Benjamin Franklin, 1706-1790, was born in Boston. He received little
schooling, but being apprenticed to his brother, a printer, he acquired a
taste for reading and study. In 1723, he went to Philadelphia, where he
followed his chosen calling, and in time became the publisher of the
"Pennsylvania Gazette" and the celebrated "Poor Richard's Almanac."
As a philosopher Franklin was rendered famous by his discovery of the
identity of lightning with electricity. His career in public affairs may
be briefly summarized as follows: In 1736 he was made Clerk of the
Provincial Assembly; in 1737, deputy postmaster at Philadelphia; and in
1753, Postmaster general for British America. He was twice in England as
the agent of certain colonies. After signing the Declaration of
Independence, he was sent as Minister Plenipotentiary to France in 1776.
On his return, in 1785, he was made "President of the Commonwealth of
Pennsylvania," holding the office three years. He was also one of the
framers of the Constitution of the United States.
As a writer Franklin commenced his career when only twelve years old by
composing two ballads, which, however, he condemned as "wretched stuff."
Franklin's letters and papers on electricity, afterwards enlarged by
essays on various philosophical subjects, have been translated into Latin,
French, Italian, and German. The most noted of his works, and the one from
which the following extract is taken, is his "Autobiography." This book is
"one of the half dozen most widely popular books ever printed," and has
been published in nearly every written language. Franklin founded the
American Philosophical Society, and established an institution which has
since grown into the University of Pennsylvania. His life is a noble
example of the results of industry and perseverance, and his death was the
occasion of public mourning.
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Walking in the evening by the side of the river, a boat came by, which I
found was going towards Philadelphia, with several people in her. They
took me in, and, as there was no wind, we rowed all the way; and about
midnight, not having yet seen the city, some of the company were confident
we must have passed it, and would row no farther; the others knew not
where we were; so we put toward the shore, got into a creek, landed near
an old fence, with the rails of which we made a fire, the night being
cold, in October, and there we remained till daylight.
Then one of the company knew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a little
above Philadelphia, which we saw as soon as we got out of the creek, and
arrived there about eight or nine o'clock on the Sunday morning, and
landed at the Market Street wharf.
I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, and
shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your mind
compare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since made there.
I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come round by sea. I
was dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuffed out with shirts and
stockings, and I knew no soul nor where to look for lodging. I was
fatigued with traveling, rowing, and want of rest; I was very hungry; and
my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling
in copper. The latter I gave the people of the boat for my passage, who at
first refused it on account of my rowing; but I insisted on their taking
it,--a man being sometimes more generous when he has but a little money
than when he has plenty, perhaps through fear of being thought to have but
little.
Then I walked up the street gazing about, till, near the market house, I
met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and, inquiring
where he got it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to, in
Second Street, and asked for biscuit, intending such as we had in Boston:
but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a
threepenny loaf, and was told they had none such. So not considering or
knowing the difference of money, and the greater cheapness nor the names
of his bread, I bade him give threepenny worth of any sort. He gave me,
accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but
took it, and, having no room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under
each arm, and eating the other.
Thus I went up Market Street as far as Fourth Street, passing by the door
of Mr. Read, my future wife's father: when she, standing at the door, saw
me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous
appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut Street and part of Walnut
Street, eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found myself again
at Market Street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I went for a
draught of the river water; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave
the other two to a woman and her child that came down the river in the
boat with us, and were waiting to go farther.
Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time had many
clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. I joined
them, and thereby was led into the great meetinghouse of the Quakers, near
the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking round awhile and
hearing nothing said, being very drowsy through labor and want of rest the
preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till the meeting
broke up, when one was kind enough to rouse me. This was, therefore, the
first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia.
Walking down again toward the river, and looking in the faces of people, I
met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I liked, and, accosting him,
requested he would tell me where a stranger could get lodging. We were
then near the sign of the Three Mariners. "Here," says he, "is one place
that entertains strangers, but it is not a reputable house; if thee wilt
walk with me, I'll show thee a better." He brought me to the Crooked
Billet, in Water Street. Here I got a dinner; and, while I was eating it,
several sly questions were asked me, as it seemed to be suspected from my
youth and appearance that I might be some runaway. After dinner my
sleepiness returned, and, being shown to a bed, I lay down without
undressing, and slept till six in the evening; was called to supper, went
to bed again very early, and slept soundly till next morning.
NOTE.--The river referred to is the Delaware. Franklin was on his way from
Boston to Philadelphia, and had just walked from Amboy to Burlington, New
Jersey, a distance of fifty miles.