JENNY.
JENNY FRANKLIN, the "pet and beauty of the family," Benjamin's favorite
sister, was born in 1712, and was six years younger than he.
"My little Jenny," said Josiah, "has the Franklin heart." Little Ben
found that heart in her baby days, and it was true to him to the end.
Uncle Benjamin had entertained such large hopes of the future of little
Ben since the boy first sent to him a piece of poetry to England, that
he wrote of him:
"For if the bud bear grain, what will the top?"
and again:
"When flowers are beautiful before they're blown,
What rarities will afterward be shown!
If trees good fruit un'noculated bear,
You may be sure't will afterward be rare.
If fruits are sweet before they've time to yellow,
How luscious will they be when they are mellow!"
He also saw great promise in bright little Jenny, who had heart full of
sympathy and affection. Jenny, Ben, and Uncle Benjamin became one in
heart and companionship.
Beacon Hill was a lovely spot in summer in old Boston days. Below it was
the Common, with great trees and winding ways. It commanded a view of
the wide harbor and far blue sea. It looked over a curve of the river
Charles, and the bright shallow inlet or pond, where the Boston and
Maine depot now stands, that was filled up from the earth of the fine
old hillside. The latter place may have been the scene of Ben's bridge,
which he built in the night in a forbidden way. The place is not
certainly known.
Uncle Benjamin, one Sunday after church, took Ben and little Jenny, who
was a girl then, to the top of the hill. It was a showery afternoon in
summer--now bright, now overcast--and all the birds were singing on the
Common between the showers.
In one of the shining hours between the showers they sat down under an
ancient forest tree, and little Jenny rested her arms on one of the
knees of Uncle Benjamin, and Ben leaned on the other. The old man looked
down on the harbor, which was full of ships, and said:
"I wish I had my sermons that I left behind. I would read one of them to
you now."
"I would rather hear you talk," said Ben, with conscientious frankness.
"So would I," said Jenny, who thought that Ben was a philosopher even at
this early age, and who echoed nearly everything that he said.
"Look over the harbor," said the old man. "There are more and more ships
coming in every year. This is going to be a great city, and America will
become a great country. Ben, I hope there will never be any wars on this
side of the water. War is sloth's maintainer, and the shield of pride;
it makes many poor and few rich, and fewer wise.[A] Ben, this is going
to be a great country, and I want you to be true to the new country."
"I will always be true to my country," said Ben.
"And I will be true to my home," said little Jenny.
"So you will, so you will, my darling little pet; I can see that," said
Uncle Benjamin.
Ben was so pleased at his echo that he put his arm around his sister's
neck and kissed her many times.
The old man's heart was touched at the scene. He thought of his lost
children, who were sleeping under the cover of the violets now.
"It is going to rain again," he said. "The robins are all singing, and
we will have to go home. But, children, I want to leave a lesson in your
minds. Listen to Uncle Ben, whose heart is glad to see you so loving
toward each other and me.
"_More than wealth, more than fame, more than anything, is the power of
the human heart, and that power is developed by seeking the good of
others._ Live for influences that multiply, and for the things that
live. Now what did I say, Ben?"
"You said that more than wealth, more than fame, more than anything, was
the power of the human heart, and that that power was developed in
seeking the good of others."
"That's right, my man.--Now, Jenny, what did I say?"
"I couldn't repeat all those big words, uncle."
"Well, you lovely little _creeter_, you; you do not need to repeat it;
you know the lesson already; it was born in you; you have the Franklin
heart!"
"Beloved Boston," Franklin used to say when he became old. What wonder,
when it was associated with memories like these!
FOOTNOTE:
[A] The old man's own words to Benjamin on war.