(1729)
I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, and
shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your
mind compare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since
made there. I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come
round by sea. I was dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuffed out
with shirts and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where to look for
lodging. I was fatigued with traveling, rowing and want of rest, I was
very hungry; and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar,
and about a shilling in copper. The latter I gave the people of the
boat for my passage, who at first refused it, on account of my rowing;
but I insisted on their taking it. A man being sometimes more generous
when he has but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps
through fear of being thought to have but little.
[Footnote 16: From Chapters I and II of the "Autobiography."]
Then I walked up the street, gazing about till near the market-house I
met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and, inquiring
where he got it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to,
in Second street, and asked for biscuit, intending such as we had in
Boston; but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I
asked for a three-penny loaf, and was told they had none such. So, not
considering or knowing the difference of money, and the greater
cheapness nor the names of his bread, I had him give me three
pennyworth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puffy
rolls. I was surprized at the quantity, but took it, and, having no
room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and eating
the other. Thus I went up Market street as far as Fourth street,
passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father;[17] when
she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly
did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went
down Chestnut street and part of Walnut street, eating my roll all the
way, and, coming round, found myself again at Market street wharf,
near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draft of the river
water; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a
woman and her child that came down the river in the boat with us, and
were waiting to go farther.
[Footnote 17: Deborah was Mr. Read's daughter's name. Her grave,
alongside Franklin's, in Philadelphia, has been a place of much
pilgrimage these many years. One of the letters of Mrs. Franklin that
has survived may be given here in illustration of her limited
education. It was addrest to Franklin while he was in England, being
dated "October ye 11, 1770":
"My dear Child:--the bairer of this is the Son of Dr. Phinis Bond his
only son and a worthey young man he is going to studey the Law he
desired a line to you I believe you have such a number of worthey
young Jentelmen as ever wonte to gather I hope to give you pleshner to
see such a number of fine youthes from your one country which will be
an Honour to thar parentes and Countrey.
"I am my dear Child your
ffeckshonot
Wife D. Franklin."]
Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time had
many clean-drest people in it, who were all walking the same way. I
joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the
Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking
round awhile and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy through labor
and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and
continued so till the meeting broke up, when one was kind enough to
rouse me. This was, therefore, the first house I was in, or slept in,
in Philadelphia.
Walking down again toward the river, and, looking in the faces of
people, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I liked, and,
accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could get
lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners. "Here,"
says he, "is one place that entertains strangers, but it is not a
reputable house; if thee wilt walk with me, I'll show thee a better."
He brought me to the Crooked Billet in Water street. Here I got a
dinner; and, while I was eating it, several sly questions were asked
me, as it seemed to be suspected, from my youth and appearance, that I
might be some runaway.
After dinner, my host having shown me to a bed, I laid myself on
without undressing, and slept till six in the evening, when I was
called to supper. I went to bed again very early, and slept very
soundly till next morning. Then I drest myself as neat as I could, and
went to Andrew Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop the old man
his father, whom I had seen at New York, and who, traveling on
horseback, had got to Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his
son, who received me civilly, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did
not at present want a hand, being lately supplied with one; but there
was another printer in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps,
might employ me; if not, I should be welcome to lodge at his house,
and he would give me a little work to do now and then till fuller
business should offer.