Benjamin was very hungry, and he was considering how he could appease his hunger, when he met a boy who was eating a piece of bread.
"That is what I want," he said to the boy; "where did you get that?"
"Over there, at the bake-shop," the boy replied, pointing to it.
"Thank you," and Benjamin hurried on.
He had eaten nothing since he dined with the shop-woman in Burlington, on the day before. Besides, bread was a staple article with him. He had made many a meal of plain bread in his brother's printing office in Boston. Although he knew well which side his bread was buttered, his appetite for unbuttered bread never failed him. Entering the bake-shop, he inquired:
"Have you biscuit?" He was thinking of what he had in Boston.
"We make nothing of the kind."
"Give me a three-penny loaf, then."
"We have none."
Benjamin began to think he should have to go hungry still, for, evidently, he did not know the names used to designate the different sorts of bread in Philadelphia. But, soon recovering himself, he said:
"Then give me three-penny worth of any kind." To his surprise, the baker passed three great puffy rolls to him, enough for three men to eat at one meal. At first, he was puzzled to know what to do with them, whether to take all three or not.
"What! All that?" he said, scarcely knowing what he did say.
"Yes, there's three-penny worth; that is what you said, was it not?"
"It was," and Benjamin paid the money and took the loaves, trying to conceal his surprise, without exposing his ignorance of methods in the Quaker City. He was a boy of remarkable tact, as we have seen, so that he was never put to his wits long without finding a way out. It was so in this case. He put a roll under each arm, and taking the third one in his hand, he proceeded up the street, eating as he went.
Recollect that it was Sunday morning, and people were already swarming in the streets, arrayed in their best clothes. Benjamin was clad in his poorest clothes, and they were very shabby. His best suit was in his chest, and that was sent from New York by water. He was a sight to behold as he trudged up Market Street with his three loaves of bread, and his large pockets stuffed with shirts and stockings. He preferred pockets to the usual "bandanna bundle"; they were more convenient for storing away his wardrobe, but contributed largely to his comical appearance. He was a walking comedy. People gazed at him inquiringly and smiled. No doubt, many of them wondered where he came from and where he was going. He was seedy enough, but no one saw the seed of a philosopher or statesman about him. There was no promise in that direction. He was an embryo "Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of France"; but his appearance was that of a shack, or modern tramp, to whom Sunday is like all other days, and whose self-respect is at a large discount.
On he went, however, regardless of opinions concerning the figure he cut, stowing away in his stomach the baker's loaf in his hand. He passed by the residence of one Mr. Read, whose daughter, in her teens, Miss Deborah Read, was standing at the door. She gazed in wonder at the singular specimen of humanity passing before her; thought he was the most awkward and comical creature in the form of a man she had ever seen; and turned away with a laugh to tell her people in the house of the queer spectacle. She little thought that she was taking a bird's eye view of her future husband, as the young man with the rolls under his arms turned out to be. But just then he cared more for bread than he did for her; some years thereafter, the case was reversed, and he cared more for her than he did for bread.
He turned down Chestnut Street, and walked on until he came round to the wharf where he landed. Being thirsty, he went to the boat for water, where he found the woman and child, who came down the river with them on the previous night, waiting to go further.
"Are you hungry?" he said to the little one, who looked wistfully at the bread.
"We are both very hungry," replied the mother quickly for herself and child.
"Well, I have satisfied my hunger with one loaf, and you may have the other two if you want them"; and Benjamin passed the two rolls under his arms to her. "It appears that, in Philadelphia, three-penny worth of bread is three times as much as a man can eat. If other things can be had in the same proportion, the last dollar I have left will go a great way."
"I thank you a thousand times; you are very kind indeed," responded the woman, with a heart overflowing with gratitude, which was as good pay for the bread as Benjamin wanted. "May you never want for bread."
"No one would want for bread if they who have it will divide with those who have none, as they should."
In the last reply was incorporated a leading virtue of Benjamin's character—a trait that manifested itself, as we shall see, all through his life. His generosity was equal to his wisdom. An American statesman said of him, in a eulogy delivered in Boston:
"No form of personal suffering or social evil escaped his attention, or appealed in vain for such relief or remedy as his prudence could suggest, or his purse supply. From that day of his early youth, when, a wanderer from his home and friends in a strange place, he was seen sharing the rolls with a poor woman and child, to the last act of his public life, when he signed that well-known memorial to Congress, a spirit of earnest and practical benevolence runs like a golden thread along his whole career."
"I must be after finding a boarding place," said Benjamin to the owner of the boat, as he was about leaving. "I do not know where to go any more than the man in the moon. Are you acquainted here?"
"Scarcely at all; could not be of any service to you any way on that line," the owner answered. "Goin' to stop some time in Philadelphy?"
"I am going to live here if I can find work, as I expect to, and become a citizen of this town."
"Wall, you'll make a good one, I know. May you never have reason to repent of your choice. Goodbye."
"Good-bye"; and Benjamin walked up the street again. The people were on their way to meeting, so that he was reminded of divine worship, which he had partially forsaken in Boston. Being very tired, in consequence of a hard time on the boat and a wakeful night, he concluded to follow the people to church. They entered a large old-fashioned meeting-house, and he followed them and took a seat near the door. His appearance attracted much attention, as his dress was not exactly that of a Quaker, and otherwise he was not quite of the Quaker type; and it was a Quaker church in which he was. But he wasted no thoughts upon his apparel, and did not stop to think or care whether he was arrayed in shoddy or fine linen.
Whether he did not know that he was in a Quaker congregation, or knowing that fact, was ignorant of the Quaker worship, does not appear; but he waited for something to be said. While waiting for this, he dropped into a sound sleep, and slept through the entire service, and would have slept on, and been fastened into the meeting-house, had not the sexton discovered him.
"Hulloo, stranger! Meeting's over; going to shut up the house," shouted the sexton, shaking the sleeper thoroughly.
"I was very tired," responded Benjamin, trying to get his eyes open."I was on the boat last night and got no sleep."
"Where did you come from?"
"Boston; I came here for work."
"Well, Philadelphy is a great place for work; what sort of work do you want?"
"I am a printer by trade, and hope to find work in a printing office."
"And I hope you will. Sorry to disturb your nap, but I have to lock up the house."
Benjamin thanked the sexton for waking him instead of locking him in,and went out into the street. He had not proceeded far before he met aQuaker whose face indicated a man of amiable and generous heart, andBenjamin ventured to speak to him.
"I am a stranger in this town; arrived here this morning; can you tell me where I can get a night's lodging?"
"Certainly I can; I suppose thee wants a respectable place." The gentleman spoke so kindly as to draw Benjamin to him at once.
"Yes, sir; but not an expensive one; my purse will not permit of any extra expense."
"Thee going to remain here some time?"
"Permanently, if I can get work; I am a printer by trade."
"I wish thee success," added the Quaker. "But here we are close by the 'Three Mariners'; but it is not exactly a reputable house, and thee wants a better one."
"Yes; I want one that has a good reputation if there is such a one," said Benjamin.
"Well, if thee will follow me, I will show thee a better one; it is not far away."
Benjamin followed him into Water Street, where he pointed out a public house.
"There's the 'Crooked Billet,'" said the Quaker, "a tavern that is reputable, where thee can find board and lodgings for a day or a year."
"Thank you, sir, for your kindness," said Benjamin; "I shall not forget you. May every body be as friendly to you as you have been to me."
At the same time, Benjamin thought it was a very queer name for a public house. He did not like either part of it, and he said to himself, "'Crooked Billet'!—crookedness and a cudgel to strike down the turbulent with, are suggested." The name did not suggest any thing pleasant to him. But he went in, and engaged lodging and board until Monday.
"Where are you from?" asked the landlord, scanning him from head to foot.
"I am from Boston."
"Boston, hey? How long have you been on the way?"
"Two weeks."
"Got friends in Philadelphia?"
"Not one; all strangers to me."
"What did you come here for?"
"I came to secure work in a printing office. I am a printer by trade."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"And came all the way from Boston alone?"
"Yes, sir."
Benjamin saw by this time that the landlord suspected him of being a runaway apprentice. This class of characters was large at that day, for apprentices were often subjected to cruelty that made them runaways. So he closed the conversation as soon as possible and went to his room, where he slept until six o'clock, when he was called to supper. Not long after supper he went to bed and slept soundly until morning.
He arose early, took special pains to make himself as presentable as possible, paid his bill without waiting for breakfast, perhaps because he was reducing his cash so nearly to the last cent, and sallied forth in search of Mr. Bradford. He experienced no trouble in finding the printing office; but was very much surprised to find Mr. Bradford of New York there, father of the young printer Bradford of Philadelphia, to whom the father sent him.
"Glad to see you, my young friend. I got here first, after all, as you see," remarked Mr. Bradford, the father, as he welcomed Benjamin with a hearty shake of the hand. "Had any ill-luck on your way?"
"Not exactly bad luck, for I considered myself quite lucky to get here at all; but a slow, tedious trip, with delays and storms and disappointments most of the time," was Benjamin's answer, and he entered somewhat into details.
"Well, you are here, and I am glad to meet you; and, now, you want work." Then, turning to his son, Mr. Bradford continued: "My son, let me introduce this young man to you. He is a printer by trade, from Boston, in search of work: Benjamin Franklin. He called upon me in New York, and I advised him to come to you, knowing that your leading printer had died."
The young printer and the runaway were soon acquainted,—youngBradford being as genial and friendly as the senior.
"I regret that I have no work for you now. I have filled the place made vacant by the death of Bolder."
"There is another printer here, is there not?" asked the seniorBradford.
"Yes, Keimer; it is possible he may want a man. But it is breakfast time now; let us all go to breakfast, and then we'll see what can be done."
Benjamin was invited to breakfast with them, and there learned that Mr. Bradford of New York came all the way on horseback, starting very unexpectedly the next day after Benjamin left New York. He was somewhat surprised, also, to learn that Philadelphia had only seven thousand inhabitants at that time—five thousand less than Boston.
"I will go with you to see Mr. Keimer," said the senior Bradford, after breakfast. "Perhaps I may be of service to you."
"I shall feel myself under great obligations to you if you will," answered Benjamin. "It is quite necessary that I should get work, as my money is nearly gone."
"We can fix that, I think," said young Bradford. "I may be able to give you a little something to do, if Keimer don't want you, so that you won't starve. You can lodge at my house."
"Thanks," replied Benjamin. "I appreciate your kindness, and hope to be able to make some return for it in the future. I am sorry not to appear before you in more respectable apparel, but my chest of clothes comes by water from New York, and I have not received it yet."
"Clothes don't make the man," responded the elder Bradford, who had discovered a remarkably bright and intelligent youth in Benjamin. "Brains take the precedence of clothes in New York and Philadelphia."
Benjamin found himself among good friends, so he cheerfully accepted their counsel. The senior Bradford accompanied him to Keimer's.
"Neighbor," said Bradford, "I have brought to you a young man from Boston, a printer by trade; he is after work. Perhaps you can employ him."
"That depends on his qualifications," answered Mr. Keimer. "I want some one who is acquainted with the business."
"You will find him all right, I think; he appears to know what he is about."
"How long have you worked at the business?" inquired Keimer, turning to Benjamin.
"Over three years."
"Do you understand all parts of it so that you can go on with it?"
"Yes, I think I do; you can ascertain by trying me."
"Take this composing-stick and try your hand; let me see what you can do."
Benjamin proceeded to give an exhibition of his skill at type-setting, which he did so rapidly and easily that Keimer was delighted.
"Very well done, indeed. I think you told the truth; you must have had considerable experience. I will employ you as soon as I have sufficient work. At present, I have nothing for you to do."
"It is not often, Mr. Keimer, that you have the opportunity to employ a skilled hand like this young man," suggested Bradford. "If you could give him enough to do to pay his board, until you are full of work, it may be for your interest and his, too."
"That is true. I am at work now upon this Elegy on Aquila Rose, who was clerk of the Pennsylvania Legislature; and I may want him to print it. I shall have it ready in three or four days. I am expecting other work soon, also."
"You can return to my son's house to eat and sleep," said Mr. Bradford to Benjamin. "I think Mr. Keimer will want you before long. He expects to have business."
"What do you think of my prospects here, sir?" inquired Keimer of Mr. Bradford, supposing him to be a citizen of Philadelphia. "I have hardly got under way yet; it is only a few weeks since I began."
"That will depend upon your own exertions and business talents. Philadelphia is a growing town, where industry and perseverance will do wonders."
"I shall do all in my power to draw the business of the town; and I think I can do it by industry and giving first-class work."
"How can you expect to get all the business when there is another printer here, who has been established some time?"
Keimer answered the last inquiry by disclosing his plans, as Bradford artfully drew him out on every point, until he learned how he was calculating to command all the business, and run his son out of it. Nor did Keimer dream that he was conversing with the father of the other printer, whom he designed to deprive of his livelihood. All the while Benjamin stood and listened to their conversation, perceiving that Bradford was shrewdly learning Keimer's plans for the benefit of his son.
"You did not know that man, did you?" inquired Benjamin, afterBradford left.
"No; but I concluded he was some business man of the town, who would be interested to see a printing office successful, and so took pains to introduce you to me."
"Then you will be surprised to learn who he is, when I tell you. That was the father of Andrew Bradford, your neighbor, the printer. He carries on printing in New York."
"Can that be?" exclaimed Keimer, astonished over the bit of news, and startled at the thought of having made known his plans to a competitor.
"Yes, it is even so. That was Mr. Bradford, the New York printer, father of Andrew Bradford, the printer of your town; and not his apparition."
"How in the world did he happen to come here with you?"
"I can tell you in a few words," replied Benjamin. "I called on him for work in New York, and he directed me to his son here, who had just lost a good hand by death. Very unexpectedly, on the next day, he started for Philadelphia on horseback, and, when I called upon his son, this morning, I found him there. His son had just hired a man; and so he directed me to you, and his father offered to come and introduce me."
"Well, all that is natural enough, but it is pretty hard on me," answered Keimer. "If I had known that was Bradford's father, I should have kept my mouth shut, of course."
"You opened it pretty wide to him, and he took advantage of it, as most men will do. But I guess no harm is done. He and his son both appear to be friendly to you; they would not have proposed that I should come here for work, if they had not been."
"That looks so, I must confess," said Keimer; "but I have learned one good lesson from it: never to divulge secrets to a stranger. When I do that again I shall not be in my right mind. But I wanted to ask you about your Boston experience in a printing office; what office was you in?"
"My brother's, James Franklin. He published a paper, theNew EnglandCourant. He did a large business."
"Yes, our paper here gave some account of it. The editor had some trouble with the Government, did he not?"
"Yes, and a serious trouble it was. He believed in the freedom of the press, and the officials did not; so there was a collision. He determined to fight the censorship of the press, and he was imprisoned for it. Then I edited and published the paper in my own name."
"You run it!" exclaimed Keimer in a tone of wonder and unbelief.
"Yes, I run it,—without letting up one jot in attacking the intolerant Government. It was a hot contest, but the common people, true Americans, rallied to our support, and left the aristocratic officials to toady to the English Government."
"A new order of things when a boy edits and publishes a paper in a straight fight with Great Britain," was all that Keimer said, in reply, evidently not believing a word of Benjamin's story about theCourant. However, the more he talked with the new comer, the more he was impressed with his intelligence and manly character. He found that his clothes were the poorest part of him, that underneath his shabby garments there dwelt a soul of large possessions and aspirations.
Benjamin learned at Keimer's office what a blessing it was to him to have practiseddoing things well. Thoroughness in learning the printer's art, as well as in studying the use of language and composition, characterized him in Boston, as we have seen. Now he was reaping the benefits of it. He handled the composing-stick so dexterously, and answered every question so intelligently and promptly, that Keimer saw at once he was really an expert. Many boys are satisfied if they can only "pass muster." Their ambition rises no higher than that. But not so with Benjamin. He sought to understand the business to which he attended, and to do as well as possible the work he undertook. The consequence was that he was a thorough workman, and, in five minutes, he was able to satisfy Keimer of the fact. This was greatly in his favor; and such a young man is never long out of business. Doctor Johnson said, "What is worth doing at all, is worth doing well."
Samuel Budgett said, "In whatever calling a man is found, he ought to strive to be the best in that calling; if only a shoe-black, he should try to be the best shoe-black in the neighborhood." Budgett conducted his immense business, in which he employed six hundred men, on this principle. When a boy was introduced into his warehouse he was set to straightening old nails. If he straightened nails well, he was promoted to bag-mending; if he did not do it well, he was dismissed. The thorough nail-straightener and bag-mender moved upwards into larger and higher fields of work; and so the great English merchant could boast of having the most efficient and faithful class of employes in the British realm. Training them to do their best did it.
James Parton said to David Maydole, inventor of the modern hammer and manufacturer of the best hammers in the world, "By this time you ought to be able to make a pretty good hammer." Maydole replied, "No, I can't. I can't make a pretty good hammer, I make the best that's made." Once a party applied for several hammers, to whom Maydole was indebted for some favor, and the party said to him, "You ought to make my hammer a little better than the others." Maydole responded, "I can't make any better ones. When I make a thing, I make it as well as I can, no matter whom it is for." Doing his best every time led him on to fortune. He never pushed his business. He never advertised. Making the best hammer in the market created all the business he wanted.
"Your press is rather dilapidated, I see," remarked Benjamin to Mr.Keimer, after he had looked it over. "Second-hand, I conclude?"
"Yes, I had to buy what I could get cheap, as I had little money to begin with. I guess it can be fixed up to answer my purpose."
"That is so; it can be improved very much with little expense," replied Benjamin.
"Do you understand a printing press well enough to repair it?"
"I can repair that one well enough; I see what is wanted. You can't do good work with it as it is," Benjamin answered.
"Then I can employ you at once, and you may go right about putting it in order if you please."
"I will do it," Benjamin replied in his emphatic way. "It is not a long job, by any means."
"Perhaps you will have it done by the time I get the Elegy set up, and then you may print it." Keimer's interest was deepening since he found that the Boston printer-boy could repair a printing press. He was getting more than he bargained for.
Benjamin went to work upon the old press, saying "I may as well go about it at once, and work till dinner time. Mr. Bradford will expect me back then; but I will keep at it until it is done."
"Well, I hope you will not expose any secrets as I did," remarked Mr. Keimer, humorously. "Old Bradford will be on the lookout for capital, no doubt. See that he don't make as much out of you as he did out of me."
Benjamin met the Bradfords, senior and junior, at the dinner table, where they gave him a cordial welcome.
"How does Philadelphia compare with Boston?" inquired the seniorBradford of him.
"It is smaller, and I can't tell yet whether it is duller or not. WhenI have been here a week I can tell more about it."
"And what are your prospects at Keimer's?" inquired the juniorBradford.
"Well, I have begun to repair his old press. It is a dilapidated affair, and I told him that I could improve it very much."
"Do you understand that part of the business?"
"I understand it sufficiently to make what repairs that machine requires just now."
"Then you can probably do some repairs for me," said the juniorBradford "My press needs some tutoring."
"I shall be happy to be its tutor," replied Benjamin, with a smile. "I shall finish Keimer's to-morrow, and then I will take yours in hand. I shall be glad to do something to repay you for your kindness."
"You must have had good school advantages in Boston," remarked the elder Bradford to him. "Your conversation indicates that you are well-read and well-informed."
"But I am not indebted to the schools for it; I never went to school but two years in my life. But I have studied and read as much as any body of my age, in leisure hours and nights; and I have written more for the press, probably, than any one of my age in Boston."
This last remark caused the Bradfords to look at each other with wonder for a moment. But the senior broke the silence by saying:
"You write for the press? How is that?" His astonishment charged his questions with peculiar emphasis.
"Yes, sir; I wrote much for nearly a year for theNew EnglandCourant, one of the newspapers in Boston."
"And only seventeen years old now?"
"I was only sixteen when I wrote the most."
That was as far as Benjamin dared to disclose his history, lest he might make trouble for himself. He had disclosed enough, however, to set his host to thinking. Neither of the Bradfords really believed his story about his writing for the press; and yet there was something about him, composed of intelligence, refinement, and manliness, that impressed them. The more they conversed with him, the more were they satisfied that he was an uncommon youth. While that conviction awakened their curiosity to know more of his history, it served, also, to cause them to respect his boy-manhood, and so not to ply him with too many or close questions. Thus Benjamin escaped the necessity of exposing the objectionable part of his career, and left his good friends wondering over the mysterious young printer they were befriending.
Benjamin repaired Keimer's press, and then attended to Bradford's, before the Elegy was ready to be printed. By that time, Keimer had engaged to print a pamphlet and do some other small jobs, so that he needed Benjamin's services all the time.
"I shall want you right along, now, I think; but you must change your boarding-place. I don't want you should board with a man who knows so much about my business." And Keimer laughed as he made this last remark.
"Of course, I shall change. I only intended to stay there until I got work. Mr. Bradford kindly invited me to stay there till I found a place, and I shall not take any advantage of his generosity. I shall always be grateful to him for it."
"He was a good friend to you, a stranger," continued Keimer, "and I would have you appreciate his friendship; but, in the circumstances, I think another boarding-place is best."
"And now I can make a more respectable appearance," respondedBenjamin; "for my chest of clothes has come."
"The man who owns this building lives a short distance away, and I am thinking I can get you boarded there; it will be a good place," added Mr. Keimer.
"As you please; I can make myself at home any where. I am not used to much style and luxury."
"His name is Read, and he has an interesting daughter of eighteen, which may be some attraction to you." The last remark was intended more for pleasantry than any thing.
"Work will have to be the chief attraction for me, whose fortune is reduced to the last shilling," responded Benjamin. "It takes money to pay respectful attention to young ladies; and, besides, myfortedoes not lie in that direction."
The result was, that he went to board at Mr. Read's, the father of the young lady who stood in the door when he passed on Sunday morning with a roll of bread under each arm. His appearance was much improved by this time, so that even Miss Read saw that he was an intelligent, promising young man.
Benjamin received good wages, attended closely to his work, improved his leisure moments by reading and study, as he did in Boston, and spent his evenings in systematic mental culture.
"You appear to be fond of books," said Mr. Read to him. "I think you must have enjoyed good advantages at home. Where is your home?"
"Boston. I was born there seventeen years ago."
"Only seventeen! I supposed you were older. Your parents living?"
"Yes, both of them, as good people as there are in Boston."
"Got brothers and sisters?"
"Plenty of them. I am the fifteenth child, and have two sisters younger than I am; only one of the whole number is dead."
"You surprise me; yours must have been the largest family in Boston," continued Mr. Read. "I am sure we have no family as large as that in Philadelphia. Your father ought to be worth some money to provide for such a family."
"He is not, he is a poor man; so poor that he kept me in school less than two years. I went into the shop to work with him when I was ten years old, and have not been to school since. All my brothers were apprenticed at ten or twelve years of age. I was a printer's apprentice at twelve years of age."
"And what was your father's business, if I may be permitted to ask? Your story is a very interesting one, and I want to know more about it."
"My father is a tallow-chandler. He emigrated to Boston in 1685, from Banbury, England, where he worked at the trade of a dyer. There was no room for that business in Boston, so he took up the business of candle-making."
"But you did not work at the candle business long, if you became a printer at twelve?"
"No; I disliked the business so thoroughly that I was ready to engage in almost any thing if I could get out of that. The printer's trade has afforded me excellent opportunities for reading and study, and I like it."
"Well, printers are generally an intelligent class, and their pursuit is highly respected. One of our printers in Philadelphia is an ignorant man, and not very familiar with the business."
"I found that out some time ago," answered Benjamin; "and ignorance is a great drawback to a person in any business whatever. There is no need of a man being ignorant, so long as he can command fragments of time to read and study. What I call my leisure hours are my most profitable and enjoyable hours."
Mr. Read had already concluded that Benjamin was never so happy as when he had a book in his hand, or was with some intelligent companion conversing upon a useful topic. He had formed a high estimate of his talents and character in the few weeks he had been a boarder at his house. He saw in him a rising young man, and predicted for him a remarkable career. His daughter, too, was as favorably impressed by acquaintance with him. She learned that he was the youth, who cut such a comical figure on the street, eating his roll of bread, on a Sunday morning a short time before, and she could scarcely believe her eyes. The transformation in him was almost too great for belief. That such a shack in appearance should turn out to be the brightest and best-informed young man who ever boarded at her father's, was an impressive fact. She was gratified at his appearance, and enjoyed conversation with him.
Benjamin was well pleased with his boarding-place, and enjoyed himself with the family; especially with the daughter, who was rather a graceful, good-looking, bright girl. Several young men, also, boarded there, whom he made companions. These, with others, whose acquaintance he made within three or four months, became the source of so much pleasure to him that he fast became weaned from Boston.
As soon as Benjamin was fairly settled in business, he wrote to his old friend, John Collins, of Boston, giving him a full account of his trip to Philadelphia, his trials and successes, and closing by charging him with secrecy as to his whereabouts.
He had given such unjustifiable scope to his resentment of his brother's harsh treatment, and his father's final endorsement of that brother, that he did not stop to think of the sorrow he was bringing upon his parents by his wayward course. For the time being, his filial affection appeared to be sacrificed to his revengeful spirit.
At that time, the printer's trade ranked higher, in public estimation, than any other mechanical business. All editors in the country were printers, and most of the printers were better educated than any other artisans; hence their social standing was higher. On this account, a talented and brilliant boy like Benjamin took a high rank at once, and readily found access to the respect and confidence of all who made his acquaintance.
In due time, Benjamin received a letter from Collins, detailing the excitement that followed his sudden disappearance from Boston, what was said, the sorrow among his friends over his disgraceful exit, how his brother was getting on, and many other matters about which he was glad to hear. The letter closed by assuring him that no person in Boston was apparently so ignorant of the runaway's whereabouts as himself, from which he inferred that Collins was keeping the secret well.
While Benjamin was flattering himself that his friends were entirely ignorant of his place of residence, except John Collins, his brother-in-law, Robert Homes, "master of a sloop that traded between Boston and Delaware," was at Newcastle, forty miles from Philadelphia. There he met a citizen of the latter place, of whom he made inquiries as to the business of the town. Among other things, he said:
"A young printer from Boston has settled there recently, who ranks high as a workman and as a talented young man."
"Do you know his name?" inquired Captain Homes, startled by the revelation.
"Benjamin Franklin."
With an effort to conceal his surprise and interest, he asked:
"For whom does he work?"
"For Mr. Keimer, our new printer."
"Are you acquainted with him?"
"Not particularly; I have met him."
"Is he a young man of standing and good habits?"
"He is. It is said that he is very talented, and that he wrote for the press in Boston before he came to Philadelphia."
"Is that so?" responded the captain, to conceal that he was any acquaintance of his.
"Yes; and, as a matter of course, such a young man is much thought of. He is not set up at all, but appears to be modest and unassuming. He is very much liked by all."
"Do you think he means to make Philadelphia his home in the future?"
"That is what he intends, as I understand it." In this way, CaptainHomes gained whatever information he wanted, without disclosing thatBenjamin Franklin was his brother-in-law. Then he embraced the firstopportunity to write and forward to him the following letter fromNewcastle:
"DEAR BROTHER,—I have just learned from a citizen of Philadelphia that you reside in that town. It is the first knowledge that any of us have had of your whereabouts since you ran away from Boston. You can have no idea of the sorrow you caused the family by your unwise and thoughtless act. It well-nigh broke your mother's heart, and added several years to your father's appearance. But I write to advise and entreat you to return to Boston. I am confident that your parents, and all other friends, will receive you with open arms, forgetting the past in their joy over your presence. They do not know even that you are alive; and your return will be to them as one risen from the dead. I trust that this letter will find you well, and disposed to heed my advice, and go back to Boston. It will be the best thing for you and the whole family. Let me hear from you; direct your letter to this place; if sent at once it will reach me here.
"Yours affectionately,
The reader may very properly infer that Benjamin was taken by surprise by this letter. Now his friends would know where he was. How did Captain Homes discover his place of residence? This question kept uppermost in his mind. His letter did not tell. Benjamin pondered the matter through the day, and finally resolved to answer it squarely and promptly in the evening. That night he wrote the following:
"Dear Brother,—I received your letter to-day, and it was a genuine surprise to me. How in the world you discovered my whereabouts is a mystery to me; but it is all well and will turn out for the best, no doubt. To answer your letter affords me an opportunity to state exactly the cause of my sudden departure from Boston, which I do not think you understand. The sole cause of my leaving was the unjust and harsh treatment of James. Instead of seeing in me a brother, he saw only an apprentice, indentured to him until I was twenty-one, over whom he held the iron rod of a master, and from whom he expected the most servile obedience. At times I may have been saucy and provoking, but it was when I was receiving more than flesh and blood could bear. For, in letting loose his violent temper, he not only lashed me unmercifully with his tongue, but he resorted to blows; and you ought to know enough of the Franklins by this time to understand that no one of them would submit to such oppression. Then, to cap the climax, father, who had always sided with me whenever our difficulties were laid before him, now gave his decision, for some reason, in favor of James. That was the last straw on the camel's back. Nothing but harsh treatment by a master, who asserted his rights under the law, awaited me. To remain was to be trod upon, and suffer, and become a slave instead of a man. To leave was impossible, unless I left clandestinely. For many days a mighty contest was waged in my soul between love of home and escape from a bondage as bad as Negro slavery.
"After all I had done for James, in his great trouble with the Government, that he should treat me, his own brother, as a menial to be abused, seemed hard indeed. Under such a burden of trial, scarcely knowing whither to look for a friend, I resolved to escape, and I do not now regret the step. I knew that I should be misjudged—that I should be called a runaway, and thought to be on the road to ruin. But I am not. I mean to make the most of myself possible. I am now among good friends, who kindly second all my efforts at self-improvement, and my business prospects were never so good. If industry, economy, temperance, honesty, and perseverance will win, then I shall win; you may be sure of that.
"Yours affectionately,
Captain Homes was a strong, good man, used to roughing it in a seafaring life; but when he read Benjamin's letter, tears stood in his eyes, and his lips quivered with emotion, as his great heart went out in sympathy for his wife's young brother.
"Read that letter," he said to Governor Keith, who was present, "and then I will tell you about the author of it."
Governor Keith read it, with moistened eyes, although he was a stranger to the writer and his romantic history.
"A touching letter," he remarked, returning it to the captain.
"The author of it is my wife's youngest brother, only a boy now."
"How old?" inquired the governor.
"Only seventeen."
"Indeed, he must be a remarkable boy."
"He is. The most gifted boy ever raised in Boston."
"Then he ran away from Boston?"
"Yes; his father's family is a prominent one in the city, and the eldest son is a printer, to whom this youngest son was apprenticed."
"I see now," responded the governor. "That explains the letter. And he is settled now in Philadelphia?"
"He is. I accidentally learned where he was, a few days ago, and wrote to him; and this letter is his answer. Let me tell you more about him." And the captain rehearsed his connection with theCourant, as correspondent and editor, dwelling upon his ability and power as an independent thinker, capable of canvassing and writing upon almost any public question.
"Remarkable, for one so young!" exclaimed the governor, after listening to the detailed account. "Such a young man should be encouraged in his business."
"So I think," responded the captain. "His letter has opened my eyes, and I see now that he had good reason to run away. I believe that he will make his mark, live where he may."
"Of course he will," replied the governor. "His success is certain, only give him a chance. I will assist him to establish a printing house of his own in Philadelphia, and he shall have the government printing to do."
"He is abundantly qualified to do it, and I think any aid of that sort you can give him will be for your interest as well as his. He is reliable and will do his best." The captain said this in the honesty of his heart, having a strong desire to see Benjamin rise.
"We have two printing houses in Philadelphia now; but they are poor affairs," continued the governor. "Neither proprietor understands his business, and one of them is very ignorant. I think that this young man would take the lead at once."
"I think that I can secure the government printing of Delaware for him," interrupted Colonel French, of Newcastle, who had listened to the conversation with the deepest interest.
"Captain Homes, I will see your brother-in-law as soon as I return to Philadelphia," added Governor Keith. "We must not let such a young man be buried up in a one-horse printing house."
"I am going to Philadelphia with the governor," interjected ColonelFrench, "and I will accompany him to see the young man."
"I thank you both very much, and I think that neither of you will ever regret your decision." Captain Homes spoke so warmly and approvingly that both governor and colonel felt reassured as they separated.
The foregoing discloses two good traits of Benjamin's character, which the reader may consider with profit. First, he must have been very observing. He understood the construction of a printing-press so well, that he could put an old one into running order, young as he was, when its proprietor was unable to do it. This is more remarkable, because he was not obliged to study the mechanism of a printing-press in order to work it. Many persons operate machines without understanding their construction at all. But a class of minds are never satisfied until they understand whatever commands their attention. They are inquisitive, and wish to know the philosophy of things. It was so with Benjamin; and this quality proved a valuable element of his success. It was the secret of his discoveries and inventions in his manhood, as we shall see, just as it was with Stephenson. As soon as he was appointed plugman of an engine, at seventeen years of age, he began to study its construction. In his leisure hours, he took it to pieces, and put it together again several times, in order to understand it.
In the second place, Benjamin was not proud. "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." He never came under this condemnation. A sight of him passing up Market Street, with a loaf of bread under each arm, while devouring the third one in his hand, in apparel that was less comely than that of many modern tramps, is proof that pride had no dominion over him. Many boys of seventeen, in such poverty and apparel, would have avoided a public street, and even a Quaker meetinghouse. But these were small matters to Benjamin. He was thinking of greater things—employment and a livelihood. He had a destiny to work out, and in working that he must do as he could, and not as he would. He cared not for the laughs and jeers of those who could dress better and live more sumptuously than himself, since it was absolutely necessary for him to dress as he did in order "to make his ends meet." He might have followed the example of some young men, and incurred a debt, in order "to cut a dash," but he believed then, as he wrote afterwards, that "lying rides on debt's back," and that it is "better to go to bed supperless than to rise in debt"; or, as he expressed himself in other maxims, "Those have a short Lent who owe money to be paid at Easter," and "It is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel."
Not many days after Benjamin replied to the letter of Captain Homes, an unusual scene transpired at Keimer's office.
"There's Governor Keith on the other side of the street," said Keimer to Benjamin, as they stood looking out of the window. "That tall man with a gentleman walking with him."
"I see," replied Benjamin. "I should think they were coming here."
"Sure enough, they are crossing the street; they must be coming here; I wonder what for." And Keimer ran down stairs to meet them before the last words, as above, were off his lips. He supposed, of course, that they were coming to see him. He met them politely at the door, for it was not every day that he had the privilege of welcoming a governor to his printing office, but was somewhat taken aback when the governor inquired:
"Does Benjamin Franklin work here?"
"He does; do you wish to see him?" Keimer was almost bewildered when he answered. "What can the governor want of that boy?" he thought.
"Can I see him?"
"Certainly, walk in."
They walked in and took seats. Benjamin was called.
"This is the young man you wanted to see," said Keimer, introducing him. "Governor Keith, Benjamin."
"I am very happy to make your acquaintance," responded the governor." I met your brother-in-law, Captain Homes, at Newcastle, the other day, and I promised to call and see you. And this is Colonel French, of Newcastle, who, also, promised Captain Homes to call with me," introducing the colonel.
Benjamin was too much astonished to feel at ease. He would not have been so amazed if an officer from Boston had called to arrest him as a runaway. What the governor of Pennsylvania could want of him was beyond his wildest dreams.
"If Mr. Keimer can spare you a short time, we would like you to go with us for an interview, as we promised Captain Homes," added the governor.
"I am at your service," Benjamin replied, collecting his scattered and wondering thoughts. "Mr. Keimer can spare me, no doubt."
Within a few minutes, he was with the governor and Colonel French at a tavern on the corner of Third Street, in a room by themselves.
"I am very glad to meet a young man of your abilities," remarked the governor, "and I want to talk with you about setting up the printing business for yourself in this town. Captain Homes told me of your experience and ability, on this and other lines, and I am sure that you can start a printing house of your own, and make a success of it."
"But I have nothing to start such a business with. It requires capital."
"True, very true; but I think we can arrange that. Perhaps your father could give you a start, judging from what Captain Homes says."
"I suppose that he might if he was so disposed; but I doubt whether he would do it." Benjamin was querying, as he spoke, whether Captain Homes had disclosed the fact of his being a runaway.
"I can write a letter to him, setting before him the excellent opportunity for a printer here who understands the business as you do, and advise him to render you aid." The governor did not hint that he knew about his leaving home clandestinely.
"That is very kind on your part; but is it not true, that two printing houses are as many as this town can support well?"
"It would be if they were first-class; but they are not. The proprietors do not understand their business; they have poor equipments, too; and their outfit does not enable them to do first-class work."
"The governor will see that you have the government printing ofPennsylvania to do," suggested Colonel French; "and I have no questionthat I can secure the government printing of Delaware for you, also.This will give you patronage as well as business."
"I thank you both very much for your kindness and confidence; and I should like nothing better than to have a printing house of my own."
"How would this plan do?" continued the governor. "You return to Boston by the first vessel that goes, taking a letter from me to your father, in which I will lay the whole matter before him, so that he can understand it, recommending that he set you up in business here."
"Well," replied Benjamin, after some hesitation, "the plan is good enough; but I fear it will not work."
"It will do no hurt to try it," retorted the governor; "and you will have an opportunity to see your friends, and they will have an opportunity to see you."
"Yes, and I shall enjoy that; but I could not honorably leave Mr.Keimer at present."
"It will not be necessary to leave him at present. It may be three months before a vessel is billed for Boston. You can work for him at present, notifying him that you shall return to Boston on a visit by the first vessel that goes."
"Yes, I can do that," said Benjamin.
"You will not, of course, divulge your plan of establishing a printing house of your own," suggested the governor. "Keep that a secret. Your plan may not work, so that it will be wise to keep it a secret for the present."
"Well, I will defer to your judgment, and return to Boston by the first vessel that sails. If the plan works, and Benjamin Franklin should run a successful business house in this town, the credit of it will belong to you."
They separated, with the understanding that Benjamin would return to Boston by the first vessel sailing for that port. The governor and his friend retired, and Benjamin returned to his work at the printing office.
The reader will make special note of this unusual scene. Here was the governor of Pennsylvania and a leading public man of Delaware in conference with a boy of seventeen years, about establishing a printing house of his own in Philadelphia, with the promise of the government patronage! What sort of a boy must he be? Not one of common mould or capacity; but one, as the sequel will show, who shall rule in the councils of the nation!
Keimer's curiosity was on tiptoe; he wanted to know what businessGovernor Keith could have with his young employe.
"Why," replied Benjamin, "he met my brother-in-law, who is captain of a sloop, at Newcastle, and learned of him that I was working in this town, and so he called."
"All that may be; but governors are not in the habit of calling upon boys as a matter of courtesy." And Keimer looked very unbelieving when he said it.
"He told my brother-in-law that he should call, and my brother-in-law urged him to do so. Colonel French was a personal friend, who came with him; and he, too, promised Captain Homes that he would call."
"That is all right; but you are the first boy that ever lived in Philadelphia, who has attracted the governor's patronage to himself." Keimer was somewhat jocose, while, at the same time, he was evidently suspicious that Benjamin was withholding the real object of the governor's visit.
"My brother-in-law had written to me to take the first opportunity I could to make a trip to Boston to see my friends," continued Benjamin, "and he talked with the governor about it. The governor thinks as he does."
"Going?"
"Not at present. If I go, I must go by sea, and not by land. Can't afford to go by land; and I am told that vessels do not often sail from here to Boston. I shall have to wait to get more money than I have now before I go."
"Perhaps the governor will charter a vessel to take you there if you ask him," suggested Keimer, who was evidently chagrined that the governor called to see his employe instead of himself.
"Perhaps I shall ask him when I become more familiar with him," Benjamin replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "When I get to be a member of his staff I may be cheeky enough to suggest it."
Keimer found that he could not make out much by quizzing his young printer, so he dropped it and dismissed the subject for the time being.
Benjamin's thoughts were all the while concentrated on this unexpected turn of affairs. It would not be strange if such interest in his welfare by the highest officer in the state appealed to his vanity somewhat, although Keimer could discover nothing of the kind. The latter gentleman, however, concluded that he had a mysterious character in his employ, and he was greatly puzzled to know just what he was. He might be the son of some great man, for whose sake the governor interested himself in his welfare. Possibly he might have left Boston in some trouble, and his influential friends, together with Captain Homes, induced the governor to look after him. Many theories, by way of explanation, occupied his thoughts. At any rate, he was an enigma to his employer, who was becoming more and more interested in him. The governor's visit served to magnify his abilities and worth in Keimer's view. He thought more of him than he did before. He discovered more talent and efficiency in him. But he could get little satisfaction out of him. Once in a while he would indulge in a spasm of quizzing, and then he would subside into silent musing over the curious boy who was setting type for him.
Benjamin continued to work early and late, interesting himself in Keimer's business as if it were his own, thereby becoming an indispensable assistant to him. But he embraced the first opportunity to write to his boon companion in Boston, John Collins, and disclose the unexpected change in his affairs, as follows:
"DEAR JOHN: You will be surprised to learn that I expect to make a visit to Boston by the first vessel that sails for that port. It may be three or four months before one sails, but look for me on board. I will tell you how this new order of things was brought about. My brother-in-law, Capt. Robert Homes, was at Newcastle, Delaware, and found out, in some way, that I was living in Philadelphia; and he wrote to me. I replied to his letter, and he showed it to Governor Keith of Pennsylvania, who lives in this town, and told him about me, and interested him in my welfare. So the governor came to see me, and urged me to establish a printing house of my own here, promising me the state printing, and offering to write a letter to my father that I shall take with me when I go to Boston, in which he will set forth the prospects of my success, and urge him to furnish me with money to start. This is the substance of the story, the details of which I will rehearse when I see you. In the mean time continue to keep the secret. I suppose that Captain Homes will disclose the place of my residence, so that it will be a mystery to them no longer; but do not let any thing get abroad from you. When we meet I shall have much to tell you. Until then, good-bye.
"Your old friend,
Governor Keith sent for Benjamin to dine with him.
"I wanted to talk with you a little more about your visit to Boston," he remarked at the dinner-table. "How long will you be gone?"
"That will depend upon the voyage. There and back will occupy from three to four weeks on the vessel. I do not care about spending over a week in Boston. I shall want to get back as soon as I can to start in business."
"Does Mr. Keimer suspect that any thing in particular is on the tapis? I did not know but my visit might awaken his curiosity to learn what it was for."
"It did, and he plied me with questions in order to find out for some time. Once in a while now, he is very inquisitive, evidently thinking that I am withholding something from him. He is quite an intelligent man, without any surplus of honesty."
"So I understand. Bradford is very ignorant, but honest; while Keimer is bright and well-informed, but unscrupulous."
"That is about as near the truth as one can get," continued Benjamin. "I have a pleasant time with Mr. Keimer, however, and have nothing to complain of on that line."
"Can you give me any idea of the time it will take, after you return, to get a printing house in running order?"
"Not exactly. If my plans succeed, and I bring back a printing-press and materials with me, I think a month will be ample time to put the whole thing in running order."
The enterprise was canvassed at the table, the governor conversing with his young guest in the most familiar manner, dropping many complimentary words. Whenever he wanted to see him thereafter, he invited him to dine, which was quite often; all of which Benjamin enjoyed very much. In his old age, referring to these interviews with Governor Keith, Franklin said: "The governor sent for me now and then to dine with him, which I considered a great honor; more particularly as he conversed with me in the most affable, familiar, and friendly manner."
A novelist would portray the advantages of running away from home when representing Benjamin, the runaway, at the governor's table. If he had remained in Boston, attacking the officials of the English Government with his pen, the governor might have put him in prison, as he did his brother. But Benjamin never justified the use he made of his legs at that time—that is, he never excused it in his years of maturity. He always spoke of it regretfully. Very few runaways possess as much talent and character as he did, and few ever had so much cause for running away; and here is found the only reason that the act was overruled to his advantage.
At length a small vessel was announced to sail for Boston.
"I am ready to go in her," he said to Governor Keith. "She sails in about a week."
"I am very glad," answered the governor; "you have waited long enough for it. I will have my letter to your father ready in time; and I hope your mission will be successful. Is there any thing more I can do for you?"
"Nothing; I have been getting myself in readiness all along, so that I have little to do now. As the time draws near I am very anxious to go. My father and mother will be very happy in looking into my face again."
"And I think you will be as happy in looking into their faces again," responded the governor. "Captain Homes spoke in the highest terms of your parents, and of your standing in Boston."
Benjamin wondered more than ever whether his brother, Homes, disclosed the fact of his leaving home clandestinely to the governor. No words were dropped to indicate that he did. But Governor Keith was a wise man, and thought it was not best to divulge his acquaintance with that part of the affair.
Benjamin improved the first opportunity to announce his departure toMr. Keimer.
"Going to see my parents," he said; "a vessel sails for Boston in about a week."
"You have not been away from home long yet. I should think that you might wait a year, at least."
"No, I can't wait longer, though I do not intend to stay long. I am attached to Philadelphia, and I shall want to return as soon as I can after letting my father and mother look me over a few days."
"Has the governor of the Massachusetts Province sent for you?" Keimer asked jocosely. The fact was he could not get over Governor Keith's interest in Benjamin, because he could not yet understand it. As the weeks rolled on, his employee grew to be more and more an object of curiosity.
"No; nor any body else," answered Benjamin. "I shall take the governor by surprise, so that he will have no time to get up a reception. I prefer the governor of Pennsylvania to the governor of Massachusetts."
If Keimer had known all the circumstances, he might have replied, "You have reason to feel so; for the governor of Massachusetts would rather see you in prison than running a printing house."
Benjamin purchased a nice suit of clothes, also a watch, before starting on his trip; and then had quite a sum of pocket money to take with him. He bade Mr. Keimer good-bye, took leave of the governor with many thanks for his kindness, receiving from him a long, complimentary letter to his father; nor did he forget to call upon the Bradford family, to make known his purpose and thank them again for their hospitality; and, of course, Mr. Read and family received a good share of his thankfulness, especially the daughter, in whom Benjamin had become quite interested.
Once on board the vessel, under way, Benjamin began to reflect upon his novel experiences. It appeared to him somewhat like a dream. He could hardly realize that he was on his way back to his home, by the governor's patronage. He took out the governor's letter to his father and read it. He found that it was very complimentary to himself, fully as much so as he had expected; and the prospects of a new printing house, under his care, were set forth strongly. He had scarcely finished reading the letter, when the vessel struck on a shoal; for they were not out of the bay yet. She sprung a leak, and there was considerable excitement on board before the crew could remedy the accident.
"A hard storm is near by," said the captain. "You will have a rough passage this time, young man," addressing Benjamin.
"Well, I am used to it; I have encountered as many storms as any body of my age," replied Benjamin figuratively, which the captain did not quite understand.
"Then you have followed the sea, have you?"
"No; I have followed the land mostly; but there are hard storms on the land, are there not?"
"Of course"; and the captain thought only of rain storms and snow storms when he answered.
"All I meant was," added Benjamin by way of explanation, "that I have had rather of a rough life so far; have seen a good deal of trouble for one of my years; and have rather got accustomed to rough usage. A storm at sea will only vary the experience a little. I think I can withstand it."
"You will have to stand it any way. Not much chance to choose when a storm overtakes us out to sea. If I am any judge of weather, a terrible storm is brewing, and it will be on us in a hurry."
"Well, I like the water; I meant to have become a sailor once, but my father put his veto on it. If I had been allowed my own way, I should have been serving before the mast now." Benjamin never spoke truer words than these.
"Hard life," responded the captain; "if I could live my life over again I should chose any thing on land rather than the best on the sea. I would not command a vessel another day, if there was any thing else I could do; but this is all I know."
They had scarcely emerged from the bay when the storm burst upon them. It was the beginning of a long, violent, tempestuous spell of weather, such as mariners encounter on the sea; a new and exciting experience to Benjamin.
"I have heard a great deal about storms at sea, and——"
"And you willseeone now," interrupted the captain. "What you haveheardabout it gives you a poor idea of the reality, compared withseeingit."
"I confess to a kind of desire to see a real hard one," answered Benjamin coolly. "If I should be frightened half out of my wits, I shall be as well off as the rest of you."
"The vessel is leaking badly," cried out one of the crew.
"Man the pumps," replied the captain. "Enough for all hands to do now."
"Including me," responded Benjamin. "I can do as much as any of you at the pump," and he went to work with the crew.
Suffice it to say, that the storm continued for days, tossing their small craft about like a shell, keeping all hands busy, night and day, sometimes the sea threatening to swallow the vessel and all it contained in its hungry maw. The vessel was two weeks on its way to Boston, encountering stormy weather nearly the whole time. Most of the voyage the leaky craft was kept from sinking by pumping, in which Benjamin took his turn, proving himself as efficient as any one of the crew; and he was as cool and self-possessed as any one of the number.