line," the owner answered. "Goin' to stop some time in Philadelphy?"
"I am going to live here if I can find work, as I expect to, and
become a citizen of this town."
"Wall, you'll make a good one, I know. May you never have reason to
repent of your choice. Goodbye."
"Good-bye"; and Benjamin walked up the street again. The people were
on their way to meeting, so that he was reminded of divine worship,
which he had partially forsaken in Boston. Being very tired, in
consequence of a hard time on the boat and a wakeful night, he
concluded to follow the people to church. They entered a large
old-fashioned meeting-house, and he followed them and took a seat near
the door. His appearance attracted much attention, as his dress was
not exactly that of a Quaker, and otherwise he was not quite of the
Quaker type; and it was a Quaker church in which he was. But he wasted
no thoughts upon his apparel, and did not stop to think or care
whether he was arrayed in shoddy or fine linen.
Whether he did not know that he was in a Quaker congregation, or
knowing that fact, was ignorant of the Quaker worship, does not
appear; but he waited for something to be said. While waiting for
this, he dropped into a sound sleep, and slept through the entire
service, and would have slept on, and been fastened into the
meeting-house, had not the sexton discovered him.
"Hulloo, stranger! Meeting's over; going to shut up the house,"
shouted the sexton, shaking the sleeper thoroughly.
"I was very tired," responded Benjamin, trying to get his eyes open.
"I was on the boat last night and got no sleep."
"Where did you come from?"
"Boston; I came here for work."
"Well, Philadelphy is a great place for work; what sort of work do you
want?"
"I am a printer by trade, and hope to find work in a printing office."
"And I hope you will. Sorry to disturb your nap, but I have to lock up
the house."
Benjamin thanked the sexton for waking him instead of locking him in,
and went out into the street. He had not proceeded far before he met a
Quaker whose face indicated a man of amiable and generous heart, and
Benjamin ventured to speak to him.
"I am a stranger in this town; arrived here this morning; can you tell
me where I can get a night's lodging?"
"Certainly I can; I suppose thee wants a respectable place." The
gentleman spoke so kindly as to draw Benjamin to him at once.
"Yes, sir; but not an expensive one; my purse will not permit of any
extra expense."
"Thee going to remain here some time?"
"Permanently, if I can get work; I am a printer by trade."
"I wish thee success," added the Quaker. "But here we are close by the
'Three Mariners'; but it is not exactly a reputable house, and thee
wants a better one."
"Yes; I want one that has a good reputation if there is such a one,"
said Benjamin.
"Well, if thee will follow me, I will show thee a better one; it is
not far away."
Benjamin followed him into Water Street, where he pointed out a public
house.
"There's the 'Crooked Billet,'" said the Quaker, "a tavern that is
reputable, where thee can find board and lodgings for a day or a
year."
"Thank you, sir, for your kindness," said Benjamin; "I shall not
forget you. May every body be as friendly to you as you have been to
me."
At the same time, Benjamin thought it was a very queer name for a
public house. He did not like either part of it, and he said to
himself, "'Crooked Billet'!--crookedness and a cudgel to strike down
the turbulent with, are suggested." The name did not suggest any thing
pleasant to him. But he went in, and engaged lodging and board until
Monday.
"Where are you from?" asked the landlord, scanning him from head to
foot.
"I am from Boston."
"Boston, hey? How long have you been on the way?"
"Two weeks."
"Got friends in Philadelphia?"
"Not one; all strangers to me."
"What did you come here for?"
"I came to secure work in a printing office. I am a printer by trade."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"And came all the way from Boston alone?"
"Yes, sir."
Benjamin saw by this time that the landlord suspected him of being a
runaway apprentice. This class of characters was large at that day,
for apprentices were often subjected to cruelty that made them
runaways. So he closed the conversation as soon as possible and went
to his room, where he slept until six o'clock, when he was called to
supper. Not long after supper he went to bed and slept soundly until
morning.
He arose early, took special pains to make himself as presentable as
possible, paid his bill without waiting for breakfast, perhaps because
he was reducing his cash so nearly to the last cent, and sallied forth
in search of Mr. Bradford. He experienced no trouble in finding the
printing office; but was very much surprised to find Mr. Bradford of
New York there, father of the young printer Bradford of Philadelphia,
to whom the father sent him.
"Glad to see you, my young friend. I got here first, after all, as you
see," remarked Mr. Bradford, the father, as he welcomed Benjamin with
a hearty shake of the hand. "Had any ill-luck on your way?"
"Not exactly bad luck, for I considered myself quite lucky to get here
at all; but a slow, tedious trip, with delays and storms and
disappointments most of the time," was Benjamin's answer, and he
entered somewhat into details.
"Well, you are here, and I am glad to meet you; and, now, you want
work." Then, turning to his son, Mr. Bradford continued: "My son, let
me introduce this young man to you. He is a printer by trade, from
Boston, in search of work: Benjamin Franklin. He called upon me in New
York, and I advised him to come to you, knowing that your leading
printer had died."
The young printer and the runaway were soon acquainted,--young
Bradford being as genial and friendly as the senior.
"I regret that I have no work for you now. I have filled the place
made vacant by the death of Bolder."
"There is another printer here, is there not?" asked the senior
Bradford.
"Yes, Keimer; it is possible he may want a man. But it is breakfast
time now; let us all go to breakfast, and then we'll see what can be
done."
Benjamin was invited to breakfast with them, and there learned that
Mr. Bradford of New York came all the way on horseback, starting very
unexpectedly the next day after Benjamin left New York. He was
somewhat surprised, also, to learn that Philadelphia had only seven
thousand inhabitants at that time--five thousand less than Boston.
"I will go with you to see Mr. Keimer," said the senior Bradford,
after breakfast. "Perhaps I may be of service to you."
"I shall feel myself under great obligations to you if you will,"
answered Benjamin. "It is quite necessary that I should get work, as
my money is nearly gone."
"We can fix that, I think," said young Bradford. "I may be able to
give you a little something to do, if Keimer don't want you, so that
you won't starve. You can lodge at my house."
"Thanks," replied Benjamin. "I appreciate your kindness, and hope to
be able to make some return for it in the future. I am sorry not to
appear before you in more respectable apparel, but my chest of clothes
comes by water from New York, and I have not received it yet."
"Clothes don't make the man," responded the elder Bradford, who had
discovered a remarkably bright and intelligent youth in Benjamin.
"Brains take the precedence of clothes in New York and Philadelphia."
Benjamin found himself among good friends, so he cheerfully accepted
their counsel. The senior Bradford accompanied him to Keimer's.
"Neighbor," said Bradford, "I have brought to you a young man from
Boston, a printer by trade; he is after work. Perhaps you can employ
him."
"That depends on his qualifications," answered Mr. Keimer. "I want
some one who is acquainted with the business."
"You will find him all right, I think; he appears to know what he is
about."
"How long have you worked at the business?" inquired Keimer, turning
to Benjamin.
"Over three years."
"Do you understand all parts of it so that you can go on with it?"
"Yes, I think I do; you can ascertain by trying me."
"Take this composing-stick and try your hand; let me see what you can
do."
Benjamin proceeded to give an exhibition of his skill at type-setting,
which he did so rapidly and easily that Keimer was delighted.
"Very well done, indeed. I think you told the truth; you must have had
considerable experience. I will employ you as soon as I have
sufficient work. At present, I have nothing for you to do."
"It is not often, Mr. Keimer, that you have the opportunity to employ
a skilled hand like this young man," suggested Bradford. "If you could
give him enough to do to pay his board, until you are full of work, it
may be for your interest and his, too."
"That is true. I am at work now upon this Elegy on Aquila Rose, who
was clerk of the Pennsylvania Legislature; and I may want him to print
it. I shall have it ready in three or four days. I am expecting other
work soon, also."
"You can return to my son's house to eat and sleep," said Mr. Bradford
to Benjamin. "I think Mr. Keimer will want you before long. He expects
to have business."
"What do you think of my prospects here, sir?" inquired Keimer of Mr.
Bradford, supposing him to be a citizen of Philadelphia. "I have
hardly got under way yet; it is only a few weeks since I began."
"That will depend upon your own exertions and business talents.
Philadelphia is a growing town, where industry and perseverance will
do wonders."
"I shall do all in my power to draw the business of the town; and I
think I can do it by industry and giving first-class work."
"How can you expect to get all the business when there is another
printer here, who has been established some time?"
Keimer answered the last inquiry by disclosing his plans, as Bradford
artfully drew him out on every point, until he learned how he was
calculating to command all the business, and run his son out of it.
Nor did Keimer dream that he was conversing with the father of the
other printer, whom he designed to deprive of his livelihood. All the
while Benjamin stood and listened to their conversation, perceiving
that Bradford was shrewdly learning Keimer's plans for the benefit of
his son.
"You did not know that man, did you?" inquired Benjamin, after
Bradford left.
"No; but I concluded he was some business man of the town, who would
be interested to see a printing office successful, and so took pains
to introduce you to me."
"Then you will be surprised to learn who he is, when I tell you. That
was the father of Andrew Bradford, your neighbor, the printer. He
carries on printing in New York."
"Can that be?" exclaimed Keimer, astonished over the bit of news, and
startled at the thought of having made known his plans to a
competitor.
"Yes, it is even so. That was Mr. Bradford, the New York printer,
father of Andrew Bradford, the printer of your town; and not his
apparition."
"How in the world did he happen to come here with you?"
"I can tell you in a few words," replied Benjamin. "I called on him
for work in New York, and he directed me to his son here, who had just
lost a good hand by death. Very unexpectedly, on the next day, he
started for Philadelphia on horseback, and, when I called upon his
son, this morning, I found him there. His son had just hired a man;
and so he directed me to you, and his father offered to come and
introduce me."
"Well, all that is natural enough, but it is pretty hard on me,"
answered Keimer. "If I had known that was Bradford's father, I should
have kept my mouth shut, of course."
"You opened it pretty wide to him, and he took advantage of it, as
most men will do. But I guess no harm is done. He and his son both
appear to be friendly to you; they would not have proposed that I
should come here for work, if they had not been."
"That looks so, I must confess," said Keimer; "but I have learned one
good lesson from it: never to divulge secrets to a stranger. When I do
that again I shall not be in my right mind. But I wanted to ask you
about your Boston experience in a printing office; what office was you
in?"
"My brother's, James Franklin. He published a paper, the _New England
Courant_. He did a large business."
"Yes, our paper here gave some account of it. The editor had some
trouble with the Government, did he not?"
"Yes, and a serious trouble it was. He believed in the freedom of the
press, and the officials did not; so there was a collision. He
determined to fight the censorship of the press, and he was imprisoned
for it. Then I edited and published the paper in my own name."
"You run it!" exclaimed Keimer in a tone of wonder and unbelief.
"Yes, I run it,--without letting up one jot in attacking the
intolerant Government. It was a hot contest, but the common people,
true Americans, rallied to our support, and left the aristocratic
officials to toady to the English Government."
"A new order of things when a boy edits and publishes a paper in a
straight fight with Great Britain," was all that Keimer said, in
reply, evidently not believing a word of Benjamin's story about the
_Courant_. However, the more he talked with the new comer, the more he
was impressed with his intelligence and manly character. He found that
his clothes were the poorest part of him, that underneath his shabby
garments there dwelt a soul of large possessions and aspirations.
Benjamin learned at Keimer's office what a blessing it was to him to
have practised _doing things well_. Thoroughness in learning the
printer's art, as well as in studying the use of language and
composition, characterized him in Boston, as we have seen. Now he was
reaping the benefits of it. He handled the composing-stick so
dexterously, and answered every question so intelligently and
promptly, that Keimer saw at once he was really an expert. Many boys
are satisfied if they can only "pass muster." Their ambition rises no
higher than that. But not so with Benjamin. He sought to understand
the business to which he attended, and to do as well as possible the
work he undertook. The consequence was that he was a thorough workman,
and, in five minutes, he was able to satisfy Keimer of the fact. This
was greatly in his favor; and such a young man is never long out of
business. Doctor Johnson said, "What is worth doing at all, is worth
doing well."
Samuel Budgett said, "In whatever calling a man is found, he ought to
strive to be the best in that calling; if only a shoe-black, he should
try to be the best shoe-black in the neighborhood." Budgett conducted
his immense business, in which he employed six hundred men, on this
principle. When a boy was introduced into his warehouse he was set to
straightening old nails. If he straightened nails well, he was
promoted to bag-mending; if he did not do it well, he was dismissed.
The thorough nail-straightener and bag-mender moved upwards into
larger and higher fields of work; and so the great English merchant
could boast of having the most efficient and faithful class of
employes in the British realm. Training them to do their best did it.
James Parton said to David Maydole, inventor of the modern hammer and
manufacturer of the best hammers in the world, "By this time you ought
to be able to make a pretty good hammer." Maydole replied, "No, I
can't. I can't make a pretty good hammer, I make the best that's
made." Once a party applied for several hammers, to whom Maydole was
indebted for some favor, and the party said to him, "You ought to make
my hammer a little better than the others." Maydole responded, "I
can't make any better ones. When I make a thing, I make it as well as
I can, no matter whom it is for." Doing his best every time led him on
to fortune. He never pushed his business. He never advertised. Making
the best hammer in the market created all the business he wanted.
XXI.
GETTING ON.
"Your press is rather dilapidated, I see," remarked Benjamin to Mr.
Keimer, after he had looked it over. "Second-hand, I conclude?"
"Yes, I had to buy what I could get cheap, as I had little money to
begin with. I guess it can be fixed up to answer my purpose."
"That is so; it can be improved very much with little expense,"
replied Benjamin.
"Do you understand a printing press well enough to repair it?"
"I can repair that one well enough; I see what is wanted. You can't do
good work with it as it is," Benjamin answered.
"Then I can employ you at once, and you may go right about putting it
in order if you please."
"I will do it," Benjamin replied in his emphatic way. "It is not a
long job, by any means."
"Perhaps you will have it done by the time I get the Elegy set up, and
then you may print it." Keimer's interest was deepening since he found
that the Boston printer-boy could repair a printing press. He was
getting more than he bargained for.
Benjamin went to work upon the old press, saying "I may as well go
about it at once, and work till dinner time. Mr. Bradford will expect
me back then; but I will keep at it until it is done."
"Well, I hope you will not expose any secrets as I did," remarked Mr.
Keimer, humorously. "Old Bradford will be on the lookout for capital,
no doubt. See that he don't make as much out of you as he did out of
me."
Benjamin met the Bradfords, senior and junior, at the dinner table,
where they gave him a cordial welcome.
"How does Philadelphia compare with Boston?" inquired the senior
Bradford of him.
"It is smaller, and I can't tell yet whether it is duller or not. When
I have been here a week I can tell more about it."
"And what are your prospects at Keimer's?" inquired the junior
Bradford.
"Well, I have begun to repair his old press. It is a dilapidated
affair, and I told him that I could improve it very much."
"Do you understand that part of the business?"
"I understand it sufficiently to make what repairs that machine
requires just now."
"Then you can probably do some repairs for me," said the junior
Bradford "My press needs some tutoring."
"I shall be happy to be its tutor," replied Benjamin, with a smile. "I
shall finish Keimer's to-morrow, and then I will take yours in hand. I
shall be glad to do something to repay you for your kindness."
"You must have had good school advantages in Boston," remarked the
elder Bradford to him. "Your conversation indicates that you are
well-read and well-informed."
"But I am not indebted to the schools for it; I never went to school
but two years in my life. But I have studied and read as much as any
body of my age, in leisure hours and nights; and I have written more
for the press, probably, than any one of my age in Boston."
This last remark caused the Bradfords to look at each other with
wonder for a moment. But the senior broke the silence by saying:
"You write for the press? How is that?" His astonishment charged his
questions with peculiar emphasis.
"Yes, sir; I wrote much for nearly a year for the _New England
Courant_, one of the newspapers in Boston."
"And only seventeen years old now?"
"I was only sixteen when I wrote the most."
That was as far as Benjamin dared to disclose his history, lest he
might make trouble for himself. He had disclosed enough, however, to
set his host to thinking. Neither of the Bradfords really believed his
story about his writing for the press; and yet there was something
about him, composed of intelligence, refinement, and manliness, that
impressed them. The more they conversed with him, the more were they
satisfied that he was an uncommon youth. While that conviction
awakened their curiosity to know more of his history, it served, also,
to cause them to respect his boy-manhood, and so not to ply him with
too many or close questions. Thus Benjamin escaped the necessity of
exposing the objectionable part of his career, and left his good
friends wondering over the mysterious young printer they were
befriending.
Benjamin repaired Keimer's press, and then attended to Bradford's,
before the Elegy was ready to be printed. By that time, Keimer had
engaged to print a pamphlet and do some other small jobs, so that he
needed Benjamin's services all the time.
"I shall want you right along, now, I think; but you must change your
boarding-place. I don't want you should board with a man who knows so
much about my business." And Keimer laughed as he made this last
remark.
"Of course, I shall change. I only intended to stay there until I got
work. Mr. Bradford kindly invited me to stay there till I found a
place, and I shall not take any advantage of his generosity. I shall
always be grateful to him for it."
"He was a good friend to you, a stranger," continued Keimer, "and I
would have you appreciate his friendship; but, in the circumstances, I
think another boarding-place is best."
"And now I can make a more respectable appearance," responded
Benjamin; "for my chest of clothes has come."
"The man who owns this building lives a short distance away, and I am
thinking I can get you boarded there; it will be a good place," added
Mr. Keimer.
"As you please; I can make myself at home any where. I am not used to
much style and luxury."
"His name is Read, and he has an interesting daughter of eighteen,
which may be some attraction to you." The last remark was intended
more for pleasantry than any thing.
"Work will have to be the chief attraction for me, whose fortune is
reduced to the last shilling," responded Benjamin. "It takes money to
pay respectful attention to young ladies; and, besides, my _forte_
does not lie in that direction."
The result was, that he went to board at Mr. Read's, the father of the
young lady who stood in the door when he passed on Sunday morning with
a roll of bread under each arm. His appearance was much improved by
this time, so that even Miss Read saw that he was an intelligent,
promising young man.
Benjamin received good wages, attended closely to his work, improved
his leisure moments by reading and study, as he did in Boston, and
spent his evenings in systematic mental culture.
"You appear to be fond of books," said Mr. Read to him. "I think you
must have enjoyed good advantages at home. Where is your home?"
"Boston. I was born there seventeen years ago."
"Only seventeen! I supposed you were older. Your parents living?"
"Yes, both of them, as good people as there are in Boston."
"Got brothers and sisters?"
"Plenty of them. I am the fifteenth child, and have two sisters
younger than I am; only one of the whole number is dead."
"You surprise me; yours must have been the largest family in Boston,"
continued Mr. Read. "I am sure we have no family as large as that in
Philadelphia. Your father ought to be worth some money to provide for
such a family."
"He is not, he is a poor man; so poor that he kept me in school less
than two years. I went into the shop to work with him when I was ten
years old, and have not been to school since. All my brothers were
apprenticed at ten or twelve years of age. I was a printer's
apprentice at twelve years of age."
"And what was your father's business, if I may be permitted to ask?
Your story is a very interesting one, and I want to know more about
it."
"My father is a tallow-chandler. He emigrated to Boston in 1685, from
Banbury, England, where he worked at the trade of a dyer. There was no
room for that business in Boston, so he took up the business of
candle-making."
"But you did not work at the candle business long, if you became a
printer at twelve?"
"No; I disliked the business so thoroughly that I was ready to engage
in almost any thing if I could get out of that. The printer's trade
has afforded me excellent opportunities for reading and study, and I
like it."
"Well, printers are generally an intelligent class, and their pursuit
is highly respected. One of our printers in Philadelphia is an
ignorant man, and not very familiar with the business."
"I found that out some time ago," answered Benjamin; "and ignorance is
a great drawback to a person in any business whatever. There is no
need of a man being ignorant, so long as he can command fragments of
time to read and study. What I call my leisure hours are my most
profitable and enjoyable hours."