The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin

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Title: The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin

Author: Benjamin Franklin

Editor: Charles William Eliot

Release date: July 1, 1994 [eBook #148]
Most recently updated: March 11, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/148

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN ***
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

The Harvard Classics

WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES

EDITED BY

CHARLES W ELIOT LLD

P F COLLIER & SON COMPANY
NEW YORK
1909

Navigation

Letter from Mr. Abel James.
Publishes the first number of "Poor Richard's Almanac.
Proposes a Plan of Union for the colonies
Chief events in Franklin's life.

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Benjamin Franklin was born in Milk Street, Boston, on January 6, 1706.
His father, Josiah Franklin, was a tallow chandler who married twice,
and of his seventeen children Benjamin was the youngest son. His
schooling ended at ten, and at twelve he was bound apprentice to his
brother James, a printer, who published the "New England Courant." To
this journal he became a contributor, and later was for a time its
nominal editor. But the brothers quarreled, and Benjamin ran away, going
first to New York, and thence to Philadelphia, where he arrived in
October, 1723. He soon obtained work as a printer, but after a few
months he was induced by Governor Keith to go to London, where, finding
Keith's promises empty, he again worked as a compositor till he was
brought back to Philadelphia by a merchant named Denman, who gave him a
position in his business. On Denman's death he returned to his former
trade, and shortly set up a printing house of his own from which he
published "The Pennsylvania Gazette," to which he contributed many
essays, and which he made a medium for agitating a variety of local
reforms. In 1732 he began to issue his famous "Poor Richard's Almanac"
for the enrichment of which he borrowed or composed those pithy
utterances of worldly wisdom which are the basis of a large part of his
popular reputation. In 1758, the year in which he ceased writing for the
Almanac, he printed in it "Father Abraham's Sermon," now regarded as the
most famous piece of literature produced in Colonial America.

Meantime Franklin was concerning himself more and more with public
affairs. He set forth a scheme for an Academy, which was taken up later
and finally developed into the University of Pennsylvania; and he
founded an "American Philosophical Society" for the purpose of enabling
scientific men to communicate their discoveries to one another. He
himself had already begun his electrical researches, which, with other
scientific inquiries, he carried on in the intervals of money-making and
politics to the end of his life. In 1748 he sold his business in order
to get leisure for study, having now acquired comparative wealth; and in
a few years he had made discoveries that gave him a reputation with the
learned throughout Europe. In politics he proved very able both as an
administrator and as a controversialist; but his record as an
office-holder is stained by the use he made of his position to advance
his relatives. His most notable service in home politics was his reform
of the postal system; but his fame as a statesman rests chiefly on his
services in connection with the relations of the Colonies with Great
Britain, and later with France. In 1757 he was sent to England to
protest against the influence of the Penns in the government of the
colony, and for five years he remained there, striving to enlighten the
people and the ministry of England as to Colonial conditions. On his
return to America he played an honorable part in the Paxton affair,
through which he lost his seat in the Assembly; but in 1764 he was again
despatched to England as agent for the colony, this time to petition the
King to resume the government from the hands of the proprietors. In
London he actively opposed the proposed Stamp Act, but lost the credit
for this and much of his popularity through his securing for a friend
the office of stamp agent in America. Even his effective work in helping
to obtain the repeal of the act left him still a suspect; but he
continued his efforts to present the case for the Colonies as the
troubles thickened toward the crisis of the Revolution. In 1767 he
crossed to France, where he was received with honor; but before his
return home in 1775 he lost his position as postmaster through his share
in divulging to Massachusetts the famous letter of Hutchinson and
Oliver. On his arrival in Philadelphia he was chosen a member of the
Continental Congress, and in 1777 he was despatched to France as
commissioner for the United States. Here he remained till 1785, the
favorite of French society; and with such success did he conduct the
affairs of his country that when he finally returned he received a place
only second to that of Washington as the champion of American
independence. He died on April 17, 1790.

The first five chapters of the Autobiography were composed in England in
1771, continued in 1784-5, and again in 1788, at which date he brought
it down to 1757. After a most extraordinary series of adventures, the
original form of the manuscript was finally printed by Mr. John Bigelow,
and is here reproduced in recognition of its value as a picture of one
of the most notable personalities of Colonial times, and of its
acknowledged rank as one of the great autobiographies of the world.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY

1706-1757

Twyford, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's, [1] 1771.

Dear Son: I have ever had pleasure in obtaining any little anecdotes of
my ancestors. You may remember the inquiries I made among the remains of
my relations when you were with me in England, and the journey I
undertook for that purpose. Imagining it may be equally agreeable to [2]
you to know the circumstances of my life, many of which you are yet
unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a week's uninterrupted
leisure in my present country retirement, I sit down to write them for
you. To which I have besides some other inducements. Having emerged from
the poverty and obscurity in which I was born and bred, to a state of
affluence and some degree of reputation in the world, and having gone so
far through life with a considerable share of felicity, the conducing
means I made use of, which with the blessing of God so well succeeded,
my posterity may like to know, as they may find some of them suitable to
their own situations, and therefore fit to be imitated.

[1] The country-seat of Bishop Shipley, the good bishop, as Dr. Franklin
used to style him.--B.

[2] After the words "agreeable to" the words "some of" were interlined
and afterward effaced.--B.

That felicity, when I reflected on it, has induced me sometimes to say,
that were it offered to my choice, I should have no objection to a
repetition of the same life from its beginning, only asking the
advantages authors have in a second edition to correct some faults of
the first. So I might, besides correcting the faults, change some
sinister accidents and events of it for others more favorable. But
though this were denied, I should still accept the offer. Since such a
repetition is not to be expected, the next thing most like living one's
life over again seems to be a recollection of that life, and to make
that recollection as durable as possible by putting it down in writing.

Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination so natural in old men, to
be talking of themselves and their own past actions; and I shall indulge
it without being tiresome to others, who, through respect to age, might
conceive themselves obliged to give me a hearing, since this may be read
or not as any one pleases. And, lastly (I may as well confess it, since
my denial of it will be believed by nobody), perhaps I shall a good deal
gratify my own vanity. Indeed, I scarce ever heard or saw the
introductory words, "Without vanity I may say," &c., but some vain thing
immediately followed. Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever
share they have of it themselves; but I give it fair quarter wherever I
meet with it, being persuaded that it is often productive of good to the
possessor, and to others that are within his sphere of action; and
therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a man
were to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life.

And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humility to
acknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of my past life to His
kind providence, which lead me to the means I used and gave them
success. My belief of this induces me to hope, though I must not
presume, that the same goodness will still be exercised toward me, in
continuing that happiness, or enabling me to bear a fatal reverse, which
I may experience as others have done: the complexion of my future
fortune being known to Him only in whose power it is to bless to us even
our afflictions.

The notes one of my uncles (who had the same kind of curiosity in
collecting family anecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished me with
several particulars relating to our ancestors. From these notes I
learned that the family had lived in the same village, Ecton, in
Northamptonshire, for three hundred years, and how much longer he knew
not (perhaps from the time when the name of Franklin, that before was
the name of an order of people, was assumed by them as a surname when
others took surnames all over the kingdom), on a freehold of about
thirty acres, aided by the smith's business, which had continued in the
family till his time, the eldest son being always bred to that business;
a custom which he and my father followed as to their eldest sons. When I
searched the registers at Ecton, I found an account of their births,
marriages and burials from the year 1555 only, there being no registers
kept in that parish at any time preceding. By that register I perceived
that I was the youngest son of the youngest son for five generations
back. My grandfather Thomas, who was born in 1598, lived at Ecton till
he grew too old to follow business longer, when he went to live with his
son John, a dyer at Banbury, in Oxfordshire, with whom my father served
an apprenticeship. There my grandfather died and lies buried. We saw his
gravestone in 1758. His eldest son Thomas lived in the house at Ecton,
and left it with the land to his only child, a daughter, who, with her
husband, one Fisher, of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Isted, now lord
of the manor there. My grandfather had four sons that grew up, viz.:
Thomas, John, Benjamin and Josiah. I will give you what account I can of
them, at this distance from my papers, and if these are not lost in my
absence, you will among them find many more particulars.

Thomas was bred a smith under his father; but, being ingenious, and
encouraged in learning (as all my brothers were) by an Esquire Palmer,
then the principal gentleman in that parish, he qualified himself for
the business of scrivener; became a considerable man in the county; was
a chief mover of all public-spirited undertakings for the county or town
of Northampton, and his own village, of which many instances were
related of him; and much taken notice of and patronized by the then Lord
Halifax. He died in 1702, January 6, old style, just four years to a day
before I was born. The account we received of his life and character
from some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck you as something
extraordinary, from its similarity to what you knew of mine. "Had he
died on the same day," you said, "one might have supposed a
transmigration."

John was bred a dyer, I believe of woolens. Benjamin was bred a silk
dyer, serving an apprenticeship at London. He was an ingenious man. I
remember him well, for when I was a boy he came over to my father in
Boston, and lived in the house with us some years. He lived to a great
age. His grandson, Samuel Franklin, now lives in Boston. He left behind
him two quarto volumes, MS., of his own poetry, consisting of little
occasional pieces addressed to his friends and relations, of which the
following, sent to me, is a specimen. ¹ He had formed a short-hand of
his own, which he taught me, but, never practising it, I have now forgot
it. I was named after this uncle, there being a particular affection
between him and my father. He was very pious, a great attender of
sermons of the best preachers, which he took down in his short-hand, and
had with him many volumes of them. He was also much of a politician; too
much, perhaps, for his station. There fell lately into my hands, in
London, a collection he had made of all the principal pamphlets,
relating to public affairs, from 1641 to 1717; many of the volumes are
wanting as appears by the numbering, but there still remain eight
volumes in folio, and twenty-four in quarto and in octavo. A dealer in
old books met with them, and knowing me by my sometimes buying of him,
he brought them to me. It seems my uncle must have left them here, when
he went to America, which was about fifty years since. There are many of
his notes in the margins.

¹ Here follow in the margin the words, in brackets, "here insert it,"
but the poetry is not given. Mr. Sparks informs us (Life of Franklin,
p. 6) that these volumes had been preserved, and were in possession of
Mrs. Emmons, of Boston, great-grandmother of their author.

This obscure family of ours was early in the Reformation, and continued
Protestants through the reign of Queen Mary, when they were sometimes in
danger of trouble on account of their zeal against popery. They had got
an English Bible, and to conceal and secure it, it was fastened open
with tapes under and within the cover of a joint-stool. When my
great-great-grandfather read it to his family, he turned up the
joint-stool upon his knees, turning over the leaves then under the
tapes. One of the children stood at the door to give notice if he saw
the apparitor coming, who was an officer of the spiritual court. In that
case the stool was turned down again upon its feet, when the Bible
remained concealed under it as before. This anecdote I had from my uncle
Benjamin. The family continued all of the Church of England till about
the end of Charles the Second's reign, when some of the ministers that
had been outed for nonconformity holding conventicles in
Northamptonshire, Benjamin and Josiah adhered to them, and so continued
all their lives: the rest of the family remained with the Episcopal
Church.

Josiah, my father, married young, and carried his wife with three
children into New England, about 1682. The conventicles having been
forbidden by law, and frequently disturbed, induced some considerable
men of his acquaintance to remove to that country, and he was prevailed
with to accompany them thither, where they expected to enjoy their mode
of religion with freedom. By the same wife he had four children more
born there, and by a second wife ten more, in all seventeen; of which I
remember thirteen sitting at one time at his table, who all grew up to
be men and women, and married; I was the youngest son, and the youngest
child but two, and was born in Boston, New England. My mother, the
second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one of the
first settlers of New England, of whom honorable mention is made by
Cotton Mather, in his church history of that country, entitled Magnalia
Christi Americana, as "a godly, learned Englishman," if I remember the
words rightly. I have heard that he wrote sundry small occasional
pieces, but only one of them was printed, which I saw now many years
since. It was written in 1675, in the home-spun verse of that time and
people, and addressed to those then concerned in the government there.
It was in favor of liberty of conscience, and in behalf of the Baptists,
Quakers, and other sectaries that had been under persecution, ascribing
the Indian wars, and other distresses that had befallen the country, to
that persecution, as so many judgments of God to punish so heinous an
offense, and exhorting a repeal of those uncharitable laws. The whole
appeared to me as written with a good deal of decent plainness and manly
freedom. The six concluding lines I remember, though I have forgotten
the two first of the stanza; but the purport of them was, that his
censures proceeded from good-will, and, therefore, he would be known to
be the author.

"Because to be a libeller (says he)
I hate it with my heart;
From Sherburne town, where now I dwell
My name I do put here;
Without offense your real friend,
It is Peter Folgier."

My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. I was
put to the grammar-school at eight years of age, my father intending to
devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to the service of the Church. My
early readiness in learning to read (which must have been very early, as
I do not remember when I could not read), and the opinion of all his
friends, that I should certainly make a good scholar, encouraged him in
this purpose of his. My uncle Benjamin, too, approved of it, and
proposed to give me all his short-hand volumes of sermons, I suppose as
a stock to set up with, if I would learn his character. I continued,
however, at the grammar-school not quite one year, though in that time I
had risen gradually from the middle of the class of that year to be the
head of it, and farther was removed into the next class above it, in
order to go with that into the third at the end of the year. But my
father, in the meantime, from a view of the expense of a college
education, which having so large a family he could not well afford, and
the mean living many so educated were afterwards able to obtain--reasons
that he gave to his friends in my hearing--altered his first intention,
took me from the grammar-school, and sent me to a school for writing and
arithmetic, kept by a then famous man, Mr. George Brownell, very
successful in his profession generally, and that by mild, encouraging
methods. Under him I acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed in
the arithmetic, and made no progress in it. At ten years old I was taken
home to assist my father in his business, which was that of a
tallow-chandler and sope-boiler; a business he was not bred to, but had
assumed on his arrival in New England, and on finding his dying trade
would not maintain his family, being in little request. Accordingly, I
was employed in cutting wick for the candles, filling the dipping mold
and the molds for cast candles, attending the shop, going of errands,
etc.

I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination for the sea, but my
father declared against it; however, living near the water, I was much
in and about it, learnt early to swim well, and to manage boats; and
when in a boat or canoe with other boys, I was commonly allowed to
govern, especially in any case of difficulty; and upon other occasions I
was generally a leader among the boys, and sometimes led them into
scrapes, of which I will mention one instance, as it shows an early
projecting public spirit, tho' not then justly conducted.

There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of the mill-pond, on the edge
of which, at high water, we used to stand to fish for minnows. By much
trampling, we had made it a mere quagmire. My proposal was to build a
wharff there fit for us to stand upon, and I showed my comrades a large
heap of stones, which were intended for a new house near the marsh, and
which would very well suit our purpose. Accordingly, in the evening,
when the workmen were gone, I assembled a number of my play-fellows, and
working with them diligently like so many emmets, sometimes two or three
to a stone, we brought them all away and built our little wharff. The
next morning the workmen were surprised at missing the stones, which
were found in our wharff. Inquiry was made after the removers; we were
discovered and complained of; several of us were corrected by our
fathers; and though I pleaded the usefulness of the work, mine convinced
me that nothing was useful which was not honest.

I think you may like to know something of his person and character. He
had an excellent constitution of body, was of middle stature, but well
set, and very strong; he was ingenious, could draw prettily, was skilled
a little in music, and had a clear pleasing voice, so that when he
played psalm tunes on his violin and sung withal, as he sometimes did in
an evening after the business of the day was over, it was extremely
agreeable to hear. He had a mechanical genius too, and, on occasion, was
very handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools; but his great
excellence lay in a sound understanding and solid judgment in prudential
matters, both in private and publick affairs. In the latter, indeed, he
was never employed, the numerous family he had to educate and the
straitness of his circumstances keeping him close to his trade; but I
remember well his being frequently visited by leading people, who
consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the town or of the church he
belonged to, and showed a good deal of respect for his judgment and
advice: he was also much consulted by private persons about their
affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently chosen an
arbitrator between contending parties.

At his table he liked to have, as often as he could, some sensible
friend or neighbor to converse with, and always took care to start some
ingenious or useful topic for discourse, which might tend to improve the
minds of his children. By this means he turned our attention to what was
good, just, and prudent in the conduct of life; and little or no notice
was ever taken of what related to the victuals on the table, whether it
was well or ill dressed, in or out of season, of good or bad flavor,
preferable or inferior to this or that other thing of the kind, so that
I was bro't up in such a perfect inattention to those matters as to be
quite indifferent what kind of food was set before me, and so
unobservant of it, that to this day if I am asked I can scarce tell a
few hours after dinner what I dined upon. This has been a convenience to
me in travelling, where my companions have been sometimes very unhappy
for want of a suitable gratification of their more delicate, because
better instructed, tastes and appetites.

My mother had likewise an excellent constitution: she suckled all her
ten children. I never knew either my father or mother to have any
sickness but that of which they dy'd, he at 89, and she at 85 years of
age. They lie buried together at Boston, where I some years since placed
a marble over their grave, with this inscription:

Josiah Franklin,
and
Abiah his wife,
lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in wedlock
fifty-five years.
Without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labor and industry,
with God's blessing,
They maintained a large family
comfortably,
and brought up thirteen children
and seven grandchildren
reputably.
From this instance, reader,
Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,
And distrust not Providence.
He was a pious and prudent man;
She, a discreet and virtuous woman.
Their youngest son,
In filial regard to their memory,
Places this stone.
J.F. born 1655, died 1744, Ætat 89.
A.F. born 1667, died 1752, ------85.

By my rambling digressions I perceive myself to be grown old. I us'd to
write more methodically. But one does not dress for private company as
for a publick ball. 'Tis perhaps only negligence.

To return: I continued thus employed in my father's business for two
years, that is, till I was twelve years old; and my brother John, who
was bred to that business, having left my father, married, and set up
for himself at Rhode Island, there was all appearance that I was
destined to supply his place, and become a tallow-chandler. But my
dislike to the trade continuing, my father was under apprehensions that
if he did not find one for me more agreeable, I should break away and
get to sea, as his son Josiah had done, to his great vexation. He
therefore sometimes took me to walk with him, and see joiners,
bricklayers, turners, braziers, etc., at their work, that he might
observe my inclination, and endeavor to fix it on some trade or other on
land. It has ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle
their tools; and it has been useful to me, having learnt so much by it
as to be able to do little jobs myself in my house when a workman could
not readily be got, and to construct little machines for my experiments,
while the intention of making the experiment was fresh and warm in my
mind. My father at last fixed upon the cutler's trade, and my uncle
Benjamin's son Samuel, who was bred to that business in London, being
about that time established in Boston, I was sent to be with him some
time on liking. But his expectations of a fee with me displeasing my
father, I was taken home again.

From a child I was fond of reading, and all the little money that came
into my hands was ever laid out in books. Pleased with the Pilgrim's
Progress, my first collection was of John Bunyan's works in separate
little volumes. I afterward sold them to enable me to buy R. Burton's
Historical Collections; they were small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40
or 50 in all. My father's little library consisted chiefly of books in
polemic divinity, most of which I read, and have since often regretted
that, at a time when I had such a thirst for knowledge, more proper
books had not fallen in my way since it was now resolved I should not be
a clergyman. Plutarch's Lives there was in which I read abundantly, and
I still think that time spent to great advantage. There was also a book
of De Foe's, called an Essay on Projects, and another of Dr. Mather's,
called Essays to do Good, which perhaps gave me a turn of thinking that
had an influence on some of the principal future events of my life.

This bookish inclination at length determined my father to make me a
printer, though he had already one son (James) of that profession. In
1717 my brother James returned from England with a press and letters to
set up his business in Boston. I liked it much better than that of my
father, but still had a hankering for the sea. To prevent the
apprehended effect of such an inclination, my father was impatient to
have me bound to my brother. I stood out some time, but at last was
persuaded, and signed the indentures when I was yet but twelve years
old. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was twenty-one years of age,
only I was to be allowed journeyman's wages during the last year. In a
little time I made great proficiency in the business, and became a
useful hand to my brother. I now had access to better books. An
acquaintance with the apprentices of booksellers enabled me sometimes to
borrow a small one, which I was careful to return soon and clean. Often
I sat up in my room reading the greatest part of the night, when the
book was borrowed in the evening and to be returned early in the
morning, lest it should be missed or wanted.

And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr. Matthew Adams, who had a
pretty collection of books, and who frequented our printing-house, took
notice of me, invited me to his library, and very kindly lent me such
books as I chose to read. I now took a fancy to poetry, and made some
little pieces; my brother, thinking it might turn to account, encouraged
me, and put me on composing occasional ballads. One was called The
Lighthouse Tragedy, and contained an account of the drowning of Captain
Worthilake, with his two daughters: the other was a sailor's song, on
the taking of Teach (or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were wretched
stuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style; and when they were printed he
sent me about the town to sell them. The first sold wonderfully, the
event being recent, having made a great noise. This flattered my vanity;
but my father discouraged me by ridiculing my performances, and telling
me verse-makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet, most
probably a very bad one; but as prose writing had been of great use to
me in the course of my life, and was a principal means of my
advancement, I shall tell you how, in such a situation, I acquired what
little ability I have in that way.

There was another bookish lad in the town, John Collins by name, with
whom I was intimately acquainted. We sometimes disputed, and very fond
we were of argument, and very desirous of confuting one another, which
disputatious turn, by the way, is apt to become a very bad habit, making
people often extremely disagreeable in company by the contradiction that
is necessary to bring it into practice; and thence, besides souring and
spoiling the conversation, is productive of disgusts and, perhaps
enmities where you may have occasion for friendship. I had caught it by
reading my father's books of dispute about religion. Persons of good
sense, I have since observed, seldom fall into it, except lawyers,
university men, and men of all sorts that have been bred at Edinborough.

A question was once, somehow or other, started between Collins and me,
of the propriety of educating the female sex in learning, and their
abilities for study. He was of opinion that it was improper, and that
they were naturally unequal to it. I took the contrary side, perhaps a
little for dispute's sake. He was naturally more eloquent, had a ready
plenty of words; and sometimes, as I thought, bore me down more by his
fluency than by the strength of his reasons. As we parted without
settling the point, and were not to see one another again for some time,
I sat down to put my arguments in writing, which I copied fair and sent
to him. He answered, and I replied. Three or four letters of a side had
passed, when my father happened to find my papers and read them. Without
entering into the discussion, he took occasion to talk to me about the
manner of my writing; observed that, though I had the advantage of my
antagonist in correct spelling and pointing (which I ow'd to the
printing-house), I fell far short in elegance of expression, in method
and in perspicuity, of which he convinced me by several instances. I saw
the justice of his remark, and thence grew more attentive to the manner
in writing, and determined to endeavor at improvement.

About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. It was the
third. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over
and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing
excellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate it. With this view I took
some of the papers, and, making short hints of the sentiment in each
sentence, laid them by a few days, and then, without looking at the
book, try'd to compleat the papers again, by expressing each hinted
sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in
any suitable words that should come to hand. Then I compared my
Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected
them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness in
recollecting and using them, which I thought I should have acquired
before that time if I had gone on making verses; since the continual
occasion for words of the same import, but of different length, to suit
the measure, or of different sound for the rhyme, would have laid me
under a constant necessity of searching for variety, and also have
tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master of it.
Therefore I took some of the tales and turned them into verse; and,
after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned them
back again. I also sometimes jumbled my collections of hints into
confusion, and after some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the best
order, before I began to form the full sentences and compleat the paper.
This was to teach me method in the arrangement of thoughts. By comparing
my work afterwards with the original, I discovered many faults and
amended them; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying that, in
certain particulars of small import, I had been lucky enough to improve
the method or the language, and this encouraged me to think I might
possibly in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I was
extremely ambitious. My time for these exercises and for reading was at
night, after work or before it began in the morning, or on Sundays, when
I contrived to be in the printing-house alone, evading as much as I
could the common attendance on public worship which my father used to
exact on me when I was under his care, and which indeed I still thought
a duty, though I could not, as it seemed to me, afford time to practise
it.

When about 16 years of age I happened to meet with a book, written by
one Tryon, recommending a vegetable diet. I determined to go into it. My
brother, being yet unmarried, did not keep house, but boarded himself
and his apprentices in another family. My refusing to eat flesh
occasioned an inconveniency, and I was frequently chid for my
singularity. I made myself acquainted with Tryon's manner of preparing
some of his dishes, such as boiling potatoes or rice, making hasty
pudding, and a few others, and then proposed to my brother, that if he
would give me, weekly, half the money he paid for my board, I would
board myself. He instantly agreed to it, and I presently found that I
could save half what he paid me. This was an additional fund for buying
books. But I had another advantage in it. My brother and the rest going
from the printing-house to their meals, I remained there alone, and,
despatching presently my light repast, which often was no more than a
bisket or a slice of bread, a handful of raisins or a tart from the
pastry-cook's, and a glass of water, had the rest of the time till their
return for study, in which I made the greater progress, from that
greater clearness of head and quicker apprehension which usually attend
temperance in eating and drinking.

And now it was that, being on some occasion made asham'd of my ignorance
in figures, which I had twice failed in learning when at school, I took
Cocker's book of Arithmetick, and went through the whole by myself with
great ease. I also read Seller's and Shermy's books of Navigation, and
became acquainted with the little geometry they contain; but never
proceeded far in that science. And I read about this time Locke On Human
Understanding, and the Art of Thinking, by Messrs. du Port Royal.

While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an English
grammar (I think it was Greenwood's), at the end of which there were two
little sketches of the arts of rhetoric and logic, the latter finishing
with a specimen of a dispute in the Socratic method; and soon after I
procur'd Xenophon's Memorable Things of Socrates, wherein there are many
instances of the same method. I was charm'd with it, adopted it, dropt
my abrupt contradiction and positive argumentation, and put on the
humble inquirer and doubter. And being then, from reading Shaftesbury
and Collins, become a real doubter in many points of our religious
doctrine, I found this method safest for myself and very embarrassing to
those against whom I used it; therefore I took a delight in it,
practis'd it continually, and grew very artful and expert in drawing
people, even of superior knowledge, into concessions, the consequences
of which they did not foresee, entangling them in difficulties out of
which they could not extricate themselves, and so obtaining victories
that neither myself nor my cause always deserved. I continu'd this
method some few years, but gradually left it, retaining only the habit
of expressing myself in terms of modest diffidence; never using, when I
advanced any thing that may possibly be disputed, the words certainly,
undoubtedly, or any others that give the air of positiveness to an
opinion; but rather say, I conceive or apprehend a thing to be so and
so; it appears to me, or I should think it so or so, for such and such
reasons; or I imagine it to be so; or it is so, if I am not mistaken.
This habit, I believe, has been of great advantage to me when I have had
occasion to inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into measures that I
have been from time to time engag'd in promoting; and, as the chief ends
of conversation are to inform or to be informed, to please or to
persuade, I wish well-meaning, sensible men would not lessen their power
of doing good by a positive, assuming manner, that seldom fails to
disgust, tends to create opposition, and to defeat every one of those
purposes for which speech was given to us, to wit, giving or receiving
information or pleasure. For, if you would inform, a positive and
dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments may provoke contradiction
and prevent a candid attention. If you wish information and improvement
from the knowledge of others, and yet at the same time express yourself
as firmly fix'd in your present opinions, modest, sensible men, who do
not love disputation, will probably leave you undisturbed in the
possession of your error. And by such a manner, you can seldom hope to
recommend yourself in pleasing your hearers, or to persuade those whose
concurrence you desire. Pope says, judiciously:

"Men should be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot;"

farther recommending to us

"To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence."

And he might have coupled with this line that which he has coupled with
another, I think, less properly,

"For want of modesty is want of sense."

If you ask, Why less properly? I must repeat the lines,

"Immodest words admit of no defense,
For want of modesty is want of sense."

Now, is not want of sense (where a man is so unfortunate as to want it)
some apology for his want of modesty? and would not the lines stand more
justly thus?

"Immodest words admit but this defense,
That want of modesty is want of sense."

This, however, I should submit to better judgments.

My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to print a newspaper. It was the
second that appeared in America, and was called the New England Courant.
The only one before it was the Boston News-Letter. I remember his being
dissuaded by some of his friends from the undertaking, as not likely to
succeed, one newspaper being, in their judgment, enough for America. At
this time (1771) there are not less than five-and-twenty. He went on,
however, with the undertaking, and after having worked in composing the
types and printing off the sheets, I was employed to carry the papers
thro' the streets to the customers.

He had some ingenious men among his friends, who amus'd themselves by
writing little pieces for this paper, which gain'd it credit and made it
more in demand, and these gentlemen often visited us. Hearing their
conversations, and their accounts of the approbation their papers were
received with, I was excited to try my hand among them; but, being still
a boy, and suspecting that my brother would object to printing anything
of mine in his paper if he knew it to be mine, I contrived to disguise
my hand, and, writing an anonymous paper, I put it in at night under the
door of the printing-house. It was found in the morning, and
communicated to his writing friends when they call'd in as usual. They
read it, commented on it in my hearing, and I had the exquisite pleasure
of finding it met with their approbation, and that, in their different
guesses at the author, none were named but men of some character among
us for learning and ingenuity. I suppose now that I was rather lucky in
my judges, and that perhaps they were not really so very good ones as I
then esteem'd them.

Encourag'd, however, by this, I wrote and convey'd in the same way to
the press several more papers which were equally approv'd; and I kept my
secret till my small fund of sense for such performances was pretty well
exhausted and then I discovered it, when I began to be considered a
little more by my brother's acquaintance, and in a manner that did not
quite please him, as he thought, probably with reason, that it tended to
make me too vain. And, perhaps, this might be one occasion of the
differences that we began to have about this time. Though a brother, he
considered himself as my master, and me as his apprentice, and
accordingly, expected the same services from me as he would from
another, while I thought he demean'd me too much in some he requir'd of
me, who from a brother expected more indulgence. Our disputes were often
brought before our father, and I fancy I was either generally in the
right, or else a better pleader, because the judgment was generally in
my favor. But my brother was passionate, and had often beaten me, which
I took extreamly amiss; and, thinking my apprenticeship very tedious, I
was continually wishing for some opportunity of shortening it, which at
length offered in a manner unexpected. [3]

[3] I fancy his harsh and tyrannical treatment of me might be a means of
impressing me with that aversion to arbitrary power that has stuck to me
through my whole life.

One of the pieces in our newspaper on some political point, which I have
now forgotten, gave offense to the Assembly. He was taken up, censur'd,
and imprison'd for a month, by the speaker's warrant, I suppose, because
he would not discover his author. I too was taken up and examin'd before
the council; but, tho' I did not give them any satisfaction, they
content'd themselves with admonishing me, and dismissed me, considering
me, perhaps, as an apprentice, who was bound to keep his master's
secrets.

During my brother's confinement, which I resented a good deal,
notwithstanding our private differences, I had the management of the
paper; and I made bold to give our rulers some rubs in it, which my
brother took very kindly, while others began to consider me in an
unfavorable light, as a young genius that had a turn for libelling and
satyr. My brother's discharge was accompany'd with an order of the House
(a very odd one), that "James Franklin should no longer print the paper
called the New England Courant."

There was a consultation held in our printing-house among his friends,
what he should do in this case. Some proposed to evade the order by
changing the name of the paper; but my brother, seeing inconveniences in
that, it was finally concluded on as a better way, to let it be printed
for the future under the name of Benjamin Franklin; and to avoid the
censure of the Assembly, that might fall on him as still printing it by
his apprentice, the contrivance was that my old indenture should be
return'd to me, with a full discharge on the back of it, to be shown on
occasion, but to secure to him the benefit of my service, I was to sign
new indentures for the remainder of the term, which were to be kept
private. A very flimsy scheme it was; however, it was immediately
executed, and the paper went on accordingly, under my name for several
months.

At length, a fresh difference arising between my brother and me, I took
upon me to assert my freedom, presuming that he would not venture to
produce the new indentures. It was not fair in me to take this
advantage, and this I therefore reckon one of the first errata of my
life; but the unfairness of it weighed little with me, when under the
impressions of resentment for the blows his passion too often urged him
to bestow upon me, though he was otherwise not an ill-natur'd man:
perhaps I was too saucy and provoking.

When he found I would leave him, he took care to prevent my getting
employment in any other printing-house of the town, by going round and
speaking to every master, who accordingly refus'd to give me work. I
then thought of going to New York, as the nearest place where there was
a printer; and I was rather inclin'd to leave Boston when I reflected
that I had already made myself a little obnoxious to the governing
party, and, from the arbitrary proceedings of the Assembly in my
brother's case, it was likely I might, if I stay'd, soon bring myself
into scrapes; and farther, that my indiscrete disputations about
religion began to make me pointed at with horror by good people as an
infidel or atheist. I determin'd on the point, but my father now siding
with my brother, I was sensible that, if I attempted to go openly, means
would be used to prevent me. My friend Collins, therefore, undertook to
manage a little for me. He agreed with the captain of a New York sloop
for my passage, under the notion of my being a young acquaintance of
his, that had got a naughty girl with child, whose friends would compel
me to marry her, and therefore I could not appear or come away publicly.
So I sold some of my books to raise a little money, was taken on board
privately, and as we had a fair wind, in three days I found myself in
New York, near 300 miles from home, a boy of but 17, without the least
recommendation to, or knowledge of any person in the place, and with
very little money in my pocket.

My inclinations for the sea were by this time worne out, or I might now
have gratify'd them. But, having a trade, and supposing myself a pretty
good workman, I offer'd my service to the printer in the place, old Mr.
William Bradford, who had been the first printer in Pennsylvania, but
removed from thence upon the quarrel of George Keith. He could give me
no employment, having little to do, and help enough already; but says
he, "My son at Philadelphia has lately lost his principal hand, Aquila
Rose, by death; if you go thither, I believe he may employ you."
Philadelphia was a hundred miles further; I set out, however, in a boat
for Amboy, leaving my chest and things to follow me round by sea.

In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that tore our rotten sails to
pieces, prevented our getting into the Kill, and drove us upon Long
Island. In our way, a drunken Dutchman, who was a passenger too, fell
overboard; when he was sinking, I reached through the water to his shock
pate, and drew him up, so that we got him in again. His ducking sobered
him a little, and he went to sleep, taking first out of his pocket a
book, which he desir'd I would dry for him. It proved to be my old
favorite author, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, in Dutch, finely printed
on good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better than I had ever seen it
wear in its own language. I have since found that it has been translated
into most of the languages of Europe, and suppose it has been more
generally read than any other book, except perhaps the Bible. Honest
John was the first that I know of who mix'd narration and dialogue; a
method of writing very engaging to the reader, who in the most
interesting parts finds himself, as it were, brought into the company
and present at the discourse. De Foe in his Cruso, his Moll Flanders,
Religious Courtship, Family Instructor, and other pieces, has imitated
it with success; and Richardson has done the same in his Pamela, etc.

When we drew near the island, we found it was at a place where there
could be no landing, there being a great surff on the stony beach. So we
dropt anchor, and swung round towards the shore. Some people came down
to the water edge and hallow'd to us, as we did to them; but the wind
was so high, and the surff so loud, that we could not hear so as to
understand each other. There were canoes on the shore, and we made
signs, and hallow'd that they should fetch us; but they either did not
understand us, or thought it impracticable, so they went away, and night
coming on, we had no remedy but to wait till the wind should abate; and,
in the meantime, the boatman and I concluded to sleep, if we could; and
so crowded into the scuttle, with the Dutchman, who was still wet, and
the spray beating over the head of our boat, leak'd thro' to us, so that
we were soon almost as wet as he. In this manner we lay all night, with
very little rest; but, the wind abating the next day, we made a shift to
reach Amboy before night, having been thirty hours on the water, without
victuals, or any drink but a bottle of filthy rum, and the water we
sail'd on being salt.

In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went in to bed; but,
having read somewhere that cold water drank plentifully was good for a
fever, I follow'd the prescription, sweat plentiful most of the night,
my fever left me, and in the morning, crossing the ferry, I proceeded on
my journey on foot, having fifty miles to Burlington, where I was told I
should find boats that would carry me the rest of the way to
Philadelphia.

It rained very hard all the day; I was thoroughly soak'd, and by noon a
good deal tired; so I stopt at a poor inn, where I staid all night,
beginning now to wish that I had never left home. I cut so miserable a
figure, too, that I found, by the questions ask'd me, I was suspected to
be some runaway servant, and in danger of being taken up on that
suspicion. However, I proceeded the next day, and got in the evening to
an inn, within eight or ten miles of Burlington, kept by one Dr. Brown.
He entered into conversation with me while I took some refreshment, and,
finding I had read a little, became very sociable and friendly. Our
acquaintance continu'd as long as he liv'd. He had been, I imagine, an
itinerant doctor, for there was no town in England, or country in
Europe, of which he could not give a very particular account. He had
some letters, and was ingenious, but much of an unbeliever, and wickedly
undertook, some years after, to travestie the Bible in doggrel verse, as
Cotton had done Virgil. By this means he set many of the facts in a very
ridiculous light, and might have hurt weak minds if his work had been
published; but it never was.

At his house I lay that night, and the next morning reach'd Burlington,
but had the mortification to find that the regular boats were gone a
little before my coming, and no other expected to go before Tuesday,
this being Saturday; wherefore I returned to an old woman in the town,
of whom I had bought gingerbread to eat on the water, and ask'd her
advice. She invited me to lodge at her house till a passage by water
should offer; and being tired with my foot travelling, I accepted the
invitation. She understanding I was a printer, would have had me stay at
that town and follow my business, being ignorant of the stock necessary
to begin with. She was very hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox-cheek
with great good will, accepting only a pot of ale in return; and I
thought myself fixed till Tuesday should come. However, walking in the
evening by the side of the river, a boat came by, which I found was
going towards Philadelphia, with several people in her. They took me in,
and, as there was no wind, we row'd all the way; and about midnight, not
having yet seen the city, some of the company were confident we must
have passed it, and would row no farther; the others knew not where we
were; so we put toward the shore, got into a creek, landed near an old
fence, with the rails of which we made a fire, the night being cold, in
October, and there we remained till daylight. Then one of the company
knew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a little above Philadelphia, which
we saw as soon as we got out of the creek, and arriv'd there about eight
or nine o'clock on the Sunday morning, and landed at the Market-street
wharf.

I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, and
shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your mind
compare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since made
there. I was in my working dress, my best cloaths being to come round by
sea. I was dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuff'd out with
shirts and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where to look for lodging.
I was fatigued with travelling, rowing, and want of rest, I was very
hungry; and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar, and
about a shilling in copper. The latter I gave the people of the boat for
my passage, who at first refus'd it, on account of my rowing; but I
insisted on their taking it. A man being sometimes more generous when he
has but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps thro' fear of
being thought to have but little.

Then I walked up the street, gazing about till near the market-house I
met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and, inquiring
where he got it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to, in
Second-street, and ask'd for bisket, intending such as we had in Boston;
but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a
three-penny loaf, and was told they had none such. So not considering or
knowing the difference of money, and the greater cheapness nor the names
of his bread, I made him give me three-penny worth of any sort. He gave
me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surpriz'd at the
quantity, but took it, and, having no room in my pockets, walk'd off
with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up
Market-street as far as Fourth-street, passing by the door of Mr. Read,
my future wife's father; when she, standing at the door, saw me, and
thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous
appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut-street and part of
Walnut-street, eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found
myself again at Market-street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I
went for a draught of the river water; and, being filled with one of my
rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that came down the
river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther.

Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time had
many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. I
joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the
Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking round
awhile and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy thro' labor and want
of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till
the meeting broke up, when one was kind enough to rouse me. This was,
therefore, the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia.

Walking down again toward the river, and, looking in the faces of
people, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I lik'd, and,
accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could get
lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners. "Here," says
he, "is one place that entertains strangers, but it is not a reputable
house; if thee wilt walk with me, I'll show thee a better." He brought
me to the Crooked Billet in Water-street. Here I got a dinner; and,
while I was eating it, several sly questions were asked me, as it seemed
to be suspected from my youth and appearance, that I might be some
runaway.

After dinner, my sleepiness return'd, and being shown to a bed, I lay
down without undressing, and slept till six in the evening, was call'd
to supper, went to bed again very early, and slept soundly till next
morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could, and went to Andrew
Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop the old man his father, whom
I had seen at New York, and who, travelling on horseback, had got to
Philadelphia before me. He introduc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me
civilly, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want a
hand, being lately suppli'd with one; but there was another printer in
town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me; if not,
I should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little
work to do now and then till fuller business should offer.

The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer; and when
we found him, "Neighbor," says Bradford, "I have brought to see you a
young man of your business; perhaps you may want such a one." He ask'd
me a few questions, put a composing stick in my hand to see how I
work'd, and then said he would employ me soon, though he had just then
nothing for me to do; and, taking old Bradford, whom he had never seen
before, to be one of the town's people that had a good will for him,
enter'd into a conversation on his present undertaking and prospects;
while Bradford, not discovering that he was the other printer's father,
on Keimer's saying he expected soon to get the greatest part of the
business into his own hands, drew him on by artful questions, and
starting little doubts, to explain all his views, what interests he
reli'd on, and in what manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood by
and heard all, saw immediately that one of them was a crafty old
sophister, and the other a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer,
who was greatly surpris'd when I told him who the old man was.

Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted of an old shatter'd press,
and one small, worn-out font of English which he was then using himself,
composing an Elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned, an ingenious young
man, of excellent character, much respected in the town, clerk of the
Assembly, and a pretty poet. Keimer made verses too, but very
indifferently. He could not be said to write them, for his manner was to
compose them in the types directly out of his head. So there being no
copy, but one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to require all the
letter, no one could help him. I endeavor'd to put his press (which he
had not yet us'd, and of which he understood nothing) into order fit to
be work'd with; and, promising to come and print off his Elegy as soon
as he should have got it ready, I return'd to Bradford's, who gave me a
little job to do for the present, and there I lodged and dieted. A few
days after, Keimer sent for me to print off the Elegy. And now he had
got another pair of cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, on which he set me
to work.

These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business. Bradford
had not been bred to it, and was very illiterate; and Keimer, tho'
something of a scholar, was a mere compositor, knowing nothing of
presswork. He had been one of the French prophets, and could act their
enthusiastic agitations. At this time he did not profess any particular
religion, but something of all on occasion; was very ignorant of the
world, and had, as I afterward found, a good deal of the knave in his
composition. He did not like my lodging at Bradford's while I work'd
with him. He had a house, indeed, but without furniture, so he could not
lodge me; but he got me a lodging at Mr. Read's, before mentioned, who
was the owner of his house; and, my chest and clothes being come by this
time, I made rather a more respectable appearance in the eyes of Miss
Read than I had done when she first happen'd to see me eating my roll in
the street.

I began now to have some acquaintance among the young people of the
town, that were lovers of reading, with whom I spent my evenings very
pleasantly; and gaining money by my industry and frugality, I lived very
agreeably, forgetting Boston as much as I could, and not desiring that
any there should know where I resided, except my friend Collins, who was
in my secret, and kept it when I wrote to him. At length, an incident
happened that sent me back again much sooner than I had intended. I had
a brother-in-law, Robert Holmes, master of a sloop that traded between
Boston and Delaware. He being at Newcastle, forty miles below
Philadelphia, heard there of me, and wrote me a letter mentioning the
concern of my friends in Boston at my abrupt departure, assuring me of
their good will to me, and that every thing would be accommodated to my
mind if I would return, to which he exhorted me very earnestly. I wrote
an answer to his letter, thank'd him for his advice, but stated my
reasons for quitting Boston fully and in such a light as to convince him
I was not so wrong as he had apprehended.

Sir William Keith, governor of the province, was then at Newcastle, and
Captain Holmes, happening to be in company with him when my letter came
to hand, spoke to him of me, and show'd him the letter. The governor
read it, and seem'd surpris'd when he was told my age. He said I
appear'd a young man of promising parts, and therefore should be
encouraged; the printers at Philadelphia were wretched ones; and, if I
would set up there, he made no doubt I should succeed; for his part, he
would procure me the public business, and do me every other service in
his power. This my brother-in-law afterwards told me in Boston, but I
knew as yet nothing of it; when, one day, Keimer and I being at work
together near the window, we saw the governor and another gentleman
(which proved to be Colonel French, of Newcastle), finely dress'd, come
directly across the street to our house, and heard them at the door.

Keimer ran down immediately, thinking it a visit to him; but the
governor inquir'd for me, came up, and with a condescension of
politeness I had been quite unus'd to, made me many compliments, desired
to be acquainted with me, blam'd me kindly for not having made myself
known to him when I first came to the place, and would have me away with
him to the tavern, where he was going with Colonel French to taste, as
he said, some excellent Madeira. I was not a little surprised, and
Keimer star'd like a pig poison'd. I went, however, with the governor
and Colonel French to a tavern, at the corner of Third-street, and over
the Madeira he propos'd my setting up my business, laid before me the
probabilities of success, and both he and Colonel French assur'd me I
should have their interest and influence in procuring the public
business of both governments. On my doubting whether my father would
assist me in it, Sir William said he would give me a letter to him, in
which he would state the advantages, and he did not doubt of prevailing
with him. So it was concluded I should return to Boston in the first
vessel, with the governor's letter recommending me to my father. In the
mean time the intention was to be kept a secret, and I went on working
with Keimer as usual, the governor sending for me now and then to dine
with him, a very great honor I thought it, and conversing with me in the
most affable, familiar, and friendly manner imaginable.

About the end of April, 1724, a little vessel offer'd for Boston. I took
leave of Keimer as going to see my friends. The governor gave me an
ample letter, saying many flattering things of me to my father, and
strongly recommending the project of my setting up at Philadelphia as a
thing that must make my fortune. We struck on a shoal in going down the
bay, and sprung a leak; we had a blustering time at sea, and were
oblig'd to pump almost continually, at which I took my turn. We arriv'd
safe, however, at Boston in about a fortnight. I had been absent seven
months, and my friends had heard nothing of me; for my br. Holmes was
not yet return'd, and had not written about me. My unexpected appearance
surpriz'd the family; all were, however, very glad to see me, and made
me welcome, except my brother. I went to see him at his printing-house.
I was better dress'd than ever while in his service, having a genteel
new suit from head to foot, a watch, and my pockets lin'd with near five
pounds sterling in silver. He receiv'd me not very frankly, look'd me
all over, and turn'd to his work again.

The journeymen were inquisitive where I had been, what sort of a country
it was, and how I lik'd it. I prais'd it much, the happy life I led in
it, expressing strongly my intention of returning to it; and, one of
them asking what kind of money we had there, I produc'd a handful of
silver, and spread it before them, which was a kind of raree-show they
had not been us'd to, paper being the money of Boston. Then I took an
opportunity of letting them see my watch; and, lastly (my brother still
grum and sullen), I gave them a piece of eight to drink, and took my
leave. This visit of mine offended him extreamly; for, when my mother
some time after spoke to him of a reconciliation, and of her wishes to
see us on good terms together, and that we might live for the future as
brothers, he said I had insulted him in such a manner before his people
that he could never forget or forgive it. In this, however, he was
mistaken.

My father received the governor's letter with some apparent surprise,
but said little of it to me for some days, when Capt. Holmes returning
he showed it to him, ask'd him if he knew Keith, and what kind of man he
was; adding his opinion that he must be of small discretion to think of
setting a boy up in business who wanted yet three years of being at
man's estate. Holmes said what he could in favor of the project, but my
father was clear in the impropriety of it, and at last gave a flat
denial to it. Then he wrote a civil letter to Sir William, thanking him
for the patronage he had so kindly offered me, but declining to assist
me as yet in setting up, I being, in his opinion, too young to be
trusted with the management of a business so important, and for which
the preparation must be so expensive.

My friend and companion Collins, who was a clerk in the post-office,
pleas'd with the account I gave him of my new country, determined to go
thither also; and, while I waited for my father's determination, he set
out before me by land to Rhode Island, leaving his books, which were a
pretty collection of mathematicks and natural philosophy, to come with
mine and me to New York, where he propos'd to wait for me.

My father, tho' he did not approve Sir William's proposition, was yet
pleas'd that I had been able to obtain so advantageous a character from
a person of such note where I had resided, and that I had been so
industrious and careful as to equip myself so handsomely in so short a
time; therefore, seeing no prospect of an accommodation between my
brother and me, he gave his consent to my returning again to
Philadelphia, advis'd me to behave respectfully to the people there,
endeavor to obtain the general esteem, and avoid lampooning and
libeling, to which he thought I had too much inclination; telling me,
that by steady industry and a prudent parsimony I might save enough by
the time I was one-and-twenty to set me up; and that, if I came near the
matter, he would help me out with the rest. This was all I could obtain,
except some small gifts as tokens of his and my mother's love, when I
embark'd again for New York, now with their approbation and their
blessing.

The sloop putting in at Newport, Rhode Island, I visited my brother
John, who had been married and settled there some years. He received me
very affectionately, for he always lov'd me. A friend of his, one
Vernon, having some money due to him in Pensilvania, about thirty-five
pounds currency, desired I would receive it for him, and keep it till I
had his directions what to remit it in. Accordingly, he gave me an
order. This afterwards occasion'd me a good deal of uneasiness.

At Newport we took in a number of passengers for New York, among which
were two young women, companions, and a grave, sensible, matron-like
Quaker woman, with her attendants. I had shown an obliging readiness to
do her some little services, which impress'd her I suppose with a degree
of good will toward me; therefore, when she saw a daily growing
familiarity between me and the two young women, which they appear'd to
encourage, she took me aside, and said: "Young man, I am concern'd for
thee, as thou has no friend with thee, and seems not to know much of the
world, or of the snares youth is expos'd to; depend upon it, those are
very bad women; I can see it in all their actions; and if thee art not
upon thy guard, they will draw thee into some danger; they are strangers
to thee, and I advise thee, in a friendly concern for thy welfare, to
have no acquaintance with them." As I seem'd at first not to think so
ill of them as she did, she mentioned some things she had observ'd and
heard that had escap'd my notice, but now convinc'd me she was right. I
thank'd her for her kind advice, and promis'd to follow it. When we
arriv'd at New York, they told me where they liv'd, and invited me to
come and see them; but I avoided it, and it was well I did; for the next
day the captain miss'd a silver spoon and some other things, that had
been taken out of his cabbin, and, knowing that these were a couple of
strumpets, he got a warrant to search their lodgings, found the stolen
goods, and had the thieves punish'd. So, tho' we had escap'd a sunken
rock, which we scrap'd upon in the passage, I thought this escape of
rather more importance to me.

At New York I found my friend Collins, who had arriv'd there some time
before me. We had been intimate from children, and had read the same
books together; but he had the advantage of more time for reading and
studying, and a wonderful genius for mathematical learning, in which he
far outstript me. While I liv'd in Boston most of my hours of leisure
for conversation were spent with him, and he continu'd a sober as well
as an industrious lad; was much respected for his learning by several of
the clergy and other gentlemen, and seemed to promise making a good
figure in life. But, during my absence, he had acquir'd a habit of
sotting with brandy; and I found by his own account, and what I heard
from others, that he had been drunk every day since his arrival at New
York, and behav'd very oddly. He had gam'd, too, and lost his money, so
that I was oblig'd to discharge his lodgings, and defray his expenses to
and at Philadelphia, which prov'd extremely inconvenient to me.

The then governor of New York, Burnet (son of Bishop Burnet), hearing
from the captain that a young man, one of his passengers, had a great
many books, desir'd he would bring me to see him. I waited upon him
accordingly, and should have taken Collins with me but that he was not
sober. The gov'r. treated me with great civility, show'd me his library,
which was a very large one, and we had a good deal of conversation about
books and authors. This was the second governor who had done me the
honor to take notice of me; which, to a poor boy like me, was very
pleasing.

We proceeded to Philadelphia. I received on the way Vernon's money,
without which we could hardly have finish'd our journey. Collins wished
to be employ'd in some counting-house, but, whether they discover'd his
dramming by his breath, or by his behaviour, tho' he had some
recommendations, he met with no success in any application, and
continu'd lodging and boarding at the same house with me, and at my
expense. Knowing I had that money of Vernon's, he was continually
borrowing of me, still promising repayment as soon as he should be in
business. At length he had got so much of it that I was distress'd to
think what I should do in case of being call'd on to remit it.

His drinking continu'd, about which we sometimes quarrell'd; for, when a
little intoxicated, he was very fractious. Once, in a boat on the
Delaware with some other young men, he refused to row in his turn. "I
will be row'd home," says he. "We will not row you," says I. "You must,
or stay all night on the water," says he, "just as you please." The
others said, "Let us row; what signifies it?" But, my mind being soured
with his other conduct, I continu'd to refuse. So he swore he would make
me row, or throw me overboard; and coming along, stepping on the
thwarts, toward me, when he came up and struck at me, I clapped my hand
under his crutch, and, rising, pitched him head-foremost into the river.
I knew he was a good swimmer, and so was under little concern about him;
but before he could get round to lay hold of the boat, we had with a few
strokes pull'd her out of his reach; and ever when he drew near the
boat, we ask'd if he would row, striking a few strokes to slide her away
from him. He was ready to die with vexation, and obstinately would not
promise to row. However, seeing him at last beginning to tire, we lifted
him in and brought him home dripping wet in the evening. We hardly
exchang'd a civil word afterwards, and a West India captain, who had a
commission to procure a tutor for the sons of a gentleman at Barbadoes,
happening to meet with him, agreed to carry him thither. He left me
then, promising to remit me the first money he should receive in order
to discharge the debt; but I never heard of him after.

The breaking into this money of Vernon's was one of the first great
errata of my life; and this affair show'd that my father was not much
out in his judgment when he suppos'd me too young to manage business of
importance. But Sir William, on reading his letter, said he was too
prudent. There was great difference in persons; and discretion did not
always accompany years, nor was youth always without it. "And since he
will not set you up," says he, "I will do it myself. Give me an
inventory of the things necessary to be had from England, and I will
send for them. You shall repay me when you are able; I am resolv'd to
have a good printer here, and I am sure you must succeed." This was
spoken with such an appearance of cordiality, that I had not the least
doubt of his meaning what he said. I had hitherto kept the proposition
of my setting up, a secret in Philadelphia, and I still kept it. Had it
been known that I depended on the governor, probably some friend, that
knew him better, would have advis'd me not to rely on him, as I
afterwards heard it as his known character to be liberal of promises
which he never meant to keep. Yet, unsolicited as he was by me, how
could I think his generous offers insincere? I believ'd him one of the
best men in the world.

I presented him an inventory of a little print'g-house, amounting by my
computation to about one hundred pounds sterling. He lik'd it, but ask'd
me if my being on the spot in England to chuse the types, and see that
every thing was good of the kind, might not be of some advantage.
"Then," says he, "when there, you may make acquaintances, and establish
correspondences in the bookselling and stationery way." I agreed that
this might be advantageous. "Then," says he, "get yourself ready to go
with Annis;" which was the annual ship, and the only one at that time
usually passing between London and Philadelphia. But it would be some
months before Annis sail'd, so I continu'd working with Keimer, fretting
about the money Collins had got from me, and in daily apprehensions of
being call'd upon by Vernon, which, however, did not happen for some
years after.

I believe I have omitted mentioning that, in my first voyage from
Boston, being becalm'd off Block Island, our people set about catching
cod, and hauled up a great many. Hitherto I had stuck to my resolution
of not eating animal food, and on this occasion consider'd, with my
master Tryon, the taking every fish as a kind of unprovoked murder,
since none of them had, or ever could do us any injury that might
justify the slaughter. All this seemed very reasonable. But I had
formerly been a great lover of fish, and, when this came hot out of the
frying-pan, it smelt admirably well. I balanc'd some time between
principle and inclination, till I recollected that, when the fish were
opened, I saw smaller fish taken out of their stomachs; then thought I,
"If you eat one another, I don't see why we mayn't eat you." So I din'd
upon cod very heartily, and continued to eat with other people,
returning only now and then occasionally to a vegetable diet. So
convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable creature, since it enables
one to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind to do.

Keimer and I liv'd on a pretty good familiar footing, and agreed
tolerably well, for he suspected nothing of my setting up. He retained a
great deal of his old enthusiasms and lov'd argumentation. We therefore
had many disputations. I used to work him so with my Socratic method,
and had trepann'd him so often by questions apparently so distant from
any point we had in hand, and yet by degrees lead to the point, and
brought him into difficulties and contradictions, that at last he grew
ridiculously cautious, and would hardly answer me the most common
question, without asking first, "What do you intend to infer from that?"
However, it gave him so high an opinion of my abilities in the confuting
way, that he seriously proposed my being his colleague in a project he
had of setting up a new sect. He was to preach the doctrines, and I was
to confound all opponents. When he came to explain with me upon the
doctrines, I found several conundrums which I objected to, unless I
might have my way a little too, and introduce some of mine.

Keimer wore his beard at full length, because somewhere in the Mosaic
law it is said, "Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard." He
likewise kept the Seventh day, Sabbath; and these two points were
essentials with him. I dislik'd both; but agreed to admit them upon
condition of his adopting the doctrine of using no animal food. "I
doubt," said he, "my constitution will not bear that." I assur'd him it
would, and that he would be the better for it. He was usually a great
glutton, and I promised myself some diversion in half starving him. He
agreed to try the practice, if I would keep him company. I did so, and
we held it for three months. We had our victuals dress'd, and brought to
us regularly by a woman in the neighborhood, who had from me a list of
forty dishes to be prepar'd for us at different times, in all which
there was neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, and the whim suited me the
better at this time from the cheapness of it, not costing us above
eighteenpence sterling each per week. I have since kept several Lents
most strictly, leaving the common diet for that, and that for the
common, abruptly, without the least inconvenience, so that I think there
is little in the advice of making those changes by easy gradations. I
went on pleasantly, but poor Keimer suffered grievously, tired of the
project, long'd for the flesh-pots of Egypt, and order'd a roast pig. He
invited me and two women friends to dine with him; but, it being brought
too soon upon table, he could not resist the temptation, and ate the
whole before we came.

I had made some courtship during this time to Miss Read. I had a great
respect and affection for her, and had some reason to believe she had
the same for me; but, as I was about to take a long voyage, and we were
both very young, only a little above eighteen, it was thought most
prudent by her mother to prevent our going too far at present, as a
marriage, if it was to take place, would be more convenient after my
return, when I should be, as I expected, set up in my business. Perhaps,
too, she thought my expectations not so well founded as I imagined them
to be.

My chief acquaintances at this time were Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson,
and James Ralph, all lovers of reading. The two first were clerks to an
eminent scrivener or conveyancer in the town, Charles Brogden; the other
was clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious, sensible young man, of
great integrity; the others rather more lax in their principles of
religion, particularly Ralph, who, as well as Collins, had been
unsettled by me, for which they both made me suffer. Osborne was
sensible, candid, frank; sincere and affectionate to his friends; but,
in literary matters, too fond of criticising. Ralph was ingenious,
genteel in his manners, and extremely eloquent; I think I never knew a
prettier talker. Both of them great admirers of poetry, and began to try
their hands in little pieces. Many pleasant walks we four had together
on Sundays into the woods, near Schuylkill, where we read to one
another, and conferr'd on what we read.

Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study of poetry, not doubting but he
might become eminent in it, and make his fortune by it, alleging that
the best poets must, when they first began to write, make as many faults
as he did. Osborne dissuaded him, assur'd him he had no genius for
poetry, and advis'd him to think of nothing beyond the business he was
bred to; that, in the mercantile way, tho' he had no stock, he might, by
his diligence and punctuality, recommend himself to employment as a
factor, and in time acquire wherewith to trade on his own account. I
approv'd the amusing one's self with poetry now and then, so far as to
improve one's language, but no farther.

On this it was propos'd that we should each of us, at our next meeting,
produce a piece of our own composing, in order to improve by our mutual
observations, criticisms, and corrections. As language and expression
were what we had in view, we excluded all considerations of invention by
agreeing that the task should be a version of the eighteenth Psalm,
which describes the descent of a Deity. When the time of our meeting
drew nigh, Ralph called on me first, and let me know his piece was
ready. I told him I had been busy, and, having little inclination, had
done nothing. He then show'd me his piece for my opinion, and I much
approv'd it, as it appear'd to me to have great merit. "Now," says he,
"Osborne never will allow the least merit in any thing of mine, but
makes 1000 criticisms out of mere envy. He is not so jealous of you; I
wish, therefore, you would take this piece, and produce it as yours; I
will pretend not to have had time, and so produce nothing. We shall then
see what he will say to it." It was agreed, and I immediately
transcrib'd it, that it might appear in my own hand.

We met; Watson's performance was read; there were some beauties in it,
but many defects. Osborne's was read; it was much better; Ralph did it
justice; remarked some faults, but applauded the beauties. He himself
had nothing to produce. I was backward; seemed desirous of being
excused; had not had sufficient time to correct, etc.; but no excuse
could be admitted; produce I must. It was read and repeated; Watson and
Osborne gave up the contest, and join'd in applauding it. Ralph only
made some criticisms, and propos'd some amendments; but I defended my
text. Osborne was against Ralph, and told him he was no better a critic
than poet, so he dropt the argument. As they two went home together,
Osborne expressed himself still more strongly in favor of what he
thought my production; having restrain'd himself before, as he said,
lest I should think it flattery. "But who would have imagin'd," said he,
"that Franklin had been capable of such a performance; such painting,
such force, such fire! He has even improv'd the original. In his common
conversation he seems to have no choice of words; he hesitates and
blunders; and yet, good God! how he writes!" When we next met, Ralph
discovered the trick we had plaid him, and Osborne was a little laught
at.

This transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution of becoming a poet. I did
all I could to dissuade him from it, but he continued scribbling verses
till Pope cured him. He became, however, a pretty good prose writer.
More of him hereafter. But, as I may not have occasion again to mention
the other two, I shall just remark here, that Watson died in my arms a
few years after, much lamented, being the best of our set. Osborne went
to the West Indies, where he became an eminent lawyer and made money,
but died young. He and I had made a serious agreement, that the one who
happen'd first to die should, if possible, make a friendly visit to the
other, and acquaint him how he found things in that separate state. But
he never fulfill'd his promise.

The governor, seeming to like my company, had me frequently to his
house, and his setting me up was always mention'd as a fixed thing. I
was to take with me letters recommendatory to a number of his friends,
besides the letter of credit to furnish me with the necessary money for
purchasing the press and types, paper, etc. For these letters I was
appointed to call at different times, when they were to be ready, but a
future time was still named. Thus he went on till the ship, whose
departure too had been several times postponed, was on the point of
sailing. Then, when I call'd to take my leave and receive the letters,
his secretary, Dr. Bard, came out to me and said the governor was
extremely busy in writing, but would be down at Newcastle before the
ship, and there the letters would be delivered to me.

Ralph, though married, and having one child, had determined to accompany
me in this voyage. It was thought he intended to establish a
correspondence, and obtain goods to sell on commission; but I found
afterwards, that, thro' some discontent with his wife's relations, he
purposed to leave her on their hands, and never return again. Having
taken leave of my friends, and interchang'd some promises with Miss
Read, I left Philadelphia in the ship, which anchor'd at Newcastle. The
governor was there; but when I went to his lodging, the secretary came
to me from him with the civillest message in the world, that he could
not then see me, being engaged in business of the utmost importance, but
should send the letters to me on board, wish'd me heartily a good voyage
and a speedy return, etc. I returned on board a little puzzled, but
still not doubting.

Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of Philadelphia, had taken passage
in the same ship for himself and son, and with Mr. Denham, a Quaker
merchant, and Messrs. Onion and Russel, masters of an iron work in
Maryland, had engag'd the great cabin; so that Ralph and I were forced
to take up with a berth in the steerage, and none on board knowing us,
were considered as ordinary persons. But Mr. Hamilton and his son (it
was James, since governor) return'd from Newcastle to Philadelphia, the
father being recall'd by a great fee to plead for a seized ship; and,
just before we sail'd, Colonel French coming on board, and showing me
great respect, I was more taken notice of, and, with my friend Ralph,
invited by the other gentlemen to come into the cabin, there being now
room. Accordingly, we remov'd thither.

Understanding that Colonel French had brought on board the governor's
despatches, I ask'd the captain for those letters that were to be under
my care. He said all were put into the bag together and he could not
then come at them; but, before we landed in England, I should have an
opportunity of picking them out; so I was satisfied for the present, and
we proceeded on our voyage. We had a sociable company in the cabin, and
lived uncommonly well, having the addition of all Mr. Hamilton's stores,
who had laid in plentifully. In this passage Mr. Denham contracted a
friendship for me that continued during his life. The voyage was
otherwise not a pleasant one, as we had a great deal of bad weather.

When we came into the Channel, the captain kept his word with me, and
gave me an opportunity of examining the bag for the governor's letters.
I found none upon which my name was put as under my care. I picked out
six or seven, that, by the handwriting, I thought might be the promised
letters, especially as one of them was directed to Basket, the king's
printer, and another to some stationer. We arriv'd in London the 24th of
December, 1724. I waited upon the stationer, who came first in my way,
delivering the letter as from Governor Keith. "I don't know such a
person," says he; but, opening the letter, "O! this is from Riddlesden.
I have lately found him to be a compleat rascal, and I will have nothing
to do with him, nor receive any letters from him." So, putting the
letter into my hand, he turn'd on his heel and left me to serve some
customer. I was surprized to find these were not the governor's letters;
and, after recollecting and comparing circumstances, I began to doubt
his sincerity. I found my friend Denham, and opened the whole affair to
him. He let me into Keith's character; told me there was not the least
probability that he had written any letters for me; that no one, who
knew him, had the smallest dependence on him; and he laught at the
notion of the governor's giving me a letter of credit, having, as he
said, no credit to give. On my expressing some concern about what I
should do, he advised me to endeavor getting some employment in the way
of my business. "Among the printers here," said he, "you will improve
yourself, and when you return to America, you will set up to greater
advantage."

We both of us happen'd to know, as well as the stationer, that
Riddlesden, the attorney, was a very knave. He had half ruin'd Miss
Read's father by persuading him to be bound for him. By this letter it
appear'd there was a secret scheme on foot to the prejudice of Hamilton
(suppos'd to be then coming over with us); and that Keith was concerned
in it with Riddlesden. Denham, who was a friend of Hamilton's thought he
ought to be acquainted with it; so, when he arriv'd in England, which
was soon after, partly from resentment and ill-will to Keith and
Riddlesden, and partly from good-will to him, I waited on him, and gave
him the letter. He thank'd me cordially, the information being of
importance to him; and from that time he became my friend, greatly to my
advantage afterwards on many occasions.

But what shall we think of a governor's playing such pitiful tricks, and
imposing so grossly on a poor ignorant boy! It was a habit he had
acquired. He wish'd to please everybody; and, having little to give, he
gave expectations. He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man, a pretty
good writer, and a good governor for the people, tho' not for his
constituents, the proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimes
disregarded. Several of our best laws were of his planning and passed
during his administration.

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took lodgings together in
Little Britain at three shillings and sixpence a week--as much as we
could then afford. He found some relations, but they were poor, and
unable to assist him. He now let me know his intentions of remaining in
London, and that he never meant to return to Philadelphia. He had
brought no money with him, the whole he could muster having been
expended in paying his passage. I had fifteen pistoles; so he borrowed
occasionally of me to subsist, while he was looking out for business. He
first endeavored to get into the playhouse, believing himself qualify'd
for an actor; but Wilkes, to whom he apply'd, advis'd him candidly not
to think of that employment, as it was impossible he should succeed in
it. Then he propos'd to Roberts, a publisher in Paternoster Row, to
write for him a weekly paper like the Spectator, on certain conditions,
which Roberts did not approve. Then he endeavored to get employment as a
hackney writer, to copy for the stationers and lawyers about the Temple,
but could find no vacancy.

I immediately got into work at Palmer's, then a famous printing-house in
Bartholomew Close, and here I continu'd near a year. I was pretty
diligent, but spent with Ralph a good deal of my earnings in going to
plays and other places of amusement. We had together consumed all my
pistoles, and now just rubbed on from hand to mouth. He seem'd quite to
forget his wife and child, and I, by degrees, my engagements with Miss
Read, to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that was to let
her know I was not likely soon to return. This was another of the great
errata of my life, which I should wish to correct if I were to live it
over again. In fact, by our expenses, I was constantly kept unable to
pay my passage.

At Palmer's I was employed in composing for the second edition of
Wollaston's "Religion of Nature." Some of his reasonings not appearing
to me well founded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece in which I made
remarks on them. It was entitled "A Dissertation on Liberty and
Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I inscribed it to my friend Ralph; I
printed a small number. It occasion'd my being more consider'd by Mr.
Palmer as a young man of some ingenuity, tho' he seriously expostulated
with me upon the principles of my pamphlet, which to him appear'd
abominable. My printing this pamphlet was another erratum. While I
lodg'd in Little Britain, I made an acquaintance with one Wilcox, a
bookseller, whose shop was at the next door. He had an immense
collection of second-hand books. Circulating libraries were not then in
use; but we agreed that, on certain reasonable terms, which I have now
forgotten, I might take, read, and return any of his books. This I
esteem'd a great advantage, and I made as much use of it as I could.

My pamphlet by some means falling into the hands of one Lyons, a
surgeon, author of a book entitled "The Infallibility of Human
Judgment," it occasioned an acquaintance between us. He took great
notice of me, called on me often to converse on those subjects, carried
me to the Horns, a pale alehouse in ------ Lane, Cheapside, and
introduced me to Dr. Mandeville, author of the "Fable of the Bees," who
had a club there, of which he was the soul, being a most facetious,
entertaining companion. Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr. Pemberton, at
Batson's Coffee-house, who promis'd to give me an opportunity, some time
or other, of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I was extreamely
desirous; but this never happened.

I had brought over a few curiosities, among which the principal was a
purse made of the asbestos, which purifies by fire. Sir Hans Sloane
heard of it, came to see me, and invited me to his house in Bloomsbury
Square, where he show'd me all his curiosities, and persuaded me to let
him add that to the number, for which he paid me handsomely.

In our house there lodg'd a young woman, a milliner, who, I think, had a
shop in the Cloisters. She had been genteelly bred, was sensible and
lively, and of most pleasing conversation. Ralph read plays to her in
the evenings, they grew intimate, she took another lodging, and he
followed her. They liv'd together some time; but, he being still out of
business, and her income not sufficient to maintain them with her child,
he took a resolution of going from London, to try for a country school,
which he thought himself well qualified to undertake, as he wrote an
excellent hand, and was a master of arithmetic and accounts. This,
however, he deemed a business below him, and confident of future better
fortune, when he should be unwilling to have it known that he once was
so meanly employed, he changed his name, and did me the honor to assume
mine; for I soon after had a letter from him, acquainting me that he was
settled in a small village (in Berkshire, I think it was, where he
taught reading and writing to ten or a dozen boys, at sixpence each per
week), recommending Mrs. T------ to my care, and desiring me to write to
him, directing for Mr. Franklin, schoolmaster, at such a place.

He continued to write frequently, sending me large specimens of an epic
poem which he was then composing, and desiring my remarks and
corrections. These I gave him from time to time, but endeavor'd rather
to discourage his proceeding. One of Young's Satires was then just
published. I copy'd and sent him a great part of it, which set in a
strong light the folly of pursuing the Muses with any hope of
advancement by them. All was in vain; sheets of the poem continued to
come by every post. In the mean time, Mrs. T------, having on his
account lost her friends and business, was often in distresses, and us'd
to send for me, and borrow what I could spare to help her out of them. I
grew fond of her company, and, being at that time under no religious
restraint, and presuming upon my importance to her, I attempted
familiarities (another erratum) which she repuls'd with a proper
resentment, and acquainted him with my behaviour. This made a breach
between us; and, when he returned again to London, he let me know he
thought I had cancell'd all the obligations he had been under to me. So
I found I was never to expect his repaying me what I lent to him, or
advanc'd for him. This, however, was not then of much consequence, as he
was totally unable; and in the loss of his friendship I found myself
relieved from a burthen. I now began to think of getting a little money
beforehand, and, expecting better work, I left Palmer's to work at
Watts's, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, a still greater printing-house. Here
I continued all the rest of my stay in London.

At my first admission into this printing-house I took to working at
press, imagining I felt a want of the bodily exercise I had been us'd to
in America, where presswork is mix'd with composing. I drank only water;
the other workmen, near fifty in number, were great guzzlers of beer. On
occasion, I carried up and down stairs a large form of types in each
hand, when others carried but one in both hands. They wondered to see,
from this and several instances, that the Water-American, as they called
me, was stronger than themselves, who drank strong beer! We had an
alehouse boy who attended always in the house to supply the workmen. My
companion at the press drank every day a pint before breakfast, a pint
at breakfast with his bread and cheese, a pint between breakfast and
dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock, and
another when he had done his day's work. I thought it a detestable
custom; but it was necessary, he suppos'd, to drink strong beer, that he
might be strong to labor. I endeavored to convince him that the bodily
strength afforded by beer could only be in proportion to the grain or
flour of the barley dissolved in the water of which it was made; that
there was more flour in a pennyworth of bread; and therefore, if he
would eat that with a pint of water, it would give him more strength
than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had four or five
shillings to pay out of his wages every Saturday night for that muddling
liquor; an expense I was free from. And thus these poor devils keep
themselves always under.

Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have me in the composing-room, I
left the pressmen; a new bien venu or sum for drink, being five
shillings, was demanded of me by the compositors. I thought it an
imposition, as I had paid below; the master thought so too, and forbad
my paying it. I stood out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered
as an excommunicate, and had so many little pieces of private mischief
done me, by mixing my sorts, transposing my pages, breaking my matter,
etc., etc., if I were ever so little out of the room, and all ascribed
to the chappel ghost, which they said ever haunted those not regularly
admitted, that, notwithstanding the master's protection, I found myself
oblig'd to comply and pay the money, convinc'd of the folly of being on
ill terms with those one is to live with continually.

I was now on a fair footing with them, and soon acquir'd considerable
influence. I propos'd some reasonable alterations in their chappel [4]
laws, and carried them against all opposition. From my example, a great
part of them left their muddling breakfast of beer, and bread, and
cheese, finding they could with me be suppli'd from a neighboring house
with a large porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with pepper,
crumbl'd with bread, and a bit of butter in it, for the price of a pint
of beer, viz., three half-pence. This was a more comfortable as well as
cheaper breakfast, and kept their heads clearer. Those who continued
sotting with beer all day, were often, by not paying, out of credit at
the alehouse, and us'd to make interest with me to get beer; their
light, as they phrased it, being out. I watch'd the pay-table on
Saturday night, and collected what I stood engag'd for them, having to
pay sometimes near thirty shillings a week on their account. This, and
my being esteem'd a pretty good riggite, that is, a jocular verbal
satirist, supported my consequence in the society. My constant
attendance (I never making a St. Monday) recommended me to the master;
and my uncommon quickness at composing occasioned my being put upon all
work of dispatch, which was generally better paid. So I went on now very
agreeably.

[4] "A printing-house is always called a chapel by the workmen, the
origin of which appears to have been that printing was first carried on
in England in an ancient chapel converted into a printing-house, and the
title has been preserved by tradition. The bien venu among the printers
answers to the terms entrance and footing among mechanics; thus a
journeyman, on entering a printing-house, was accustomed to pay one or
more gallons of beer for the good of the chapel; this custom was falling
into disuse thirty years ago; it is very properly rejected entirely in
the United States."--W. T. F.

My lodging in Little Britain being too remote, I found another in
Duke-street, opposite to the Romish Chapel. It was two pair of stairs
backwards, at an Italian warehouse. A widow lady kept the house; she had
a daughter, and a maid servant, and a journeyman who attended the
warehouse, but lodg'd abroad. After sending to inquire my character at
the house where I last lodg'd she agreed to take me in at the same rate,
3s. 6d. per week; cheaper, as she said, from the protection she expected
in having a man lodge in the house. She was a widow, an elderly woman;
had been bred a Protestant, being a clergyman's daughter, but was
converted to the Catholic religion by her husband, whose memory she much
revered; had lived much among people of distinction, and knew a thousand
anecdotes of them as far back as the times of Charles the Second. She
was lame in her knees with the gout, and, therefore, seldom stirred out
of her room, so sometimes wanted company; and hers was so highly amusing
to me, that I was sure to spend an evening with her whenever she desired
it. Our supper was only half an anchovy each, on a very little strip of
bread and butter, and half a pint of ale between us; but the
entertainment was in her conversation. My always keeping good hours, and
giving little trouble in the family, made her unwilling to part with me;
so that, when I talk'd of a lodging I had heard of, nearer my business,
for two shillings a week, which, intent as I now was on saving money,
made some difference, she bid me not think of it, for she would abate me
two shillings a week for the future; so I remained with her at one
shilling and sixpence as long as I staid in London.

In a garret of her house there lived a maiden lady of seventy, in the
most retired manner, of whom my landlady gave me this account: that she
was a Roman Catholic, had been sent abroad when young, and lodg'd in a
nunnery with an intent of becoming a nun; but, the country not agreeing
with her, she returned to England, where, there being no nunnery, she
had vow'd to lead the life of a nun, as near as might be done in those
circumstances. Accordingly, she had given all her estate to charitable
uses, reserving only twelve pounds a year to live on, and out of this
sum she still gave a great deal in charity, living herself on
water-gruel only, and using no fire but to boil it. She had lived many
years in that garret, being permitted to remain there gratis by
successive Catholic tenants of the house below, as they deemed it a
blessing to have her there. A priest visited her to confess her every
day. "I have ask'd her," says my landlady, "how she, as she liv'd, could
possibly find so much employment for a confessor?" "Oh," said she, "it
is impossible to avoid vain thoughts." I was permitted once to visit
her. She was chearful and polite, and convers'd pleasantly. The room was
clean, but had no other furniture than a matras, a table with a crucifix
and book, a stool which she gave me to sit on, and a picture over the
chimney of Saint Veronica displaying her handkerchief, with the
miraculous figure of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she explained
to me with great seriousness. She look'd pale, but was never sick; and I
give it as another instance on how small an income life and health may
be supported.

At Watts's printing-house I contracted an acquaintance with an ingenious
young man, one Wygate, who, having wealthy relations, had been better
educated than most printers; was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and
lov'd reading. I taught him and a friend of his to swim at twice going
into the river, and they soon became good swimmers. They introduc'd me
to some gentlemen from the country, who went to Chelsea by water to see
the College and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our return, at the request
of the company, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and
leaped into the river, and swam from near Chelsea to Blackfryar's,
performing on the way many feats of activity, both upon and under water,
that surpris'd and pleas'd those to whom they were novelties.

I had from a child been ever delighted with this exercise, had studied
and practis'd all Thevenot's motions and positions, added some of my
own, aiming at the graceful and easy as well as the useful. All these I
took this occasion of exhibiting to the company, and was much flatter'd
by their admiration; and Wygate, who was desirous of becoming a master,
grew more and more attach'd to me on that account, as well as from the
similarity of our studies. He at length proposed to me travelling all
over Europe together, supporting ourselves everywhere by working at our
business. I was once inclined to it; but, mentioning it to my good
friend Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I had leisure,
he dissuaded me from it, advising me to think only of returning to
Pennsilvania, which he was now about to do.

I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerly
been in business at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of people,
compounded and went to America. There, by a close application to
business as a merchant, he acquir'd a plentiful fortune in a few years.
Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited his old creditors
to an entertainment, at which he thank'd them for the easy composition
they had favored him with, and, when they expected nothing but the
treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a
banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder with interest.

He now told me he was about to return to Philadelphia, and should carry
over a great quantity of goods in order to open a store there. He
propos'd to take me over as his clerk, to keep his books, in which he
would instruct me, copy his letters, and attend the store. He added
that, as soon as I should be acquainted with mercantile business, he
would promote me by sending me with a cargo of flour and bread, etc., to
the West Indies, and procure me commissions from others which would be
profitable; and, if I manag'd well, would establish me handsomely. The
thing pleas'd me; for I was grown tired of London, remembered with
pleasure the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania, and wish'd again
to see it; therefore I immediately agreed on the terms of fifty pounds a
year, Pennsylvania money; less, indeed, than my present gettings as a
compositor, but affording a better prospect.

I now took leave of printing, as I thought, for ever, and was daily
employed in my new business, going about with Mr. Denham among the
tradesmen to purchase various articles, and seeing them pack'd up, doing
errands, calling upon workmen to dispatch, etc.; and, when all was on
board, I had a few days' leisure. On one of these days, I was, to my
surprise, sent for by a great man I knew only by name, a Sir William
Wyndham, and I waited upon him. He had heard by some means or other of
my swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriar's, and of my teaching Wygate and
another young man to swim in a few hours. He had two sons, about to set
out on their travels; he wish'd to have them first taught swimming, and
proposed to gratify me handsomely if I would teach them. They were not
yet come to town, and my stay was uncertain, so I could not undertake
it; but, from this incident, I thought it likely that, if I were to
remain in England and open a swimming-school, I might get a good deal of
money; and it struck me so strongly, that, had the overture been sooner
made me, probably I should not so soon have returned to America. After
many years, you and I had something of more importance to do with one of
these sons of Sir William Wyndham, become Earl of Egremont, which I
shall mention in its place.

Thus I spent about eighteen months in London; most part of the time I
work'd hard at my business, and spent but little upon myself except in
seeing plays and in books. My friend Ralph had kept me poor; he owed me
about twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never likely to receive; a
great sum out of my small earnings! I lov'd him, notwithstanding, for he
had many amiable qualities. I had by no means improv'd my fortune; but I
had picked up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose conversation was
of great advantage to me; and I had read considerably.

We sail'd from Gravesend on the 23d of July, 1726. For the incidents of
the voyage, I refer you to my Journal, where you will find them all
minutely related. Perhaps the most important part of that journal is the
plan [5] to be found in it, which I formed at sea, for regulating my
future conduct in life. It is the more remarkable, as being formed when
I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite thro'
to old age.

[5] The "Journal" was printed by Sparks, from a copy made at Reading in
1787. But it does not contain the Plan.--Ed.

We landed in Philadelphia on the 11th of October, where I found sundry
alterations. Keith was no longer governor, being superseded by Major
Gordon. I met him walking the streets as a common citizen. He seem'd a
little asham'd at seeing me, but pass'd without saying anything. I
should have been as much asham'd at seeing Miss Read, had not her
friends, despairing with reason of my return after the receipt of my
letter, persuaded her to marry another, one Rogers, a potter, which was
done in my absence. With him, however, she was never happy, and soon
parted from him, refusing to cohabit with him or bear his name, it being
now said that he had another wife. He was a worthless fellow, tho' an
excellent workman, which was the temptation to her friends. He got into
debt, ran away in 1727 or 1728, went to the West Indies, and died there.
Keimer had got a better house, a shop well supply'd with stationery,
plenty of new types, a number of hands, tho' none good, and seem'd to
have a great deal of business.

Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street, where we open'd our goods; I
attended the business diligently, studied accounts, and grew, in a
little time, expert at selling. We lodg'd and boarded together; he
counsell'd me as a father, having a sincere regard for me. I respected
and lov'd him, and we might have gone on together very happy; but, in
the beginning of February, 1726-7, when I had just pass'd my
twenty-first year, we both were taken ill. My distemper was a pleurisy,
which very nearly carried me off. I suffered a good deal, gave up the
point in my own mind, and was rather disappointed when I found myself
recovering, regretting, in some degree, that I must now, some time or
other, have all that disagreeable work to do over again. I forget what
his distemper was; it held him a long time, and at length carried him
off. He left me a small legacy in a nuncupative will, as a token of his
kindness for me, and he left me once more to the wide world; for the
store was taken into the care of his executors, and my employment under
him ended.

My brother-in-law, Holmes, being now at Philadelphia, advised my return
to my business; and Keimer tempted me, with an offer of large wages by
the year, to come and take the management of his printing-house, that he
might better attend his stationer's shop. I had heard a bad character of
him in London from his wife and her friends, and was not fond of having
any more to do with him. I tri'd for farther employment as a merchant's
clerk; but, not readily meeting with any, I clos'd again with Keimer. I
found in his house these hands: Hugh Meredith, a Welsh Pensilvanian,
thirty years of age, bred to country work; honest, sensible, had a great
deal of solid observation, was something of a reader, but given to
drink. Stephen Potts, a young countryman of full age, bred to the same,
of uncommon natural parts, and great wit and humor, but a little idle.
These he had agreed with at extream low wages per week, to be rais'd a
shilling every three months, as they would deserve by improving in their
business; and the expectation of these high wages, to come on hereafter,
was what he had drawn them in with. Meredith was to work at press, Potts
at book-binding, which he, by agreement, was to teach them, though he
knew neither one nor t'other. John ------, a wild Irishman, brought up
to no business, whose service, for four years, Keimer had purchased from
the captain of a ship; he, too, was to be made a pressman. George Webb,
an Oxford scholar, whose time for four years he had likewise bought,
intending him for a compositor, of whom more presently; and David Harry,
a country boy, whom he had taken apprentice.

I soon perceiv'd that the intention of engaging me at wages so much
higher than he had been us'd to give, was, to have these raw, cheap
hands form'd thro' me; and, as soon as I had instructed them, then they
being all articled to him, he should be able to do without me. I went
on, however, very cheerfully, put his printing-house in order, which had
been in great confusion, and brought his hands by degrees to mind their
business and to do it better.

It was an odd thing to find an Oxford scholar in the situation of a
bought servant. He was not more than eighteen years of age, and gave me
this account of himself; that he was born in Gloucester, educated at a
grammar-school there, had been distinguish'd among the scholars for some
apparent superiority in performing his part, when they exhibited plays;
belong'd to the Witty Club there, and had written some pieces in prose
and verse, which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers; thence he
was sent to Oxford; where he continued about a year, but not well
satisfi'd, wishing of all things to see London, and become a player. At
length, receiving his quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas, instead of
discharging his debts he walk'd out of town, hid his gown in a furze
bush, and footed it to London, where, having no friend to advise him, he
fell into bad company, soon spent his guineas, found no means of being
introduc'd among the players, grew necessitous, pawn'd his cloaths, and
wanted bread. Walking the street very hungry, and not knowing what to do
with himself, a crimp's bill was put into his hand, offering immediate
entertainment and encouragement to such as would bind themselves to
serve in America. He went directly, sign'd the indentures, was put into
the ship, and came over, never writing a line to acquaint his friends
what was become of him. He was lively, witty, good-natur'd, and a
pleasant companion, but idle, thoughtless, and imprudent to the last
degree.

John, the Irishman, soon ran away; with the rest I began to live very
agreeably, for they all respected me the more, as they found Keimer
incapable of instructing them, and that from me they learned something
daily. We never worked on Saturday, that being Keimer's Sabbath, so I
had two days for reading. My acquaintance with ingenious people in the
town increased. Keimer himself treated me with great civility and
apparent regard, and nothing now made me uneasy but my debt to Vernon,
which I was yet unable to pay, being hitherto but a poor œconomist. He,
however, kindly made no demand of it.

Our printing-house often wanted sorts, and there was no letter-founder
in America; I had seen types cast at James's in London, but without much
attention to the manner; however, I now contrived a mould, made use of
the letters we had as puncheons, struck the matrices in lead, And thus
supply'd in a pretty tolerable way all deficiencies. I also engrav'd
several things on occasion; I made the ink; I was warehouseman, and
everything, and, in short, quite a factotum.

But, however serviceable I might be, I found that my services became
every day of less importance, as the other hands improv'd in the
business; and, when Keimer paid my second quarter's wages, he let me
know that he felt them too heavy, and thought I should make an
abatement. He grew by degrees less civil, put on more of the master,
frequently found fault, was captious, and seem'd ready for an
outbreaking. I went on, nevertheless, with a good deal of patience,
thinking that his encumber'd circumstances were partly the cause. At
length a trifle snapt our connections; for, a great noise happening near
the court-house, I put my head out of the window to see what was the
matter. Keimer, being in the street, look'd up and saw me, call'd out to
me in a loud voice and angry tone to mind my business, adding some
reproachful words, that nettled me the more for their publicity, all the
neighbors who were looking out on the same occasion being witnesses how
I was treated. He came up immediately into the printing-house, continu'd
the quarrel, high words pass'd on both sides, he gave me the quarter's
warning we had stipulated, expressing a wish that he had not been
oblig'd to so long a warning. I told him his wish was unnecessary, for I
would leave him that instant; and so, taking my hat, walk'd out of
doors, desiring Meredith, whom I saw below, to take care of some things
I left, and bring them to my lodgings.

Meredith came accordingly in the evening, when we talked my affair over.
He had conceiv'd a great regard for me, and was very unwilling that I
should leave the house while he remain'd in it. He dissuaded me from
returning to my native country, which I began to think of; he reminded
me that Keimer was in debt for all he possess'd; that his creditors
began to be uneasy; that he kept his shop miserably, sold often without
profit for ready money, and often trusted without keeping accounts; that
he must therefore fall, which would make a vacancy I might profit of. I
objected my want of money. He then let me know that his father had a
high opinion of me, and, from some discourse that had pass'd between
them, he was sure would advance money to set us up, if I would enter
into partnership with him. "My time," says he, "will be out with Keimer
in the spring; by that time we may have our press and types in from
London. I am sensible I am no workman; if you like it, your skill in the
business shall be set against the stock I furnish, and we will share the
profits equally."

The proposal was agreeable, and I consented; his father was in town and
approv'd of it; the more as he saw I had great influence with his son,
had prevail'd on him to abstain long from dram-drinking, and he hop'd
might break him off that wretched habit entirely, when we came to be so
closely connected. I gave an inventory to the father, who carry'd it to
a merchant; the things were sent for, the secret was to be kept till
they should arrive, and in the mean time I was to get work, if I could,
at the other printing-house. But I found no vacancy there, and so
remain'd idle a few days, when Keimer, on a prospect of being employ'd
to print some paper money in New Jersey, which would require cuts and
various types that I only could supply, and apprehending B