to say. Those volumes of pamphlets have beenin the store many years, and I have often tried to find a purchaser forthem. They must have come down from the times of the Restoration. Iwouldn't wonder if they were as old as Cromwell's day. There is muchabout Banbury in them, and old Lord Halifax. "

"Old Lord Halifax!" said Franklin in surprise, walking about with afar-away look in his face again and his hands behind him. "I did notfind that name in the volume that I took home. I had an uncle whoreceived favors from old Lord Halifax. "

"You did, hey? Where did he live?"

"In Ecton, or in Nottingham. "

"Now, that is curious. It may be that he made the library of pamphlets. "

"No, no; if he had, he would never have sold them. He was a well-to-doman. But you have not answered my questions as to how the library ofpamphlets came to you. "

"I can't. I found them here when I took charge of the store. My wife'sfather, as I said, used to keep the store. He died suddenly in old age, and left the store to my wife. He had made a better living than I out ofmy business. So I took the store. I found the books here. I do not knowwhere my father-in-law obtained them. It was his business to buy rarebooks, and then find a way to some antiquarian of means who might wantthem. The owner's name was not left in these books. I have looked for itmany times. But there are names of Nottingham people there, and when oldLord Halifax used to visit London I tried to interest him in them, buthe did not care to buy them. "

"Father Humphrey, what was your wife's father's name?"

"His name was Axel, sir. He was a good man, sir. He attended theconventicles, sir, and became a Brownite, sir, and----"

Was the American gentleman going daft again?

He stopped at the name of _Axel_, and lifted his brows. He turnedaround, and bowed over with a look of intense interest. 

"Did you say Axel, Father Humphrey?"

"Axel, your honor. Axel. I once heard him say that several of thesepamphlets were suppressed after the Restoration, and that they were rareand valuable. I heard him say that they would be useful to a historian, sir. "

"I will pay you for the books, and you may hold them in trust for me. They will be sent for some day, or it may be that I will call for themmyself. My uncle owned those books. It would have been the dearest thingof his life could the old man have seen what has now happened. FatherHumphrey, one's heart's desires bring about strange things. They shapeevents after a man is dead. It seems to me as though I had been directedhere. Father Humphrey, what do you think of such things?"

"Well, I don't know. From the time that I first saw you my mind wasturned to the pamphlets. I don't know why. Perhaps the owner's thought, or desires, or prayers led me. It is all very strange. "

"Yes, it is very strange, " said Franklin, again walking to and fro withhis hands behind him. "I wish that all good men's works could befulfilled in this way. "

"How do you know that they are not?"

"Let us hope that they are. "

"This is all very strange. "

"Very strange, very strange. It is the greatest of blessings in life tohave had good ancestors. Uncle Ben was a good old man. I owe much tohim, and now I seem to have met with him again--Uncle Benjamin, myfather's favorite brother, who used to carry me sailing and made theboat a schoolroom for me in the harbor of Boston town. "

He added to himself in an absent way: "Samuel Franklin and I havepromised to live so as to honor the character of this old man. I have agreat task before me, and I can not tell what the issue will be, but Iwill hold these pamphlets and keep them until I can look into Samuel'sface and say, 'England has done justice to America, and your father'sinfluence has advanced the cause of human rights in the world. '"

Would that day ever come?

He went to Ecton, in Nottinghamshire, with his son, and there heard thechimes in the steeple that had been placed there by Thomas Franklin'sinfluence. He visited the graves of his ancestors and the homes of manypoor people who bore the Franklin name. He found three letters that hisUncle Benjamin had written home. He read in them the names of himselfand Jenny. How his heart must have turned home on that visit! Abiographer of Franklin tells his story in a beautiful simplicity thatleaves no call for fictitious enlargement. He says: "Franklin discovereda cousin, a happy and venerable old maid; 'a good, clever woman, ' hewrote, 'but poor, though vastly contented with her situation, and verycheerful'--a genuine Franklin, evidently. She gave him some of his UncleBenjamin's old letters to read, with their pious rhymings and acrostics, in which occurred allusions to himself and his sister Jane when theywere children. Continuing their journey, father and son reached Ecton, where so many successive Franklins had plied the blacksmith's hammer. They found that the farm of thirty acres had been sold to strangers. Theold stone cottage of their ancestors was used for a school, but wasstill called the Franklin House. Many relations and connections theyhunted up, most of them old and poor, but endowed with the inestimableFranklinian gift of making the best of their lot. They copiedtombstones; they examined the parish register; they heard the chime ofbells play which Uncle Thomas had caused to be purchased for the quaintold Ecton church seventy years before; and examined other evidences ofhis worth and public spirit. "

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE EAGLE THAT CAUGHT THE CAT. --DR. FRANKLIN'S ENGLISH FABLE. --THEDOCTOR'S SQUIRRELS. 

WHEN Dr. Franklin was abroad the first time after the misadventure withGovernor Keith, and was an agent of the colonies, his fame as ascientist gave him a place in the highest intellectual circles ofEngland, and among his friends were several clergymen of the EnglishChurch and certain noblemen of eminent force and character. 

When in 1775, while he was again the colonial agent, the events inAmerica became exciting, his position as the representative American inEngland compelled him to face the rising tide against his country. Hewas now sixty-nine years of age. He was personally popular, although theking came to regard him with disfavor, and once called him that"insidious man. " But he never failed, at any cost of personalreputation, to defend the American cause. 

His good humor never forsook him, and the droll, quaint wisdom that hadappeared in Poor Richard was turned to good account in the advocacy ofthe rights of the American colonies. 

One evening he dined at the house of a nobleman. It was in the year ofthe Concord fight, when political events in America were hurrying andwere exciting all minds in both countries. 

They talked of literature at the party, but the political situation wasuppermost in the minds of all. 

A gentleman was present whose literary mind made him very interesting tosuch circles. 

"The art of the illustration of the principles of life in fable, " hesaid, "is exhausted. Æsop, La Fontaine, Gay, and others have leftnothing further to be produced in parable teaching. "

The view was entertaining. He added:

"There is not left a bird, animal, or fish that could be made thesubject of any original fable. "

Dr. Franklin seemed to be very thoughtful for a time. 

"What is your opinion, doctor?" asked the literary gentleman. 

"You are wrong, sir. The opportunity to produce fables is limitless. Almost every event offers the fabric of a fable. "

"Could you write a fable on any of the events of the present time?"asked the lord curiously. 

"If you will order pen and ink and paper, I will give you a picture ofthe times in fable. A fable comes to me now. "

The lord ordered the writing material. 

What new animals or birds had taken possession of Franklin's fancy? Nonew animals or birds, but old ones in new relations. 

Franklin wrote out his fable and proceeded to read it. It was a shortone, but the effect was direct and surprising. The lord's face musthave changed when he listened to it, for it was a time when such thingsstruck to the heart. 

The fable not only showed Dr. Franklin's invention, but his courage. Itwas as follows: "Once upon a time an eagle, scaling round a farmer'sbarn and espying a hare, darted down upon him like a sunbeam, seized himin his claws, and remounted with him to the air. He soon found that hehad a creature of more courage and strength than a hare, for which, notwithstanding the keenness of his eyesight, he had mistaken a cat. 

"The snarling and scrambling of his prey were very inconvenient, and, what was worse, she had disengaged herself from his talons, grasped hisbody with her four limbs, so as to stop his breath, and seized fast holdof his throat with her teeth. 

"'Pray, ' said the eagle, 'let go your hold, and I will release you. '

"'Very fine, ' said the cat; 'I have no fancy to fall from this heightand be crushed to death. You have taken me up, and you shall stoop andlet me down. ' The eagle thought it necessary to stoop accordingly. "

The eagle, of course, represented England, and the cat America. 

Dr. Franklin was a lover of little children and animals--among petanimals, of the American squirrel. 

When he returned to England the second time as an agent of the colonies, he wished to make some presents to his English friends who had families. 

He liked not only to please children, but to give them those thingswhich would delight them. So he took over to England for presents a cagefull of pranky little squirrels. 

Among the families of children whom he loved was Dr. Shipley's, thebishop, who had a delightful little daughter, and to her the great Dr. Franklin, who was believed to command the visible heavens, made apresent of a cunning American squirrel. 

The girl came to love the pet. It was a truly American squirrel; itsought liberty. Franklin called it Mungo. 

The girl seems to have given the little creature his will, and let himsometimes go free among the oaks and hedgerows of the fair, green land. But one day it was caught by a dog or cat, or some other animal, andkilled. His liberty proved his ruin. Poor Mungo!

There was sorrow in the bishop's home over the loss of the pet, and thepoor little girl sought consolation from the philosopher. 

But, philosopher that he was, he could not recall to life the littlemartyr to liberty. So he did about all that can be done in like cases:he wrote for her an epitaph for her pet, setting forth its misfortunes, and giving it a charitable history, which must have been very consoling. He did not indulge in any frivolous rhymes, but used the stately rhythmsthat befit a very solemn event. 

There is a perfect picture of the mother heart of Franklin in thislittle story. The world has ever asked why this man was so liked. Theanswer may be read here: A sympathy, guided by principle, that oftenfound expression in humor. 

As in the case of good old Sam Adams, the children followed him. Blessed are those whom mothers and children love. It is the heart thathas power. A touch of sympathy outlives tales of achievements of power, as in the story of Ulysses's dog. It is he who sympathizes the most withmankind that longest lives in human affections. 

A man's character may be known by the poet that the man seeks as hisinterpreter. Franklin's favorite poet as he grew old was Cowper. In allhis duties of life he never lost that heart charm, the _grandfather_charm; it was active now when children still made his old age happy. 

How queerly he must have looked in England with his cage of littlesquirrels and the children following him in some good bishop's garden!

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

OLD MR. CALAMITY AGAIN. 

FRANKLIN'S paper, the Pennsylvania Gazette, which appeared in the year1729, at first published by Franklin and Meredith, and always veryneatly printed, had grown, and its income became large. It did much ofthe thinking for the province. But Franklin made it what it was by hisenergy, perseverance, and faith. He returned to America, and the papervoiced his opinions. 

In the period of his early struggle, he was wheeling some printing paperin a wheelbarrow along the streets toward his office when he heard thetap, tap, tap of an old man's cane. 

He looked around. It was the cane of old Mr. Calamity. This man hadadvised him not to begin publishing. 

"Young man----"

"Good morning, sir. I hope it finds you well. "

"It must be hard times when an editor has to carry his printing paper ina wheelbarrow. "

"The oracle said, 'Leave no stone unturned if you would find success. '"

"Well, my young friend, if there is anybody that obeys the oracle inPennsylvania it is you. You dress plainly; you do not indulge in manyluxuries; you attend the societies and clubs that seek information; youought to succeed, but you won't. "

The old man lifted his cane and brought it down on the flagging stoneswith a pump. 

"You won't, _now_!"

He stood still for a moment to add to the impression of his words. 

"What is this I hear? The province is about to issue paper money? Whatdid I tell you long ago? This is an age of rags. Paper money is rags. Governor Keith's affairs have all gone to ruin; it is unfortunate thathe went away. And you are going to print the paper money for theprovince, are you? Listen to me: in a few years it will not be worth thepaper it is printed on, and you will be glad to follow the example ofGovernor Keith, and get out of Philadelphia. The times are hard, butthey are going to be harder. What hope is there for such a man as you?"

Franklin set down his wheelbarrow. 

"My good sir, I am doing honest work. It will tell--I have confidencethat it will tell. "

"Tell! Tell who?"

"The world. "

"The world! The owls have not yet ceased to hoot in woods aroundPhiladelphia, and he has a small world that is bounded by the hoot of anowl. "

"My father used to say that he who is diligent in his business shallstand before kings, " quoting the Scripture. 

"Well, you may be as honest and as diligent in your business as youwill, it is a small chance that you will ever have of standing beforekings. What are you standing before now?--a wheelbarrow. That is as faras you have got. A promising young man it must be to stand before awheelbarrow and talk about standing before kings!"

"But, sir, I ought not to be standing before a wheelbarrow. I ought tobe going on and coining time. "

"Well, go right along; you are on the way to Poverty Corner, and youwill not need any guide post to find it; take up the handles of thewheelbarrow and go right on. Maybe the king will send a coach for yousome day. "

He did--more than one king did. 

Franklin took the handles of the wheelbarrow, wondering which was thetrue prophet, his father's Scripture or cautious old Mr. Calamity. As hewent on he heard the tap, tap, tap of the cane behind him, and a lowlaugh at times and the word "kings. "

He came to the office, and taking a huge bundle of printing paper on hisshoulder went in. The cane passed, tap, tap, tapping. It had an ominoussound. But after the tap, tap, tap of the cane had gone, Franklin couldstill hear his old father's words in his spiritual memory, and hebelieved that they were true. 

We must continue the story of Mr. Calamity, so as to picture events froma Tory point of view. The incident of the wheelbarrow would long causehim to reproach the name of Franklin. 

The Pennsylvania Gazette not only grew and became a source of largerevenue, so that Franklin had no more need to wheel to his officeprinting paper with his own hands, but it crowned with honor the workof which he was never ashamed. The printing of the paper money of theprovince added to his name, the success that multiplies success beganits rounds with the years, and middle life found him a rich man, and hislate return from England a man with the lever of power that moldsopinion. 

Poor old Mr. Calamity must have viewed this growth and prosperity witheyes askance. His cane tapped more rapidly yearly as it passed the greatnewspaper office, notwithstanding that it bore more and more the weightof years. 

Benjamin Franklin was a magnanimous man. He never wasted time in seekingthe injury of any who ridiculed and belittled him. He had the largestcharity for the mistakes in judgment that men make, and theopportunities of life were too precious for him to waste any time inbeating the air where nothing was to be gained. Help the man who sometime sought to injure you, and the day may come when he will help you, and such Peter-like experiences are among life's richest harvests. Thetrue friendship gained by forgiveness has a breadth and depth of lifethat bring one of the highest joys of heaven to the soul. 

"I will study many things, for I must be proficient in something, " saidthe poet Longfellow when young. Franklin studied everything--languages, literature, science, and art. His middle life was filled with studies;all life to him was a schoolroom. His studies in middle life bore fruitafter he was threescore and ten years of age. They helped to make hispaper powerful. 

Franklin's success greatly troubled poor old Mr. Calamity. After theprinter made the great discovery that electricity was lightning, the oldman opposed the use of lightning-rods. 

"What will that man Franklin do next?" he said. "He would oppose theLord of the heavens from thundering and lightning--he would defyProvidence and Omnipotent Power. Why, the next thing he may deny theauthority of King George himself, who is divinely appointed. He is adangerous man, the most dangerous man in all the colony. "

Old Mr. Calamity warned the people against the innovations of thisdangerous man. 

One day, as he was resting under the great trees on the Schuylkill, there was brought to him grievous news. A clerk in the PennsylvaniaAssembly came up to him and asked:

"Do you know what has been done? The Assembly has appointed Franklin asagent to London; he is to go as the agent of all the colonies. "

"Sho! What do the colonies want of an agent in London? Don't the kingknow how to govern his colonies? And if we need an agent abroad, whyshould we send a printer and a lightning-rod man? Clerk, sit down! Thatman Franklin is a dangerous leader. 'An agent of the colonies inLondon!' Why, I have seen him carrying printing paper in a wheelbarrow. A curious man that to send to the court of England's sovereign, whosearms are the lion and the unicorn. "

"But there is a movement in England to tax the colonies. "

"And why shouldn't there be? If the king thinks it is advisable to taxthe colonies for their own support, why should not his ministers beinstructed to do so? The king is a power divinely ordained; the kingcan do no wrong. We ought to be willing to be taxed by such a virtuousand gracious sovereign. Taxation is a blessing; it makes us realize ourprivileges. Oh, that Franklin! that Franklin! there is somethingpeculiarsome about him; but the end of that man is to fall. Firstcarrying about printing paper in a wheelbarrow, then trifling with thelightning in a thunderstorm, and now going to the court of England as arepresentative of the colonies. The world never saw such an amazingspectacle as that in all its history. Do you know what the king may yetbe compelled to do? He may yet have to punish his American colonies. Clouds are gathering--I can see. Well, let Franklin go, and take hiswheelbarrow with him! What times these are!"

Franklin was sent to England again greatly to the discomfort of Mr. Calamity. 

The English Parliament passed an act called the Stamp Act, taxing thecolonies by placing a stamp on all paper to be used in legaltransactions. It was passed against the consent of the colonies, whowere allowed to have no representatives in the foreign government, andthe measure filled the colonies with indignation. There were not many inAmerica like Mr. Calamity who believed the doctrine that the king coulddo no wrong. King George III approved of the Stamp Act, not only as ameans of revenue, but as an assertion of royal authority. 

The colonies were opposed to the use of the stamped paper. Were they tosubmit to be governed by the will of a foreign power without any voicein the measures of the government imposed upon them? Were their livesand property at the command of a despotism, without any source ofappeal to justice?

The indignation grew. The spirit of resistance to the arbitrary act oftyranny was everywhere to be met and seen. 

From the time of his arrival in London, in 1764, at the age offifty-nine, Franklin gave all his energies for a long time to opposingthe Stamp Act, and, after it had passed, to securing its repeal. He was, as it were, America in London. 

The Stamp Act, largely through his influence, was at last repealed, andjoy filled America. Processions were formed in honor of the king, andbonfires blazed on the hills. In Boston the debtors were set free fromjail, that all might unite in the jubilee. 

Franklin's name filled the air. 

Old Mr. Calamity heard of it amid the ringing of bells. 

"Franklin, Franklin, " he said on the occasion, turning around invexation and taking a pinch of snuff, "why, I have seen him carryingprinting paper in a wheelbarrow!"

Philadelphia had a day of jubilee in honor of the repeal of the StampAct, and Mr. Calamity with cane and snuffbox wandered out to see thesights. The streets were in holiday attire, bells were ringing, and hereand there a shout for Franklin went up from an exulting crowd. As oftenas the prudent old gentleman heard that name he turned around, poundinghis cane and taking a pinch of snuff. 

He went down to a favorite grove on the banks of the Schuylkill. Hefound it spread with tables and hung with banners. 

"Sir, " he said to a local officer, "is there to be a banquet here?"

"Yes, your Honor, _the_ banquet is to be here. Have you not heard?"

"What is the banquet to be for?"

"In honor of Franklin, sir. "

Mr. Calamity turned round on his cane and took out his snuffbox. 

There was an outburst of music, a great shout, and a hurrying of peopletoward the green grove. 

Something loomed in air. 

The old gentleman, putting his hand over his eye as a shade, looked upin great surprise. 

"What--what is that?"

What indeed!

"A boat sailing in the air?" He added, "Franklin must have inventedthat!"

"No, " said the official, "that is the great barge. "

"What is it for?"

"It will exhibit itself shortly, " said the official. 

It came on, covered with banners that waved in the river winds. 

The old man read the inscription upon it--"_Franklin_. "

"I told you so, " he said. 

"It will thunder soon, " said the official. "Don't you see it is armedwith guns?"

The barge stopped at the entrance of the grove. A discharge of cannonfollowed from the boat, which was forty feet long. A great shoutfollowed the salute. The whole city seemed cheering. The name thatfilled the air was "_Franklin_. "

Mr. Calamity turned around and around, planting his cane down in amanner that left a circle, and then taking out of his pocket hissnuffbox. 

He saw a boy cheering. 

"Boy!"

"Sir?"

"What are _you_ shouting for?"

"For the Stamp Act, sir!"

"That is right, my boy. "

"No, for Franklin!"

"For Franklin? Why, I have seen him carrying a lot of printing paperthrough the streets in a wheelbarrow! May time be gracious to me, sothat I may see him hanged! Boy, see here----"

But the banners were moving into the green grove, and the boy had goneafter them. 

Benjamin Franklin returned to Philadelphia the most popular man in thecolonies, and was elected a delegate to the Continental Congress. 

"Only Heaven can save us now, " said troubled Mr. Calamity. "There'streason in the air!"

The old gentleman was not a bad man; he saw life on the side of shadow, and had become blind to the sunny side of life. He was one of thosenatures that are never able to come out of the past. 

The people amid the rising prosperity ceased to believe in old Mr. Calamity as a prophet. He felt this loss of faith in him. He assumedthe character of the silent wise man at times. He would pass people whomhe had warned of the coming doom, shaking his head, and then turningaround would strike his cane heavily on the pavement, which would causethe one he had left behind to look back. He would then lift his cane asthough it were the rod of a magician. 

"Old Mr. Calamity is coming, " said a Philadelphia schoolboy to another, one new school day in autumn. "See, he is watching Franklin, and istrying to avoid meeting him. "

Their teacher came along the street. 

"Why, boys, are you watching the old gentleman?"

"He is trying to avoid meeting Mr. Franklin, sir. "

"Calamity comes to avoid Industry, " said the teacher, as he saw the twomen. Franklin was the picture of thrift, and his very gait was full ofpurpose and energy. "I speak in parable, " said the teacher, "but thatold gentleman is always in a state of alarm, and he seems to findsatisfaction in predicting evil, and especially of Mr. Franklin. Thetime was when the young printer avoided him--he was startled, I fancy, whenever he heard the cane on the pavement; he must have felt the forceof the suggestion that Calamity was after him. Now he has becomeprosperous, and the condition is changed. Calamity flees from him. See, my boys, the two men. "

They stopped on the street. 

Mr. Calamity passed them on the opposite side, and Mr. Franklin cameafter him, walking briskly. The latter stopped at the door of hisoffice, but the old gentleman hurried on. When he reached the corner ofthe street he planted his cane down on the pavement and looked around. He saw the popular printer standing before his office door on thestreet. The two looked at each other. The old man evidently feltuncomfortable. He turned the corner, out of sight, when an extraordinarymovement appeared. 

Mr. Calamity reached back his long, ruffled arm, and his cane, in viewof the philosopher, the teacher, and the boys, and shook the canemysteriously as though he were writing in the air. He may have had inmind some figure of the ancient prophets. Up and down went the cane, around and around, with curves of awful import. It looked to those onthe street he had left as though the sharp angle of the house on thecorner had suddenly struck out a living arm in silent warning. 

The arm and cane disappeared. A head in a wide-rimmed hat looked aroundthe angle as if to see the effect of the writing in the air. Then thearm and cane appeared again as before. It was like the last remnant of acloud when the body has passed. 

The teacher saw the meaning of the movement. 

"Boys, " said he, "if you should ever be pursued by Mr. Calamity in anyform, remember the arm and cane. See Franklin laugh! Industry in the endlaughs at Calamity, and Diligence makes the men who 'stand beforekings. ' It is the law of life. Detraction is powerless before will andwork, and as a rule whatever any one dreams that he may do, he will do. "

The boys had received an object lesson, and would long carry in theirminds the picture of the mysterious arm and cane. 

In a right intention one is master of the ideal of life. Ifcircumstances favor, he becomes conscious that life is no longer masterof him, but that he is the master of life. This sense of power andfreedom is noble; in vain does the shadow of Calamity intrude upon it;the visions of youth become a part of creations of the world; the dreamof the architect is a mansion now; of the scientist, a road, a railwayover rivers and mountains; of the orator and poet, thoughts that live. Even the young gardner finds his dreams projected into his farm. Soideals become realities, and thoughts become seeds that multiply. Mr. Calamity may shake his cane, but it will be behind a corner. Happy is hewho makes facts of his thoughts that were true to life!

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

OLD MR. CALAMITY AND THE TEARING DOWN OF THE KING'S ARMS. 

OUR gentlemanly friend Mr. Calamity was now very, very old, long pastthe milestone of eighty. As Philadelphia grew, the streets lengthening, the fine houses rising higher and higher, he began to doubt that he wasa prophet, and he shunned Benjamin Franklin when the latter was in thecountry. 

One day, long before the Stamp Act, he passed the Gazette office, whenthe prosperous editor appeared. 

"It's coming, " said he, tap, tapping on. "What did I tell you?"

"What is coming?" asked our vigorous king of prosperity. 

"War!" He became greatly excited. "Indians! they're coming with thetommyhawk and scalping knife, and we'll need to be thankful if theyleave us our heads. "

There were indeed Indian troubles and dire events at that time, but notnear Philadelphia. 

Time passed. He was a Tory, and he heard of Concord and Lexington, andhe ceased to read the paper that Franklin printed, and his cane flewscatteringly as it passed the office door. To him that door wastreason. 

One evening he lifted his cane as he was passing. 

"The king will take the puny colonies in his mighty arms and dash themagainst the high rock of the sea. He will dash them in pieces 'like apotter's vessel. ' What are we to the throne of England!"

He heard of Bunker Hill, and his old heart beat free again. 

"What did I tell you?" he said. "King George took the rebels in his armsand beat them against Bunker Hill. He'll plant his mighty heel onPhiladelphia some day, and may it fall on the head of Benjamin Franklin, for of all rebels he is the most dangerous. Oh, that Franklin! He is nowadvocating the independence of the colonies!"

The Provincial Congress began to assemble, and cavalcades went out tomeet the members as they approached the city on horseback. The Virginiadelegation were so escorted into the city with triumph. The delegateswere now assembling to declare the colony free. Independence was in theair. 

Terrible days were these to Mr. Calamity. As often as he heard the word"independence" on the street his cane would fly up, and after this spasmhis snuffbox would come out of his pocket for refreshment. His snuffboxwas silver, and on it in gold were the king's arms. 

He was a generous man despite his fears. He was particularly generouswith his snuff. He liked to pass it around on the street, for he therebydisplayed the king's arms on his snuffbox. 

When the Massachusetts delegates came, the city was filled with joy. ButSamuel Adams was the soul of the movement for independence, and afterhis arrival independence was more and more discussed, which kept poorold Mr. Calamity's cane continually flying. But his feelings wereterribly wounded daily by another event of common occurrence. As hepassed the snuffbox to the Continentals he met, and showed the royalarms upon it, they turned away from him; they would not take snuff fromthe royal snuffbox. These were ominous times indeed. 

The province of Pennsylvania had decreed that no one should hold anyoffice derived from the authority of the king. For a considerable periodthere was no government in Pennsylvania, no authority to punish a crimeor collect a debt, but all things went on orderly, peacefully, and well. 

Old Mr. Calamity used to sit under the great elm tree at Shakamaxon inthe long summer days and extend his silver snuffbox to people as theypassed. The tree was full of singing birds; flowers bloomed by the way, and the river was bright; but to him the glory of the world had fled, for the people no longer would take snuff from the box with the royalarms. 

One day a lady passed who belonged to the days of the Penns and theProprietors. 

"Madam Bond, " said he, "comfort me. "

A patriot passed. The old man held out the snuffbox. The man hesitatedand started back. 

"The royal arms will have to go, " said the patriot. 

"Where from?" said the old man excited. 

"From everywhere. We are about to decree a new world. "

"They will never take these golden arms from that snuffbox. Sir, do youknow that box was given to the Proprietor by Queen Charlotte herself?"

"Well, the golden arms will have to come off it; they will have to comedown everywhere. No--I thank you, " he continued. "I can not ever takesnuff again out of a snuffbox like that. "

Poor old Mr. Calamity turned to the lady. 

"What am I to do? Where am I to go? You do pity me, don't you?"

A little girl passed near. He held out the box. The girl ran. The poorold man began to tremble. 

"I have trembling fits sometimes, " said he. "Take a pinch of snuff withme; it will steady me. Take a pinch of snuff for Queen Charlotte'ssake. "

He shook like the leaves of the elm tree in the summer wind. 

Dame Bond hesitated. 

He trembled more violently. "Do you hesitate to honor the name of QueenCharlotte?" he said. 

The woman took a pinch of snuff in memory of the days gone. He grewcalmer. 

"That strengthens me, " he said. "What am I to do? The things that I seedaily tear me all to pieces. It broke my heart to see that child runaway. I can not cross the sea, and if they were to tear down the king'sarms from the State House I would die. I would tremble until I grew coldand my breath left me. You do pity me, don't you? I sometimes grow coldnow when I tremble. "

It was June. A bugle rang out in the street. 

"What is that?" he asked of a volunteer who passed by. 

"It is the summons. "

"For what?"

"For the assembling of the people. "

"In God's name, for what? Is a royal messenger coming?"

"No. They are going to tear down the king's arms from all the buildingsat six, and are going to pile them up on tar barrels and make a bonfireof them when the sun goes down. The flame will ascend to heaven. Thatwill be the end of the reign of King George III in this provinceforever!"

The old man trembled again. 

"I am cold, " he said. --"Dame Bond, take another pinch of snuff out ofthe silver box with the golden arms--it helps me. "

Dame Bond once more paid her respects to Queen Charlotte. 

"Before God, you do not tell me, sir, that they are going to take downthe king's arms from the State House?"

"The king's arms are to be torn down from all the buildings, my agedfriend; from the inns, the shops, the houses, the State House, and all. "

"Dame Bond, my limbs fail. I shall never go home again. Tell the familyas you pass that I shall not return to tea with them. Let me pass theevening here, where Penn made his treaty with the Indians. To-night isthe last of Pennsylvania. I never wish to see another morning. "

[Illustration: THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ROYAL ARMS. ]

At seven o'clock in the long, fiery day the great bell rang. The buglesounded again. People ran hither and thither. A rocket flared acrossthe sky, and a great cry went up:

"Down with the arms!"

A procession headed with soldiers passed through the streets of the citybearing with them a glittering sign. Military music filled the air. 

The old man's daughter Mercy came to see him under the tree and topersuade him to go home with her. 

"Mercy--daughter--what are they carrying away?"

"The king's arms from the State House; that is all, father. "

"All! all! Say you rather that it is the world!"

The roseate light faded from the high hills and the waters. The seabirds screamed, and cool breezes made the multitudinous leaves of thetree to quiver. 

"Mercy--daughter--and what was that?"

"They are lighting a bonfire, father. "

"What for?"

"To burn the king's arms. "

"What will we do without a king?"

"They will have a Congress. "

A great shout went up on a near hill. 

"But, Mercy--daughter--a Congress is men. A Congress is not a powerordained. Oh, that I should ever live to see a day like this! 'TwasFranklin did it. I can see it all--it was he; it was the printer boyfrom Boston. "

Darkness fell. It was nine o'clock now. There was a discharge offirearms, and a great flame mounted up from the pile on the hill, andput out the stars and filled the heavens. 

"Father, let us go home. "

"No, let me stay here under the tree. "

"Why, father?"

"The palsy is coming upon me--I can feel it coming, and here I woulddie. "

"Oh, father, return with me, for my sake!"

"Well, help me, then. "

She lifted him, and they went back slowly to the street. 

The city was deserted. The people were out to the hill. There was acrackling of dry boards in the bonfire, and the flame grew redder andredder, higher and higher. 

They came to the State House. The old man looked up. The face of thehouse was bare; the king's arms were gone. 

He sank down on the step of an empty house and began to tremble. He tookout his silver snuffbox and held it shaking. 

"For Queen Charlotte's sake, daughter, " he said. 

She touched the box, to please him. 

"Gone, " he said; "the king's arms are gone, and I have no wish tosurvive them. I feel the chill coming on--'tis the last time. Take thesilver box, daughter; for my sake hide it, and always be true to theking's arms upon it. As for me, I shall never see the morning!"

He lay there in the moonlight, his eyes fixed on the State House wherethe king's arms had been. 

The people came shouting back, bearing torches that were going out. Houses were being illuminated. 

He ceased to tremble. They sent for a medical man and for his near kin. These people were among the multitude. They came late and found himlying in the moonlight white and cold. 

The bells are ringing. Independence is declared. The king's rule in theprovince is gone forever. Benjamin Franklin's name commands the respectof lovers of liberty throughout the world. He is fulfilling the visionof Uncle Benjamin, the poet. He has added virtue to virtue, intelligenceto intelligence, benevolence to benevolence, faith to faith. So theladder of success ascends. Like his great-uncle Tom, his influence hascaused the bells to ring; it will do so again. 

Franklin heard of his great popularity in America while in England. 

"Now I will call for the pamphlets, " he said. He again walked alone inhis room. He faced the future. "Not yet, not yet, " he added, referringto the pamphlets. "The struggle for liberty has only begun. I will orderthe pamphlets when the colonies are free. The hopes in them will then befulfilled, and not until then. "

CHAPTER XXXV. 

JENNY AGAIN. 

FRANKLIN was suddenly recalled to America. 

He stood at Samuel Franklin's door. 

Samuel Franklin was an old man now. 

"I have come to Boston once more, " said Benjamin Franklin. "I would goto my parents' graves and the grave of Uncle Ben. But they are in theenemy's camp now. Samuel, I found your father's pamphlets in London. "

"Is it possible? Where are they now?"

"I will return them to you when the colonies shall be free. The readingof them shall be a holiday in our old lives. "

"I may never live to see that day. Benjamin, I am an old man. I wantthat you should will those pamphlets to my family. "

The old men went out and stood by the gate late in the evening. The moonwas rising over the harbor; it was a warm, still night. Sentries werepacing to and fro, for Boston was surrounded by sixteen thousand hostilemen in arms. 

The nine o'clock bell rang. 

"I must go back to the camp, " said Franklin, for he had met Samuelwithin the American lines. 

"Cousin Benjamin, these are perilous times, " said Samuel. "Justice iswhat the world needs. Make those pamphlets live, and return them withfather's name honored in yours to my family. "

"I will do so or perish. I am in dead earnest. "

He ascended the hill and looked down on the British camps in Bostontown. 

Franklin had been sent to Cambridge as a commissioner to Washington'sarmy at this time. It was October, 1775. 

He longed to see his sister Jane--"Jenny"--once more. His sister was nowpast sixty years of age. Foreseeing the siege of Boston, he had writtento her to come to Philadelphia and to make her home with him. But shewas unwilling to remove from her own city and old home, though she wasforced to find shelter within the lines of the American army. 

One night, after her removal from Boston, there came a gentle knock atthe door of her room. She opened it guardedly, and looked earnestly intothe face of the stranger. 

"Jenny!"

"My own brother!--do I indeed see you alive? Let me put my hand intoyours once more. "

He drew her to him. 

"Jenny, I have longed for this hour. "

"But what brings you here at this time? You did not come wholly to seeme? Sit down, and let us bring up all the past again. "

He sat down beside her, holding her hand. 

"Jenny, you ask what brings me here. Do you remember Uncle Ben?"

"Whose name you bear? Never shall I forget him. The memory of a greatman grows as years increase. "

"Jenny, I've heard the bells in Ecton ring, and I found inNottinghamshire letters from Uncle Benjamin, and they coupled your namewhen you was a girl with mine when I was a boy; do you remember what hesaid to us on that showery summer day when all the birds were singing?"

"Yes, Ben--I must call you 'Ben'--he said that 'more than wealth, morethan fame, more than anything, was the power of the human heart, andthat that power grows by seeking the good of others. '"

"What he said was true, but that was not all he said. "

"He told you to be true to your country--to live for the things thatlive. "

"Jenny, that is why I am here. He told you to be true to your home. Youhave been that, Jenny. You took care of father when he was sick for thelast time, and you anticipated all his wants. I love you for that, Jenny. "

"But it made me happy to do it, and the memory of it makes me happynow. "

"And mother, you were her life in her old age. They are gone, both gone, but your heart made them happy when their steps were retreating. OJenny, Jenny, your hair is turning gray, and mine is gray already. Youhave fulfilled Uncle Benjamin's charge under the trees. You have beentrue to your home. "

"I only wish that I could have done more for our folks; and you, Ben--Ican see you now as you were on that summer day--you have been true toyour country. "

"Jenny, do you remember the old writing-school master, George Brownell?You do? Well, I have a great secret for you. I used to tell my affairsto you many years ago. I am in favor of the _independence_ of thecolonies; and when Congress shall so declare, I shall put my name, thatthe old schoolmaster taught me to write, to the Declaration. "

"Ben, it may cost you your life!"

"Then I will leave Uncle Ben's name in mine to the martyrs' list. I mustbe true to my country as you have been to your family--I must live forthe things that live. I am Uncle Ben's pamphlet, Jenny. I know not whatmay befall me. This may be the last time that I shall ever visit Bostontown--my beloved Boston--but I have found power with men by seekingtheir good, and my prayer is that I may one day meet you again, and haveyou say to me that I have honored Uncle Ben's name. I would rather havethat praise from you than from any other person in the world: 'More thanwealth, more than fame, more than anything, is the power of the humanheart. '"

It was night. The camp of Washington was glimmering far away. BostonNeck was barricaded. There was a ship in the mouth of the Charles. Acannon boomed on Charlestown's hills. 

"Jenny, I must go. When shall we meet again? Not until I have put UncleBen's name to the declaration of American liberty and independence iswon. I must prepare the minds of the people to resolve to become anindependent nation. My sister, my own true sister, what events may passbefore we shall see each other again! When you were younger I made you apresent of a spinning-wheel; later I sent you finery. I wish to leaveyou now this watch. The hours of the struggle for human liberty are athand. Count the hours!"

They parted at the gate. The leaves were falling. It was the evening ofthe year. He looked back when he had taken a few steps. He was nearlyseventy years of age. Yet his great work of life was before him--it wasyet to do, while white-haired Jenny should count the hours on the clockof time. 

Sam Adams had grasped the idea that the appeal to arms must end in theindependence of the colonies. Franklin saw the rising star of thedestiny of the union of the colonies to secure justice from the crown. He left Boston to give his whole soul to this great end. 

The next day they went out to Tuft's Hill and looked down on theencamped town, the war ships, and the sea. It was an Indian summer. Thetrees were scarlet, the orchards were laden with fruit, and the fieldswere yellow with corn. 

Over the blue sea rose the Castle, now gone. The smoke from many Britishcamps curled up in the still, sunny air. 

The Providence House Indian (now at the farm of the late Major BenPerley Poore) gleamed over the roofs of the State House and itsviceregal signs, which are now as then. Boston was three hills then, andthe whole of the town did not appear as clearly from the hills on thewest--the Sunset Hills--as now. 

"Jenny, liberty is the right of mankind, and the cause of liberty is thecause of mankind, " said Franklin. "Why should England hold provinces inAmerica to whom she will allow no voice in her councils, whose peopleshe may tax and condemn to prisons and death at the will of the king? Ihave told you my heart. America has the right of freedom, and thecolonies must be free!"

They walked along the cool hill ways, and he looked longingly back atthe glimmering town. 

"Beloved Boston!" he said. "So thou wilt ever be to me!" He turned tohis sister: "I used to tell my day dreams to you--they have come true, in part. I have been thinking again. If the colonies could be made free, and I were to be left a rich man, I would like to make a gift to theschools of Boston, whose influence would live as long as they shalllast. Sister, I was too poor in my boyhood to answer the call of theschool bells. I would like to endow the schools there with a fund forgifts or medals that would make every boy happy who prepares himselfwell for the work of life, be he rich or poor. I would like also toestablish there a fund to help young apprentices, and to open publicplaces of education and enjoyment which would be free to all people. "

"You are Silence Dogood still, " said Mrs. Mecom. "Day dreams in yourlife change into realities. I believe that all you now have in yourheart to do will be done. Benjamin, these are great dreams. "

"It may be that I will be sent abroad again. "

"Benjamin, we may be very old when we meet again. But the colonies willbe made free, and you will live to give a medal to the schools of Bostontown. I must prophesy for you now, for Uncle Benjamin is gone. I beganlife with you--you carried me in your arms and led me by the hand. Weused to sit by the east windows together; may we some day sit downtogether by the windows of the west and review the book of life, andclose the covers. We may then read in spirit the pamphlets of UncleBen. "

There was a thunder of guns at the Castle. War ships were coming intothe harbor from the bay. Franklin beheld them with indignation. 

"The people must not only have justice, " he said, "they must haveliberty. "

They returned by the Cambridge road under the bowery elms. It would be along time before they would see each other again. 

In such beneficent thoughts of Boston the Franklin medal had its origin. It was coined out of his heart, that echoed wherever it went or wasdestined to go, "Beloved Boston!"

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. --A MYSTERY. 

THE fame of Benjamin Franklin now filled America. On the continent ofEurope he was held to be the first citizen of America. In France he wasranked among the sages and philosophers of antiquity, and his nameassociated with the greatest benefactors of the human race. It was hiselectrical discovery that gave him this solid and universal fame, buthis Poor Richard's proverbs, which had several times been translatedinto French, were greatly quoted on the continent of Europe, and madehis popularity as unique as it was general. 

The old Boston schoolmaster who probably taught little Ben to flourishwith his pen could have little dreamed of the documents of state towhich this curious characteristic of the pen would be attached. Four ofthese documents were papers that led the age, and became the charters ofhuman freedom and progress and began a new order of government in theworld. They were the Declaration of Independence, the Alliance withFrance, the Treaty of Peace with England, and the draft of theConstitution of the United States. 

In his service as agent of the colonies and as a member of theContinental Congress his mind clearly saw how valuable to the Americancause an alliance with France and other Continental powers would be. While in Europe as an agent of the colonies he gave his energy andexperience to assisting a secret committee to negotiate foreign aid inthe war. It was a time of invisible ink, and Franklin instructed thiscommittee how to use it. He saw that Europe must be engaged in thestruggle to make the triumph of liberty in America complete andpermanent. 

It was 1776. Franklin was now seventy years old and was in America. Thecolonies had resolved to be free. A committee had been chosen by theContinental Congress in Philadelphia to prepare a draft for a formalDeclaration of Independence, a paper whose principles were destined toemancipate not only the united colonies but the world. The committeeconsisted of Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Robert R. Livingston, and Roger Sherman. Mr. Jefferson was appointed by thiscommittee to write the Declaration, and he made it a voice of humanityin the language of the sages. He put his own glorious thoughts ofliberty into it, and he made these thoughts trumpet tones, and they, like the old Liberty Bell, have never ceased to ring in the events ofthe world. 

When Jefferson had written the inspired document he showed it toFranklin and Adams, and asked them if they had any suggestions to offeror changes to make. 

Franklin saw how grandly and adequately Jefferson had done the work. Hehad no suggestion of moment to offer. But the composition was criticisedin Congress, which brought out Franklin's wit, as the following storytold by an eye-witness will show:

"When the Declaration of Independence was under the consideration ofCongress, there were two or three unlucky expressions in it which gaveoffense to some members. The words 'Scotch and other foreignauxiliaries' excited the ire of a gentleman or two of that country. Severe strictures on the conduct of the British king in negativing ourrepeated repeals of the law which permitted the importation of slaveswere disapproved by some Southern gentlemen, whose reflections were notyet matured to the full abhorrence of that traffic. Although theoffensive expressions were immediately yielded, these gentlemencontinued their depredations on other parts of the instrument. I wassitting by Dr. Franklin, who perceived that I was not insensible to('_that I was writhing under_, ' he says elsewhere) these mutilations. 

"'I have made it a rule, ' said he, 'whenever in my power, to avoidbecoming the draughtsman of papers to be reviewed by a public body. Itook my lesson from an incident which I will relate to you. When I was ajourneyman printer, one of my companions, an apprenticed hatter, havingserved out his time, was about to open shop for himself. His firstconcern was to have a handsome signboard, with a proper inscription. Hecomposed it in these words, _John Thompson, Hatter, makes and sells Hatsfor ready Money_, with a figure of a hat subjoined. But he thought hewould submit it to his friends for their amendments. The first he showedit to thought the word _hatter_ tautologous, because followed by thewords _makes hats_, which showed he was a hatter. It was struck out. Thenext observed that the word _makes_ might as well be omitted, becausehis customers would not care who made the hats; if good and to theirmind they would buy, by whomsoever made. He struck it out. A third saidhe thought the words _for ready money_ were useless, as it was not thecustom of the place to sell on credit. Every one who purchased expectedto pay. They were parted with; and the inscription now stood, 'JohnThompson sells hats. ' '_Sells_ hats?' says his next friend; 'why, nobodywill expect you to give them away. What, then, is the use of that word?'It was stricken out, and _hats_ followed, the rather as there was onepainted on the board. So his inscription was reduced ultimately to _JohnThompson_, with the figure of a hat subjoined. '"

"We must all hang together, " said Mr. Hancock, when the draft had beenaccepted and was ready to be signed. 

"Or else we shall hang separately, " Franklin is reported to haveanswered. 

John Hancock, President of the Congress, put his name to the document insuch a bold hand that "the King of England might have read it withoutspectacles. " Franklin set his signature with its looped flourish amongthe immortals. In the same memorable month of July Congress appointedFranklin, Jefferson, and Adams to prepare a national seal. 

The plan submitted by Franklin for the great seal of the United Stateswas poetic and noble. It is thus described:

"Pharaoh sitting in an open chariot, a crown on his head and a sword inhis hand, passing through the divided waters of the Red Sea in pursuitof the Israelites. Rays from a pillar of fire in the cloud, expressiveof the Divine presence and command, beaming on Moses, who stands on theshore, and, extending his hand over the sea, causes it to overflowPharaoh. Motto: 'Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God. '"

This device was rejected by Congress, which decided upon a more simpleallegory, and the motto _E Pluribus Unum_. 

It was a time of rejoicing in Philadelphia now, and of the great eventsJefferson was the voice and Franklin was the soul. 

The citizens, as we have shown, tore down all the king's arms and royaldevices from the government houses, courtrooms, shops, and taverns. Theymade a huge pile of tar barrels and placed these royal signs upon them. On a fiery July night they put the torch to the pile, and the flamescurled up, and the black smoke rose in a high column under the moon andstars, and the last vestige of royalty disappeared in the bonfire. 

Franklin heard the Liberty Bell ring out on the adoption of theDeclaration of Independence by Congress. He saw the bonfire rise in thenight of these eventful days, and heard the shouts of the people. He hadset his hand to the Declaration. He desired next to set it to a treatyof alliance with France. Would this follow?

A very strange thing had happened in the colonies some seven months ormore before--in November, 1775. A paper was presented to Congress, coming from a mysterious source, that stated that a stranger had arrivedin Philadelphia who brought an important message from a foreign power, and who wished to meet a committee of Congress in secret and to make aconfidential communication. 

Congress was curious, but it at first took no official notice of thecommunication. But, like the Cumæan sibyl to Tarquin, the message cameagain. It was not received, but it made an unofficial impression. It wasrepeated. Who was this mysterious stranger? Whence came he, and what hadhe to offer?

The curiosity grew, and Congress appointed a committee consisting ofJohn Jay, Dr. Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson to meet the foreigner andto receive his proposition. 

The committee appointed an hour to meet the secret messenger, and aplace, which was one of the rooms of Carpenters' Hall. 

At the time appointed they went to the place and waited the coming ofthe unknown ambassador. 

There entered the room an elderly man of dignified appearance andmilitary bearing. He was lame; he may have been at some time wounded. Hespoke with a French accent. It was plainly to be seen that he was aFrench military officer. 

Why had he come here? Where had he been hiding?

The committee received him cautiously and inquired in regard to thenature of his mission. 

"His Most Christian Majesty the King of France, " said he, "has heard ofyour struggle for a defense of your rights and for liberty. He hasdesired me to meet you as his representative, and to express to you hisrespect and sympathy, and to say to you in secrecy that should the timecome when you needed aid, his assistance would not be withheld. "

This was news of moment. The committee expressed their gratitude andsatisfaction, and said:

"Will you give us the evidence of your authority that we may present itto Congress?"

His answer was strange. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, drawing his hand across his throat, "I shall takecare of my head. "

"But, " said one of the committee, "in an event of such importance wedesire to secure the friendly opinion of Congress. "

"Gentlemen, " making the same gesture, "I shall take care of my head. " Hethen said impressively: "If you want arms, you may have them; if youwant ammunition, you may have it; if you want money, you may have it. Gentlemen, I shall take care of my head. "

He went out and disappeared from public view. He is such a mysteriouscharacter in our history as to recall the man with the Iron Mask. Did hecome from the King of France? None knew, or could ever tell. 

Diplomacy employed secret messengers at this time. It was full ofsuggestions, intrigues, and mysteries. 

But there was one thing that this lame but courtly French officer did:he made an impression on the minds of the committee that the colonieshad a friend in his "Most Christian Majesty the King of France, " andfrom him they might hope for aid and for an alliance in their strugglefor independence. Here was topic indeed for the secret committee. 

On the 26th of September, 1776, Congress elected three ambassadors torepresent the American cause in the court of France; they were SilasDeane, Arthur Lee, and Benjamin Franklin. Before leaving the countryFranklin collected all the money that he could command, some fourthousand pounds, and lent it to Congress. Taking with him his twograndsons, he arrived at Nantes on the 7th of December of that year, and he received in that city the first of the many ovations that hislong presence in France was destined to inspire. He went to Paris, andtook up his residence at Passy, a village some two miles from the city, on a high hill overlooking the city and the Seine. It was a lovely placeeven in Franklin's day. Here have lived men of royal endowments--Rossini, Bellini, Lamartine, Grisi. The arrival of Franklin there, where he livedmany years, made the place famous. For Franklin, as a wonder-worker ofscience and as an apostle of human liberty, was looked upon more as agod than a man in France--a Plato, a Cato, a Socrates, with the demeanorof a Procion. 

His one hope now was that he would be able to set the signature which hehad left on the Declaration of Independence on a Treaty of Alliancebetween the States of America and his Most Christian Majesty the King ofFrance. Will he, O shade of the old schoolmaster of Boston town?

Jamie the Scotchman, the type of the man who ridicules and belittlesone, but claims the credit of his success when that one is successful, was very old now. Fine old Mr. Calamity, who could only see things inthe light of the past, would prophesy no more. A young man with apurpose is almost certain to meet men like these in his struggles. Notall are able to pass such people in the Franklin spirit. He heard whatsuch men had to say, tried to profit by their criticism, but wasted notime or energy in dispute or retaliation. The seedtime of life is tooshort, and its hours are too few, to spend in baffling detraction. Timemakes changes pleasantly, and tells the truth concerning all men. A highpurpose seeking fulfillment under humble circumstances is sure to belaughed at. It is that which stands alone that looks queer. 

After Samuel Adams, Franklin was among the first of those leaders whoseheart sought the independence of the colonies. The resolution forindependence, passed on July 4, 1776, set ringing the Liberty Bell onthe State House of Philadelphia. Couriers rode with the great news ofthe century and of the ages to Boston, which filled the old town withjoy. 

They brought a copy of the Declaration with them, and a day wasappointed for the reading of it from the front window of the StateHouse, under the shadow of the king's arms, the classic inscription, andthe lion and the unicorn. 

Old, tottering Jamie the Scotchman was among those who heard the greatnews with an enkindled heart. He, who had so laughed at little Ben'sattempts for the public welfare, now claimed more and more to have beenthe greatest friend of the statesman's youth. It was the delight of hisninety or more years to make this claim wherever he went, and when thecourier brought the news of the Declaration, we may see him going toJane Mecom's house. 

"You all know what a friend I was to that boy, and how I encouraged him, a little roughly it may be, but I always meant well. Jane, on the daythe Declaration is read in public I want you to let me go with you tohear it. "

They go together; she a lusty woman in full years, and he who had longoutlived his generation. 

The street in front of the old State House is filled with people. Thebalcony window is thrown up, and out of the Council Chamber, nowpopularly known as the Sam Adams room, there appears the representativeof Sam Adams and of five members of the Boston schools who had signedthe Declaration. The officers of the State are there, and over thestreet shines the spire of the South Church and gleams the ProvinceHouse Indian. The children are there; aged idlers who loitered about thetown pump; the women patriots from Spring Lane. The New England flag, ofblue ground with the cross of St. George on a white field, floats highover all. 

A voice rends the clear air. It read:

"When in the course of human events, " and it marches on in stately tonesabove the silence of the people. At the words "all men are created freeand equal, " the name of Franklin breaks upon the stillness. Jamie theScotchman joins in the rising applause, and he proudly turns to JaneMecom and says:

"Only to think what a friend I was to him, too!"

They return by the Granary burying ground. A tall, gray monument holdstheir attention. It is one that the people loved to visit then, and thattouches the heart to-day. At the foot of the epitaph they read again, asthey had done many times before:

 _"Their youngest son, _ _in filial regard to their memory, _ _places this stone. "_

"His heart was true to the old folks, " said Jamie. 

It was the monument that Benjamin Franklin had erected to his parents. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

ANOTHER SIGNATURE. --THE STORY OF AUVERGNE SANS TACHE. 

SOME years ago I stood on the battlements of Metz, once a French but nowa German town. Below the town, with its grand esplanade, on which is aheroic statue of Marshal Ney, rolls the narrow Moselle, and around itare the remains of fortifications that are old in legend, song, andstory. 

It was here, near one of these old halls, that a young Frenchman saw, asit were, a vision, and the impression of that hour was never lost, butbecame a turning point in American history. 

There had come a report to the English court that Washington had beendriven across the Jerseys, and that the American cause was lost. 

There was given at this time a military banquet at Metz. The Duke ofGloucester, brother of George III, was present, and among the Frenchofficers there was a marquis, lately married, who was a favorite of theFrench court. He had been brought up in one of the heroic provinces ofAuvergne, and he had been associated with the heroes of Gatinais, whosemotto was _Auvergne sans tache_. The Auvergnese were a pastoral people, distinguished for their courage and honor. In this mountainous districtwas the native place of many eminent men, among them Polignac. 

The young French marquis who was conspicuous at the banquet on thisoccasion was named Lafayette. 

The Duke of Gloucester was in high spirits over his cups on this festalnight. 

"Our arms are triumphant in America!" he exclaimed. "Washington isretreating across the Jerseys. "

A shout went up with glittering wine-cups: "So ever flee the enemies ofGeorge III!"

"Washington!" The name rang in the young French officer's ears. He hadin his veins the blood of the mountaineers, and he loved liberty and thespirit of the motto _Auvergne sans tache_. 

He may never have heard the name of Washington before, or, if he had, only as of an officer who had given Braddock unwelcome advice. But heknew the American cause to be that of liberty, and Washington to be theleader of that cause. 

And Washington "was retreating across the Jerseys. " Where were theJerseys? He may never have heard of the country before. 

He went out into the air under the moon and stars. There came to him avision of liberty and a sense of his duty to the cause. The face ofAmerica, as it were, appeared to him. "When first I saw the face ofAmerica, I loved her, " he said many years afterward to the AmericanCongress. 

Washington was driven back in the cause of liberty. Lafayette resolvedto cross the seas and to offer Washington his sword. He felt thatliberty called him--liberty for America, which might mean liberty forFrance and for all mankind. 

About this time Benjamin Franklin began to receive letters from thisyoung officer, filled with the fiery spirit of the mountaineers. Theofficer desired a commission to go to America and enter the army. But itwas a time of disaster, and faith in the American cause was very low. The marquis resolved to go to America at his own expense. 

He sailed for that country in May, 1777. He landed off the coast of theCarolinas in June, and made his memorable ride across the country toPhiladelphia in that month. Baron de Kalb accompanied him. 

On landing on the shores of the Carolinas, he and Baron de Kalb kneltdown on the sand, at night under the stars, and in the name of Goddedicated their swords to liberty. 

The departure of these two officers for America filled all France withdelight. Lafayette had seen that it would be so; that his going wouldawaken an enthusiasm in the circles of the court and among the peoplefavorable to America; that it would aid the American envoys in theirmission. It was the mountain grenadiers that made the final charges atthe siege of Yorktown under the inspiring motto of _Auvergne sans tache_(Auvergne without a stain). 

Franklin now dwelt at beautiful Passy on the hill, and his residencethere was more like a princely court than the house of an ambassador. Hegave his heart and life and influence to seeking an alliance betweenFrance and the States. The court was favorable to the alliance, but thetimes and the constitution of the kingdom made the king slow, cautious, and diplomatic. 

The American cause wavered. The triumphs of Lord Howe filled Englandwith rejoicing and Passy with alarm. 

In the midst of the depression at Passy there came a messenger fromMassachusetts who brought to Franklin the news of Burgoyne's surrender. When Dr. Franklin was told that this messenger was in the courtyard ofPassy, he rushed out to meet him. 

"Sir, is Philadelphia taken?"

"Yes, sir. "

Franklin clasped his hands. 

"But, sir, I have other news. Burgoyne and his army are prisoners ofwar!"

Great was the rejoicing at Passy and in Paris. The way to an allianceappeared now to open to the envoys. 

"O Mr. Austin, " Dr. Franklin used to say to the young messenger fromMassachusetts, "you brought us glorious news!"

The tidings was followed by other news in Passy. December 17, 1777, wasa great and joyful day there. A minister came to the envoys there toannounce that the French Government was ready to conclude an agreementwith the United States, and to make a formal treaty of alliance to helpthem in the cause of independence. 

The cause was won, but the treaty was yet delayed. There were articlesin it that led to long debates. 

But in these promising days Franklin was a happy man. He dressed simply, and he lived humbly for an envoy, though his living cost him somethirteen thousand dollars a year. He did not conform to French fashions, nor did the French expect them from a philosopher. He did not even weara wig, which most men wore upon state occasions. Instead of a wig hewore a fur cap, and one of his portraits so represents him. 

While the negotiations were going on, a large cake was sent one day tothe apartment where the envoys were assembled. It bore the inscription_Le digne Franklin_ (the worthy Franklin). On reading the inscription, Mr. Silas Deane, one of the ambassadors, said, "As usual, Franklin, wehave to thank you for our share in gifts like these. "

"Not at all, " said Franklin. "This cake is designed for all three of us. Don't you see?--Le (Lee) Digne (Deane) Franklin. "

He could afford to be generous and in good humor. 

February 6, 1778, was one of the most glorious of all in Franklin'slife. That day the treaties were completed and put upon the tables tosign. The boy of the old Boston writing school did honor to hisschoolmaster again. He put his name now after the conditions of thealliance between France and the United States of America. 

The treaty was celebrated in great pomp at the court. 

The event was to be publicly announced on March 20, 1778. On that daythe envoys were to be presented to the king amid feasts and rejoicings. 

Would Franklin wear a wig on that great occasion? His locks were grayand thin, for he was seventy-two years old, and his fur cap would not bebecoming amid the splendors of Versailles. 

He ordered one. The hairdresser came with it. He could not fit it uponthe philosopher's great head. 

"It is too small, " said Franklin. "Monsieur, it is impossible. "

"No, monsieur, " said the perruquier, "it is not that the wig is toosmall; it is that your head is too large!"

What did Franklin need of a wig? He dressed for the occasion in a plainsuit of black velvet, with snowy ruffles and silver buckles. When thechamberlain saw him coming, he hesitated to admit him. Admit a man tothe royal presence in his own head alone? But he allowed the philosopherto go on in his velvet, ruffles, and silver buckles, and his independentappearance filled the court with delight. 

There was another paper that he must now have begun to see in his clearvisions. The treaty of alliance would lead to the triumph of theAmerican cause. That end must be followed by a treaty of peace betweenGreat Britain and the United States. Would he sign that treaty some dayand again honor the old Boston schoolmaster? We shall see. 

But how did young Lafayette meet his duties in the dark days ofAmerica--he whose motto was "Auvergne without a stain?"

The day of his test came again at a banquet. It was at York. Let uspicture this pivotal scene of his life and of American history. 

After the triumphs of Gates at Saratoga, Washington became unpopular, and Congress appointed a Board of War, whose object it became to placeLafayette at the head of the Northern army, and thus give him a chanceto supersede his chief. 

The young Frenchman was loyal to Washington, and the motto _Auvergnesans tache_ governed his life. 

Let us suppose him to meet his trusty old friend Baron de Kalb, theGerman temperance general, at this critical hour. 

"Baron de Kalb, we stood together side by side at Metz, and we kneltdown together that midsummer night when we first landed on Carolina'ssands, and then we rode together across the provinces. These are eventsthat I shall ever love to recall. To-night we stand together again inbrotherhood of soul. Baron, the times are dark and grow more perilous, and it may be I now confide in thee for the last time. "

"Yes, Lafayette, " answered De Kalb, "I myself feel 'tis so. You may liveand rise, but I may fall. But wherever I may go I shall draw this swordthat I consecrated with thine to liberty. It may be ours to meet bychance again, but, Lafayette, we shall never be as we are now. Thou wellhast said the hour is dark. Open thy soul, then, Lafayette, to me. "

"Baron, it burns my brain and shrinks my heart to say that the hour isdark not only for the cause but for our chief, for Washington. In hallsof state, in popular applause, the rising star is Gates. Factions arise, cabals combine, and this new Board of War has sent for me. In someprovincial room that flattery decorates they are to make for me a feast. What means the feast? 'Tis this: to offer me the Northern field. Andwhy? To separate my sword from Washington. 'If thy right hand offendthee, cut it off!' I'm loyal to the cause, and must obey this new-madeBoard of War; but on that night, if so it be that I have theopportunity, I shall arise, and, against all flatteries, take my stand. I then and there will proclaim in clear-cut words my loyalty toWashington. He is the cause; in him it stands or falls; to gain a worldfor self, my heart could never be untrue to him. Day after day, monthafter month, year after year, he leads the imperiled way, yet holds hisfaith in God and man. The hireling Hessians roll their drums throughports and towns; the wily Indian joins the invader; his army isfamine-smitten and thinned with fever, and drill in rags, while Congressmeets in secret halls but to impede his plans and criticise; and whilehe holds the scales and looks toward the end, and makes retreat bestserve the cause, what rivals rise! See brilliant Gates appear! Does henot know this rivalry and hear the plaudits that surround the name ofSaratoga? I've shared my thoughts with Washington, young as I am, and hehas honored me with his esteem. I have heard him say: 'O Lafayette, Istand alone in all the world! I dream no dreams of high ambition. I lovethe farm more than the field--my country home more than the halls ofstate I serve. In a cause like this I hold that it is not unsubstantialvictories but generalship that wins. '

"One day he spoke like this: 'Marquis, I stood one winter night upon arocking boat and crossed the Delaware. It was a bitter night; no starswere in the sky; the lanterns' rays scarce fell upon the waters; theoars rose and fell, though they were frozen, for they were plied bystrong and grizzly fishermen; the snow fell pitiless, with hail andsleet and rain. The night was wind, and darkness was the air. The armyfollowed me, where I could not see. Our lips were silent. These stoutand giant men, from Cape Ann and from wintry wharfages of Marblehead, knew their duty well, and safe we crossed the tide. ' In that lone boat, amid the freezing sleet and darkness deep, the new flag of the nation'shope marched in darkness. 

"Baron de Kalb, there is a spirit whose pinions float upon the wings oftime. She comes to me in dreams and visions in such hours as these. Isaw her on the fortress walls of Metz; I knew her meaning and hermission saw. Where liberty is, there is my country, and all I am I againoffer to her cause. Hear me this hour; the presence of that spirit fallson me now as at Metz. I go to the feast that is waiting for me; there mysoul must be true and speak the truth, and for the truth there is nojudgment day. At Metz I left myself for liberty; at York I shall be astrue to honor. I hold unsullied fame to be more than titles--_Auvergnesans tache_. My resolution makes my vision clear. Baron de Kalb, markyou my words in this prophetic hour: the character of Washington willfree one day the world, and lead the Aryan race and liberty and peace. It is not his genius--minds as great have been; it is not hisheart--there have been hearts as large; it is not his sword, for swordshave been as brave, but it is himself that makes sure the cause. Heshall win liberty, and give to men their birthright and to toil a fieldof hope; to industry the wealth that it creates, and to the toiler hisdues. So liberty to brotherhood shall lead, and brotherhood to peace, and brotherhood and peace shall bring to unity all human families, andmen shall live no more in petty strife for gain, but for the souls ofmen. The destinies then, as in Virgil's eye, shall spin life's web, andto their spindles say, 'Thus go forever and forever on!' He is theleader appointed by Heaven for sublime events. I am sent to him as aknight of God. I go to York. I was true at Metz to liberty, and in thecouncil hall I shall be true, whatever is offered me, to Washington, ourWashington beloved! to the world's great commoner! Farewell. "

The feast for Lafayette was spread at York in a blazing hall; red winefilled the crystal cups. Silken banners waved and disclosed the magicname of "Lafayette. " The Board of War was there, proud Gates, and themen of state. The _Fleur de lis_ was there and blew across the nationalbanners. Lafayette came. A shout arose as he appeared. The Board of Warwas merry, and the wine was spilled and toasts were drunk to all theheroes of the war except Washington. The name of Lafayette was hailedwith adulation; then all was still. The grand commissioner had waved hishand. He bowed, and gave to Lafayette a sealed paper; he raised his cup, and rose and bowed, and said, "Now drink ye all to him, our honoredguest, commander of the Army of the North. " The oak room rang withcheers; the glasses clinked and gleamed. 

The board and guests sat down. There, tall and grand above the council, towered the form of Lafayette. He stood there silent, then raised acrystal cup, and said: "I thank you, friends, and I would that I wereworthier of your applause. You have honored many worthy names, but thereis one name that you have omitted in your many toasts, and that one nameto me stands above all the other heroes of the world! _I_ drink to him!"He lifted high the cup, and said, "I pledge my honor, my sword, and allI am to Washington!"

He stood in silence; no other cup with his was raised. He left thehall, and walked that night the square of York beneath the moon andstars as he had done at Metz. 

He poured forth his soul, thinking again the thoughts of Metz, andmaking again the high resolves that he had made on Carolina's sands withBaron de Kalb:

"O Liberty! the star of hope that lights each noble cause, uniting inone will the hearts of men, and massing in one force the wills of men. The stars obey the sun; the earth, the stars; the nations, those whorise o'er vain ambitions and become the cause. Thou gavest Rome theearth and Greece the sea; thou sweepest down the Alps, and made themarbles bloom like roses, for thy heroes' monuments! I hear thy voice, and I obey, as all the true have bowed who more than self have lovedmankind!"

The coming of Franklin to Passy and the going of Lafayette from Metzwere among the great influences of the age of liberty. Count Rochambeaufollowed Lafayette after the alliance, and brought over with him amonghis regiments the grenadiers of Auvergne--_Auvergne sans tache_, whichmotto they honored at Yorktown. 

Jenny's heart beat with joy as she heard of the coming of Lafayette. Inthese years of the great struggle for human liberty she looked at thewatch and counted the hours. 

Franklin had long been the hope of the country. America looked to him tosecure the help of France in the long struggle for liberty. Into thishope humble Jane Mecom entered with a sister's confidence and pride. 

She awaited the news from Philadelphia, which was the seat ofgovernment, with the deepest concern. The nation's affairs were herfamily affairs. She heard it said daily that if Franklin secured the aidof the French arms, the cause of liberty in America would be won. It wasthe kindly hand that led her when a girl that was now moving behindthese great events. 

One July day, at the full tide of the year, she was standing in thebowery yard of her simple home, thinking of her brother and the hope ofthe people in him. She moved, as under a spell of thought, out of thegate and toward Beacon Hill. She met Jamie the Scotchman on her way. 

"An' do you think that he will be able to do it?" said Jamie. By "it" hemeant the alliance of France with the colonies. "Surely it is a big jobto undertake, but if he should succeed, Jane, I want you always toremember what a friend I was to him. Where are you going, Jane?"

"To the old tree on Beacon Hill, where Uncle Ben used to talk to me inchildhood. "

"May I go with you, Jane? They say that a fleet has been sighted offNarragansett Bay. We shall know when the post comes in. "

"Yes, Jamie, come with me. I love to talk of old times with you. "

"And what a friend I was to _him_. "

It was a fiery day. Cumulus clouds were piling up in the fervid heats. The Hancock House gardens, where now the State House is, were fragrantwith flowers, and the Common below was a sea of shining leaves. 

A boom shook the air. 

"What was that, Jane?"

"It came from the Castle. "

"Perhaps there is news. "

Another boom echoed from the Dorchester Hills, and a puff of smoke rosefrom the Castle. 

"There is news, Jamie; the Castle is firing a salute. "

"I think the French fleet has arrived; if so, _his_ work is behind it, and I always was such a friend to him, too!"

The Castle thundered. There was news. 

A magistrate came riding over the hills on horseback, going to the houseof John Hancock. 

"Hey!" cried Jamie, "an' what is the news?"

"The French fleet has arrived at Newport. Count Rochambeau is landingthere. Hurrah! this country is free!"

Jane sat down under the old tree, as she had done when a girl in UncleBenjamin's day. She saw the flag of the Stripes and Stars leap, as itwere, into the air over the Hancock gardens. She had always revered JohnHancock since he had heroically written to Washington at the time of thesiege, "Burn Boston, if there is need, and leave John Hancock a beggar!"

Who was that hurrying up from the broad path of the Common toward theHancock mansion? Jane rose up and looked. It was Samuel Adams, theso-called "last of the Puritans, " a man who had almost forgotten his ownexistence in his efforts to unite the colonies for the struggle forliberty, and who had said to an agent of General Gage who offered himbribes if he would make his peace with the king, "I have long ago mademy peace with the King of kings, and no power on earth can make merecreant to my duties to my country. "

The Castle thundered on from the green isle in the harbor. People werehurrying to and fro and gathering about the grounds of the firstPresident of the Provincial Congress. Business stopped. The hearts ofthe people were thrilled. The independence of the American colonies nowseemed secure. 

There went up a great shout in front of the Hancock house. It was--

"Franklin! Rochambeau! Franklin!"

Jamie the Scotchman echoed the cheer from his lusty lungs. 

"Franklin!" he cried, waving his hat, "Franklin now and forever!"

His face beamed. "Only think, Jane, what a friend I used to be to him!What do you suppose gave his hand such power in these affairs of thenation?"

"It was his heart, Jamie. "

"Yes, yes, Jane, that was it--it was the heart of Franklin--of Ben, anddon't you never forget what a friend I used to be to him. "

The coming of Rochambeau, under the influence of the poor tallowchandler's son, was a re-enforcement that helped to gain the victory ofliberty. When Cornwallis was taken, Jane Mecom heard the Castle thunderagain over the sea; and when Rochambeau came to Boston to prepare forthe re-embarkation of the French army, she saw her brother's hand behindall these events, and felt like one who in her girlhood had been takeninto the counsels of the gods. Her simple family affairs had becomethose of the nation. 

She knew the springs of the nation's history, and she loved to recallthe days when her brother was Silence Dogood, which he had never ceasedto be. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

FRANKLIN SIGNS THE TREATY OF PEACE. --HOW GEORGE III RECEIVES THE NEWS. 

THE surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown brought the war to an end. The courier from the army came flying into Philadelphia at night. Thewatchman called out, "Past twelve o'clock, and all is well!" "Past oneo'clock, and all is well!" and "Past two o'clock, and Cornwallis istaken!" The people of the city were in the streets early that morning. Bells pealed; men saluted each other in the name of "Peace. "

Poor George III! He had stubbornly sought to subdue the colonies, andhad honestly believed that he had been divinely appointed to rule themafter his own will. No idea that he had ever been pigheaded and wronghad ever been driven into his dull brain. His view of his prerogativewas that whatever he thought to be best was best, and they wereungrateful and stiff-necked people who took a different view, and thatit was his bounden duty to punish such in his colonies for theirobstinacy. 

It was November 25th in London--Sunday. A messenger came flying from thecoast to Pall Mall. He was bearing exciting news. On he went throughLondon until he reached the house of George Germain, Minister ofAmerican Affairs. The messenger handed to Lord George a dispatch. Theminister glanced at it and read the fate of the New World, and must havestood as one dazed:

"Cornwallis has surrendered!"

Lord Walsingham, an under-Secretary of State, was at the house. To himhe read the stunning dispatch. The two took a hackney coach and rode inhaste to Lord Stormont's. 

"Mount the coach and go with us to Lord North's. Cornwallis is taken!"

Lord Stormont mounted the coach, and the three rode to the office of theSecretary of State. 

The prime minister received the news, we are told, "as he would havetaken a ball into his heart. "

"O God, it is all over!" he exclaimed, pacing up and down the room, andagain and again, "O God, it is over!"

The news was conveyed to the king that half of his empire was lost--thathis hope of the New World was gone. How was the king affected? Says awriter of the times, who gives us a glance at this episode:

"He dined on that day, " he tells us, "at Lord George Germain's; and LordWalsingham, who likewise dined there, was the only guest that had becomeacquainted with the fact. The party, nine in number, sat down to thetable. Lord George appeared serious, though he manifested nodiscomposure. Before the dinner was finished one of his servantsdelivered him a letter, brought back by the messenger who had beendispatched to the king. Lord George opened and perused it; then lookingat Lord Walsingham, to whom he exclusively directed his observation, 'The king writes, ' said he, 'just as he always does, except that Iobserve he has omitted to note the hour and the minute of his writingwith his usual precision. ' This remark, though calculated to awaken someinterest, excited no comment; and while the ladies, Lord George's threedaughters, remained in the room, they repressed their curiosity. Butthey had no sooner withdrawn than Lord George, having acquainted themthat from Paris information had just arrived of the old Count deMaurepas, first minister, lying at the point of death, 'It would grieveme, ' said he, 'to finish my career, however far advanced in years, wereI first minister of France, before I had witnessed the termination ofthis great contest between England and America. ' 'He has survived to seethat event, ' replied Lord George, with some agitation. Utterlyunsuspicious of the fact which had happened beyond the Atlantic, heconceived him to allude to the indecisive naval action fought at themouth of the Chesapeake early in the preceding month of Septemberbetween Admiral Graves and Count de Grasse, an engagement which in itsresults might prove most injurious to Lord Cornwallis. Under thisimpression, 'My meaning, ' said he, 'is, that if I were the Count deMaurepas I should wish to live long enough to behold the final issue ofthe war in Virginia. ' 'He has survived to witness it completely, 'answered Lord George. 'The army has surrendered, and you may peruse theparticulars of the capitulation in that paper, ' taking at the same timeone from his pocket, which he delivered into his hand, not withoutvisible emotion. By his permission he read it aloud, while the companylistened in profound silence. They then discussed its contents asaffecting the ministry, the country, and the war. It must be confessedthat they were calculated to diffuse a gloom over the most convivialsociety, and that they opened a wide field for political speculation. 

"After perusing the account of Lord Cornwallis's surrender at Yorktown, it was impossible for all present not to feel a lively curiosity to knowhow the king had received the intelligence, as well as how he hadexpressed himself in his note to Lord George Germain, on the firstcommunication of so painful an event. He gratified their wish by readingit to them, observing at the same time that it did the highest honor tohis Majesty's fortitude, firmness, and consistency of character. Thewords made an impression on his memory, which the lapse of more thanthirty years has not erased; and he here commemorates its tenor asserving to show how that prince felt and wrote under one of the mostafflicting as well as humiliating occurrences of his reign. The billetran nearly to this effect:

"'I have received with sentiments of the deepest concern thecommunication which Lord George Germain has made me of the unfortunateresult of the operations in Virginia. I particularly lament it onaccount of the consequences connected with it, and the difficultieswhich it may produce in carrying on the public business, or in repairingsuch a misfortune. But I trust that neither Lord George Germain, nor anymember of the cabinet, will suppose that it makes the smallestalteration in those principles of my conduct which have directed me inpast time, and which will always continue to animate me under everyevent in the prosecution of the present contest. ' Not a sentiment ofdespondency or of despair was to be found in the letter, the veryhandwriting of which indicated composure of mind. "

Franklin was still envoy plenipotentiary at beautiful Passy. He receivedthe thrilling news, and wondered what terms the English Government wouldnow seek to make in the interests of peace. 

The king was shaken in mind and becoming blind. He was opposed to anynegotiations for peace, and threatened to abdicate. He sank into apitiable state of insanity some years after, was confined in a paddedroom, and even knew not when the battle of Waterloo was fought, and whenhis own son died he was not called to the funeral ceremonies. 

But negotiations were begun, or attempted, with Dr. Franklin at Paris. Passy was again the scene of great events. 

Mr. Adams, as a representative of the United States, arrived in Paris. Mr. Gay, another representative, was there; conference after conferencewas held with the English ambassador, and the final conference was heldwith the English ministers on November 29, 1782. 

On the 18th of January, 1782, at Versailles, the representatives ofEngland, France, and Spain signed the preliminaries of peace, declaringhostilities suspended, in the presence of Mr. Adams and Dr. Franklin. These preliminaries were finally received as a definitive treaty ofpeace, and on Wednesday, September 3, 1783, this Treaty of Peace wassigned in Paris. 

When the preliminary treaty was signed, Franklin rushed into the arms ofthe Duc de la Rochefoucault, exclaiming:

"My friend, could I have hoped at my age to enjoy such happiness?" Hewas then seventy-six years old. 

So again the handwriting of the old Boston school appeared in the greatevents of nations. It was now set to peace. 

It would not seem likely that it would ever again adorn any likedocument. Franklin was old and gray. He had signed the Declaration, theTreaty of Alliance, and now the Treaty of Peace. He had done his work inwriting well. It had ended well. Seventy-six years old; surely he wouldrest now at Passy, or return to some Philadelphia seclusion and awaitthe change that must soon fall upon him. 

But this glorious old man has not yet finished the work begun by SilenceDogood. Those are always able to do the most who are doing many things. It is a period of young men now; it was a time of old men then. Peoplesought wisdom from experience, not experiment. 

The peace is signed. The bells are ringing, and oppressed peopleseverywhere rejoice. There is an iris on the cloud of humanity. The nameof Franklin fills the world, and in most places is pronounced like abenediction. 

From a tallow-chandler's shop to palaces; from the companionship ofUncle Ben, the poet, to that of royal blood, people of highest rank, andthe most noble and cultured of mankind; from being laughed at, to beinglooked upon with universal reverence, love, and awe. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE TALE OF AN OLD VELVET COAT. 

WHEN Franklin appeared to sign the Treaty of Peace between England andthe United States, he surprised the ministers, envoys, and his ownfriends by wearing an old velvet coat. What did his appearance in thisstrange garment mean?

We must tell you the story, for it is an illustration of his honorablepride and the sensitiveness of his character. There was a time when allEngland, except a few of his own friends, were laughing at Franklin. Why?

Men who reach honorable success in life always pass through darkdays--every sun and star is eclipsed some day--and Franklin had one dayof eclipse that burned into his very soul, the memory of which hauntedhim as long as he lived. 

It was that day when he, after a summons, appeared before the Council ofthe Crown as the agent of the colonies, and was openly charged withdishonor. It is the day of the charge of dishonor that is the darkest ofall life. To an honorable man it is the day of a false charge ofdishonor that leaves the deepest sting in memory. 

 "My life and honor both together run; Take honor from me, and my life is done. "

But how came Franklin, the agent of the colonies in London, to be calledbefore the Privy Council and to be charged with dishonor?

While he was in London and the colonies were filled with discontent andindignation at the severe measures of the crown, there came to him amember of Parliament who told him that these measures of which thecolonies complained had been brought about by certain men in thecolonies themselves; that the ministry had acted upon the advice ofthese men, and had thought that they were acting justly and wisely. Twoof the men cited were Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson and Andrew Oliver, both belonging to most respected and powerful families in the colonies. 

Franklin could not believe these statements against his countrymen, andasked for the proof. The member of Parliament brought to him a packageof letters addressed to public men on public affairs, written byLieutenant-Governor Hutchinson and Mr. Oliver, which proved to him thatthe severe action of the ministry against Boston and the province hadbeen brought about by Bostonians themselves. Franklin asked permissionto send these letters to Boston in the interests of justice to theministry. The request was granted. The letters were sent to Boston, andwere read in private to the General Assembly of the province. As anagent of the colonies, Franklin could not have done less in theinterests of justice, truth, and honorable dealing. 

But the use of these letters angered the ministry, and Franklin wascalled before the Privy Council to answer the charge of surreptitiouslyobtaining private correspondence and using it for purposes detrimentalto the royal government. 

To persons whose whole purpose of life is to live honorably such days asthese come and develop character. Every one has some lurking enemy eagerto misinterpret him to his own advantage. The lark must fly to the opensky when he sees the serpent coiling among the roses, or he must fightand dare the odds. Woe be to the wrongdoer who triumphs in such a caseas this! He may gain money and ease, and laugh at his adversary, butwhen a man has proved untrue to any man for the sake of his ownadvantage, it may be written of him, "He went out, and it was night. " Ashort chapter of a part of a biography or history may be an injustice, and seem to show that there is no God in the government of the world, but a long chapter of full history reveals God on the high throne of hispower, and justice as his strength and glory. The Roman emperors builtgrand monuments to atone for their injustice, cruelty, and vice-seekinglives, but these only blackened their names by recalling what they were, and defeated their builders' ends. In this world all long chapters ofhistory read one way: that character is everything, and that time tellsthe truth about all things. Justice is the highest expectation of life;it is only wise so to live that one's "expectation may not bedisappointed. " The young man can not be too soon led to see that "hethat is spiritual judgeth all things, and that no man judgeth him. "

It was the year 1773, when Franklin was sixty-eight years of age, thatthis dark and evil day came. A barrister named Wedderburn, young inyears and new to the bar, a favorite of Lord North, and one who wasregarded as "a wonderfully smart young man, " was to present the case ofthe government against him. 

The case filled all England with intense interest. The most notable menof the kingdom arranged to be present at the hearing. Thirty-fivemembers of the Privy Council were present, an unusual number at such anassembly. Lord North was there; the Archbishop of Canterbury; even Dr. Priestley was there. 

Dr. Franklin appeared on this memorable day in a velvet coat. He took aplace in the room in a recess formed by a chimney, a retired place, where he stood motionless and silent. The coat was of Manchester velvet, and spotted. 

Wedderburn addressed the Council. He was witty, brilliant, careless offacts. His address on that occasion was the talk of all England in a fewdays, and it led him to a career of fame that would have been successhad it had the right foundation. But nothing lasts that is not sincere. Everything in this world has to be readjusted that is not right. 

"How these letters, " said he, "came into the possession of any one butthe right owners is a mystery for Dr. Franklin to explain. "

He then spoke of Mr. Whatley, to whom the letters were first consigned, and proceeded thus:

"He has forfeited all the respect of societies and of men. Into whatcompanies will he hereafter go with an unembarrassed face, or the honestintrepidity of virtue? Men will watch him with a jealous eye; they willhide their papers from him, and lock up their escritoires. He willhenceforth esteem it a libel to be called a _man of letters_; this manof _three_ letters. (_Fur_--a thief. )"

The manner of the orator thrilled the august company. It is thusdescribed by Jeremy Bentham:

"I was not more astonished at the brilliancy of his lightning thanastounded by the thunder that accompanied it. As he stood, the cushionlay on the council table before him; his station was between the seatsof two of the members, on the side of the right hand of the lordpresident. I would not, for double the greatest fee the orator could onthat occasion have received, been in the place of that cushion; the earwas stunned at every blow; he had been reading perhaps in that book inwhich the prince of Roman orators and rhetoric professors instructs hispupils about how to make impression. The table groaned under theassault. Alone, in the recess on the left hand of the president, stoodBenjamin Franklin, in such position as not to be visible from thesituation of the president, remaining the whole time like a rock, in thesame posture, his head resting on his left hand; and in that attitudeabiding the pelting of the pitiless storm. "

Franklin, the agent of the colonies, stood in his humble place, calm andundisturbed to all outward appearance, but he was cut to the quick as heheard this assembly of representative Englishmen laughing at hissupposed dishonor. 

Says one of that day, "At the sallies of the orator's sarcastic wit allthe members of the Council, the president himself not excepted, frequently laughed outright. "

Benjamin Franklin went home, and put away his spotted velvet coat. Hemight want it again. It would be a reminder to him--a lesson of life. He might wear it again some day. 

The next day, being Sunday, the eminent Dr. Priestley came to takebreakfast with him. 

Dr. Franklin said: "Let me read the arraignment twice over. I have neverbefore been so sensible of the power of a good conscience. If I had notconsidered the thing for which I have been so much insulted the bestaction of my life, and which I certainly should do again under likecircumstances, I could not have supported myself. "

Franklin held an office under the crown. On Monday morning a letter wasbrought to him from the postmaster-general. It read:

"The king finds it necessary to dismiss you from the office of deputypostmaster-general in America. "

Dismissed in disgrace at the age of sixty-eight! And England laughing. He had nothing left to comfort him now but his conscience--that was theeverything. 

The old spotted velvet coat; he brought it out on the day of the treaty. It was some nine or more years old now. He stood like a culprit in itone day; it should adorn him now in the hour of his honor. 

He was facing eighty years. 

He prepared to leave France, where his career had been one of such honorand glory that his fame filled the world. 

The court made him a parting present. It was a portrait of the king setin a frame of _four hundred diamonds_!

CHAPTER XL. 

IN SERVICE AGAIN. 

IT has been said that Franklin forgot to be old. Verging upon eighty, hehad asked to be recalled from France, and he dreamed of quiet old ageamong his grandchildren on the banks of the Schuylkill, where so manyhappy years of his middle life had been spent. He was recalled fromFrance, but, as we have before stated, this was an age in America whenmen sought the councils of wisdom and experience. 

Pennsylvania needed a President or Governor who could lay thefoundations of early legislation with prudence, and she turned to thevenerable Franklin to fill the chair of state. He was nominated for theoffice of President of Pennsylvania, and elected, and twice re-elected;and we find him now, over eighty years of age, in activities of youngmanhood, and bringing to the office the largest experience of anyAmerican. 

He was among the first of most eminent Americans to crown his life afterthe period of threescore and ten years with the results of thescholarship of usefulness. 

We have recently seen Gladstone, Tennyson, King William, Bismarck, VonMoltke, Whittier, Holmes, and many other men of the enlightened world, doing some of their strongest and most impressive work after seventyyears of age, and some of these setting jewels in the crown of lifewhen past eighty. We have seen Du Maurier producing his first great workof fiction at sixty, and many authors fulfilling the hopes of years at alike age. 

We have a beautiful pen picture of Franklin in these several years, inhis youth's return when eighty years were past. It shows what ispossible to a life of temperance and beneficence, and it is only such alife that can have an Indian summer, a youth in age. 

"Dr. Franklin's house, " wrote a clergyman who visited him in his oldage, "stands up a court, at some distance from the street. We found himin his garden, sitting upon a grass-plot, under a very large mulberrytree, with several other gentlemen and two or three ladies. When Mr. Gerry introduced me, he rose from his chair, took me by the hand, expressed his joy at seeing me, welcomed me to the city, and begged meto seat myself close to him. His voice was low, but his countenanceopen, frank, and pleasing. I delivered to him my letters. After he readthem he took me again by the hand, and, with the usual compliments, introduced me to the other gentlemen. 

[Illustration: FRANKLIN'S LAST DAYS. ]

"Here we entered into a free conversation, and spent our time mostagreeably until it was quite dark. The tea table was spread under thetree, and Mrs. Bache, who is the only daughter of the doctor and liveswith him, served it out to the company. She had three of her childrenabout her. They seemed to be excessively fond of their grandpa. Thedoctor showed me a curiosity he had just received, and with which he wasmuch pleased. It was a snake with two heads, preserved in a largevial. It was taken near the confluence of the Schuylkill with theDelaware, about four miles from this city. It was about ten inches long, well proportioned, the heads perfect, and united to the body about onefourth of an inch below the extremities of the jaws. The snake was of adark brown, approaching to black, and the back beautifully speckled withwhite. The belly was rather checkered with a reddish color and white. The doctor supposed it to be full grown, which I think is probable; andhe thinks it must be a _sui generis_ of that class of animals. Hegrounds his opinion of its not being an extraordinary production, but adistinct genus, on the perfect form of the snake, the probability of itsbeing of some age, and there having been found a snake entirely similar(of which the doctor has a drawing, which he showed us) near LakeChamplain in the time of the late war. He mentioned the situation ofthis snake if it was traveling among bushes, and one head should chooseto go on one side of the stem of a bush and the other head should preferthe other side, and neither of the heads would consent to come back orgive way to the other. He was then going to mention a humorous matterthat had that day occurred in the convention in consequence of hiscomparing the snake to America, for he seemed to forget that everythingin the convention was to be kept a profound secret. But this secrecy ofconvention matters was suggested to him, which stopped him and deprivedme of the story he was going to tell. 

"After it was dark we went into his house, and he invited me into hislibrary, which is likewise his study. It is a very large chamber andhigh studded. The walls are covered with bookshelves filled with books;besides, there are four large alcoves extending two thirds of the lengthof the chamber, filled in the same manner. I presume this is the largestand by far the best private library in America. 

"He seemed extremely fond, through the course of the visit, of dwellingon philosophical subjects, and particularly that of natural history, while the other gentlemen were swallowed up with politics. This was afavorable circumstance for me, for almost the whole of his conversationwas addressed to me; and I was highly delighted with the extensiveknowledge he appeared to have of every subject, the brightness of hismemory, and the clearness and vivacity of all his mental faculties, notwithstanding his age. His manners are perfectly easy, and everythingabout him seems to diffuse an unrestrained freedom and happiness. He hasan incessant vein of humor, accompanied with an uncommon vivacity, whichseems as natural and involuntary as his breathing. He urged me to callon him again, but my short stay would not admit. We took our leave atten, and I retired to my lodgings. "

The convention to frame a Constitution for the United States assembledat this time in Philadelphia. Dr. Franklin was elected to bring his ripestatesmanship into this great work. 

He was a poet in old age. When past eighty he fulfilled one of the hopesof Uncle Ben. When the Constitution had been adopted by a majority ofthe States, the event was celebrated by a grand festival inPhiladelphia. There were a long procession of the trades, an oration, the booming of cannon, and the ringing of bells. Some twenty thousandpeople joined in the festivities. They wanted a poet for the joyfuloccasion. Poets were not many in those days. Who should appear? It wasSilence Dogood, the Poor Richard of a generation gone. 

To the draft of the Constitution of the United States Benjamin Franklinplaced his signature, and thus again honored his Boston writing-masterof seventy years ago. 

But he gave to this august assembly an influence as noble as hissignature to the document that it produced. Franklin had been skepticalin his youth, and a questioner of religious teachings in other periodsof his life. Mature thought had convinced him of the glory of theChristian faith, of the doctrine of immortality and the power of prayer. The deliberations in the Constitutional Assembly were long, and theywere sometimes bitter. In the midst of the debates, the divisions ofopinion and delays, Dr. Franklin arose one day--it was the 28th of June, 1787--and moved

"That henceforth prayers, imploring the assistance of Heaven and itsblessing on our deliberations, be held in this Assembly every morningbefore we proceed to business; and that one or more of the clergy ofthis city be requested to officiate in that service. "

In an address supporting this resolution he said: "I have lived, sir, along time, and the longer I live the more convincing proofs I see ofthis truth: _That_ GOD _governs in the affairs of men!_ And if a sparrowcan not fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable 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 thatwithout his concurring aid we shall succeed in this political buildingno better than the building of Babel; we shall be divided by ourpartial local interests, our projects will be confounded, and weourselves shall become a reproach and a byword down to future ages. And, what is worse, mankind may hereafter from this unfortunate instancedespair of establishing government by human wisdom, and leave it tochance, war, and conquest. "

To consummate the American Government now only one thing was lacking--apower to interpret the meaning of the Constitution, and so to decide anydisputes that should arise among the States. 

In Mr. Vernon's garden, after the controversy between the fishermen ofMaryland and Virginia, a plan to settle such disputes was produced. Itwas a high court of final appeal. 

So rose the Supreme Court. And this court to decide questions ofcontroversy arising among the States, we may hope, was the beginning ofa like body, a Supreme Court of the nations of the world that shallsettle the questions in dispute among nations, without an appeal to waror the shedding of human blood. 

These were glorious times, and although Dr. Franklin was not activelyengaged in this last grand movement for the government of the people, helived to give his influence to make George Washington President, and seethe new order of a popular government inaugurated. He entered the doorsof that golden age of liberty, equality, and progress, when thedestinies might say to their spindles, "Thus go on forever!"

CHAPTER XLI. 

JANE'S LAST VISIT. 

IT was midsummer. Benjamin Franklin, of fourscore years, President ofPennsylvania, had finished a long, three-story ell to his house onMarket Street, and in this ell he had caused to be made a library whichfilled his heart with pride. He had invented a long arm with which totake down books from the high shelves of this library--an inventionwhich came into use in other libraries in such a way as to make manylibrarians grateful to him. 

He was overburdened with care, and suffered from chronic disease. 

In his days of pain he had been comforted by letters from Jenny, nowlong past seventy years of age. She had written to him in regard to hissufferings such messages as these:

"Oh, that after you have spent your whole life in the service of thepublic, and have attained so glorious a conclusion, as I thought, aswould now permit you to come home and spend (as you say) the eveningwith your friends in ease and quiet, that now such a dreadful maladyshould attack you! My heart is ready to burst with grief at the thought. How many hours have I lain awake on nights thinking what excruciatingpains you might then be encountering, while I, poor, useless, andworthless worm, was permitted to be at ease! Oh, that it was in my powerto mitigate or alleviate the anguish I know you must endure!"

When she heard of his arrival in Philadelphia she wrote:

"I long so much to see you that I should immediately seek for some onethat would accompany me, but my daughter is in a poor state of healthand gone into the country to try to get a little better, and I am in astrait between two; but the comfortable reflection that you are at homeamong all your dear children, and no more seas to cross, will beconstantly pleasing to me till I am permitted to enjoy the happiness ofseeing and conversing with you. "

The tenderness and charity of Franklin for the many members of his ownfamily still revealed his heart. "I tenderly love you, " he wrote toJane--Jenny--"for the care of our father in his sickness. "

One of his sisters, Mrs. Dowse, whose family had died, insisted uponliving alone, on account of her love for the place that had been herhome. Many other men would have compelled her removal, but there isnothing more beautiful in all Franklin's letters than the way that headvised Jenny how to treat this matter. He had been told that thisvenerable woman would have her own way. 

"As _having their own way_ is one of the greatest comforts of life toold people, I think their friends should endeavor to accommodate them inthat as well as anything else. When they have long lived in a house, itbecomes natural to them; they are almost as closely connected with it asthe tortoise with his shell; they die if you tear them out. Old folksand old trees, if you remove them, 'tis ten to one that you kill them, so let our good old sister be no more importuned on that head; we aregrowing old fast ourselves, and shall expect the same kind ofindulgences; if we give them, we shall have a right to receive them inour turn. "

Jane Mecom--the "Jenny" of Franklin's young life--had one great desireas the years went on: it was, to meet her brother once more and toreview the past with him. 

"I will one day go to Philadelphia and give him a great surprise, " thewoman used to say. 

Let us picture such a day. 

Benjamin Franklin sat down in his new library. His books had been placedand his pictures hung. 

Among the pictures were two that were so choice that we may suppose themto be hung under coverings. One of them was the portrait of the King ofFrance in its frame of four hundred brilliants, and the other was hisown portrait with, perhaps, Turgot's famous inscription. 

It was near evening when he sat down and asked to be left alone. 

He opened his secretary, and took from it a letter from Washington. Itread:

"Amid the public gratulations on your safe return to America after along absence, and many eminent services you have rendered it, for whichas a benefited person I feel the obligation, permit an individual tojoin the public voice in expressing a sense of them, and to assure youthat, as no one entertains more respect for your character, so no onecan salute you with more sincerity or with greater pleasure than I doon the occasion. "

He took from his papers the resolution of the Assembly of Pennsylvaniaand began to read:

"We are confident, sir, that we speak the sentiments of the wholecountry when we say that your services in the public councils andnegotiations have not only merited the thanks of the present generation, but will be recorded in the pages of history to your immortal honor. "

He dropped the paper on the table beside the letter of Washington andsank into his armchair, for his pains were coming upon him again. 

He thought of the past--of old Boston, of Passy, of all hisstruggles--and he wished that he might feel again the sympathetic touchof the hand of his sister who had been so true to him, and who had lovedhim so long and well. 

It was near sunset of one of the longest days of the year when he hearda carriage stop before the door. 

"I can not see any one, " he said. "I must have rest--I must have rest. "

There came a mechanical knock on his door. He did not respond. 

A servant's voice said outside, "There is a woman, master, that asks tosee you. "

"I can not see any one, " answered the tortured old man. 

"She is an old woman. "

"I could not see the queen. "

He heard an echo of the servant's voice in the hall. 

"He says that he could not see the queen. "

"Well, tell him that I am something more than that to him. He will seeme, or else I will die at his door. "

There came a tap on the door, very gentle. 

"Who is there?"

"It is Jane. "

"What Jane--who?"

"She who folded the hands of your father for the last time. Open thedoor. There can be no No to me. "

The door opened. 

"Jenny!"

"Ben--let all titles pass now--I have come to give you a surprise. "

The old woman sank into a chair. 

"I have come to visit you for the last time, " she said, "and to numberwith you our mercies of life. Let me rest before I talk. You are inpain. "

"Jenny, my pains have gone. I had sat down in agony in this new room; myhead ached as well as my body. I am happy now that you have come. "

She moved her chair to his, and he took her hand again, saying:

"My sister's hand--your hand, Jenny, as when we were children. They aregone, all gone. "

He looked in her face. 

"Jenny, your hair is gray now, and mine is white. I have been readingover again this letter from Washington. "

"Read it to me while I rest, then we will talk of old times. "

He read the letter. 

"Here are the resolutions of the Assembly of Pennsylvania passed on myreturn. "

"Read them to me, brother, for I must rest longer before we talk of oldtimes. "

He read the resolutions. 

"Jenny, let me uncover this. It is not vanity that makes me wish to doit now, but on account of what I wish to say. "

He uncovered the portrait of the French king. The last light of the sunfell into the room and upon the frame, causing the four hundred diamondsto gleam. 

"That was presented to me by the court of France. "

"I never saw anything so splendid, brother. But what is the otherpicture under the cover?"

He drew away the screen. 

"It is my portrait, Jenny. "

"But, brother, what are those words written under it?"

Franklin read, "_Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis. _"

"Brother, what does that mean?"

"'He snatched the thunderbolts from heaven, and the scepter from thetyrants. '"

"Who, brother?"

 * * * * *

"Jenny, let us talk of these things no longer. Do you remember UncleBen?"

"He has never died. He lives in you. You have lived out his life. Youhave lived, Ben, and I have loved. Brother, you have done well. He whodoes his best does well. "

"Jenny, can you repeat what Uncle Ben said under the tree on theshowery day when the birds sang, nearly seventy years ago?"

"Let us repeat it together, brother. You have made that lesson yourlife. "

"'More than wealth, more than fame, or any other thing, is the power ofthe human heart, and it is developed by seeking the good of others. Livefor the things that live. '"

"Jenny, my own true sister, I have something else to show you--somethingthat I value more than a present from a throne. I have here some'pamphlets, ' into which Uncle Ben put his soul before he sought toimpress the same thoughts upon me. I want you to have them now, to readthem, and give them to his family. "

He went to his secretary and took from it the pamphlets. 

"Here are the thoughts of a man who told me when I was a poor boy inBoston town that I had a chance in the world. 

"He told me not to be laughed down. 

"He told me that diligence was power. 

"He told me that I would be helped in helping others. 

"He told me that justice was the need of mankind. 

"He told me that to have influence with men I must overcome my consciousdefects. 

"He was poor, he was empty-handed, but Heaven gave to him the truevision of life. He committed that vision to me, and what he wished to beI have struggled to fulfill. These pamphlets are the picture of hismind, and that picture deserves to be hung in diamonds, and is more tome than the portrait of the king. Blessed be the memory of that old man, who taught my young life virtue, and gave it hope!

"Jenny, I have tried to live well. "

"You have been 'Silence Dogood, ' the idea that Uncle Benjamin printed onyour mind. "

"Jenny, I have heard the church bells--Uncle Tom's bells--of Nottinghamring. I found Uncle Benjamin's letters there--those that he wrote to hisold friends from America. He lovingly described you and me. What daysthose were! Father was true to his home when he invited Uncle Benjaminto America. You have been true to your home, and my heart has been, through your hands. Jenny, I have given my house in Boston to you. "

The old woman wept. 

"Jenny, you have loved, and your heart has been better than mine. Let mecall the servants. These are hours when the soul is full--my soul isfull. I ask for nothing more. "

CHAPTER XLII. 

FOR THE LAST TIME. 

SILENCE Dogood is an old man now--a very old man. He looks back on thespring and summer and autumn of life--it is now the time of the snow. But there are sunny days in winter, and they came to him, though on thetrees hang the snow, and the nights are long and painful. 

What has Silence Dogood done in his eighty years now ending in calm, indreams and silence? Let us look back over the past with him now. What areview it is!

He had founded literary and scientific clubs in his early life that hadmade not idlers, but men. He had founded the first subscription libraryin America. It had multiplied, and in its many branches had become anational influence. 

He made a stove that was a family luxury, and showed how it might beenjoyed without a smoky chimney. 

He had shown that lightning was electricity and could be controlled, andhad disarmed the thunder cloud by a simple rod. 

He had founded the High School in Pennsylvania. 

He had encouraged the raising of silk. 

He had helped found the Philadelphia Hospital, and had founded theAmerican Philosophical Society. 

He had promoted the scheme for uniting the colonies. 

He had signed the Declaration of Independence, the Treaty of theAlliance with France, the Treaty of Peace between England and the UnitedStates, and the draft of the Constitution of the United States. 

We may truly say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant. " But thereremains yet one paper to sign. It is his will. The influence of thatpaper is felt in the world to-day, but nowhere more than in Boston. Inthis will he made provision for lending the interest of great bequeststo poor citizens, he left the fund for the Franklin Silver Medal inBoston schools, and he sought to be a benefactor to the children ofBoston after a hundred years. This will has the following words:

"If this plan is executed, and succeeds as projected withoutinterruption for one hundred years, the sum will then be one hundred andthirty-one thousand pounds, of which I would have the managers of thedonation to the town of Boston then lay out, at their discretion, onehundred thousand pounds in public works, which may be judged of mostgeneral utility to the inhabitants, such as fortifications, bridges, aqueducts, public buildings, baths, pavements, or whatever may makeliving in the town more convenient to its people, and render it moreagreeable to strangers resorting thither for health or a temporaryresidence. The remaining thirty-one thousand pounds I would havecontinued to be let out on interest, in the manner above directed, foranother hundred years, as I hope it will have been found that theinstitution has had a good effect on the conduct of youth, and been ofservice to many worthy characters and useful citizens. At the end ofthis second term, if no unfortunate accident has prevented theoperation, the sum will be four millions and sixty-one thousand poundssterling; of which I leave one million sixty-one thousand pounds to thedisposition of the inhabitants of the town of Boston, and three millionsto the disposition of the government of the State, not presuming tocarry my views farther. "

He put his signature to this last paper, and for the last time did honorto his old writing-master, George Brownell. 

He died looking upon a picture of Christ, and he was buried amid almostunexampled honors, France joining with the United States in hiseulogies. 

But in a high sense he lives. There is one boy who has never ceased toattend the Boston Latin School, and will not for generations to come. Itis Silence Dogood. 

Virtue to virtue, intelligence to intelligence, benevolence tobenevolence, faith to faith! So ascend the feet of worth on the ladderof life; so reaches a high purpose a place beyond the derision of theworld. 

The bells of the nation tolled when he died. "He was true to hiscountry!" said all men; but aged Jenny, "He was true to his home!"

The influence of Uncle Benjamin in his godson had lived, but it was notended. 

 * * * * *

On September 17th, in the year 1856, the city of Boston stopped businessto render homage to the memory of her greatest citizen. On that day wasinaugurated the Franklin statue, by Horatio Greenough, that now standsin front of the City Hall. On that day the graves of Josiah and AbiahFranklin in the Granary burying ground were covered with evergreens andflowers, and we hope that the grave of Uncle Ben, the poet, which isnear by, was not forgotten. 

The procession was one of the grandest that the city has ever seen, forit was not only great in numbers, but it blossomed with heart tributes. The trades were in it, the military, the schools. Orators, poets, artists, all contributed to the festival. Boston was covered with flags, and her halls were filled with joyous assemblages. 

There was one house that was ornamented by a motto from Franklin'sprivate liturgy. It was:

 "Help me to be faithful to my country, Careful for its good, Valiant for its defense, And obedient to its laws. "

Conspicuous among the mottoes were:

"Time is money, " "Knowledge is power, " "Worth makes the man, " and, queerly enough, "_Don't give too much for the whistle_, " the teaching ofan experience one hundred and fifty years before. 

The bells rang, and the influence of the old man who slept beside theflower-crowned grave of Josiah Franklin and Abiah Franklin was in thejoy; the chimes of Nottingham were ringing again. Good influences areseeds of immortal flowers, and no life fails that inspires another. 

Franklin Park, Boston, which will be one of the most beautiful in theworld, will carry forward, in its forests, fountains, and flowers, theseinfluences for generations to come. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

A LESSON AFTER SCHOOL. 

IT was the day of the award of the Franklin medals in the old BostonLatin School, a day in June, and such a one as James Russell Lowell sopicturesquely describes. We say "old" Boston Latin School, not meaningold Boston in England, but such an association would not be an untrueone; for the Boston Latin School in Boston, Massachusetts, which wasfounded under the influence of Governor John Winthrop and Rev. JohnCotton, and that numbers five signers of the Declaration of Independenceamong its pupils, was really begun in Boston, England, in 1554, or inthe days of Queen Mary. It has the most remarkable history of any schoolin America; it has been the Harrow of Harvard, and for five or moregenerations has sent into life many men whose character has shed lusterupon their times. 

To gain the Franklin medal is the high aim of the Boston schoolboy. Itis to associate one's name with a long line of illustrious men, amongthem John Collins Warren, Wendell Phillips, Charles Sumner, PhillipsBrooks, S. F. Smith, and many others. 

But one of the boys who had won the Franklin medal to-day had done soamid the ridicule of his people at home and after very hard work. BostonLatin boys are too well bred to laugh at the humble gifts of any one, but those of this period could hardly have failed to notice the naturalstupidity and the strong, silent purpose and will of this lad. His namewe will call Elwell--Frank Elwell. He came from a humble home, where hewas not uncommonly taunted as being the "fool of the family. "

He first attracted attention at this school of brilliant pupils by abold question which he asked his teacher one day that commanded instantrespect. After hard study he had made a very poor recitation. He wasreproved by his teacher, who was a submaster, but a kindly, sensitive, and sympathetic man. He lifted his eyes and looked into the teacher'sface, and said:

"Why do you reprove me? I am doing the best I can, sir. "

The teacher knew the words to be true. The boys that heard the questionturned with a kind of chivalrous feeling toward their dull companion, who was doing his best against poverty, limited gifts, and manydisadvantages in life. The old school of Charles Sumner, WendellPhillips, and Phillips Brooks is not wanting in true sympathy with anymanly struggle in life. 

The teacher answered: "Master Elwell, I have done wrong in reprovingyou. He does well who does his best. You are doing well. "

Frank Elwell won the Franklin medal by doing his best. On the eveningafter his graduation he stood before his teacher and asked:

"Master Lowell" (for so we will call the teacher, and use the old termin the vocative case), "Master Lowell, did you ever know any boy tostruggle against defects like mine?"

"Yes, my boy, I have. "

"Did he succeed in life?"

"He did. He became the first citizen of Boston, and is so regardedstill. "

"Who was it, sir?"

"Look at your medal. It was Benjamin Franklin himself. "

Reader, Frank Elwell perhaps is _you_. 

"More than wealth, more than fame, more than any other thing, is thepower of the human heart. " Live for influences--live for the things thatlive, and let the best influences of the Peter Folgers and BenjaminFranklins of your family live on in you, and live after you. You will dowell in life and will succeed in life if you do your best; and if yourideal seems to fail in you, it will not fail in the world, in whoseharvest field no good intention perishes. 

Be true to those who have faith in you, and _to_ their faith in you, andhelp others by believing in the best that is in them. Those who have themost faith in you are your truest friends. An Uncle Benjamin and a Jennyare among the choicest characters that can enter the doors of life, andwe will see it so at the end. 

Do good, and you can not fail. 

 "Do thou thy work; it shall succeed In thine or in another's day, And if denied the visitor's meed, Thou shalt not miss the toiler's pay. "

APPENDIX. 

FRANKLIN'S FAMOUS PROVERB STORY OF THE OLD AUCTIONEER. 

"FRIENDS, " said the old auctioneer, "the taxes are indeed very heavy. Ifthose laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, wemight more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much moregrievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much by our pride, and four times as much by our folly;and from these taxes the commissioners can not ease or deliver us byallowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, andsomething may be done for us. God helps them that help themselves, asPoor Richard says. 

"I. It would be thought a hard government that would tax its people onetenth part of their time to be employed in its service; but idlenesstaxes many of us much more; sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutelyshortens life. Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears; whilethe used key is always bright, as Poor Richard says. But dost thou lovelife? then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of, as Poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend insleep, forgetting that The sleeping fox catches no poultry, and thatThere will be sleeping enough in the grave? as Poor Richard says. 

"If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be, asPoor Richard says, the greatest prodigality, since, as he elsewheretells us, Lost time is never found again, and what we call time enoughalways proves little enough. Let us, then, be up and doing, and doing tothe purpose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all ease; and He thatriseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business atnight; while Laziness travels so slowly that Poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee; and, Early to bed and earlyto rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise, as Poor Richard says. 

"So, what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We make thesetimes better if we bestir ourselves. Industry need not wish, and he thatlives upon hopes will die fasting. There are no gains without pains;then help, hands, for I have no lands; or, if I have, they are smartlytaxed. He that hath a trade hath an estate; and he that hath a callinghath an office of profit and honor, as Poor Richard says; but then thetrade must be worked at, and the calling followed, or neither the estatenor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious weshall never starve; for, At the workingman's house Hunger looks in butdares not enter; for, Industry pays debts, while despair increases them. What though you have no treasure, nor has any rich relation left you alegacy; Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all thingsto industry. Then plow deep while sluggards sleep, and you shall havecorn to sell and to keep. Work while it is called to-day, for you knownot how much you may be hindered to-morrow. One to-day is worth twoto-morrows, as Poor Richard says; and further, Never leave that tillto-morrow which you can do to-day. If you were a servant, would you notbe ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? Are you, then, yourown master? Be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much tobe done for yourself, your family, your country, your king. Handle yourtools without mittens; remember that The cat in gloves catches no mice, as Poor Richard says. It is true there is much to be done, and perhapsyou are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see greateffects; for, Constant dropping wears away stones, and By diligence andpatience the mouse ate in two the cable; and Little strokes fell greatoaks. 

"Methinks I hear some of you say, Must a man afford himself no leisure?I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says: Employ thy timewell, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and since thou art not sure of aminute, throw not away an hour. Leisure is time for doing somethinguseful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy mannever; for A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. Many, without labor, would live by their wits only, but they break forwant of stock; whereas, industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. Fly pleasures, and they will follow you. The diligent spinner has alarge shift; and now I have a sheep and a cow, every one bids megood-morrow. 

"II. But with our industry we must likewise be steady and careful, andoversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust too much toothers; for, as Poor Richard says:

 "I never saw an oft-removed tree, Nor yet an oft-removed family, That throve so well as those that settled be. "

And again, Three removes are as bad as a fire; and again, Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee; and again, If you would have your business, go; if not, send. And again, "He that by the plow would thrive, Himself must either hold or drive. "

And again, The eye of the master will do more work than both his hands;and again, "Want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge; andagain, Not to oversee workmen is to leave them your purse open. Trustingtoo much to others' care is the ruin of many; for, In the affairs ofthis world men are saved not by faith but by the want of it; but a man'sown care is profitable, for, If you would have a faithful servant, andone that you like, serve yourself. A little neglect may breed greatmischief: for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe thehorse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost, beingovertaken and slain by the enemy--all for want of a little care about ahorseshoe nail. 

"III. So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's ownbusiness; but to these we must add frugality, if we would make ourindustry more certainly successful. A man may, if he knows not how tosave as he gets, keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and dienot worth a groat at last. A fat kitchen makes a lean will; and

 "Many estates are spent in the getting, Since women forsook spinning and knitting, And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting. If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as of getting. "

The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her outgoes are greaterthan her incomes. 

"Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not then have somuch cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeablefamilies; for

 "Women and wine, game and deceit, Make the wealth small and the want great. "

And, further, What maintains one vice would bring up two children. Youmay think, perhaps, that a little tea or a little punch now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a littleentertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember, Many alittle makes a mickle. Beware of little expenses; A small leak will sinka great ship, as Poor Richard says; and again, Who dainties love shallbeggars prove; and, moreover, Fools make feasts and wise men eat them. 

"Here you are all got together at this sale of fineries and knickknacks. You call them goods; but if you do not take care, they will prove evilsto some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they mayfor less than they cost; but if you have no occasion for them, they mustbe dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says: Buy what thou hast noneed of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessities. And again, At agreat pennyworth pause awhile. He means that perhaps the cheapness isapparent only, and not real; or the bargain, by straitening thee in thybusiness, may do thee more harm than good; for in another place he says, Many have been ruined by buying good pennyworths. Again, It is foolishto lay out money in a purchase of repentance; and yet this folly ispracticed every day at auctions for want of minding the almanac. Many, for the sake of finery on the back, have gone with a hungry belly andhalf starved their families. Silks and satins, scarlet and velvets, putout the kitchen fire, as Poor Richard says. 

"These are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called theconveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want tohave them! By these, and other extravagances, the genteel are reduced topoverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, butwho through industry and frugality have maintained their standing; inwhich case it appears plainly that A plowman on his legs is higher thana gentleman on his knees, as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have asmall estate left them which they knew not the getting of; they think, It is day, and it never will be night; that a little to be spent out ofso much is not worth minding; but Always taking out of the meal-tub, andnever putting in, soon comes to the bottom, as Poor Richard says; andthen, When the well is dry, they know the worth of water. But this theymight have known before, if they had taken his advice. If you would knowthe value of money, go and try to borrow some; for, He that goesa-borrowing goes a-sorrowing, as Poor Richard says; and, indeed, so doeshe that lends to such people, when he goes to get it again. Poor Dickfurther advises, and says:

 "Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse; Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse. "

And again, Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and a great deal moresaucy. When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, thatyour appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, It is easierto suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it. And itis as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to swellin order to equal the ox. 

 "Vessels large may venture more, But little boats should keep near shore. "

It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as Poor Richard says, Pridethat dines on vanity, sups on contempt. Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and supped with Infamy. And, after all, of what useis this pride of appearance, for which so much is risked, so much issuffered? It can not promote health, nor ease pain; it makes no increaseof merit in the person; it creates envy; it hastens misfortune. 

"But what madness must it be to run in debt for these superfluities! Weare offered by the terms of this sale six months' credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we can not sparethe ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. But, ah! think whatyou do when you run in debt: you give to another power over yourliberty. If you can not pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see yourcreditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and, by degrees, come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, downright lying; for, The second vice is lying, thefirst is running in debt, as Poor Richard says; and again, to the samepurpose, Lying rides upon Debt's back; whereas, a free-born Englishmanought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or speak to any man living. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. It is hardfor an empty bag to stand upright. 

"What would you think of that prince, or of that government, who shouldissue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewomanon pain of imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you werefree, have a right to dress as you please, and that such an edict wouldbe a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyrannical? Andyet you are about to put yourself under such tyranny when you run indebt for such dress. Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, todeprive you of your liberty, by confining you in jail till you shall beable to pay him. When you have got your bargain you may perhaps thinklittle of payment; but, as Poor Richard says, Creditors have bettermemories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, greatobservers of set days and times. The day comes round before you areaware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. Time will seem to haveadded wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. Those have a shortLent who owe money to be paid at Easter. At present, perhaps, you maythink yourselves in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear alittle extravagance without injury; but

 "For age and want save while you may; No morning sun lasts a whole day. "

Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while you live, expenseis constant and certain; and It is easier to build two chimneys than tokeep one in fuel, as Poor Richard says; so, Rather go to bed supperlessthan rise in debt. 

 "Get what you can, and what you get, hold; 'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold. "

And when you have got the philosopher's stone, surely you will no longercomplain of bad times or the difficulty of paying taxes. 

"IV. This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, donot depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence, though excellent things; for they may all be blasted, without theblessing of Heaven; and, therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be notuncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort andhelp them. Remember, Job suffered, and was afterward prosperous. 

"And now, to conclude, Experience keeps a dear school, but fools willlearn in no other, as Poor Richard says, and scarce in that; for, it istrue, we may give advice, but we can not give conduct. However, rememberthis: They that will not be counseled can not be helped; and further, that, If you will not hear Reason, she will surely rap your knuckles, asPoor Richard says. "

THE END. 

BOOKS BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD. 

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 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. 

Page x, "ELECTRIFIELD" changed to "ELECTRIFIED" (THE ELECTRIFIED VIAL)

Page 54, "brought" changed to "bought" (name that bought)

Page 86, "waching" changed to "watching" (who stood watching)

Page 142, "endeavered" chagned to "endeavored" (him. I endeavored)

Page 148, "disapponitment" changed to "disappointment" (ended indisappointment)

Page 253, "spinnnig" changed to "spinning" (of a spinning-wheel)

Page 265, "longed" changed to "long" (had long outlived)

Page 291, word "about" inserted into text (pupils about how to)