In a garret of her house there lived a maiden lady of seventy, in the

most retired manner, of whom my landlady gave me this account: that she

was a Roman Catholic, had been sent abroad when young, and lodg'd in a

nunnery with an intent of becoming a nun; but, the country not agreeing

with her, she returned to England, where, there being no nunnery, she

had vow'd to lead the life of a nun, as near as might be done in those

circumstances. Accordingly, she had given all her estate to charitable

uses, reserving only twelve pounds a year to live on, and out of this

sum she still gave a great deal in charity, living herself on

water-gruel only, and using no fire but to boil it. She had lived many

years in that garret, being permitted to remain there gratis by

successive Catholic tenants of the house below, as they deemed it a

blessing to have her there. A priest visited her to confess her every

day. "I have ask'd her," says my landlady, "how she, as she liv'd, could

possibly find so much employment for a confessor?" "Oh," said she, "it

is impossible to avoid vain thoughts." I was permitted once to visit

her. She was chearful and polite, and convers'd pleasantly. The room was

clean, but had no other furniture than a matras, a table with a crucifix

and book, a stool which she gave me to sit on, and a picture over the

chimney of Saint Veronica displaying her handkerchief, with the

miraculous figure of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she explained

to me with great seriousness. She look'd pale, but was never sick; and I

give it as another instance on how small an income life and health may

be supported.

At Watts's printing-house I contracted an acquaintance with an ingenious

young man, one Wygate, who, having wealthy relations, had been better

educated than most printers; was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and

lov'd reading. I taught him and a friend of his to swim at twice going

into the river, and they soon became good swimmers. They introduc'd me

to some gentlemen from the country, who went to Chelsea by water to see

the College and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our return, at the request

of the company, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and

leaped into the river, and swam from near Chelsea to Blackfryar's,

performing on the way many feats of activity, both upon and under water,

that surpris'd and pleas'd those to whom they were novelties.

I had from a child been ever delighted with this exercise, had studied

and practis'd all Thevenot's motions and positions, added some of my

own, aiming at the graceful and easy as well as the useful. All these I

took this occasion of exhibiting to the company, and was much flatter'd

by their admiration; and Wygate, who was desirous of becoming a master,

grew more and more attach'd to me on that account, as well as from the

similarity of our studies. He at length proposed to me travelling all

over Europe together, supporting ourselves everywhere by working at our

business. I was once inclined to it; but, mentioning it to my good

friend Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I had leisure,

he dissuaded me from it, advising me to think only of returning to

Pennsilvania, which he was now about to do.

I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerly

been in business at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of people,

compounded and went to America. There, by a close application to

business as a merchant, he acquir'd a plentiful fortune in a few years.

Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited his old creditors

to an entertainment, at which he thank'd them for the easy composition

they had favored him with, and, when they expected nothing but the

treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a

banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder with interest.

He now told me he was about to return to Philadelphia, and should carry

over a great quantity of goods in order to open a store there. He

propos'd to take me over as his clerk, to keep his books, in which he

would instruct me, copy his letters, and attend the store. He added

that, as soon as I should be acquainted with mercantile business, he

would promote me by sending me with a cargo of flour and bread, etc., to

the West Indies, and procure me commissions from others which would be

profitable; and, if I manag'd well, would establish me handsomely. The

thing pleas'd me; for I was grown tired of London, remembered with

pleasure the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania, and wish'd again

to see it; therefore I immediately agreed on the terms of fifty pounds a

year, Pennsylvania money; less, indeed, than my present gettings as a

compositor, but affording a better prospect.

I now took leave of printing, as I thought, for ever, and was daily

employed in my new business, going about with Mr. Denham among the

tradesmen to purchase various articles, and seeing them pack'd up, doing

errands, calling upon workmen to dispatch, etc.; and, when all was on

board, I had a few days' leisure. On one of these days, I was, to my

surprise, sent for by a great man I knew only by name, a Sir William

Wyndham, and I waited upon him. He had heard by some means or other of

my swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriar's, and of my teaching Wygate and

another young man to swim in a few hours. He had two sons, about to set

out on their travels; he wish'd to have them first taught swimming, and

proposed to gratify me handsomely if I would teach them. They were not

yet come to town, and my stay was uncertain, so I could not undertake

it; but, from this incident, I thought it likely that, if I were to

remain in England and open a swimming-school, I might get a good deal of

money; and it struck me so strongly, that, had the overture been sooner

made me, probably I should not so soon have returned to America. After

many years, you and I had something of more importance to do with one of

these sons of Sir William Wyndham, become Earl of Egremont, which I

shall mention in its place.

Thus I spent about eighteen months in London; most part of the time I

work'd hard at my business, and spent but little upon myself except in

seeing plays and in books. My friend Ralph had kept me poor; he owed me

about twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never likely to receive; a

great sum out of my small earnings! I lov'd him, notwithstanding, for he

had many amiable qualities. I had by no means improv'd my fortune; but I

had picked up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose conversation was

of great advantage to me; and I had read considerably.

We sail'd from Gravesend on the 23d of July, 1726. For the incidents of

the voyage, I refer you to my Journal, where you will find them all

minutely related. Perhaps the most important part of that journal is the

plan [5] to be found in it, which I formed at sea, for regulating my

future conduct in life. It is the more remarkable, as being formed when

I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite thro'

to old age.

[5] The "Journal" was printed by Sparks, from a copy made at Reading in

1787. But it does not contain the Plan.--Ed.

We landed in Philadelphia on the 11th of October, where I found sundry

alterations. Keith was no longer governor, being superseded by Major

Gordon. I met him walking the streets as a common citizen. He seem'd a

little asham'd at seeing me, but pass'd without saying anything. I

should have been as much asham'd at seeing Miss Read, had not her

friends, despairing with reason of my return after the receipt of my

letter, persuaded her to marry another, one Rogers, a potter, which was

done in my absence. With him, however, she was never happy, and soon

parted from him, refusing to cohabit with him or bear his name, it being

now said that he had another wife. He was a worthless fellow, tho' an

excellent workman, which was the temptation to her friends. He got into

debt, ran away in 1727 or 1728, went to the West Indies, and died there.

Keimer had got a better house, a shop well supply'd with stationery,

plenty of new types, a number of hands, tho' none good, and seem'd to

have a great deal of business.

Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street, where we open'd our goods; I

attended the business diligently, studied accounts, and grew, in a

little time, expert at selling. We lodg'd and boarded together; he

counsell'd me as a father, having a sincere regard for me. I respected

and lov'd him, and we might have gone on together very happy; but, in

the beginning of February, 1726-7, when I had just pass'd my

twenty-first year, we both were taken ill. My distemper was a pleurisy,

which very nearly carried me off. I suffered a good deal, gave up the

point in my own mind, and was rather disappointed when I found myself

recovering, regretting, in some degree, that I must now, some time or

other, have all that disagreeable work to do over again. I forget what

his distemper was; it held him a long time, and at length carried him

off. He left me a small legacy in a nuncupative will, as a token of his

kindness for me, and he left me once more to the wide world; for the

store was taken into the care of his executors, and my employment under

him ended.

My brother-in-law, Holmes, being now at Philadelphia, advised my return

to my business; and Keimer tempted me, with an offer of large wages by

the year, to come and take the management of his printing-house, that he

might better attend his stationer's shop. I had heard a bad character of

him in London from his wife and her friends, and was not fond of having

any more to do with him. I tri'd for farther employment as a merchant's

clerk; but, not readily meeting with any, I clos'd again with Keimer. I

found in his house these hands: Hugh Meredith, a Welsh Pensilvanian,

thirty years of age, bred to country work; honest, sensible, had a great

deal of solid observation, was something of a reader, but given to

drink. Stephen Potts, a young countryman of full age, bred to the same,

of uncommon natural parts, and great wit and humor, but a little idle.

These he had agreed with at extream low wages per week, to be rais'd a

shilling every three months, as they would deserve by improving in their

business; and the expectation of these high wages, to come on hereafter,

was what he had drawn them in with. Meredith was to work at press, Potts

at book-binding, which he, by agreement, was to teach them, though he

knew neither one nor t'other. John ------, a wild Irishman, brought up

to no business, whose service, for four years, Keimer had purchased from

the captain of a ship; he, too, was to be made a pressman. George Webb,

an Oxford scholar, whose time for four years he had likewise bought,

intending him for a compositor, of whom more presently; and David Harry,

a country boy, whom he had taken apprentice.

I soon perceiv'd that the intention of engaging me at wages so much

higher than he had been us'd to give, was, to have these raw, cheap

hands form'd thro' me; and, as soon as I had instructed them, then they

being all articled to him, he should be able to do without me. I went

on, however, very cheerfully, put his printing-house in order, which had

been in great confusion, and brought his hands by degrees to mind their

business and to do it better.

It was an odd thing to find an Oxford scholar in the situation of a

bought servant. He was not more than eighteen years of age, and gave me

this account of himself; that he was born in Gloucester, educated at a

grammar-school there, had been distinguish'd among the scholars for some

apparent superiority in performing his part, when they exhibited plays;

belong'd to the Witty Club there, and had written some pieces in prose

and verse, which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers; thence he

was sent to Oxford; where he continued about a year, but not well

satisfi'd, wishing of all things to see London, and become a player. At

length, receiving his quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas, instead of

discharging his debts he walk'd out of town, hid his gown in a furze

bush, and footed it to London, where, having no friend to advise him, he

fell into bad company, soon spent his guineas, found no means of being

introduc'd among the players, grew necessitous, pawn'd his cloaths, and

wanted bread. Walking the street very hungry, and not knowing what to do

with himself, a crimp's bill was put into his hand, offering immediate

entertainment and encouragement to such as would bind themselves to

serve in America. He went directly, sign'd the indentures, was put into

the ship, and came over, never writing a line to acquaint his friends

what was become of him. He was lively, witty, good-natur'd, and a

pleasant companion, but idle, thoughtless, and imprudent to the last

degree.

John, the Irishman, soon ran away; with the rest I began to live very

agreeably, for they all respected me the more, as they found Keimer

incapable of instructing them, and that from me they learned something

daily. We never worked on Saturday, that being Keimer's Sabbath, so I

had two days for reading. My acquaintance with ingenious people in the

town increased. Keimer himself treated me with great civility and

apparent regard, and nothing now made me uneasy but my debt to Vernon,

which I was yet unable to pay, being hitherto but a poor œconomist. He,

however, kindly made no demand of it.

Our printing-house often wanted sorts, and there was no letter-founder

in America; I had seen types cast at James's in London, but without much

attention to the manner; however, I now contrived a mould, made use of

the letters we had as puncheons, struck the matrices in lead, And thus

supply'd in a pretty tolerable way all deficiencies. I also engrav'd

several things on occasion; I made the ink; I was warehouseman, and

everything, and, in short, quite a factotum.

But, however serviceable I might be, I found that my services became

every day of less importance, as the other hands improv'd in the

business; and, when Keimer paid my second quarter's wages, he let me

know that he felt them too heavy, and thought I should make an

abatement. He grew by degrees less civil, put on more of the master,

frequently found fault, was captious, and seem'd ready for an

outbreaking. I went on, nevertheless, with a good deal of patience,

thinking that his encumber'd circumstances were partly the cause. At

length a trifle snapt our connections; for, a great noise happening near

the court-house, I put my head out of the window to see what was the

matter. Keimer, being in the street, look'd up and saw me, call'd out to

me in a loud voice and angry tone to mind my business, adding some

reproachful words, that nettled me the more for their publicity, all the

neighbors who were looking out on the same occasion being witnesses how

I was treated. He came up immediately into the printing-house, continu'd

the quarrel, high words pass'd on both sides, he gave me the quarter's

warning we had stipulated, expressing a wish that he had not been

oblig'd to so long a warning. I told him his wish was unnecessary, for I

would leave him that instant; and so, taking my hat, walk'd out of

doors, desiring Meredith, whom I saw below, to take care of some things

I left, and bring them to my lodgings.

Meredith came accordingly in the evening, when we talked my affair over.

He had conceiv'd a great regard for me, and was very unwilling that I

should leave the house while he remain'd in it. He dissuaded me from

returning to my native country, which I began to think of; he reminded

me that Keimer was in debt for all he possess'd; that his creditors

began to be uneasy; that he kept his shop miserably, sold often without

profit for ready money, and often trusted without keeping accounts; that

he must therefore fall, which would make a vacancy I might profit of. I

objected my want of money. He then let me know that his father had a

high opinion of me, and, from some discourse that had pass'd between

them, he was sure would advance money to set us up, if I would enter

into partnership with him. "My time," says he, "will be out with Keimer

in the spring; by that time we may have our press and types in from

London. I am sensible I am no workman; if you like it, your skill in the

business shall be set against the stock I furnish, and we will share the

profits equally."

The proposal was agreeable, and I consented; his father was in town and

approv'd of it; the more as he saw I had great influence with his son,

had prevail'd on him to abstain long from dram-drinking, and he hop'd

might break him off that wretched habit entirely, when we came to be so

closely connected. I gave an inventory to the father, who carry'd it to

a merchant; the things were sent for, the secret was to be kept till

they should arrive, and in the mean time I was to get work, if I could,

at the other printing-house. But I found no vacancy there, and so

remain'd idle a few days, when Keimer, on a prospect of being employ'd

to print some paper money in New Jersey, which would require cuts and

various types that I only could supply, and apprehending Bradford might

engage me and get the jobb from him, sent me a very civil message, that

old friends should not part for a few words, the effect of sudden

passion, and wishing me to return. Meredith persuaded me to comply, as

it would give more opportunity for his improvement under my daily

instructions; so I return'd, and we went on more smoothly than for some

time before. The New Jersey jobb was obtain'd, I contriv'd a copperplate

press for it, the first that had been seen in the country; I cut several

ornaments and checks for the bills. We went together to Burlington,

where I executed the whole to satisfaction; and he received so large a

sum for the work as to be enabled thereby to keep his head much longer

above water.

At Burlington I made an acquaintance with many principal people of the

province. Several of them had been appointed by the Assembly a committee

to attend the press, and take care that no more bills were printed than

the law directed. They were therefore, by turns, constantly with us, and

generally he who attended, brought with him a friend or two for company.

My mind having been much more improv'd by reading than Keimer's, I

suppose it was for that reason my conversation seem'd to be more valu'd.

They had me to their houses, introduced me to their friends, and show'd

me much civility; while he, tho' the master, was a little neglected. In

truth, he was an odd fish; ignorant of common life, fond of rudely

opposing receiv'd opinions, slovenly to extream dirtiness, enthusiastic

in some points of religion, and a little knavish withal.

We continu'd there near three months; and by that time I could reckon

among my acquired friends, Judge Allen, Samuel Bustill, the secretary of

the Province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, and several of the Smiths,

members of Assembly, and Isaac Decow, the surveyor-general. The latter

was a shrewd, sagacious old man, who told me that he began for himself,

when young, by wheeling clay for the brick-makers, learned to write

after he was of age, carri'd the chain for surveyors, who taught him

surveying, and he had now by his industry, acquir'd a good estate; and

says he, "I foresee that you will soon work this man out of business,

and make a fortune in it at Philadelphia." He had not then the least

intimation of my intention to set up there or anywhere. These friends

were afterwards of great use to me, as I occasionally was to some of

them. They all continued their regard for me as long as they lived.

Before I enter upon my public appearance in business, it may be well to

let you know the then state of my mind with regard to my principles and

morals, that you may see how far those influenc'd the future events of

my life. My parents had early given me religious impressions, and

brought me through my childhood piously in the Dissenting way. But I was

scarce fifteen, when, after doubting by turns of several points, as I

found them disputed in the different books I read, I began to doubt of

Revelation itself. Some books against Deism fell into my hands; they

were said to be the substance of sermons preached at Boyle's Lectures.

It happened that they wrought an effect on me quite contrary to what was

intended by them; for the arguments of the Deists, which were quoted to

be refuted, appeared to me much stronger than the refutations; in short,

I soon became a thorough Deist. My arguments perverted some others,

particularly Collins and Ralph; but, each of them having afterwards

wrong'd me greatly without the least compunction, and recollecting

Keith's conduct towards me (who was another freethinker), and my own

towards Vernon and Miss Read, which at times gave me great trouble, I

began to suspect that this doctrine, tho' it might be true, was not very

useful. My London pamphlet, which had for its motto these lines of

Dryden:

"Whatever is, is right. Though purblind man

Sees but a part o' the chain, the nearest link:

His eyes not carrying to the equal beam,

That poises all above;"

and from the attributes of God, his infinite wisdom, goodness and power,

concluded that nothing could possibly be wrong in the world, and that

vice and virtue were empty distinctions, no such things existing,

appear'd now not so clever a performance as I once thought it; and I

doubted whether some error had not insinuated itself unperceiv'd into my

argument, so as to infect all that follow'd, as is common in

metaphysical reasonings.

I grew convinc'd that truth, sincerity and integrity in dealings between

man and man were of the utmost importance to the felicity of life; and I

form'd written resolutions, which still remain in my journal book, to

practice them ever while I lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with

me, as such; but I entertain'd an opinion that, though certain actions

might not be bad because they were forbidden by it, or good because it

commanded them, yet probably these actions might be forbidden because

they were bad for us, or commanded because they were beneficial to us,

in their own natures, all the circumstances of things considered. And

this persuasion, with the kind hand of Providence, or some guardian

angel, or accidental favorable circumstances and situations, or all

together, preserved me, thro' this dangerous time of youth, and the

hazardous situations I was sometimes in among strangers, remote from the

eye and advice of my father, without any willful gross immorality or

injustice, that might have been expected from my want of religion. I say

willful, because the instances I have mentioned had something of

necessity in them, from my youth, inexperience, and the knavery of

others. I had therefore a tolerable character to begin the world with; I

valued it properly, and determin'd to preserve it.

We had not been long return'd to Philadelphia before the new types

arriv'd from London. We settled with Keimer, and left him by his consent

before he heard of it. We found a house to hire near the market, and

took it. To lessen the rent, which was then but twenty-four pounds a

year, tho' I have since known it to let for seventy, we took in Thomas

Godfrey, a glazier, and his family, who were to pay a considerable part

of it to us, and we to board with them. We had scarce opened our letters

and put our press in order, before George House, an acquaintance of

mine, brought a countryman to us, whom he had met in the street

inquiring for a printer. All our cash was now expended in the variety of

particulars we had been obliged to procure, and this countryman's five

shillings, being our first-fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me

more pleasure than any crown I have since earned; and the gratitude I

felt toward House has made me often more ready than perhaps I should

otherwise have been to assist young beginners.

There are croakers in every country, always boding its ruin. Such a one

then lived in Philadelphia; a person of note, an elderly man, with a

wise look and a very grave manner of speaking; his name was Samuel

Mickle. This gentleman, a stranger to me, stopt one day at my door, and

asked me if I was the young man who had lately opened a new

printing-house. Being answered in the affirmative, he said he was sorry

for me, because it was an expensive undertaking, and the expense would

be lost; for Philadelphia was a sinking place, the people already

half-bankrupts, or near being so; all appearances to the contrary, such

as new buildings and the rise of rents, being to his certain knowledge

fallacious; for they were, in fact, among the things that would soon

ruin us. And he gave me such a detail of misfortunes now existing, or

that were soon to exist, that he left me half melancholy. Had I known

him before I engaged in this business, probably I never should have done

it. This man continued to live in this decaying place, and to declaim in

the same strain, refusing for many years to buy a house there, because

all was going to destruction; and at last I had the pleasure of seeing

him give five times as much for one as he might have bought it for when

he first began his croaking.

I should have mentioned before, that, in the autumn of the preceding

year, I had form'd most of my ingenious acquaintance into a club of

mutual improvement, which we called the Junto; we met on Friday

evenings. The rules that I drew up required that every member, in his

turn, should produce one or more queries on any point of Morals,

Politics, or Natural Philosophy, to be discuss'd by the company; and

once in three months produce and read an essay of his own writing, on

any subject he pleased. Our debates were to be under the direction of a

president, and to be conducted in the sincere spirit of inquiry after

truth, without fondness for dispute, or desire of victory; and, to

prevent warmth, all expressions of positiveness in opinions, or direct

contradiction, were after some time made contraband, and prohibited

under small pecuniary penalties.

The first members were Joseph Breintnal, a copyer of deeds for the

scriveners, a good-natur'd, friendly, middle-ag'd man, a great lover of

poetry, reading all he could meet with, and writing some that was

tolerable; very ingenious in many little Nicknackeries, and of sensible

conversation.

Thomas Godfrey, a self-taught mathematician, great in his way, and

afterward inventor of what is now called Hadley's Quadrant. But he knew

little out of his way, and was not a pleasing companion; as, like most

great mathematicians I have met with, he expected universal precision in

everything said, or was for ever denying or distinguishing upon trifles,

to the disturbance of all conversation. He soon left us.

Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, afterwards surveyor-general, who lov'd

books, and sometimes made a few verses.

William Parsons, bred a shoemaker, but loving reading, had acquir'd a

considerable share of mathematics, which he first studied with a view to

astrology, that he afterwards laught at it. He also became

surveyor-general.

William Maugridge, a joiner, a most exquisite mechanic, and a solid,

sensible man.

Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb I have characteriz'd

before.

Robert Grace, a young gentleman of some fortune, generous, lively, and

witty; a lover of punning and of his friends.

And William Coleman, then a merchant's clerk, about my age, who had the

coolest, clearest head, the best heart, and the exactest morals of

almost any man I ever met with. He became afterwards a merchant of great

note, and one of our provincial judges. Our friendship continued without

interruption to his death, upward of forty years; and the club continued

almost as long, and was the best school of philosophy, morality, and

politics that then existed in the province; for our queries, which were

read the week preceding their discussion, put us upon reading with

attention upon the several subjects, that we might speak more to the

purpose; and here, too, we acquired better habits of conversation, every

thing being studied in our rules which might prevent our disgusting each

other. From hence the long continuance of the club, which I shall have

frequent occasion to speak further of hereafter.

But my giving this account of it here is to show something of the

interest I had, every one of these exerting themselves in recommending

business to us. Breintnal particularly procur'd us from the Quakers the

printing forty sheets of their history, the rest being to be done by

Keimer; and upon this we work'd exceedingly hard, for the price was low.

It was a folio, pro patria size, in pica, with long primer notes. I

compos'd of it a sheet a day, and Meredith worked it off at press; it

was often eleven at night, and sometimes later, before I had finished my

distribution for the next day's work, for the little jobbs sent in by

our other friends now and then put us back. But so determin'd I was to

continue doing a sheet a day of the folio, that one night, when, having

impos'd my forms, I thought my day's work over, one of them by accident

was broken, and two pages reduced to pi, I immediately distributed and

compos'd it over again before I went to bed; and this industry, visible

to our neighbors, began to give us character and credit; particularly, I

was told, that mention being made of the new printing-office at the

merchants' Every-night club, the general opinion was that it must fail,

there being already two printers in the place, Keimer and Bradford; but

Dr. Baird (whom you and I saw many years after at his native place, St.

Andrew's in Scotland) gave a contrary opinion: "For the industry of that

Franklin," says he, "is superior to any thing I ever saw of the kind; I

see him still at work when I go home from club, and he is at work again

before his neighbors are out of bed." This struck the rest, and we soon

after had offers from one of them to supply us with stationery; but as

yet we did not chuse to engage in shop business.

I mention this industry the more particularly and the more freely, tho'

it seems to be talking in my own praise, that those of my posterity, who

shall read it, may know the use of that virtue, when they see its

effects in my favour throughout this relation.

George Webb, who had found a female friend that lent him wherewith to

purchase his time of Keimer, now came to offer himself as a journeyman

to us. We could not then imploy him; but I foolishly let him know as a

secret that I soon intended to begin a newspaper, and might then have

work for him. My hopes of success, as I told him, were founded on this,

that the then only newspaper, printed by Bradford, was a paltry thing,

wretchedly manag'd, no way entertaining, and yet was profitable to him;

I therefore thought a good paper would scarcely fail of good

encouragement. I requested Webb not to mention it; but he told it to

Keimer, who immediately, to be beforehand with me, published proposals

for printing one himself, on which Webb was to be employ'd. I resented

this; and, to counteract them, as I could not yet begin our paper, I

wrote several pieces of entertainment for Bradford's paper, under the

title of the Busy Body, which Breintnal continu'd some months. By this

means the attention of the publick was fixed on that paper, and Keimer's

proposals, which we burlesqu'd and ridicul'd, were disregarded. He began

his paper, however, and, after carrying it on three quarters of a year,

with at most only ninety subscribers, he offered it to me for a trifle;

and I, having been ready some time to go on with it, took it in hand

directly; and it prov'd in a few years extremely profitable to me.

I perceive that I am apt to speak in the singular number, though our

partnership still continu'd; the reason may be that, in fact, the whole

management of the business lay upon me. Meredith was no compositor, a

poor pressman, and seldom sober. My friends lamented my connection with

him, but I was to make the best of it.

Our first papers made a quite different appearance from any before in

the province; a better type, and better printed; but some spirited

remarks of my writing, on the dispute then going on between Governor

Burnet and the Massachusetts Assembly, struck the principal people,

occasioned the paper and the manager of it to be much talk'd of, and in

a few weeks brought them all to be our subscribers.

Their example was follow'd by many, and our number went on growing

continually. This was one of the first good effects of my having learnt

a little to scribble; another was, that the leading men, seeing a

newspaper now in the hands of one who could also handle a pen, thought

it convenient to oblige and encourage me. Bradford still printed the

votes, and laws, and other publick business. He had printed an address

of the House to the governor, in a coarse, blundering manner, we

reprinted it elegantly and correctly, and sent one to every member. They

were sensible of the difference: it strengthened the hands of our

friends in the House, and they voted us their printers for the year

ensuing.

Among my friends in the House I must not forget Mr. Hamilton, before

mentioned, who was then returned from England, and had a seat in it. He

interested himself for me strongly in that instance, as he did in many

others afterward, continuing his patronage till his death. [6]

[6] I got his son once £500.--[Marg. note.]

Mr. Vernon, about this time, put me in mind of the debt I ow'd him, but

did not press me. I wrote him an ingenuous letter of acknowledgment,

crav'd his forbearance a little longer, which he allow'd me, and as soon

as I was able, I paid the principal with interest, and many thanks; so

that erratum was in some degree corrected.

But now another difficulty came upon me which I had never the least

reason to expect. Mr. Meredith's father, who was to have paid for our

printing-house, according to the expectations given me, was able to

advance only one hundred pounds currency, which had been paid; and a

hundred more was due to the merchant, who grew impatient, and su'd us

all. We gave bail, but saw that, if the money could not be rais'd in

time, the suit must soon come to a judgment and execution, and our

hopeful prospects must, with us, be ruined, as the press and letters

must be sold for payment, perhaps at half price.

In this distress two true friends, whose kindness I have never

forgotten, nor ever shall forget while I can remember any thing, came to

me separately, unknown to each other, and, without any application from

me, offering each of them to advance me all the money that should be

necessary to enable me to take the whole business upon myself, if that

should be practicable; but they did not like my continuing the

partnership with Meredith, who, as they said, was often seen drunk in

the streets, and playing at low games in alehouses, much to our

discredit. These two friends were William Coleman and Robert Grace. I

told them I could not propose a separation while any prospect remain'd

of the Merediths' fulfilling their part of our agreement, because I

thought myself under great obligations to them for what they had done,

and would do if they could; but, if they finally fail'd in their

performance, and our partnership must be dissolv'd, I should then think

myself at liberty to accept the assistance of my friends.

Thus the matter rested for some time, when I said to my partner,

"Perhaps your father is dissatisfied at the part you have undertaken in

this affair of ours, and is unwilling to advance for you and me what he

would for you alone. If that is the case, tell me, and I will resign the

whole to you, and go about my business." "No," said he, "my father has

really been disappointed, and is really unable; and I am unwilling to

distress him farther. I see this is a business I am not fit for. I was

bred a farmer, and it was a folly in me to come to town, and put myself,

at thirty years of age, an apprentice to learn a new trade. Many of our

Welsh people are going to settle in North Carolina, where land is cheap.

I am inclin'd to go with them, and follow my old employment. You may

find friends to assist you. If you will take the debts of the company

upon you; return to my father the hundred pound he has advanced; pay my

little personal debts, and give me thirty pounds and a new saddle, I

will relinquish the partnership, and leave the whole in your hands." I

agreed to this proposal: it was drawn up in writing, sign'd, and seal'd

immediately. I gave him what he demanded, and he went soon after to

Carolina, from whence he sent me next year two long letters, containing

the best account that had been given of that country, the climate, the

soil, husbandry, etc., for in those matters he was very judicious. I

printed them in the papers, and they gave great satisfaction to the

publick.

As soon as he was gone, I recurr'd to my two friends; and because I

would not give an unkind preference to either, I took half of what each

had offered and I wanted of one, and half of the other; paid off the

company's debts, and went on with the business in my own name,

advertising that the partnership was dissolved. I think this was in or

about the year 1729.

About this time there was a cry among the people for more paper money,

only fifteen thousand pounds being extant in the province, and that soon

to be sunk. The wealthy inhabitants oppos'd any addition, being against

all paper currency, from an apprehension that it would depreciate, as it

had done in New England, to the prejudice of all creditors. We had

discuss'd this point in our Junto, where I was on the side of an

addition, being persuaded that the first small sum struck in 1723 had

done much good by increasing the trade, employment, and number of

inhabitants in the province, since I now saw all the old houses

inhabited, and many new ones building: whereas I remembered well, that

when I first walk'd about the streets of Philadelphia, eating my roll, I

saw most of the houses in Walnut-street, between Second and Front

streets, with bills on their doors, "To be let"; and many likewise in

Chestnut-street and other streets, which made me then think the

inhabitants of the city were deserting it one after another.

Our debates possess'd me so fully of the subject, that I wrote and

printed an anonymous pamphlet on it, entitled "The Nature and Necessity

of a Paper Currency." It was well receiv'd by the common people in

general; but the rich men dislik'd it, for it increas'd and strengthen'd

the clamor for more money, and they happening to have no writers among

them that were able to answer it, their opposition slacken'd, and the

point was carried by a majority in the House. My friends there, who

conceiv'd I had been of some service, thought fit to reward me by

employing me in printing the money; a very profitable jobb and a great

help to me. This was another advantage gain'd by my being able to write.

The utility of this currency became by time and experience so evident as

never afterwards to be much disputed; so that it grew soon to fifty-five

thousand pounds, and in 1739 to eighty thousand pounds, since which it

arose during war to upwards of three hundred and fifty thousand pounds,

trade, building, and inhabitants all the while increasing, tho' I now

think there are limits beyond which the quantity may be hurtful.

I soon after obtain'd, thro' my friend Hamilton, the printing of the

Newcastle paper money, another profitable jobb as I then thought it;

small things appearing great to those in small circumstances; and these,

to me, were really great advantages, as they were great encouragements.

He procured for me, also, the printing of the laws and votes of that

government, which continu'd in my hands as long as I follow'd the

business.

I now open'd a little stationer's shop. I had in it blanks of all sorts,

the correctest that ever appear'd among us, being assisted in that by my

friend Breintnal. I had also paper, parchment, chapmen's books, etc. One

Whitemash, a compositor I had known in London, an excellent workman, now

came to me, and work'd with me constantly and diligently; and I took an

apprentice, the son of Aquila Rose.

I began now gradually to pay off the debt I was under for the

printing-house. In order to secure my credit and character as a

tradesman, I took care not only to be in reality industrious and frugal,

but to avoid all appearances to the contrary. I drest plainly; I was

seen at no places of idle diversion. I never went out a fishing or

shooting; a book, indeed, sometimes debauch'd me from my work, but that

was seldom, snug, and gave no scandal; and, to show that I was not above

my business, I sometimes brought home the paper I purchas'd at the

stores thro' the streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus being esteem'd an

industrious, thriving young man, and paying duly for what I bought, the

merchants who imported stationery solicited my custom; others proposed

supplying me with books, and I went on swimmingly. In the mean time,

Keimer's credit and business declining daily, he was at last forc'd to

sell his printing-house to satisfy his creditors. He went to Barbadoes,

and there lived some years in very poor circumstances.

His apprentice, David Harry, whom I had instructed while I work'd with

him, set up in his place at Philadelphia, having bought his materials. I

was at first apprehensive of a powerful rival in Harry, as his friends

were very able, and had a good deal of interest. I therefore propos'd a

partnership to him which he, fortunately for me, rejected with scorn. He

was very proud, dress'd like a gentleman, liv'd expensively, took much

diversion and pleasure abroad, ran in debt, and neglected his business;

upon which, all business left him; and, finding nothing to do, he

followed Keimer to Barbadoes, taking the printing-house with him. There

this apprentice employ'd his former master as a journeyman; they

quarrel'd often; Harry went continually behindhand, and at length was

forc'd to sell his types and return to his country work in Pensilvania.

The person that bought them employ'd Keimer to use them, but in a few

years he died.

There remained now no competitor with me at Philadelphia but the old

one, Bradford; who was rich and easy, did a little printing now and then

by straggling hands, but was not very anxious about the business.

However, as he kept the post-office, it was imagined he had better

opportunities of obtaining news; his paper was thought a better

distributer of advertisements than mine, and therefore had many more,

which was a profitable thing to him, and a disadvantage to me; for, tho'

I did indeed receive and send papers by the post, yet the publick

opinion was otherwise, for what I did send was by bribing the riders,

who took them privately, Bradford being unkind enough to forbid it,

which occasion'd some resentment on my part; and I thought so meanly of

him for it, that, when I afterward came into his situation, I took care

never to imitate it.

I had hitherto continu'd to board with Godfrey, who lived in part of my

house with his wife and children, and had one side of the shop for his

glazier's business, tho' he worked little, being always absorbed in his

mathematics. Mrs. Godfrey projected a match for me with a relation's

daughter, took opportunities of bringing us often together, till a

serious courtship on my part ensu'd, the girl being in herself very

deserving. The old folks encourag'd me by continual invitations to

supper, and by leaving us together, till at length it was time to

explain. Mrs. Godfrey manag'd our little treaty. I let her know that I

expected as much money with their daughter as would pay off my remaining

debt for the printing-house, which I believe was not then above a

hundred pounds. She brought me word they had no such sum to spare; I

said they might mortgage their house in the loan-office. The answer to

this, after some days, was, that they did not approve the match; that,

on inquiry of Bradford, they had been inform'd the printing business was

not a profitable one; the types would soon be worn out, and more wanted;

that S. Keimer and D. Harry had failed one after the other, and I should

probably soon follow them; and, therefore, I was forbidden the house,

and the daughter shut up.

Whether this was a real change of sentiment or only artifice, on a

supposition of our being too far engaged in affection to retract, and

therefore that we should steal a marriage, which would leave them at

liberty to give or withhold what they pleas'd, I know not; but I

suspected the latter, resented it, and went no more. Mrs. Godfrey

brought me afterward some more favorable accounts of their disposition,

and would have drawn me on again; but I declared absolutely my

resolution to have nothing more to do with that family. This was

resented by the Godfreys; we differ'd, and they removed, leaving me the

whole house, and I resolved to take no more inmates.

But this affair having turned my thoughts to marriage, I look'd round me

and made overtures of acquaintance in other places; but soon found that,

the business of a printer being generally thought a poor one, I was not

to expect money with a wife, unless with such a one as I should not

otherwise think agreeable. In the mean time, that hard-to-be-governed

passion of youth hurried me frequently into intrigues with low women

that fell in my way, which were attended with some expense and great

inconvenience, besides a continual risque to my health by a distemper

which of all things I dreaded, though by great good luck I escaped it. A

friendly correspondence as neighbors and old acquaintances had continued

between me and Mrs. Read's family, who all had a regard for me from the

time of my first lodging in their house. I was often invited there and

consulted in their affairs, wherein I sometimes was of service. I piti'd

poor Miss Read's unfortunate situation, who was generally dejected,

seldom cheerful, and avoided company. I considered my giddiness and

inconstancy when in London as in a great degree the cause of her

unhappiness, tho' the mother was good enough to think the fault more her

own than mine, as she had prevented our marrying before I went thither,

and persuaded the other match in my absence. Our mutual affection was

revived, but there were now great objections to our union. The match was

indeed looked upon as invalid, a preceding wife being said to be living

in England; but this could not easily be prov'd, because of the

distance; and, tho' there was a report of his death, it was not certain.

Then, tho' it should be true, he had left many debts, which his

successor might be call'd upon to pay. We ventured, however, over all

these difficulties, and I took her to wife, September 1st, 1730. None of

the inconveniences happened that we had apprehended; she proved a good

and faithful helpmate, assisted me much by attending the shop; we throve

together, and have ever mutually endeavored to make each other happy.

Thus I corrected that great erratum as well as I could.

About this time, our club meeting, not at a tavern, but in a little room

of Mr. Grace's, set apart for that purpose, a proposition was made by

me, that, since our books were often referr'd to in our disquisitions

upon the queries, it might be convenient to us to have them altogether

where we met, that upon occasion they might be consulted; and by thus

clubbing our books to a common library, we should, while we lik'd to

keep them together, have each of us the advantage of using the books of

all the other members, which would be nearly as beneficial as if each

owned the whole. It was lik'd and agreed to, and we fill'd one end of

the room with such books as we could best spare. The number was not so

great as we expected; and tho' they had been of great use, yet some

inconveniences occurring for want of due care of them, the collection,

after about a year, was separated, and each took his books home again.

And now I set on foot my first project of a public nature, that for a

subscription library. I drew up the proposals, got them put into form by

our great scrivener, Brockden, and, by the help of my friends in the

Junto, procured fifty subscribers of forty shillings each to begin with,

and ten shillings a year for fifty years, the term our company was to

continue. We afterwards obtain'd a charter, the company being increased

to one hundred: this was the mother of all the North American

subscription libraries, now so numerous. It is become a great thing

itself, and continually increasing. These libraries have improved the

general conversation of the Americans, made the common tradesmen and

farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from other countries, and

perhaps have contributed in some degree to the stand so generally made

throughout the colonies in defense of their privileges.

Memo. Thus far was written with the intention express'd in the beginning

and therefore contains several little family anecdotes of no importance

to others. What follows was written many years after in compliance with

the advice contain'd in these letters, and accordingly intended for the

public. The affairs of the Revolution occasion'd the interruption.

Letter from Mr. Abel James,

with Notes of my Life (received in Paris).

"My Dear and Honored Friend: I have often been desirous of writing to

thee, but could not be reconciled to the thought that the letter might

fall into the hands of the British, lest some printer or busy-body

should publish some part of the contents, and give our friend pain, and

myself censure.

"Some time since there fell into my hands, to my great joy, about

twenty-three sheets in thy own handwriting, containing an account of the

parentage and life of thyself, directed to thy son, ending in the year

1730, with which there were notes, likewise in thy writing; a copy of

which I inclose, in hopes it may be a means, if thou continued it up to

a later period, that the first and latter part may be put together; and

if it is not yet continued, I hope thee will not delay it. Life is

uncertain, as the preacher tells us; and what will the world say if

kind, humane, and benevolent Ben. Franklin should leave his friends and

the world deprived of so pleasing and profitable a work; a work which

would be useful and entertaining not only to a few, but to millions? The

influence writings under that class have on the minds of youth is very

great, and has nowhere appeared to me so plain, as in our public

friend's journals. It almost insensibly leads the youth into the

resolution of endeavoring to become as good and eminent as the

journalist. Should thine, for instance, when published (and I think it

could not fail of it), lead the youth to equal the industry and

temperance of thy early youth, what a blessing with that class would

such a work be! I know of no character living, nor many of them put

together, who has so much in his power as thyself to promote a greater

spirit of industry and early attention to business, frugality, and

temperance with the American youth. Not that I think the work would have

no other merit and use in the world, far from it; but the first is of

such vast importance that I know nothing that can equal it."

The foregoing letter and the minutes accompanying it being shown to a

friend, I received from him the following:

Letter from Mr. Benjamin Vaughan.

"Paris, January 31, 1783.

"My Dearest Sir: When I had read over your sheets of minutes of the

principal incidents of your life, recovered for you by your Quaker

acquaintance, I told you I would send you a letter expressing my reasons

why I thought it would be useful to complete and publish it as he

desired. Various concerns have for some time past prevented this letter

being written, and I do not know whether it was worth any expectation;

happening to be at leisure, however, at present, I shall by writing, at

least interest and instruct myself; but as the terms I am inclined to

use may tend to offend a person of your manners, I shall only tell you

how I would address any other person, who was as good and as great as

yourself, but less diffident. I would say to him, Sir, I solicit the

history of your life from the following motives: Your history is so

remarkable, that if you do not give it, somebody else will certainly

give it; and perhaps so as nearly to do as much harm, as your own

management of the thing might do good. It will moreover present a table

of the internal circumstances of your country, which will very much tend

to invite to it settlers of virtuous and manly minds. And considering

the eagerness with which such information is sought by them, and the

extent of your reputation, I do not know of a more efficacious

advertisement than your biography would give. All that has happened to

you is also connected with the detail of the manners and situation of a

rising people; and in this respect I do not think that the writings of

Cæsar and Tacitus can be more interesting to a true judge of human

nature and society. But these, sir, are small reasons, in my opinion,

compared with the chance which your life will give for the forming of

future great men; and in conjunction with your Art of Virtue (which you

design to publish) of improving the features of private character, and

consequently of aiding all happiness, both public and domestic. The two

works I allude to, sir, will in particular give a noble rule and example

of self-education. School and other education constantly proceed upon

false principles, and show a clumsy apparatus pointed at a false mark;

but your apparatus is simple, and the mark a true one; and while parents

and young persons are left destitute of other just means of estimating

and becoming prepared for a reasonable course in life, your discovery

that the thing is in many a man's private power, will be invaluable!

Influence upon the private character, late in life, is not only an

influence late in life, but a weak influence. It is in youth that we

plant our chief habits and prejudices; it is in youth that we take our

party as to profession, pursuits and matrimony. In youth, therefore, the

turn is given; in youth the education even of the next generation is

given; in youth the private and public character is determined; and the

term of life extending but from youth to age, life ought to begin well

from youth, and more especially before we take our party as to our

principal objects. But your biography will not merely teach

self-education, but the education of a wise man; and the wisest man will

receive lights and improve his progress, by seeing detailed the conduct

of another wise man. And why are weaker men to be deprived of such

helps, when we see our race has been blundering on in the dark, almost

without a guide in this particular, from the farthest trace of time?

Show then, sir, how much is to be done, both to sons and fathers; and

invite all wise men to become like yourself, and other men to become

wise. When we see how cruel statesmen and warriors can be to the human

race, and how absurd distinguished men can be to their acquaintance, it

will be instructive to observe the instances multiply of pacific,

acquiescing manners; and to find how compatible it is to be great and

domestic, enviable and yet good-humored.

"The little private incidents which you will also have to relate, will

have considerable use, as we want, above all things, rules of prudence

in ordinary affairs; and it will be curious to see how you have acted in

these. It will be so far a sort of key to life, and explain many things

that all men ought to have once explained to them, to give them a chance

of becoming wise by foresight. The nearest thing to having experience of

one's own, is to have other people's affairs brought before us in a

shape that is interesting; this is sure to happen from your pen; our

affairs and management will have an air of simplicity or importance that

will not fail to strike; and I am convinced you have conducted them with

as much originality as if you had been conducting discussions in

politics or philosophy; and what more worthy of experiments and system

(its importance and its errors considered) than human life?

"Some men have been virtuous blindly, others have speculated

fantastically, and others have been shrewd to bad purposes; but you,

sir, I am sure, will give under your hand, nothing but what is at the

same moment, wise, practical and good. Your account of yourself (for I

suppose the parallel I am drawing for Dr. Franklin, will hold not only

in point of character, but of private history) will show that you are

ashamed of no origin; a thing the more important, as you prove how

little necessary all origin is to happiness, virtue, or greatness. As no

end likewise happens without a means, so we shall find, sir, that even

you yourself framed a plan by which you became considerable; but at the

same time we may see that though the event is flattering, the means are

as simple as wisdom could make them; that is, depending upon nature,

virtue, thought and habit. Another thing demonstrated will be the

propriety of every man's waiting for his time for appearing upon the

stage of the world. Our sensations being very much fixed to the moment,

we are apt to forget that more moments are to follow the first, and

consequently that man should arrange his conduct so as to suit the whole

of a life. Your attribution appears to have been applied to your life,

and the passing moments of it have been enlivened with content and

enjoyment, instead of being tormented with foolish impatience or

regrets. Such a conduct is easy for those who make virtue and themselves

in countenance by examples of other truly great men, of whom patience is

so often the characteristic. Your Quaker correspondent, sir (for here

again I will suppose the subject of my letter resembling Dr. Franklin),

praised your frugality, diligence and temperance, which he considered as

a pattern for all youth; but it is singular that he should have

forgotten your modesty and your disinterestedness, without which you

never could have waited for your advancement, or found your situation in

the mean time comfortable; which is a strong lesson to show the poverty

of glory and the importance of regulating our minds. If this

correspondent had known the nature of your reputation as well as I do,

he would have said, Your former writings and measures would secure

attention to your Biography, and Art of Virtue; and your Biography and

Art of Virtue, in return, would secure attention to them. This is an

advantage attendant upon a various character, and which brings all that

belongs to it into greater play; and it is the more useful, as perhaps

more persons are at a loss for the means of improving their minds and

characters, than they are for the time or the inclination to do it. But

there is one concluding reflection, sir, that will shew the use of your

life as a mere piece of biography. This style of writing seems a little

gone out of vogue, and yet it is a very useful one; and your specimen of

it may be particularly serviceable, as it will make a subject of

comparison with the lives of various public cutthroats and intriguers,

and with absurd monastic self-tormentors or vain literary triflers. If

it encourages more writings of the same kind with your own, and induces

more men to spend lives fit to be written, it will be worth all

Plutarch's Lives put together. But being tired of figuring to myself a

character of which every feature suits only one man in the world,

without giving him the praise of it, I shall end my letter, my dear Dr.

Franklin, with a personal application to your proper self. I am

earnestly desirous, then, my dear sir, that you should let the world

into the traits of your genuine character, as civil broils may otherwise

tend to disguise or traduce it. Considering your great age, the caution

of your character, and your peculiar style of thinking, it is not likely

that any one besides yourself can be sufficiently master of the facts of

your life, or the intentions of your mind. Besides all this, the immense

revolution of the present period, will necessarily turn our attention

towards the author of it, and when virtuous principles have been

pretended in it, it will be highly important to shew that such have

really influenced; and, as your own character will be the principal one

to receive a scrutiny, it is proper (even for its effects upon your vast

and rising country, as well as upon England and upon Europe) that it

should stand respectable and eternal. For the furtherance of human

happiness, I have always maintained that it is necessary to prove that

man is not even at present a vicious and detestable animal; and still

more to prove that good management may greatly amend him; and it is for

much the same reason, that I am anxious to see the opinion established,

that there are fair characters existing among the individuals of the

race; for the moment that all men, without exception, shall be conceived

abandoned, good people will cease efforts deemed to be hopeless, and

perhaps think of taking their share in the scramble of life, or at least

of making it comfortable principally for themselves. Take then, my dear

sir, this work most speedily into hand: shew yourself good as you are

good; temperate as you are temperate; and above all things, prove

yourself as one, who from your infancy have loved justice, liberty and

concord, in a way that has made it natural and consistent for you to

have acted, as we have seen you act in the last seventeen years of your

life. Let Englishmen be made not only to respect, but even to love you.

When they think well of individuals in your native country, they will go

nearer to thinking well of your country; and when your countrymen see

themselves well thought of by Englishmen, they will go nearer to

thinking well of England. Extend your views even further; do not stop at

those who speak the English tongue, but after having settled so many

points in nature and politics, think of bettering the whole race of men.

As I have not read any part of the life in question, but know only the

character that lived it, I write somewhat at hazard. I am sure, however,

that the life and the treatise I allude to (on the Art of Virtue) will

necessarily fulfil the chief of my expectations; and still more so if

you take up the measure of suiting these performances to the several

views above stated. Should they even prove unsuccessful in all that a

sanguine admirer of yours hopes from them, you will at least have framed

pieces to interest the human mind; and whoever gives a feeling of

pleasure that is innocent to man, has added so much to the fair side of

a life otherwise too much darkened by anxiety and too much injured by

pain. In the hope, therefore, that you will listen to the prayer

addressed to you in this letter, I beg to subscribe myself, my dearest

sir, etc., etc.,

"Signed, Benj. Vaughan."

Continuation of the Account of my Life, begun at Passy, near Paris,

1784.

It is some time since I receiv'd the above letters, but I have been too

busy till now to think of complying with the request they contain. It

might, too, be much better done if I were at home among my papers, which

would aid my memory, and help to ascertain dates; but my return being

uncertain and having just now a little leisure, I will endeavor to

recollect and write what I can; if I live to get home, it may there be

corrected and improv'd.

Not having any copy here of what is already written, I know not whether

an account is given of the means I used to establish the Philadelphia

public library, which, from a small beginning, is now become so

considerable, though I remember to have come down to near the time of

that transaction (1730). I will therefore begin here with an account of

it, which may be struck out if found to have been already given.

At the time I establish'd myself in Pennsylvania, there was not a good

bookseller's shop in any of the colonies to the southward of Boston. In

New York and Philad'a the printers were indeed stationers; they sold

only paper, etc., almanacs, ballads, and a few common school-books.

Those who lov'd reading were oblig'd to send for their books from

England; the members of the Junto had each a few. We had left the

alehouse, where we first met, and hired a room to hold our club in. I

propos'd that we should all of us bring our books to that room, where

they would not only be ready to consult in our conferences, but become a

common benefit, each of us being at liberty to borrow such as he wish'd

to read at home. This was accordingly done, and for some time contented

us.

Finding the advantage of this little collection, I propos'd to render

the benefit from books more common, by commencing a public subscription

library. I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that would be necessary,

and got a skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brockden, to put the whole in

form of articles of agreement to be subscribed, by which each subscriber

engag'd to pay a certain sum down for the first purchase of books, and

an annual contribution for increasing them. So few were the readers at

that time in Philadelphia, and the majority of us so poor, that I was

not able, with great industry; to find more than fifty persons, mostly

young tradesmen, willing to pay down for this purpose forty shillings

each, and ten shillings per annum. On this little fund we began. The

books were imported; the library was opened one day in the week for

lending to the subscribers, on their promissory notes to pay double the

value if not duly returned. The institution soon manifested its utility,

was imitated by other towns, and in other provinces. The libraries were

augmented by donations; reading became fashionable; and our people,

having no publick amusements to divert their attention from study,

became better acquainted with books, and in a few years were observ'd by

strangers to be better instructed and more intelligent than people of

the same rank generally are in other countries.

When we were about to sign the above-mentioned articles, which were to

be binding upon us, our heirs, etc., for fifty years, Mr. Brockden, the

scrivener, said to us, "You are young men, but it is scarcely probable

that any of you will live to see the expiration of the term fix'd in the

instrument." A number of us, however, are yet living; but the instrument

was after a few years rendered null by a charter that incorporated and

gave perpetuity to the company.

The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting the

subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of presenting one's

self as the proposer of any useful project, that might be suppos'd to

raise one's reputation in the smallest degree above that of one's

neighbors, when one has need of their assistance to accomplish that

project. I therefore put myself as much as I could out of sight, and

stated it as a scheme of a number of friends, who had requested me to go

about and propose it to such as they thought lovers of reading. In this

way my affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after practis'd it on

such occasions; and, from my frequent successes, can heartily recommend

it. The present little sacrifice of your vanity will afterwards be amply

repaid. If it remains a while uncertain to whom the merit belongs, some

one more vain than yourself will be encouraged to claim it, and then

even envy will be disposed to do you justice by plucking those assumed

feathers, and restoring them to their right owner.

This library afforded me the means of improvement by constant study, for

which I set apart an hour or two each day, and thus repair'd in some

degree the loss of the learned education my father once intended for me.

Reading was the only amusement I allow'd myself. I spent no time in

taverns, games, or frolicks of any kind; and my industry in my business

continu'd as indefatigable as it was necessary. I was indebted for my

printing-house; I had a young family coming on to be educated, and I had

to contend with for business two printers, who were established in the

place before me. My circumstances, however, grew daily easier. My

original habits of frugality continuing, and my father having, among his

instructions to me when a boy, frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon,

"Seest thou a man diligent in his calling, he shall stand before kings,

he shall not stand before mean men," I from thence considered industry

as a means of obtaining wealth and distinction, which encourag'd me,

tho' I did not think that I should ever literally stand before kings,

which, however, has since happened; for I have stood before five, and

even had the honor of sitting down with one, the King of Denmark, to

dinner.

We have an English proverb that says, "He that would thrive, must ask

his wife." It was lucky for me that I had one as much dispos'd to

industry and frugality as myself. She assisted me cheerfully in my

business, folding and stitching pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old

linen rags for the papermakers, etc., etc. We kept no idle servants, our

table was plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest. For instance,

my breakfast was a long time bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it out

of a twopenny earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon. But mark how

luxury will enter families, and make a progress, in spite of principle:

being call'd one morning to breakfast, I found it in a China bowl, with

a spoon of silver! They had been bought for me without my knowledge by

my wife, and had cost her the enormous sum of three-and-twenty

shillings, for which she had no other excuse or apology to make, but

that she thought her husband deserv'd a silver spoon and China bowl as

well as any of his neighbors. This was the first appearance of plate and

China in our house, which afterward, in a course of years, as our wealth

increas'd, augmented gradually to several hundred pounds in value.

I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; and tho' some of the

dogmas of that persuasion, such as the eternal decrees of God, election,

reprobation, etc., appeared to me unintelligible, others doubtful, and I

early absented myself from the public assemblies of the sect, Sunday

being my studying day, I never was without some religious principles. I

never doubted, for instance, the existence of the Deity; that he made

the world, and govern'd it by his Providence; that the most acceptable

service of God was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal;

and that all crime will be punished, and virtue rewarded, either here or

hereafter. These I esteem'd the essentials of every religion; and, being

to be found in all the religions we had in our country, I respected them

all, tho' with different degrees of respect, as I found them more or

less mix'd with other articles, which, without any tendency to inspire,

promote, or confirm morality, serv'd principally to divide us, and make

us unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion that

the worst had some good effects, induc'd me to avoid all discourse that

might tend to lessen the good opinion another might have of his own

religion; and as our province increas'd in people, and new places of

worship were continually wanted, and generally erected by voluntary

contributions, my mite for such purpose, whatever might be the sect, was

never refused.

Tho' I seldom attended any public worship, I had still an opinion of its

propriety, and of its utility when rightly conducted, and I regularly

paid my annual subscription for the support of the only Presbyterian

minister or meeting we had in Philadelphia. He us'd to visit me

sometimes as a friend, and admonish me to attend his administrations,

and I was now and then prevail'd on to do so, once for five Sundays

successively. Had he been in my opinion a good preacher, perhaps I might

have continued, notwithstanding the occasion I had for the Sunday's

leisure in my course of study; but his discourses were chiefly either

polemic arguments, or explications of the peculiar doctrines of our

sect, and were all to me very dry, uninteresting, and unedifying, since

not a single moral principle was inculcated or enforc'd, their aim

seeming to be rather to make us Presbyterians than good citizens.

At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth chapter of

Philippians, "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, honest,

just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there be any virtue, or any

praise, think on these things." And I imagin'd, in a sermon on such a

text, we could not miss of having some morality. But he confin'd himself

to five points only, as meant by the apostle, viz.: 1. Keeping holy the

Sabbath day. 2. Being diligent in reading the holy Scriptures. 3.

Attending duly the publick worship. 4. Partaking of the Sacrament. 5.

Paying a due respect to God's ministers. These might be all good things;

but, as they were not the kind of good things that I expected from that

text, I despaired of ever meeting with them from any other, was

disgusted, and attended his preaching no more. I had some years before

compos'd a little Liturgy, or form of prayer, for my own private use

(viz., in 1728), entitled, Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion. I

return'd to the use of this, and went no more to the public assemblies.

My conduct might be blameable, but I leave it, without attempting

further to excuse it; my present purpose being to relate facts, and not

to make apologies for them.

It was about this time I conceiv'd the bold and arduous project of

arriving at moral perfection. I wish'd to live without committing any

fault at any time; I would conquer all that either natural inclination,

custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew,

what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the

one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had undertaken a task of

more difficulty than I had imagined. While my care was employ'd in

guarding against one fault, I was often surprised by another; habit took

the advantage of inattention; inclination was sometimes too strong for

reason. I concluded, at length, that the mere speculative conviction

that it was our interest to be completely virtuous, was not sufficient

to prevent our slipping; and that the contrary habits must be broken,

and good ones acquired and established, before we can have any

dependence on a steady, uniform rectitude of conduct. For this purpose I

therefore contrived the following method.

In the various enumerations of the moral virtues I had met with in my

reading, I found the catalogue more or less numerous, as different

writers included more or fewer ideas under the same name. Temperance,

for example, was by some confined to eating and drinking, while by

others it was extended to mean the moderating every other pleasure,

appetite, inclination, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our avarice

and ambition. I propos'd to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use

rather more names, with fewer ideas annex'd to each, than a few names

with more ideas; and I included under thirteen names of virtues all that

at that time occurr'd to me as necessary or desirable, and annexed to

each a short precept, which fully express'd the extent I gave to its

meaning.

These names of virtues, with their precepts, were:

1. Temperance.

Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.

2. Silence.

Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling

conversation.

3. Order.

Let all your things have their places; let each part of your

business have its time.

4. Resolution.

Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you

resolve.

5. Frugality.

Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste

nothing.

6. Industry.

Lose no time; be always employ'd in something useful; cut off all

unnecessary actions.

7. Sincerity.

Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you

speak, speak accordingly.

8. Justice.

Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your

duty.

9. Moderation.

Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they

deserve.

10. Cleanliness.

Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation.

11. Tranquillity.

Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.

12. Chastity.

Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness,

weakness, or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation.

13. Humility.

Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

My intention being to acquire the habitude of all these virtues, I

judg'd it would be well not to distract my attention by attempting the

whole at once, but to fix it on one of them at a time; and, when I

should be master of that, then to proceed to another, and so on, till I

should have gone thro' the thirteen; and, as the previous acquisition of

some might facilitate the acquisition of certain others, I arrang'd them

with that view, as they stand above. Temperance first, as it tends to

procure that coolness and clearness of head, which is so necessary where

constant vigilance was to be kept up, and guard maintained against the

unremitting attraction of ancient habits, and the force of perpetual

temptations. This being acquir'd and establish'd, Silence would be more

easy; and my desire being to gain knowledge at the same time that I

improv'd in virtue, and considering that in conversation it was obtain'd

rather by the use of the ears than of the tongue, and therefore wishing

to break a habit I was getting into of prattling, punning, and joking,

which only made me acceptable to trifling company, I gave Silence the

second place. This and the next, Order, I expected would allow me more

time for attending to my project and my studies. Resolution, once become

habitual, would keep me firm in my endeavors to obtain all the

subsequent virtues; Frugality and Industry freeing me from my remaining

debt, and producing affluence and independence, would make more easy the

practice of Sincerity and Justice, etc., etc. Conceiving then, that,

agreeably to the advice of Pythagoras in his Golden Verses, daily

examination would be necessary, I contrived the following method for

conducting that examination.

I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each of the

virtues. I rul'd each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns,

one for each day of the week, marking each column with a letter for the

day. I cross'd these columns with thirteen red lines, marking the

beginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues, on

which line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black

spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been committed

respecting that virtue upon that day.

Form of the pages.

TEMPERANCE.

eat not to dulness;

drink not to elevation.

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

T.

S. • • • •

O. •• • • • • •

R. • •

F. • •

I. •

S.

J.

M.

C.

T.

C.

H.

I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of the virtues

successively. Thus, in the first week, my great guard was to avoid every

the least offence against Temperance, leaving the other virtues to their

ordinary chance, only marking every evening the faults of the day. Thus,

if in the first week I could keep my first line, marked T, clear of

spots, I suppos'd the habit of that virtue so much strengthen'd, and its

opposite weaken'd, that I might venture extending my attention to

include the next, and for the following week keep both lines clear of

spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could go thro' a course compleat

in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. And like him who, having

a garden to weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at

once, which would exceed his reach and his strength, but works on one of

the beds at a time, and, having accomplish'd the first, proceeds to a

second, so I should have, I hoped, the encouraging pleasure of seeing on

my pages the progress I made in virtue, by clearing successively my

lines of their spots, till in the end, by a number of courses, I should

be happy in viewing a clean book, after a thirteen weeks' daily

examination.

This my little book had for its motto these lines from Addison's Cato:

"Here will I hold. If there's a power above us

(And that there is, all nature cries aloud

Thro' all her works), He must delight in virtue;

And that which he delights in must be happy."

Another from Cicero,

"O vitæ Philosophia dux! O virtutum indagatrix expultrixque vitiorum!

Unus dies, bene et ex præceptis tuis actus, peccanti immortalitati est

anteponendus."

Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, speaking of wisdom or virtue:

"Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and

honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace."

iii. 16, 17.

And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought it right and

necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it; to this end I

formed the following little prayer, which was prefix'd to my tables of

examination, for daily use.

"O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guide! Increase in me

that wisdom which discovers my truest interest. Strengthen my

resolutions to perform what that wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices

to thy other children as the only return in my power for thy continual

favors to me."

I used also sometimes a little prayer which I took from Thomson's Poems,

viz.:

"Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme!

O teach me what is good; teach me Thyself!

Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,

From every low pursuit; and fill my soul

With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure;

Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss!"

The precept of Order requiring that every part of my business should

have its allotted time, one page in my little book contain'd the

following scheme of employment for the twenty-four hours of a natural

day:

THE MORNING. { 5} Rise, wash, and address Powerful

Question. { 6} Goodness! Contrive day's

What good shall { } business, and take the resolution

I do this day? { 7} of the day; prosecute the present

{ } study, and breakfast.

8}

9}

10} Work.

11}

NOON. {12} Read, or overlook my accounts,

{ 1} and dine.

2}

3} Work.

4}

5}

EVENING. { 6} Put things in their places.

Question. { 7} Supper. Music or diversion, or

What good have { 8} conversation. Examination of

I done to-day? { 9} the day.

{10}

{11}

{12}

NIGHT. { 1} Sleep.

{ 2}

{ 3}

{ 4}

I enter'd upon the execution of this plan for self-examination, and

continu'd it with occasional intermissions for some time. I was

surpris'd to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined;

but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. To avoid the trouble

of renewing now and then my little book, which, by scraping out the

marks on the paper of old faults to make room for new ones in a new

course, became full of holes, I transferr'd my tables and precepts to

the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines were drawn

with red ink, that made a durable stain, and on those lines I mark'd my

faults with a black-lead pencil, which marks I could easily wipe out

with a wet sponge. After a while I went thro' one course only in a year,

and afterward only one in several years, till at length I omitted them

entirely, being employ'd in voyages and business abroad, with a

multiplicity of affairs that interfered; but I always carried my little

book with me.

My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble; and I found that, tho' it

might be practicable where a man's business was such as to leave him the

disposition of his time, that of a journeyman printer, for instance, it

was not possible to be exactly observed by a master, who must mix with

the world, and often receive people of business at their own hours.

Order, too, with regard to places for things, papers, etc., I found

extreamly difficult to acquire. I had not been early accustomed to it,

and, having an exceeding good memory, I was not so sensible of the

inconvenience attending want of method. This article, therefore, cost me

so much painful attention, and my faults in it vexed me so much, and I

made so little progress in amendment, and had such frequent relapses,

that I was almost ready to give up the attempt, and content myself with

a faulty character in that respect, like the man who, in buying an ax of

a smith, my neighbour, desired to have the whole of its surface as

bright as the edge. The smith consented to grind it bright for him if he

would turn the wheel; he turn'd, while the smith press'd the broad face

of the ax hard and heavily on the stone, which made the turning of it

very fatiguing. The man came every now and then from the wheel to see

how the work went on, and at length would take his ax as it was, without

farther grinding. "No," said the smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have

it bright by-and-by; as yet, it is only speckled." "Yes," said the man,

"but I think I like a speckled ax best." And I believe this may have

been the case with many, who, having, for want of some such means as I

employ'd, found the difficulty of obtaining good and breaking bad habits

in other points of vice and virtue, have given up the struggle, and

concluded that "a speckled ax was best"; for something, that pretended

to be reason, was every now and then suggesting to me that such extream

nicety as I exacted of myself might be a kind of foppery in morals,

which, if it were known, would make me ridiculous; that a perfect

character might be attended with the inconvenience of being envied and

hated; and that a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself,

to keep his friends in countenance.

In truth, I found myself incorrigible with respect to Order; and now I

am grown old, and my memory bad, I feel very sensibly the want of it.

But, on the whole, tho' I never arrived at the perfection I had been so

ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the

endeavour, a better and a happier man than I otherwise should have been

if I had not attempted it; as those who aim at perfect writing by

imitating the engraved copies, tho' they never reach the wish'd-for

excellence of those copies, their hand is mended by the endeavor, and is

tolerable while it continues fair and legible.

It may be well my posterity should be informed that to this little

artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor ow'd the constant

felicity of his life, down to his 79th year, in which this is written.

What reverses may attend the remainder is in the hand of Providence;

but, if they arrive, the reflection on past happiness enjoy'd ought to

help his bearing them with more resignation. To Temperance he ascribes

his long-continued health, and what is still left to him of a good

constitution; to Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of his

circumstances and acquisition of his fortune, with all that knowledge

that enabled him to be a useful citizen, and obtained for him some

degree of reputation among the learned; to Sincerity and Justice, the

confidence of his country, and the honorable employs it conferred upon

him; and to the joint influence of the whole mass of the virtues, even

in the imperfect state he was able to acquire them, all that evenness of

temper, and that cheerfulness in conversation, which makes his company

still sought for, and agreeable even to his younger acquaintance. I

hope, therefore, that some of my descendants may follow the example and

reap the benefit.

It will be remark'd that, tho' my scheme was not wholly without

religion, there was in it no mark of any of the distinguishing tenets of

any particular sect. I had purposely avoided them; for, being fully

persuaded of the utility and excellency of my method, and that it might

be serviceable to people in all religions, and intending some time or

other to publish it, I would not have any thing in it that should

prejudice any one, of any sect, against it. I purposed writing a little

comment on each virtue, in which I would have shown the advantages of

possessing it, and the mischiefs attending its opposite vice; and I

should have called my book The Art of Virtue, [7] because it would have

shown the means and manner of obtaining virtue, which would have

distinguished it from the mere exhortation to be good, that does not

instruct and indicate the means, but is like the apostle's man of verbal

charity, who only without showing to the naked and hungry how or where

they might get clothes or victuals, exhorted them to be fed and

clothed.--James ii. 15, 16.

[7] Nothing so likely to make a man's fortune as virtue.--[Marg. note.]

But it so happened that my intention of writing and publishing this

comment was never fulfilled. I did, indeed, from time to time, put down

short hints of the sentiments, reasonings, etc., to be made use of in

it, some of which I have still by me; but the necessary close attention

to private business in the earlier part of my life, and public business

since, have occasioned my postponing it; for, it being connected in my

mind with a great and extensive project, that required the whole man to

execute, and which an unforeseen succession of employs prevented my

attending to, it has hitherto remain'd unfinish'd.

In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce this doctrine,

that vicious actions are not hurtful because they are forbidden, but

forbidden because they are hurtful, the nature of man alone considered;

that it was, therefore, every one's interest to be virtuous who wish'd

to be happy even in this world; and I should, from this circumstance

(there being always in the world a number of rich merchants, nobility,

states, and princes, who have need of honest instruments for the

management of their affairs, and such being so rare), have endeavored to

convince young persons that no qualities were so likely to make a poor

man's fortune as those of probity and integrity.

My list of virtues contain'd at first but twelve; but a Quaker friend

having kindly informed me that I was generally thought proud; that my

pride show'd itself frequently in conversation; that I was not content

with being in the right when discussing any point, but was overbearing,

and rather insolent, of which he convinc'd me by mentioning several

instances; I determined endeavouring to cure myself, if I could, of this

vice or folly among the rest, and I added Humility to my list, giving an

extensive meaning to the word.

I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the reality of this virtue,

but I had a good deal with regard to the appearance of it. I made it a

rule to forbear all direct contradiction to the sentiments of others,

and all positive assertion of my own. I even forbid myself, agreeably to

the old laws of our Junto, the use of every word or expression in the

language that imported a fix'd opinion, such as certainly, undoubtedly,

etc., and I adopted, instead of them, I conceive, I apprehend, or I

imagine a thing to be so or so; or it so appears to me at present. When

another asserted something that I thought an error, I deny'd myself the

pleasure of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immediately some

absurdity in his proposition; and in answering I began by observing that

in certain cases or circumstances his opinion would be right, but in the

present case there appear'd or seem'd to me some difference, etc. I soon

found the advantage of this change in my manner; the conversations I

engag'd in went on more pleasantly. The modest way in which I propos'd

my opinions procur'd them a readier reception and less contradiction; I

had less mortification when I was found to be in the wrong, and I more

easily prevail'd with others to give up their mistakes and join with me

when I happened to be in the right.

And this mode, which I at first put on with some violence to natural

inclination, became at length so easy, and so habitual to me, that

perhaps for these fifty years past no one has ever heard a dogmatical

expression escape me. And to this habit (after my character of

integrity) I think it principally owing that I had early so much weight

with my fellow-citizens when I proposed new institutions, or alterations

in the old, and so much influence in public councils when I became a

member; for I was but a bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much

hesitation in my choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I

generally carried my points.

In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so hard to

subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle it,

mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every now

and then peep out and show itself; you will see it, perhaps, often in

this history; for, even if I could conceive that I had compleatly

overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility.

[Thus far written at Passy, 1784.]

["I am now about to write at home, August, 1788, but can not have the

help expected from my papers, many of them being lost in the war. I

have, however, found the following."] [8]

Having mentioned a great and extensive project which I had conceiv'd, it

seems proper that some account should be here given of that project and

its object. Its first rise in my mind appears in the following little

paper, accidentally preserv'd, viz.:

[8] This is a marginal memorandum.--B.

Observations on my reading history, in Library, May 19th, 1731.

"That the great affairs of the world, the wars, revolutions, etc., are

carried on and affected by parties.

"That the view of these parties is their present general interest, or

what they take to be such.

"That the different views of these different parties occasion all

confusion.

"That while a party is carrying on a general design, each man has his

particular private interest in view.

"That as soon as a party has gain'd its general point, each member

becomes intent upon his particular interest; which, thwarting others,

breaks that party into divisions, and occasions more confusion.

"That few in public affairs act from a meer view of the good of their

country, whatever they may pretend; and, tho' their actings bring real

good to their country, yet men primarily considered that their own and

their country's interest was united, and did not act from a principle of

benevolence.

"That fewer still, in public affairs, act with a view to the good of

mankind.

"There seems to me at present to be great occasion for raising a United

Party for Virtue, by forming the virtuous and good men of all nations

into a regular body, to be govern'd by suitable good and wise rules,

which good and wise men may probably be more unanimous in their

obedience to, than common people are to common laws.

"I at present think that whoever attempts this aright, and is well

qualified, can not fail of pleasing God, and of meeting with success.