And in the same poem he afterwards advises us

To speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence.

He might have added to these lines, one that he has coupled

elsewhere, in my opinion, with less propriety. It is this:

For want of modesty is want of sense.

If you ask why I say with _less propriety_, I must give you the two

lines together:

Immodest words admit of _no defence_,

For want of decency is want of sense.

Now want of sense, when a man has the misfortune to be so

circumstanced, is it not a kind of excuse for want of modesty?

And would not the verses have been more accurate if they had been

constructed thus:

Immodest words admit _but this defence_,

That want of decency is want of sense.

But I leave the decision of this to better judges than myself.

In 1720, or 1721, my brother began to print a new public paper. It

was the second that made its appearance in America, and was entitled,

"The New England Courant." The only one that existed before was the

"Boston News Letter." Some of his friends, I remember, would have

dissuaded him from this undertaking, as a thing that was not likely

to succeed; a single newspaper being, in their opinion, sufficient

for all America. At present, however, in 1771, there are no less than

twenty-five. But he carried his project into execution, and I was

employed in distributing the copies to his customers, after having

assisted in composing and working them off.

Among his friends he had a number of literary characters, who,

as an amusement, wrote short essays for the paper, which gave it

reputation and increased the sale. These gentlemen frequently came

to our house. I heard the conversation that passed, and the accounts

they gave of the favourable reception of their writings with the

public. I was tempted to try my hand among them; but, being still a

child as it were, I was fearful that my brother might be unwilling

to print in his paper any performance of which he should know me to

be the author. I therefore contrived to disguise my hand, and having

written an anonymous piece, I placed it at night under the door of

the printing-house, where it was found the next morning. My brother

communicated it to his friends, when they came as usual to see him,

who read it, commented upon it within my hearing, and I had the

exquisite pleasure to find that it met with their approbation, and

that in the various conjectures they made respecting the author, no

one was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the country

for talents and genius. I now supposed myself fortunate in my judges,

and began to suspect that they were not such excellent writers as I

had hitherto supposed them. Be this as it may, encouraged by this

little adventure, I wrote, and sent to press in the same way, many

other pieces, which were equally approved: keeping the secret till my

slender stock of information and knowledge for such performances was

pretty completely exhausted, when I made myself known.

My brother, upon this discovery, began to entertain a little more

respect for me; but he still regarded himself as my master, and

treated me as an apprentice. He thought himself entitled to the same

services from me, as from any other person. On the contrary, I

conceived that in many instances, he was too rigorous, and that, on

the part of a brother, I had a right to expect greater indulgence.

Our disputes were frequently brought before my father; and either

my brother was generally wrong, or I was the better pleader of the

two, for judgment was commonly given in my favour. But my brother

was passionate, and often had recourse to blows--a circumstance

which I took in very ill part. This severe and tyrannical treatment

contributed, I believe, to imprint on my mind that aversion to

arbitrary power, which during my whole life I have ever preserved. My

apprenticeship became insupportable to me, and I continually sighed

for an opportunity of shortening it, which at length unexpectedly

offered.

An article inserted in our paper, upon some political subject which

I have now forgotten, gave offence to the assembly. My brother was

taken into custody, censured, and ordered into confinement for a

month, because, as I presume, he would not discover the author. I was

also taken up, and examined before the council; but though I gave

them no satisfaction, they contented themselves with reprimanding,

and then dismissed me; considering me probably as bound, in quality

of apprentice, to keep my master's secrets.

The imprisonment of my brother kindled my resentment, notwithstanding

our private quarrels. During its continuance, the management of the

paper was entrusted to me, and I was bold enough to insert some

pasquinades against the governors, which highly pleased my brother,

while others began to look upon me in an unfavourable point of view,

considering me as a young wit inclined to satire and lampoon.

My brother's enlargement was accompanied with an arbitrary order

from the house of the assembly, "That James Franklin should no

longer print the newspaper entitled 'The New England Courant.'"

In this conjuncture, we held a consultation of our friends at the

printing-house, in order to determine what was proper to be done.

Some proposed to evade the order, by changing the title of the paper:

but my brother, foreseeing inconveniences that would result from this

step, thought it better that it should be in future printed in the

name of Benjamin Franklin; and to avoid the censure of the assembly,

who might charge him with still printing the paper himself under

the name of his apprentice, it was resolved that my old indentures

should be given up to me, with a full and entire discharge written

on the back, in order to be produced upon an emergency; but that, to

secure to my brother the benefit of my service, I should sign a new

contract, which should be kept secret during the remainder of the

term. This was a very shallow arrangement. It was, however, carried

into immediate execution, and the paper continued, in consequence,

to make its appearance for some months in my name. At length a new

difference arising between my brother and me, I ventured to take

advantage of my liberty, presuming that he would not dare to produce

the new contract. It was undoubtedly dishonourable to avail myself

of this circumstance, and I reckon this action as one of the first

errors of my life; but I was little capable of estimating it at its

true value, embittered as my mind had been by the recollection of the

blows I had received. Exclusively of his passionate treatment of me,

my brother was by no means a man of an ill temper, and perhaps my

manners had too much impertinence not to afford it a very natural

pretext.

When he knew that it was my determination to quit him, he wished

to prevent my finding employment elsewhere. He went to all the

printing-houses in the town, and prejudiced the masters against

me--who accordingly refused to employ me. The idea then suggested

itself to me of going to New York, the nearest town in which there

was a printing-office. Farther reflection confirmed me in the design

of leaving Boston, where I had already rendered myself an object of

suspicion to the governing party. It was probable, from the arbitrary

proceedings of the assembly in the affair of my brother, that, by

remaining, I should soon have been exposed to difficulties, which I

had the greater reason to apprehend, as, from my indiscreet disputes

upon the subject of religion, I began to be regarded by pious souls

with horror, either as an apostate or an atheist. I came, therefore,

to a resolution: but my father, in this instance siding with my

brother, presumed that if I attempted to depart openly, measures

would be taken to prevent me. My friend Collins undertook to favour

my flight. He agreed for my passage with the captain of a New York

sloop, to whom he represented me as a young man of his acquaintance,

who had an affair with a girl of bad character, whose parents wished

to compel me to marry her, and that of consequence I could neither

make my appearance, nor go off publicly. I sold part of my books

to procure a small sum of money, and went privately on board the

sloop. By favour of a good wind, I found myself in three days at New

York, nearly three hundred miles from my home, at the age only of

seventeen years, without knowing an individual in the place, and

with very little money in my pocket.

The inclination I had felt for a sea-faring life had entirely

subsided, or I should now have been able to gratify it; but having

another trade, and believing myself to be a tolerable workman, I

hesitated not to offer my services to old Mr. William Bradford, who

had been the first printer in Pennsylvania, but had quitted that

province on account of a quarrel with George Keith, the governor.

He could not give me employment himself, having little to do, and

already as many persons as he wanted; but he told me that his son,

a printer at Philadelphia, had lately lost his principal workman,

Aquilla Rose, who was dead, and that if I would go thither, he

believed that he would engage me. Philadelphia was a hundred miles

farther. I hesitated not to embark in a boat in order to repair, by

the shortest cut of the sea, to Amboy, leaving my trunk and effects

to come after me by the usual and more tedious conveyance. In

crossing the bay we met with a squall, which shattered to pieces our

rotten sails, prevented us from entering the Kill, and threw us upon

Long Island.

During the squall, a drunken Dutchman, who like myself was a

passenger in the boat, fell into the sea. At the moment that he was

sinking, I seized him by the fore-top, saved him, and drew him on

board. This immersion sobered him a little, so that he fell asleep,

after having taken from his pocket a volume, which he requested me to

dry. This volume I found to be my old favourite Bunyan, in Dutch, a

beautiful impression on fine paper, with copper-plate engravings--a

dress in which I had never seen it in its original language. I

have since learned that it has been translated into almost all the

languages of Europe, and next to the Bible, I am persuaded, it is

one of the books which has had the greatest spread. Honest John is

the first, that I know of, who has mixed narrative and dialogue

together; a mode of writing very engaging to the reader, who in the

most interesting passages, finds himself admitted as it were into the

company, and present at the conversation. De Foe has imitated it with

success in his Robinson Crusoe, his Moll Flanders, and other works;

as also Richardson in his Pamela, &c.

In approaching the island, we found that we had made a part of the

coast where it was not possible to land, on account of the strong

breakers produced by the rocky shore. We cast anchor and veered the

cable towards the shore. Some men, who stood upon the brink, halloed

to us, while we did the same on our part; but the wind was so high,

and the waves so noisy, that we could neither of us hear each other.

There were some canoes upon the bank, and we called out to them, and

made signs to prevail on them to come and take us up; but either they

did not understand us, or they deemed our request impracticable, and

withdrew. Night came on, and nothing remained for us but to wait

quietly the subsiding of the wind; till when, we determined, that is,

the pilot and I, to sleep if possible. For that purpose we went below

the hatches along with the Dutchman, who was drenched with water. The

sea broke over the boat, and reached us in our retreat, so that we

were presently as completely drenched as he.

We had very little repose during the whole night: but the wind

abating the next day, we succeeded in reaching Amboy before it was

dark, after having passed thirty hours without provisions, and with

no other drink than a bottle of bad rum, the water upon which we

rowed being salt. In the evening I went to bed with a very violent

fever. I had somewhere read that cold water, drank plentifully, was a

remedy in such cases. I followed the prescription, was in a profuse

sweat for the greater part of the night, and the fever left me. The

next day I crossed the river in a ferryboat, and continued my journey

on foot. I had fifty miles to walk, in order to reach Burlington,

where I was told I should find passage-boats that would convey me to

Philadelphia. It rained hard the whole day, so that I was wet to the

skin. Finding myself fatigued about noon, I stopped at a paltry inn,

where I passed the rest of the day and the whole night, beginning

to regret that I had quitted my home. I made besides so wretched

a figure, that I was suspected to be some runaway servant. This I

discovered by the questions that were asked me; and I felt that I

was every moment in danger of being taken up as such. The next day,

however, I continued my journey, and arrived in the evening at an

inn, eight or ten miles from Burlington, that was kept by one Dr.

Brown.

This man entered into conversation with me while I took some

refreshment, and perceiving that I had read a little, he expressed

towards me considerable interest and friendship. Our acquaintance

continued during the remainder of his life. I believe him to have

been what is called an itinerant doctor; for there was no town in

England, or indeed in Europe, of which he could not give a particular

account. He was neither deficient in understanding or literature,

but he was a sad infidel; and, some years after, wickedly undertook

to travesty the Bible, in burlesque verse, as Cotton has travestied

Virgil. He exhibited, by this means, many facts in a very ludicrous

point of view, which would have given umbrage to weak minds, had his

work been published, which it never was.

I spent the night at his house, and reached Burlington the next

morning. On my arrival, I had the mortification to learn that

the ordinary passage-boats had sailed a little before. This was

on a Saturday, and there would be no other boat till the Tuesday

following. I returned to the house of an old woman in the town who

had sold me some gingerbread to eat on my passage, and I asked

her advice. She invited me to take up my abode with her till an

opportunity offered for me to embark. Fatigued with having travelled

so far on foot, I accepted her invitation. When she understood that

I was a printer, she would have persuaded me to stay at Burlington,

and set up my trade; but she was little aware of the capital that

would be necessary for such a purpose! I was treated while at her

house with true hospitality. She gave me with the utmost good-will,

a dinner of beef-steaks, and would accept of nothing in return but a

pint of ale.

Here I imagined myself to be fixed till the Tuesday in the ensuing

week; but walking out in the evening by the river side, I saw a

boat with a number of persons in it approach. It was going to

Philadelphia, and the company took me in. As there was no wind, we

could only make way with our oars. About midnight, not perceiving

the town, some of the company were of opinion that we must have

passed it, and were unwilling to row any farther; the rest not

knowing where we were, it was resolved that we should stop. We

drew towards the shore, entered a creek, and landed near some old

palisades, which served us for fire-wood, it being a cold night in

October. Here we stayed till day, when one of the company found

the place in which we were to be Cooper's creek, a little above

Philadelphia; which in reality we perceived the moment we were out of

the creek. We arrived on Sunday about eight or nine o'clock in the

morning, and landed on Market-street wharf.

I have entered into the particulars of my voyage, and shall in like

manner describe my first entrance into this city, that you may be

able to compare beginnings so little auspicious, with the figure I

have since made.

On my arrival at Philadelphia I was in my working dress, my best

cloaths being to come by sea. I was covered with dirt; my pockets

were filled with shirts and stockings; I was unacquainted with a

single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek for a lodging.

Fatigued with walking, rowing, and having passed the night without

sleep, I was extremely hungry, and all my money consisted of a

Dutch dollar, and about a shilling's worth of coppers, which I gave

to the boatmen for my passage. As I had assisted them in rowing,

they refused it at first; but I insisted on their taking it. A man

is sometimes more generous when he has little, than when he has

much money; probably because, in the first case, he is desirous of

concealing his poverty.

I walked towards the top of the street, looking eagerly on both

sides, till I came to Market-street, where I met a child with a

loaf of bread. Often had I made my dinner on dry bread. I enquired

where he had bought it, and went straight to the baker's shop which

he pointed out to me. I asked for some biscuits, expecting to find

such as we had at Boston; but they made, it seems, none of that sort

at Philadelphia. I then asked for a three-penny loaf; they made no

loaves of that price. Finding myself ignorant of the prices, as well

as of the different kinds of bread, I desired him to let me have

three penny-worth of bread of some kind or other. He gave me three

large rolls. I was surprised at receiving so much: I took them,

however, and having no room in my pockets, I walked on with a roll

under each arm, eating the third. In this manner I went through

Market-street to Fourth-street, and passed the house of Mr. Read, the

father of my future wife. She was standing at the door, observed me,

and thought with reason, that I made a very singular and grotesque

appearance.

I then turned the corner, and went through Chesnut-street, eating my

roll all the way; and having made this round, I found myself again on

Market-street wharf, near the boat in which I arrived. I stepped into

it to take a draught of the river water; and finding myself satisfied

with my first roll, I gave the other two to a woman and her child,

who had come down the river with us in the boat, and was waiting to

continue her journey. Thus refreshed, I regained the street, which

was now full of well-dressed people, all going the same way. I joined

them, and was thus led to a large Quaker's meeting-house near the

market-place. I sat down with the rest, and after looking round

me for some time, hearing nothing said, and being drowsy from my

last night's labour and want of rest, I fell into a sound sleep. In

this state I continued till the assembly dispersed, when one of the

congregation had the goodness to wake me. This was consequently the

first house I entered, or in which I slept, at Philadelphia.

I began again to walk along the street by the river side; and looking

attentively in the face of every one I met, I at length perceived a

young quaker whose countenance pleased me. I accosted him, and begged

him to inform me where a stranger might find a lodging. We were then

near the sign of the three Mariners. They receive travellers here,

said he, but it is not a house that bears a good character; if you

will go with me, I will shew you a better one. He conducted me to

the Crooked-billet, in Water-street. There I ordered something for

dinner, and during my meal a number of curious questions were put

to me; my youth and appearance exciting the suspicion of my being a

runaway. After dinner my drowsiness returned, and I threw myself upon

a bed without taking off my cloaths, and slept till six o'clock in

the evening, when I was called to supper. I afterwards went to bed at

a very early hour, and did not awake till the next morning.

As soon as I got up I put myself in as decent a trim as I could,

and went to the house of Andrew Bradford the printer. I found his

father in the shop, whom I had seen at New York. Having travelled

on horseback, he had arrived at Philadelphia before me. He

introduced me to his son, who received me with civility, and gave

me some breakfast; but told me he had no occasion at present for a

journeyman, having lately procured one. He added, that there was

another printer newly settled in the town, of the name of Keimer,

who might perhaps employ me; and that in case of refusal, I should be

welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little work now

and then, till something better should offer.

The old man offered to introduce me to the new printer. When we were

at his house: "Neighbour," said he, "I bring you a young man in the

printing business; perhaps you may have need of his services."

Keimer asked me some questions, put a composing stick in my hand

to see how I could work, and then said, that at present he had

nothing for me to do, but that he should soon be able to employ me.

At the same time taking old Bradford for an inhabitant of the town

well-disposed towards him, he communicated his project to him, and

the prospect he had of success. Bradford was careful not to discover

that he was the father of the other printer; and from what Keimer

had said, that he hoped shortly to be in possession of the greater

part of the business of the town, led him by artful questions, and by

starting some difficulties, to disclose all his views, what his hopes

were founded upon, and how he intended to proceed. I was present, and

heard it all. I instantly saw that one of the two was a cunning old

fox, and the other a perfect novice. Bradford left me with Keimer,

who was strangely surprised when I informed him who the old man was.

I found Keimer's printing materials to consist of an old damaged

press, and a small fount of worn-out English letters, with which

he himself was at work upon an elegy on Aquila Rose, whom I have

mentioned above, an ingenious young man, and of an excellent

character, highly esteemed in the town, secretary to the assembly,

and a very tolerable poet. Keimer also made verses, but they were

indifferent ones. He could not be said to write in verse, for his

method was to set the lines as they flowed from his muse; and as he

worked without copy, had but one set of letter-cases, and the elegy

would probably occupy all his types, it was impossible for any one

to assist him. I endeavoured to put his press in order, which he had

not yet used, and of which indeed he understood nothing: and having

promised to come and work off his elegy as soon as it should be

ready, I returned to the house of Bradford, who gave me some trifle

to do for the present, for which I had my board and lodging.

In a few days Keimer sent for me to print off his elegy. He had now

procured another set of letter-cases, and had a pamphlet to re-print,

upon which he set me to work.

The two Philadelphia printers appeared destitute of every

qualification necessary in their profession. Bradford had not

been brought up to it, and was very illiterate. Keimer, though

he understood a little of the business, was merely a compositor,

and wholly incapable of working at the press. He had been one of

the French prophets; and knew how to imitate their supernatural

agitations. At the time of our first acquaintance he professed no

particular religion, but a little of all upon occasion. He was

totally ignorant of the world, and a great knave at heart, as I had

afterwards, an opportunity of experiencing.

Keimer could not endure that, working with him, I should lodge at

Bradford's. He had indeed a house, but it was unfurnished; so that

he could not take me in. He procured me a lodging at Mr. Read's, his

landlord, whom I have already mentioned. My trunk and effects being

now arrived, I thought of making, in the eyes of Miss Read, a more

respectable appearance than when chance exhibited me to her view,

eating my roll, and wandering in the streets.

From this period I began to contract acquaintance with such young

people of the town as were fond of reading, and spent my evenings

with them agreeably, while at the same time I gained money by my

industry, and, thanks to my frugality, lived contented. I thus forgot

Boston as much as possible, and wished every one to be ignorant of

the place of my residence, except my friend Collins, to whom I wrote,

and who kept my secret.

An incident however arrived, which sent me home much sooner than

I had proposed. I had a brother-in-law, of the name of Robert

Holmes, master of a trading sloop from Boston to Delaware. Being at

Newcastle, forty miles below Philadelphia, he heard of me, and wrote

to inform me of the chagrin which my sudden departure from Boston

had occasioned my parents, and of the affection which they still

entertained for me, assuring me that, if I would return, every thing

should be adjusted to my satisfaction; and he was very pressing in

his entreaties. I answered his letter, thanked him for his advice,

and explained the reasons which had induced me to quit Boston, with

such force and clearness, that he was convinced I had been less to

blame than he had imagined.

Sir William Keith, governor of the province, was at Newcastle at

the time. Captain Holmes, being by chance in his company when he

received my letter, took occasion to speak of me, and showed it him.

The governor read it, and appeared surprised when he learned my age.

He thought me, he said, a young man of very promising talents, and

that, of consequence, I ought to be encouraged; that there were at

Philadelphia none but very ignorant printers, and that if I were to

set up for myself, he had no doubt of my success; that, for his own

part, he would procure me all the public business, and would render

me every other service in his power. My brother-in-law related all

this to me afterwards at Boston; but I knew nothing of it at the

time; when one day Keimer and I being at work together near the

window, we saw the governor and another gentleman, colonel French, of

Newcastle, handsomely dressed, cross the street, and make directly

for our house. We heard them at the door, and Keimer believing it

to be a visit to himself, went immediately down: but the governor

enquired for me, came up stairs, and, with a condescension and

politeness to which I had not at all been accustomed, paid me many

compliments, desired to be acquainted with me, obligingly reproached

me for not having made myself known to him on my arrival in the town,

and wished me to accompany him to a tavern, where he and colonel

French were going to taste some excellent Madeira wine.

I was, I confess, somewhat surprised, and Keimer appeared

thunderstruck. I went, however, with the governor and the colonel to

a tavern at the corner of Third-street, where, while we were drinking

the Madeira, he proposed to me to establish a printing-house. He set

forth the probabilities of success, and himself, and colonel French

assured me that I should have their protection and influence in

obtaining the printing of the public papers of both governments; and

as I appeared to doubt whether my father would assist me in this

enterprize, Sir William said that he would give me a letter to him,

in which he would represent the advantages of the scheme, in a light

which he had no doubt would determine him. It was thus concluded that

I should return to Boston by the first vessel, with the letter of

recommendation, from the governor to my father. Meanwhile the project

was to be kept secret, and I continued to work for Keimer as before.

The governor sent every now and then to invite me to dine with him. I

considered this as a very great honour; and I was the more sensible

of it, as he conversed with me in the most affable, familiar, and

friendly manner imaginable.

Towards the end of April 1724, a small vessel was ready to sail for

Boston. I took leave of Keimer, upon the pretext of going to see my

parents. The governor gave me a long letter, in which he said many

flattering things of me to my father; and strongly recommended the

project of my settling at Philadelphia, as a thing which could not

fail to make my fortune.

Going down the bay we struck on a flat, and sprung a leak. The

weather was very tempestuous, and we were obliged to pump without

intermission; I took my turn. We arrived, however, safe and sound at

Boston, after about a fortnight's passage.

I had been absent about seven complete months, and my relations,

during that interval, had received no intelligence of me; for my

brother-in-law, Holmes, was not yet returned, and had not written

about me. My unexpected appearance surprized the family; but they

were all delighted at seeing me again, and, except my brother,

welcomed me home. I went to him at the printing-house. I was better

dressed than I had ever been while in his service: I had a complete

suit of clothes, new and neat, a watch in my pocket, and my purse was

furnished with nearly five pounds sterling in money. He gave me no

very civil reception; and having eyed me from head to foot, resumed

his work.

The workmen asked me with eagerness where I had been, what sort of a

country it was, and how I liked it. I spoke in the highest terms of

Philadelphia, the happy life we led there, and expressed my intention

of going back again. One of them asking what sort of money we had,

I displayed before them a handful of silver, which I drew from my

pocket. This was a curiosity to which they were not accustomed, paper

being the current money at Boston. I failed not after this to let

them see my watch; and at last, my brother continuing sullen and

out of humour, I gave them a shilling to drink, and took my leave.

This visit stung my brother to the soul; for when, shortly after, my

mother spoke to him of a reconciliation, and a desire to see us upon

good terms, he told her that I had so insulted him before his men,

that he would never forget or forgive it: in this, however, he was

mistaken.

The governor's letter appeared to excite in my father some surprize;

but he said little. After some days, captain Holmes being returned,

he showed it him, asking him if he knew Keith, and what sort of a

man he was: adding, that, in his opinion, it proved very little

discernment to think of setting up a boy in business, who for three

years to come would not be of an age to be ranked in the class of

men. Holmes said every thing he could in favour of the scheme; but my

father firmly maintained its absurdity, and at last gave a positive

refusal. He wrote, however, a civil letter to Sir William, thanking

him for the protection he had so obligingly offered me, but refusing

to assist me for the present, because he thought me too young to be

entrusted with the conduct of so important an enterprise, and which

would require so considerable a sum of money.

My old comrade Collins, who was a clerk in the post-office, charmed

with the account I gave of my new residence, expressed a desire of

going thither; and while I waited my father's determination, he set

off before me by land for Rhode Island, leaving his books, which

formed a handsome collection in mathematics and natural philosophy,

to be conveyed with mine to New York, where he purposed to wait for

me.

My father, though he could not approve Sir William's proposal, was

yet pleased that I had obtained so advantageous a recommendation as

that of a person of his rank, and that my industry and economy had

enabled me to equip myself so handsomely in so short a period. Seeing

no appearance of accommodating matters between my brother and me, he

consented to my return to Philadelphia, advised me to be civil to

every body, to endeavour to obtain general esteem, and avoid satire

and sarcasm, to which he thought I was too much inclined; adding,

that with perseverance and prudent economy, I might, by the time I

became of age, save enough to establish myself in business; and that

if a small sum should then be wanting, he would undertake to supply

it.

This was all I could obtain from him, except some trifling presents,

in token of friendship from him and my mother. I embarked once more

for New York, furnished at this time with their approbation and

blessing. The sloop having touched at Newport in Rhode Island, I

paid a visit to my brother John, who had for some years been settled

there, and was married. He had always been attached to me, and he

received me with great affection. One of his friends, whose name

was Vernon, having a debt of about thirty-six pounds due to him in

Pennsylvania, begged me to receive it for him, and to keep the money

till I should hear from him: accordingly he gave me an order for that

purpose. This affair occasioned me, in the sequel, much uneasiness.

At Newport we took on board a number of passengers; among whom

were two young women, and a grave and sensible quaker lady with

her servants. I had shown an obliging forwardness in rendering the

quaker some trifling services, which led her, probably, to feel an

interest in my welfare; for when she saw a familiarity take place,

and every day increase, between the two young women and me, she took

me aside and said: "Young man, I am in pain for thee. Thou hast no

parent to watch over thy conduct, and thou seemest to be ignorant of

the world, and the snares to which youth is exposed. Rely upon what

I tell thee: those are women of bad characters; I perceive it in

all their actions. If thou dost not take care, they will lead thee

into danger. They are strangers to thee, and I advise thee, by the

friendly interest I take in thy preservation, to form no connection

with them." As I appeared at first not to think quite so ill of them

as she did, she related many things she had seen and heard, which

had escaped my attention, but which convinced me that she was in the

right. I thanked her for her obliging advice, and promised to follow

it.

When we arrived at New York, they informed me where they lodged,

and invited me to come and see them. I did not however go, and it

was well I did not; for the next day, the captain missing a silver

spoon and some other things which had been taken from the cabin, and

knowing these women to be prostitutes, procured a search-warrant,

found the stolen goods upon them, and had them punished. And thus,

after having been saved from one rock concealed under water, upon

which the vessel struck during our passage, I escaped another of a

still more dangerous nature.

At New York I found my friend Collins, who had arrived some time

before. We had been intimate from our infancy, and had read the same

books together; but he had the advantage of being able to devote

more time to reading and study, and an astonishing disposition for

mathematics, in which he left me far behind him. When at Boston, I

had been accustomed to pass with him almost all my leisure hours. He

was then a sober and industrious lad; his knowledge had gained him a

very general esteem, and he seemed to promise to make an advantageous

figure in society. But, during my absence, he had unfortunately

addicted himself to brandy, and I learned, as well from himself as

from the report of others, that every day since his arrival at New

York he had been intoxicated, and had acted in a very extravagant

manner. He had also played, and lost all his money; so that I was

obliged to pay his expences at the inn, and to maintain him during

the rest of his journey; a burthen that was very inconvenient to me.

The governor of New York, whose name was Burnet, hearing the captain

say, that a young man who was a passenger in his ship had a great

number of books, begged him to bring me to his house. I accordingly

went, and should have taken Collins with me, had he been sober. The

governor treated me with great civility, shewed me his library,

which was a very considerable one, and we talked for some time upon

books and authors. This was the second governor who had honoured me

with his attention, and to a poor boy, as I was then, these little

adventures did not fail to be pleasing.

We arrived at Philadelphia. On the way I received Vernon's money,

without which we should have been unable to have finished our journey.

Collins wished to get employment as a merchant's clerk, but either

his breath or his countenance betrayed his bad habit; for, though he

had recommendations he met with no success, and continued to lodge

and eat with me, and at my expence. Knowing that I had Vernon's

money, he was continually asking me to lend him some of it, promising

to repay me as soon as he should get employment. At last he had drawn

so much of this money, that I was extremely alarmed at what might

become of me, should he fail to make good the deficiency. His habit

of drinking did not at all diminish, and was a frequent source of

discord between us; for when he had drank a little too much, he was

very head-strong.

Being one day in a boat together on the Delaware, with some other

young persons, he refused to take his turn in rowing. You shall row

for me, said he, till we get home.--No, I replied, we will not row

for you.--You shall, said he, or remain upon the water all night. As

you please.--Let us row, said the rest of the company; what signifies

whether he assists or not. But, already angry with him for his

conduct in other respects, I persisted in my refusal. He then swore

that he would make me row, or would throw me out of the boat; and he

made up to me. As soon as he was within my reach, I took him by the

collar, gave him a violent thrust, and threw him head foremost into

the river. I knew that he was a good swimmer, and was therefore under

no apprehensions for his life. Before he could turn himself, we were

able, by a few strokes of our oars, to place ourselves out of his

reach; and whenever he touched the boat, we asked him if he would row

striking his hands at the same time with the oars, to make him let go

his hold. He was nearly suffocated with rage, but obstinately refused

making any promise to row. Perceiving, at length, that his strength

began to be exhausted, we took him into the boat, and conveyed

him home in the evening completely drenched. The utmost coldness

subsisted between us after this adventure. At last the captain of

a West-India ship, who was commissioned to procure a tutor for the

children of a gentleman at Barbadoes, meeting with Collins, offered

him the place. He accepted it, and took his leave of me, promising to

discharge the debt he owed me with the first money he should receive;

but I have heard nothing of him since.

The violation of the trust reposed in me by Vernon, was one of the

first great errors of my life; and it proves that my father was not

mistaken when he supposed me too young to be intrusted with the

management of important affairs. But Sir William, upon reading his

letter, thought him too prudent. There was a difference, he said,

between individuals: years of maturity were not always accompanied

with discretion, neither was youth in every instance devoid of

it. Since your father, added he, will not set you up in business,

I will do it myself. Make out a list of what will be wanted from

England, and I will send for the articles. You shall repay me when

you can. I am determined to have a good printer here, and I am sure

you will succeed. This was said with so much seeming cordiality,

that I suspected not for an instant the sincerity of the offer. I

had hitherto kept the project, with which Sir William had inspired

me, of settling in business, a secret at Philadelphia, and I still

continued to do so. Had my reliance on the governor been known,

some friend better acquainted with his character than myself, would

doubtless have advised me not to trust him; for I afterwards learned

he was universally known to be liberal of promises, which he had no

intention to perform. But having never solicited him, how could I

suppose his offers to be deceitful?--On the contrary, I believed him

to be the best man in the world.

I gave him an inventory of a small printing-office, the expence

of which I had calculated at about a hundred pounds sterling. He

expressed his approbation; but asked, if my presence in England, that

I might choose the characters myself, and see that every article

was good in its kind, would not be an advantage? You will also be

able, said he, to form some acquaintance there, and establish a

correspondence with stationers and booksellers. This I acknowledged

was desirable. That being the case, added he, hold yourself in

readiness to go with the Annis. This was the annual vessel, and the

only one, at that time, which made regular voyages between the ports

of London and Philadelphia. But the Annis was not to sail for some

months. I therefore continued to work with Keimer, unhappy respecting

the sum which Collins had drawn from me, and almost in continual

agony at the thoughts of Vernon, who fortunately made no demand of

his money till several years after.

In the account of my first voyage from Boston to Philadelphia,

I omitted, I believe, a trifling circumstance, which will not,

perhaps, be out of place here. During a calm which stopped us above

Block Island, the crew employed themselves in fishing for cod, of

which they caught a great number. I had hitherto adhered to my

resolution of not eating any thing that had possessed life; and I

considered on this occasion, agreeably to the maxims of my master

Tryon, the capture of every fish as a sort of murder, committed

without provocation, since these animals had neither done, nor were

capable of doing the smallest injury to any one that should justify

the measure. This mode of reasoning I conceived to be unanswerable.

Meanwhile, I had formerly been extremely fond of fish; and when one

of these cod was taken out of the frying-pan, I thought its flavour

delicious. I hesitated some time between principle and inclination,

till at last recollecting, that when the cod had been opened, some

small fish were found in its belly, I said to myself, if you eat one

another, I see no reason why we may not eat you. I accordingly dined

on the cod with no small degree of pleasure, and have since continued

to eat like the rest of mankind, returning only occasionally to

my vegetable plan. How convenient does it prove to be a _rational

animal_, that knows how to find or invent a plausible pretext for

whatever it has an inclination to do!

I continued to live upon good terms with Keimer, who had not the

smallest suspicion of my projected establishment. He still retained

a portion of his former enthusiasm; and, being fond of argument, we

frequently disputed together. I was so much in the habit of using my

Socratic method, and had so frequently puzzled him by my questions,

which appeared at first very distant from the point in debate, yet

nevertheless led to it by degrees, involving him in difficulties and

contradictions from which he was unable to extricate himself, that he

became at last ridiculously cautious, and would scarcely answer the

most plain and familiar question without previously asking me--What

would you infer from that? Hence he formed so high an opinion of my

talents for refutation, that he seriously proposed to me to become

his colleague in the establishment of a new religious sect. He was to

propagate the doctrine by preaching, and I to refute every opponent.

When he explained to me his tenets, I found many absurdities which

I refused to admit, unless he would agree in turn to adopt some of

my opinions. Keimer wore his beard long, because Moses had somewhere

said, "Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard." He likewise

observed the Sabbath; and these were with him two very essential

points. I disliked them both: but I consented to adopt them,

provided he would agree to abstain from animal food. I doubt, said

he, whether my constitution will be able to support it. I assured

him on the contrary he would find himself the better for it. He was

naturally a glutton, and I wished to amuse myself by starving him. He

consented to make trial of this regimen, if I would bear him company;

and in reality we continued it for three months. A woman in the

neighbourhood prepared and brought us our victuals, to whom I gave a

list of forty dishes; in the composition of which there were entered

neither flesh nor fish. This fancy was the more agreeable to me as it

turned to good account; for the whole expence of our living did not

exceed for each eighteen pence a week.

I have since that period observed several Lents with the greatest

strictness, and have suddenly returned again to my ordinary diet,

without experiencing the smallest inconvenience; which has led me to

regard as of no importance the advice commonly given, of introducing

gradually such alterations of regimen.

I continued it cheerfully, but poor Keimer suffered terribly.

Tired of the project, he sighed for the fleshpots of Egypt. At

length he ordered a roast pig, and invited me and two of our female

acquaintance to dine with him; but the pig being ready a little too

soon, he could not resist the temptation, and eat it all up before we

arrived.

During the circumstances I have related, I had paid some attentions

to Miss Read. I entertained for her the utmost esteem and affection;

and I had reason to believe that these sentiments were mutual. But

we were both young, scarcely more than eighteen years of age; and

as I was on the point of undertaking a long voyage, her mother

thought it prudent to prevent matters being carried top far for the

present, judging that, if marriage was our object, there would be

more propriety in it after my return, when, as at least I expected, I

should be established in my business. Perhaps, also, she thought my

expectations were not so well founded as I imagined.

My most intimate acquaintance at this time were Charles Osborne,

Joseph Watson, and James Ralph: young men who were all fond of

reading. The two first were clerks to Mr. Charles Brockdon, one

of the principal attornies in the town, and the other clerk to a

merchant. Watson was an upright, pious, and sensible young man: the

others were somewhat more loose in their principles of religion,

particularly Ralph, whose faith, as well as that of Collins, I had

contributed to shake; each of whom made me suffer a very adequate

punishment. Osborne was sensible, and sincere and affectionate in

his friendships, but too much inclined to the critic in matters of

literature. Ralph was ingenious and shrewd, genteel in his address,

and extremely eloquent. I do not remember to have met with a more

agreeable speaker. They were both enamoured of the muses, and had

already evinced their passion by some small poetical productions.

It was a custom with us to take a charming walk on Sundays, in the

woods that border the Skuylkil. Here we read together, and afterwards

conversed on what we read. Ralph was disposed to give himself up

entirely to poetry. He flattered himself that he should arrive at

great eminence in the art, and even acquire a fortune. The sublimest

poets, he pretended, when they first began to write, committed as

many faults as himself. Osborne endeavoured to dissuade him, by

assuring him that he had no genius for poetry, and advised him to

stick to the trade in which he had been brought up. In the road of

commerce, said he, you will be sure, by diligence and assiduity,

though you have no capital, of so far succeeding as to be employed

as a factor; and may thus, in time, acquire the means of setting

up for yourself. I concurred in these sentiments, but at the same

time expressed my approbation of amusing ourselves sometimes with

poetry, with a view to improve our style. In consequence of this it

was proposed, that, at our next meeting, each of us should bring a

copy of verses of his own composition. Our object in this competition

was to benefit each other by our mutual remarks, criticisms, and

corrections; and as style and expression were all we had in view, we

excluded every idea of invention, by agreeing that our task should be

a version of the eighteenth psalm, in which is described the descent

of the Deity.

The time of our meeting drew near, when Ralph called upon me, and

told me that his performance was ready. I informed him that I had

been idle, and, not much liking the task, had done nothing. He shewed

me his piece, and asked me what I thought of it. I expressed myself

in terms of warm approbation; because it really appeared to have

considerable merit. He then said, Osborne will never acknowledge

the smallest degree of excellence in any production of mine. Envy

alone dictates to him a thousand animadversions. Of you he is not so

jealous: I wish, therefore, you would take the verses, and produce

them as your own. I will pretend not to have had leisure to write

any thing. We shall then see in what manner he will speak of them.

I agreed to this little artifice, and immediately transcribed the

verses to prevent all suspicion.

We met. Watson's performance was the first that was read; it had

some beauties, but many faults. We next read Osborne's, which was

much better. Ralph did it justice, remarking a few imperfections,

and applauding such parts as were excellent. He had himself nothing

to show. It was now my turn. I made some difficulty; seemed as if

I wished to be excused; pretended that I had had no time to make

corrections, &c. No excuse, however, was admissible, and, the piece

must be produced. It was read, and re-read. Watson and Osborne

immediately resigned the palm, and united in applauding it. Ralph

alone made a few remarks, and proposed some alterations; but I

defended my text. Osborne agreed with me, and told Ralph that he was

no more able to criticise than he was able to write.

When Osborne was alone with me, he expressed himself still more

strongly in favour of what he considered as my performance. He

pretended that he had put some restraint upon himself before,

apprehensive of my construing his commendation into flattery. But

who would have supposed, said he, Franklin to be capable of such a

composition? What painting--what energy--what fire! He has surpassed

the original. In his common conversation he appears not to have a

choice of words; he hesitates, and is at a loss--and yet, good God,

how he writes!

At our next meeting Ralph discovered the trick we had played Osborne,

who was rallied without mercy.

By this adventure Ralph was fixed in his determination of becoming a

poet. I left nothing unattempted to divert him from his purpose; but

he persevered, till at last the reading of Pope[3] effected his cure:

he became, however, a very tolerable prose-writer. I shall speak more

of him hereafter; but as I shall probably have no farther occasion

to mention the other two, I ought to observe here that Watson died a

few years after in my arms. He was greatly regretted, for he was the

best of our society. Osborne went to the islands, where he gained

considerable reputation as a barrister, and was getting money; but he

died young. We had seriously engaged, that whoever died first should

return (if possible) and pay a friendly visit to the survivor, to

give him an account of the other world--but he has never fulfilled

his engagement.

The governor appeared to be fond of my company, and frequently

invited me to his house. He always spoke of his intention of

settling me in business, as a point that was decided. I was to take

with me letters of recommendation to a number of his friends, and

particularly a letter of credit, in order to obtain the necessary sum

for the purchase of my press, types, and paper. He appointed various

times for me to come for these letters, which would certainly be

ready, and when I came, always put me off to another day.

These successive delays continued till the vessel, whose departure

had been several times deferred, was on the point of setting sail;

when I again went to Sir William's house, to receive my letters and

take leave of him. I saw his secretary, Dr. Bard, who told me that

the governor was extremely busy writing, but that he would be down at

Newcastle before the vessel, and that the letters would be delivered

to me there.

Ralph, though he was married and had a child, determined to accompany

me in this voyage. His object was supposed to be the establishing a

correspondence with some mercantile houses, in order to sell goods

by commission; but I afterwards learned that, having reason to be

dissatisfied with the parents of his wife, he proposed to himself to

leave her on their hands, and never return to America again.

Having taken leave of my friends, and interchanged promises of

fidelity with Miss Read, I quitted Philadelphia. At Newcastle the

vessel came to anchor. The governor was arrived, and I went to his

lodgings. His secretary received me with great civility, told me on

the part of the governor that he could not see me then, as he was

engaged in affairs of the utmost importance, but that he would send

the letters on board, and that he wished me, with all his heart, a

good voyage, and speedy return. I returned, somewhat astonished, to

the ship, but still without entertaining the slightest suspicion.

Mr. Hamilton, a celebrated barrister of Philadelphia, had taken a

passage to England for himself and his son, and, in conjunction with

Mr. Denham, a quaker, and Messrs. Oniam and Russel, proprietors of a

forge in Maryland, had agreed for the whole cabin, so that Ralph and

I were obliged to take up our lodging with the crew. Being unknown

to every body in the ship, we were looked upon as of the common

order of people: but Mr. Hamilton and his son, (it was James, who

was afterwards governor,) left us at Newcastle, and returned to

Philadelphia, where he was recalled at a very great expence, to plead

the cause of a vessel that had been seized; and just as we were about

to sail, colonel French came on board, and shewed me many civilities.

The passengers upon this paid me more attention, and I was invited,

together with my friend Ralph, to occupy the place in the cabin which

the return of the Mr. Hamiltons had made vacant; an offer which we

very readily accepted.

Having learned that the dispatches of the governor had been brought

on board by colonel French, I asked the captain for the letters that

were to be entrusted to my care. He told me that they were all put

together in the bag, which he could not open at present; but before

we reached England, he would give me an opportunity of taking them

out. I was satisfied with this answer, and we pursued our voyage.

The company in the cabin were all very sociable, and we were

perfectly well off as to provisions, as we had the advantage of the

whole of Mr. Hamilton's, who had laid in a very plentiful stock.

During the passage, Mr. Denham contracted a friendship for me, which

ended only with his life: in other respects the voyage was by no

means an agreeable one, as we had much bad weather.

When we arrived in the river, the captain was as good as his word,

and allowed me to search in the bag for the governor's letters. I

could not find a single one with my name written on it, as committed

to my care; but I selected six or seven, which I judged from the

direction to be those that were intended for me; particularly one to

Mr. Basket the king's printer, and another to a stationer, who was

the first person I called upon. I delivered him the letter as coming

from governor Keith. "I have no acquaintance (said he) with any such

person;" and opening the letter, "Oh, it is from Riddlesden!" he

exclaimed. "I have lately discovered him to be a very arrant knave,

and wish to have nothing to do either with him or his letters." He

instantly put the letter into my hand, turned upon his heel, and left

me, to serve some customers.

I was astonished at finding these letters were not from the governor.

Reflecting, and putting circumstances together, I then began to doubt

his sincerity. I rejoined my friend Denham, and related the whole

affair to him. He let me at once into Keith's character, told me

there was not the least probability of his having written a single

letter; that no one who knew him ever placed any reliance on him, and

laughed at my credulity in supposing that the governor would give me

a letter of credit, when he had no credit for himself. As I showed

some uneasiness respecting what step I should take, he advised me to

try to get employment in the house of some printer. You may there,

said he, improve yourself in business, and you will be able to settle

yourself the more advantageously when you return to America.

We knew already as well as the stationer, attorney Riddlesden to be

a knave. He had nearly ruined the father of Miss Read, by drawing

him in to be his security. We learned from his letter, that he was

secretly carrying on an intrigue, in concert with the governor, to

the prejudice of Mr. Hamilton, who it was supposed would by this

time be in Europe. Denham, who was Hamilton's friend, was of opinion

that he ought to be made acquainted with it; and in reality, the

instant he arrived in England, which was very soon after, I waited on

him, and, as much from good-will to him, as from resentment against

the governor, put the letter into his hands. He thanked me very

sincerely, the information it contained being of consequence to him;

and from that moment bestowed on me his friendship, which afterwards

proved on many occasions serviceable to me.

But what are we to think of a governor who could play so scurvy a

trick, and thus grossly deceive a poor young lad, wholly destitute of

experience? It was a practice with him. Wishing to please every body,

and having little to bestow, he was lavish of promises. He was in

other respects sensible and judicious, a very tolerable writer, and

a good governor for the people; though not so for the proprietaries,

whose instructions he frequently disregarded. Many of our best laws

were his work, and established during his administration.

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took a lodging together

at three and sixpence a-week, which was as much as we could afford.

He met with some relations in London, but they were poor, and not

able to assist him. He now, for the first time, informed me of his

intention to remain in England, and that he had no thoughts of ever

returning to Philadelphia. He was totally without money; the little

he had been able to raise having barely sufficed for his passage. I

had still fifteen pistoles remaining; and to me he had from time to

time recourse, while he tried to get employment.

At first, believing himself possessed of talents for the stage,

he thought of turning actor; but Wilkes, to whom he applied,

frankly advised him to renounce the idea, as it was impossible

he should succeed. He next proposed to Roberts, a bookseller in

Paternoster-row, to write a weekly paper in the manner of the

Spectator, upon terms to which Roberts would not listen. Lastly, he

endeavoured to procure employment as a copyist, and applied to the

lawyers and stationers about the Temple; but he could find no vacancy.

As to myself, I immediately got engaged at Palmer's, at that time

a noted printer in Bartholomew-close, with whom I continued nearly

a year. I applied very assiduously to my work; but I expended with

Ralph almost all that I earned. Plays, and other places of amusement

which we frequented together, having exhausted my pistoles, we lived

after this from hand to mouth. He appeared to have entirely forgotten

his wife and child, as I also, by degrees, forgot my engagements

with Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that

merely to inform her that I was not likely to return soon. This

was another grand error of my life, which I should be desirous of

correcting were I to begin my career again.

I was employed at Palmer's on the second edition of Woolaston's

Religion of Nature. Some of his arguments appearing to me not to

be well-founded, I wrote a small metaphysical treatise, in which

I animadverted on those passages. It was entitled a "Dissertation

on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I dedicated it to my

friend Ralph, and printed a small number of copies. Palmer upon this

treated me with more consideration, and regarded me as a young man of

talents; though he seriously took me to task for the principles of my

pamphlet, which he looked upon as abominable. The printing of this

work was another error of my life.

While I lodged in Little Britain I formed acquaintance with a

bookseller of the name of Wilcox, whose shop was next door to me.

Circulating libraries were not then in use. He had an immense

collection of books of all sorts. We agreed that, for a reasonable

retribution, of which I have now forgotten the price, I should have

free access to his library, and take what books I pleased, which I

was to return when I had read them. I considered this agreement as a

very great advantage; and I derived from it as much benefit as was in

my power.

My pamphlet falling into the hands of a surgeon, of the name

of Lyons, author of a book entitled, "Infallibility of Human

Judgment," was the occasion of a considerable intimacy between us.

He expressed great esteem for me, came frequently to see me, in

order to converse upon metaphysical subjects, and introduced me to

Dr. Mandeville, author of the Fable of the Bees, who had instituted

a club at a tavern in Cheapside, of which he was the soul: he was

a facetious and very amusing character. He also introduced me, at

Batson's coffee-house, to Dr. Pemberton, who promised to give me

an opportunity of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, which I very ardently

desired; but he never kept his word.

I had brought some curiosities with me from America; the principal of

which was a purse made of the asbestos, which fire only purifies.

Sir Hans Sloane hearing of it, called upon me, and invited me to his

house in Bloomsbury-square, where, after showing me every thing that

was curious, he prevailed on me to add this piece to his collection;

for which he paid me very handsomely.

There lodged in the same house with us a young woman, a milliner,

who had a shop by the side of the Exchange. Lively and sensible,

and having received an education somewhat above her rank, her

conversation was very agreeable. Ralph read plays to her every

evening. They became intimate. She took another lodging, and he

followed her. They lived for some time together; but Ralph being

without employment, she having a child, and the profits of her

business not sufficing for the maintenance of three, he resolved

to quit London, and try a country school. This was a plan in which

he thought himself likely to succeed; as he wrote a fine hand, and

was versed in arithmetic and accounts. But considering the office

as beneath him, and expecting some day to make a better figure in

the world, when he should be ashamed of its being known that he had

exercised a profession so little honourable, he changed his name,

and did me the honour to assume mine. He wrote to me soon after his

departure, informing me that he was settled at a small village in

Berkshire. In his letter he recommended Mrs. T***, the milliner,

to my care, and requested an answer, directed to Mr. Franklin,

school-master, at N***.

He continued to write to me frequently, sending me large fragments

of an epic poem he was composing, and which he begged of me to

criticise and correct. I did so, but not without endeavouring to

prevail on him to renounce this pursuit. Young had just published one

of his Satires. I copied and sent him a great part of it; in which

the author demonstrates the folly of cultivating the muses, from the

hope, by their instrumentality, of rising in the world. It was all to

no purpose; paper after paper of his poem continued to arrive every

post.

Meanwhile Mrs. T*** having lost, on his account, both her friends

and her business, was frequently in distress. In this dilemma she had

recourse to me; and to extricate her from difficulties, I lent her

all the money I could spare. I felt a little too much fondness for

her. Having at that time no ties of religion, and taking advantage of

her necessitous situation, I attempted liberties, (another error of

my life,) which she repelled with becoming indignation. She informed

Ralph of my conduct; and the affair occasioned a breach between

us. When he returned to London, he gave me to understand that he

considered all the obligations he owed me as annihilated by this

proceeding; whence I concluded that I was never to expect the payment

of what money I had lent him, or advanced on his account. I was the

less afflicted at this, as he was wholly unable to pay me; and as, by

losing his friendship, I was relieved at the same time from a very

heavy burden.

I now began to think of laying by some money. The printing-house of

Watts, near Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, being a still more considerable

one than that in which I worked, it was probable I might find it

more advantageous to be employed there. I offered myself, and was

accepted; and in this house I continued during the remainder of my

stay in London.

On my entrance I worked at first as a pressman, conceiving that I had

need of bodily exercise, to which I had been accustomed in America,

where the printers work alternately as compositors and at the press.

I drank nothing but water. The other workmen, to the number of about

fifty, were great drinkers of beer. I carried occasionally a large

form of letters in each hand, up and down stairs, while the rest

employed both hands to carry one. They were surprised to see, by this

and many other examples, that the _American Aquatic_, as they used

to call me, was stronger than those who drank porter. The beer-boy

had sufficient employment during the whole day in serving that house

alone. My fellow pressman drank every day a pint of beer before

breakfast, a pint with bread and cheese for breakfast, one between

breakfast and dinner, one at dinner, one again about six o'clock in

the afternoon, and another after he had finished his day's work. This

custom appeared to me abominable; but he had need, he said, of all

this beer, in order to acquire strength to work.

I endeavoured to convince him that the bodily strength furnished by

the beer, could only be in proportion to the solid part of the barley

dissolved in the water of which the beer was composed; that there was

a larger portion of flour in a penny loaf, and that consequently if

he ate this loaf, and drank a pint of water with it, he would derive

more strength from it than from a pint of beer. This reasoning,

however, did not prevent him from drinking his accustomed quantity

of beer, and paying every Saturday night a score of four or five

shillings a-week for this cursed beverage; an expence from which I

was wholly exempt. Thus do these poor devils continue all their lives

in a state of voluntary wretchedness and poverty.

At the end of a few weeks, Watts having occasion for me above stairs

as a compositor, I quitted the press. The compositors demanded of me

garnish money a-fresh. This I considered as an imposition, having

already paid below. The master was of the same opinion, and desired

me not to comply. I thus remained two or three weeks out of the

fraternity. I was consequently looked upon as excommunicated; and

whenever I was absent, no little trick that malice could suggest

was left unpractised upon me. I found my letters mixed, my pages

transposed, my matter broken, &c. &c. all which was attributed to

the spirit that haunted the chapel,[4] and tormented those who were

not regularly admitted. I was at last obliged to submit to pay,

notwithstanding the protection of the master; convinced of the folly

of not keeping up a good understanding with those among whom we are

destined to live.

After this I lived in the utmost harmony with my fellow-labourers,

and soon acquired considerable influence among them. I proposed

some alterations in the laws of the chapel, which I carried without

opposition. My example prevailed with several of them to renounce

their abominable practice of bread and cheese with beer; and they

procured, like me, from a neighbouring house, a good basin of warm

gruel, in which was a small slice of butter, with toasted bread and

nutmeg. This was a much better breakfast, which did not cost more

than a pint of beer, namely, three halfpence, and at the same time

preserved the head clearer. Those who continued to gorge themselves

with beer, often lost their credit with the publican, from neglecting

to pay their score. They had then recourse to me, to become security

for them; _their light_, as they used to call it, _being out_.

I attended at the pay-table every Saturday evening, to take up

the little sum which I had made myself answerable for; and which

sometimes amounted to nearly thirty shillings a-week.

This circumstance, added to my reputation of being a tolerable good

_gabber_, or, in other words, skilful in the art of burlesque, kept

up my importance in the chapel. I had besides recommended myself to

the esteem of my master by my assiduous application to business,

never observing Saint Monday. My extraordinary quickness in composing

always procured me such work as was most urgent, and which is

commonly best paid; and thus my time passed away in a very pleasant

manner.

My lodging in Little Britain being too far from the printing-house,

I took another in Duke-street, opposite the Roman Catholic chapel.

It was at the back of an Italian warehouse. The house was kept by a

widow, who had a daughter, a servant, and a shop-boy; but the latter

slept out of the house. After sending to the people with whom I

lodged in Little Britain, to enquire into my character, she agreed to

take me in at the same price, three and sixpence a-week; contenting

herself, she said, with so little, because of the security she should

derive, as they were all women, from having a man lodger in the

house.

She was a woman rather advanced in life, the daughter of a clergyman.

She had been educated a Protestant; but her husband, whose memory she

highly revered, had converted her to the Catholic religion. She had

lived in habits of intimacy with persons of distinction; of whom she

knew various anecdotes as far back as the time of Charles II. Being

subject to fits of the gout, which often confined her to her room,

she was sometimes disposed to see company. Hers was so amusing to me,

that I was glad to pass the evening with her as often as she desired

it. Our supper consisted only of half an anchovy a piece, upon a

slice of bread and butter, with half a pint of ale between us. But

the entertainment was in her conversation.

The early hours I kept, and the little trouble I occasioned in the

family, made her loth to part with me; and when I mentioned another

lodging I had found, nearer the printing-house, at two shillings

a week, which fell in with my plan of saving, she persuaded me to

give it up, making herself an abatement of two shillings: and thus

I continued to lodge with her, during the remainder of my abode in

London, at eighteen pence a week.

In a garret of the house there lived, in the most retired manner, a

lady seventy years of age, of whom I received the following account

from my landlady. She was a Roman Catholic. In her early years she

had been sent to the continent, and entered a convent with the

design of becoming a nun; but the climate not agreeing with her

constitution, she was obliged to return to England, where, as there

were no monasteries, she made a vow to lead a monastic life, in

as rigid a manner as circumstances would permit. She accordingly

disposed of all her property to be applied to charitable uses,

reserving to herself only twelve pounds a year; and of this small

pittance she gave a part to the poor, living on water gruel, and

never making use of fire but to boil it. She had lived in this garret

a great many years, without paying rent to the successive Catholic

inhabitants that had kept the house; who indeed considered her abode

with them as a blessing. A priest came every day to confess her. I

have asked her, said my landlady, how, living as she did, she could

find so much employment for a confessor? To which she answered, that

it was impossible to avoid vain thoughts.

I was once permitted to visit her. She was cheerful and polite, and

her conversation agreeable. Her apartment was neat; but the whole

furniture consisted of a mattress, a table, on which were a crucifix

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

mantle-piece a picture of St. Veronica displaying her handkerchief,

on which was seen the miraculous impression of the face of Christ,

which she explained to me with great gravity. Her countenance was

pale, but she had never experienced sickness; and I may adduce her as

another proof how little is sufficient to maintain life and health.

At the printing house I contracted an intimacy with a sensible

young man of the name of Wygate, who, as his parents were in good

circumstances, had received a better education than is common among

printers. He was a tolerable Latin scholar, spoke French fluently,

and was fond of reading. I taught him, as well as a friend of his,

to swim, by taking them twice only into the river; after which they

stood in need of no farther assistance. We one day made a party to go

by water to Chelsea, in order to see the College, and Don Soltero's

curiosities. On our return, at the request of the company, whose

curiosity Wygate had excited, I undressed myself, and leaped into

the river. I swam from near Chelsea the whole way to Blackfriars,

exhibiting, during my course, a variety of feats of activity and

address, both upon the surface of the water, as well as under it.

This sight occasioned much astonishment and pleasure to those to

whom it was new. In my youth I took great delight in this exercise.

I knew, and could execute, all the evolutions and positions of

Thevenot; and I added to them some of my own invention, in which I

endeavoured to unite gracefulness and utility. I took a pleasure in

displaying them all on this occasion, and was highly flattered with

the admiration they excited.

Wygate, besides his being desirous of perfecting himself in this art,

was the more attached to me from there being, in other respects, a

conformity in our tastes and studies. He at length proposed to me to

make the tour of Europe with him, maintaining ourselves at the same

time by working at our profession. I was on the point of consenting,

when I mentioned it to my friend Mr. Denham, with whom I was glad

to pass an hour whenever I had leisure. He dissuaded me from the

project, and advised me to think of returning to Philadelphia, which

he was about to do himself. I must relate in this place a trait of

this worthy man's character.

He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failing, he

compounded with his creditors, and departed for America, where, by

assiduous application as a merchant, he acquired in a few years

a very considerable fortune. Returning to England in the same

vessel with myself, as I have related above, he invited all his

old creditors to a feast. When assembled, he thanked them for the

readiness with which they had received his small composition; and,

while they expected nothing more than a simple entertainment, each

found under his plate, when it came to be removed, a draft upon a

banker for the residue of his debt, with interest.

He told me that it was his intention to carry back with him to

Philadelphia a great quantity of goods, in order to open a store;

and he offered to take me with him in the capacity of clerk, to

keep his books, in which he would instruct me, copy letters, and

superintend the store. He added, that as soon as I had acquired a

knowledge of mercantile transactions, he would improve my situation,

by sending me with a cargo of corn and flour to the American islands,

and by procuring me other lucrative commissions; so that, with good

management and economy, I might in time begin business with advantage

for myself.

I relished these proposals. London began to tire me; the agreeable

hours I had passed at Philadelphia presented themselves to my mind,

and I wished to see them revive. I consequently engaged myself to Mr.

Denham, at a salary of fifty pounds a year. This was, indeed less

than I earned as a compositor, but then I had a much fairer prospect.

I took leave therefore, as I believed for ever, of printing, and gave

myself up entirely to my new occupation, spending all my time either

in going from house to house with Mr. Denham to purchase goods, or

in packing them up, or in expediting the workmen, &c. &c. When every

thing, however, was on board, I had at last a few days leisure.

During this interval, I was one day sent for by a gentleman, whom I

knew only by name. It was Sir William Wyndham. I went to his house.

He had by some means heard of my performances between Chelsea and

Blackfriars, and that I had taught the art of swimming to Wygate and

another young man in the course of a few hours. His two sons were on

the point of setting out on their travels; he was desirous that they

should previously learn to swim, and offered me a very liberal reward

if I would undertake to instruct them. They were not yet arrived

in town, and the stay I should make was uncertain; I could not

therefore accept his proposal. I was led, however, to suppose from

this incident, that if I had wished to remain in London, and open a

swimming school, I should perhaps have gained a great deal of money.

This idea struck me so forcibly that, had the offer been made sooner,

I should have dismissed the thought of returning as yet to America.

Some years after, you and I had a more important business to settle

with one of the sons of Sir William Wyndham, then Lord Egremont. But

let us not anticipate events.

I thus passed about eighteen months in London, working almost without

intermission at my trade, avoiding all expence on my own account,

except going now and then to the play, and purchasing a few books.

But my friend Ralph kept me poor. He owed me about twenty-seven

pounds, which was so much money lost; and when considered as taken

from my little savings, was a very great sum. I had, notwithstanding

this, a regard for him, as he possessed many amiable qualities. But

though I had done nothing for myself in point of fortune, I had

increased my stock of knowledge, either by the many excellent books

I had read, or the conversation of learned and literary persons with

whom I was acquainted.

We sailed from Gravesend the 23d of July, 1726. For the incidents

of my voyage I refer you to my Journal, where you will find all its

circumstances minutely related. We landed at Philadelphia on the 11th

of the following October.

Keith had been deprived of his office of governor, and was succeeded

by Major Gordon. I met him walking in the streets as a private

individual. He appeared a little ashamed at seeing me, but passed on

without saying any thing.

I should have been equally ashamed myself at meeting Miss Read, had

not her family, justly despairing of my return after reading my

letter, advised her to give me up, and marry a potter, of the name

of Rogers; to which she consented: but he never made her happy,

and she soon separated from him, refusing to cohabit with him, or

even bear his name, on account of a report which prevailed, of his

having another wife. His skill in his profession had seduced Miss

Read's parents; but he was as bad a subject as he was excellent as a

workman. He involved himself in debt, and fled, in the year 1727 or

1728, to the West Indies, where he died.

During my absence Keimer had taken a more considerable house, in

which he kept a shop, that was well supplied with paper, and various

other articles. He had procured some new types, and a number of

workmen; among whom, however, there was not one who was good for any

thing; and he appeared not to want business.