By my rambling digressions, I perceive myself to be grown old. I used to write more methodically. But one does not dress for private company as for a public ball. Perhaps it is only negligence. regretted, that at a time when I had such a thirst for knowledge, more proper books had not fallen into my way, since it was resolved I should not be bred to divinity; there was among them Plutarch's lives, 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 an Essay 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 profes sion. 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 an 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 a great progress in the business, and became a useful hand to my brother. now had access to better books. An acquaint 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 every appearance that I was destined to supply his place, and become a tallow-chandler. But my dislike to the trade continuing, my father had apprehensions, that If he did not put me to one more agreeable, I should break loose and go to sea, as my bro-ance with the apprentices of booksellers, enather Josiah had done to his great vexation. In consequence he took me to walk with him, and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers, &c., at their work, that he might observe my inclination, and endeavour to fix it on some trade or profession that would keep me on land. It has ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle their tools; and it has been often useful to me to have learnt so much by it as to be able to do some trifling jobs in the house, when a workman was not at hand, and to construct little machines for my experiments, at the moment when the intention of making them was warm in my mind. My father determined at last for the cutlers' trade, and placed me for some days on trial with Samuel, son to my uncle Benjamin, who was bred. to that trade in London, and had just established himself in Boston. But the sum he exacted as a fee for my apprenticeship displeased my father, and I was taken home again. From my infancy I was passionately fond of reading, and all the money that came into my hands was laid out in the purchasing of books. I was very fond of voyages. My first acquisition was Bunyan's works in separate little volumes. I afterwards sold them to enable me to buy R. Burton's Historical Collections; they were small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40 volumes in all. My father's little library consisted chiefly of books in polemic divinity, most of which I read. I have often 1* bled me sometimes to borrow a small one, which I was careful to return soon and clean. Often I sat up in my chamber the greatest rart of the night, when the book was borrowed in the evening to be returned in the morning, lest it should be found, missing. After some time a merchant, an ingenious, sensible man, Mr. Matthew Adams, who had a pretty collection of books, frequented our printing office, took notice of me, and invited me to see his library, and very kindly proposed to lend me such books as I chose to read. Inow took a strong inclination for poetry, and wrote some little piecès; my brother supposing it might turn to account, encouraged me, and induced me to compose two occasional ballads. One was called the Light-house tragedy, and contained an account of the shipwreck of captain Worthilake, with his two daughters: the other was a sailor's song, on the taking of the famous Teach (or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were wretched stuff in street ballad style; and when they were printed, my brother sent me about the town to sell them.The first sold prodigiously, the event being recent, and having made a great noise. This success flattered my vanity, but my father discouraged me, by criticising my performances, and telling me verse makers were generally beggars. Thus I escaped being a poet, and probably a very bad one: but as prose writing has been of great use to me in the course of my life, and was a principal means of my | Then I compared my Spectator with an oriadvancement, I shall tell you how in such a situation, I accquired what little ability I may be supposed to have in that way. ginal, 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 search for words of the same import, but of different lengths, to suit the measure, or of different sounds 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 I took some of the tales in the Spectator, 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 collection of hints into confusion, and after some weeks endeavoured to reduce them into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences and complete the subject. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of the thoughts. By comparing my work with the original, I discovered many faults and corrected them; but I sometimes had the pleasure to fancy, that in particulars of small consequence I had been fortunate enough to improve the method or the language, and this encouraged me to think, that I might in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I was extremely ambitious. The time I allotted for writing exercises and for reading, was at night or before work began in the morning, or on Sunday, when I contrived to be in the printing house, avoiding as much as I could the constant attendance at public worship, which my father used to exact from me when I was under his care, and which I still continued to consider as a duty, though I could not afford time to practise it. 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 prac-mind, and make me master of it. Therefore tice; and thence besides souring and spoiling the conversation, it is productive of disgusts and perhaps enmities with those who may have occasion for friendship. I had caught this by reading my father's books of disputes on religion. Persons of good sense, I have since observed, seldom fall into it, except lawyers, university men, and generally men of all sorts who have been bred at Edinburg. A question was once some how or other started, between Collins and me, on 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 for dispute sake. He was naturally more eloquent, having a greater plenty of words; and sometimes, as I thought, I was vanquished 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 on a side had passed, when my father happened to find my papers and read them. Without entering into the subject in dispute, he took occasion to talk to me about my manner of writing; observed that, though I had the advantage of my antagonist in correct spelling and pointing, (which he attributed to the printing house,) I fell far short in elegance of expression, in method, and perspicuity, of which he convinced me by several instances. I saw the justice of his remarks, and thence grew more attentive to my manner of writing, and determined to endeavour to improve my style. When about sixteen years of age, I happened to meet with another 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 inconvenience, 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, 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. About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. 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 that view I took some of the papers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by This was an additional fund for buying of a few days, and then without looking at the books. But I had another advantage in it.— book, tried to complete the papers again, by My brother and the rest going from the printexpressing each hinted sentiment at length ing office to their meals, I remained there and as fully as it had been expressed before alone; and despatching presently my Fight rein any suitable words that should occur to me. | past, which was often no more than a biscuit, or a slice of bread and a handful of raisins, a ner that seldom fails to disgust, tends to cretart from the pastry cook's, and a glass of wa-ate opposition, and to defeat most of those purter, had the rest of the time till their return poses for which speech was given to us. for study, in which I made the greater progress, from that greater clearness of head and quick apprehension, which generally attends temperance in eating and drinking. Now it was, that being on some occasion made ashamed of my ignorance in figures, which I had twice failed learning when at school, I took Cocker's book on arithmetic, and went through the whole by myself with the greatest ease. I also read Sellers and Sturny's book on navigation, which made me acquainted with the little geometry it contained; but I never proceeded far in that science. I read about this time Locke on the 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,) having at the end of it two little sketches, on the arts of rhetoric In fact if you wish to instruct others, a positive and dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments may occasion opposition and prevent a candid attention. If you desire improvement from others, you should not at the same time express yourself fixed in your present opinions; modest and sensible men who do not love disputations will leave you undisturbed in the possession of your errors. In adopting such a manner, you can seldom expect to please your hearers, or obtain the concurrence you desire. Pope judiciously observes, Men must be taug'i as if you taught them not, He also recommends it to us, To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence. And he might have joined with this line, that which he has coupled with another I think less properly. and logic, the latter finishing with a dispute in the Socratic method; and soon after I procured Xenophon's Memorable things of Socrates, wherein there are many examples of the same method. I was charmed by it, adopted it, dropt my abrupt contradiction and positive argumentation, and put on the humble inquirer; and being then, from reading Shafts- If you ask, why less properly, I must repeat bury and Collins, made a doubter, as I already the lines, was in many points of our religious doctrines, I found this method the safest for myself and very embarrassing to those against whom I For want of modesty is want of sense, Immodest words, admit of no defence, 1 so unfortunate as to want it) some apology for Immodest words admit but this defence, This, however, I should submit to better judg used it; therefore I took delight in it, practis-Now is not the want of sense (where a man is ed 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 continued 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 word certainly-undoubtedly--or any other that gave 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 not think it is 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 engaged 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 and sensible men would not lessen their power of doing good by a positive, assuming man My brother had in 1720 or 21, began 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; ] was employed to carry the papers to the customers, after having worked in composing the types and printing off the sheets. He had some ingenious men among his friends, who amused themselves by writing little pieces for this paper, which gained it credit, and *The number in 1817, exceeds 400. 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 any thing 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 at night under the door of the printing house. It was found in the morning, and communicated to his writing friends, when they called in as usual. They read it, commented on it in my hearing, and I had the exquisite pleasure of finding it had 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 that I was rather lucky in my julges, and they were not really so very good as I then believed them to be. Encouragel however by this attempt, I wrote and sent in the same way to the press several other pieces, that were equally approved; and I kept my secret till all my fund of sense for such performances was exhausted, and then discovered it, when I began to be considered with a little more attention by my brother's acquaintance. However, that did not quite please him, as he thought it tended to make me too vain. This might be one occasion of the differences 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 degraded me too much in some he required of me, who from a brother require 1 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 favour. But my brother was passionate and had often beaten me, which I took extremely 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. Perhaps the harsh and tyrannical treatment of me, might be a means of impressing me with the 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 offence to the assembly. He was taken up, censure, and imprisoned for a month, by the speaker's warrant, I suppose because he would not discover the author. Itoo was taken up and examined before the council; but though I did not give them any satisfaction, they contented 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 1 resented a good deal notwithstanding our differenees 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 unfavourable light, as a youth that had a turn for libelling and satire. My brother's discharge was accompanied with an order (and a very odd one) that "James Franklin should no longer print the newspaper called the New England Courant." On a consultation held in our printing office amongst his friends, what he should do in this conjuncture, it was proposed to elude the order, by changing the name of the paper; but my brother seeing inconveniences in this, come to a conclusion, as a better way, to let the paper in future be printed in the name of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN: and in order to avoid the censure of the assembly that might fall on him, as still printing it by his apprentice, he contrived and consented that my old indenture should be returned to me, with a discharge on the back of it, to show in case of necessity; and, in order to secure to him. the benefit of my service, I should sign new indentures for the remainder of my time, which was to be kept private. A very flimsy scheme it was; however, it was immediately executed, and the paper was printed 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 as one of the first errata of my life; but the unfairness of it weighed little with me, when under the impression of resentment for the blows his passion too often urged him to bestow upon me; though he was otherwise not an illnatured 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 in town, by going round and speaking to every master, who accordingly refused 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 inclined 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 staid, soon bring myself into scrapes; and further, that my indiscreet disputations about religion began to make me pointed at with horror, by good people, as an infidel or atheist. I concluded therefore to remove to New York; 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 my flight. He agreed with the captain of a New York sloop to take me, under pretence of my being a young man of his acquaintance that had an intrigue with a girl of bad character, whose parents would compel me to marry her; and that I could neither appear or come away publicly. I sold my books to raise a little money, was taken on board the sloop privately, had a fair wind, and in three days found myself at New York, near three hundred miles from my home, at the age of seventeen, without the least recommendation, or knowledge of any person in the place, and very little money in my pocket. The inclination I had felt for the sea was by this time done away, or I might now have gratified it. But having another profession, and conceiving myself a pretty good workman, I offered my services to a printer of the place, old Mr. W. Bradford, who had been the first printer in Pennsylvania, but had removed thence, in consequence of a quarrel with the governor, general Keith. He could give me no employment, having little to do, and hands enough already. But he said, "My son, at Philadelphia, has lately lost his prin"cipal hand, Aquilla Rose, by death; if you "go thither, I believe he may employ you." Philadelphia was one hundred miles farther; 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 desired I would dry for him. It proved to be my old favourite author, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, in Dutch, finely printed on good paper, 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 mixed narration and dialogue; a method of writing very engaging to the reader, who, in the most interesting parts finds himself, as it were, admitted into the company and present at the conversation. De Foe has imitated him successfully in his Robinson Crusoe, in his Moll Flanders, and other pieces; and Richardson has done the same in his Pamela, &c. On approaching the island, we found it was in a place where there could be no landing, VOL. I.-B there being a great surf on the stony beach. So we dropt anchor, and swung out our cable towards the shore. Some people came down to the shore, and hallooed to us, as we did to them, but the wind was so high, and the surf so loud, that we could not understand each other. There were some small boats near the shore, and we made signs, and called to them to fetch us; but they either did not comprehend us, or it was impracticable, so they went off. Night approaching, we had no remedy but to have patience till the wind abated, and in the mean time the boatmen and myself concluded to sleep if we could; and so we crowded into the hatches, where we joined the Dutchman, who was still wet, and the spray breaking over the head of our boat, leaked through 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; the water we sailed on being salt. In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went to bed; but having read somewhere that cold water drank plentifully was good for a fever, I followed the prescription, and sweat plentifully 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 should find boats that would carry me the rest of the way to Philadelphia. It rained very hard all the day, I was thoroughly soaked, and by noon a good deal tired, so I stopt at a poor inn, where I stayed all night; beginning now to wish I had never left home. I made so miserable a figure too, that I found by the questions asked me, I was suspected to be some runaway indentured servant, and in danger of being taken up on that suspicion. However, I proceeded 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 obliging and friendly. Our acquaintance continued all the rest of his life. He had been, I imagine, an ambulatory quack doctor, for there was no town in England, or any country in Europe, of which he could not give a very particular account. He had some letters, and was ingenious, but he was an infidel, and wickedly undertook some years after to turn the Bible into doggrel verse, as Cotton had formerly done with Virgil. By this means he set many facts in a ridiculous light, and might have done mischief with weak minds, if his work had been published; but it never was. At his house I lay that night, and arrived the next morning at Burlington; but had the |