Part 4 (1/2)
”Who was Uncle Tom?” asked the boy.
”They used to say that he was a wizard. I will tell you all about him some day. Let us listen now to your father's violin.”
The house was still, save that the sea winds stirred the crisp autumn leaves in the great trees near and the nine o'clock bell fell solemnly on the air. A watchman went by, saying, ”All is well!”
Yes, all is well in hearts like these--hearts that can pity, love, forbear, and feel.
CHAPTER IV.
FRANKLIN'S STORY OF A HOLIDAY IN CHILDHOOD.
AS barren as was the early Puritan town in things that please the fancy of the child, Josiah Franklin's home was a cheerful one. It kept holidays, when the violin was played, and some pennies were bestowed upon the many children.
Let us enter the house by the candle-room door. The opening of the door rings a bell. There is an odor of tallow everywhere. One side is hung with wickings, to be cut and trimmed.
When the tallow is boiling the room is very hot, close, and the atmosphere oily.
There is a soap kettle in the room. The odor of the lye is more agreeable than that of the melted tallow.
Little Ben is here, short, stout, rosy-faced, with a great head. Where he goes the other children go; what he does, they do. Already a little world has begun to follow him.
Look at him as he runs around among the candle molds, talking like a philosopher. Does he seem likely to stand in the French court amid the splendors of the palace of Versailles, the most popular and conspicuous person among all the jeweled mult.i.tude who fill the mirrored, the golden, the blazing halls except the king himself? Does he look as though he would one day ask the French king for an army to help establish the independence of his country, and that the throne would bow to him?
Homely as was that home, the fancy of Franklin after he became great always loved to return to it.
In his advanced years he wished to prepare a little story or parable that would show that people spend too much time and money on things that could be more cheaply purchased or that they could well do without. He wrote out an anecdote of his childhood that ill.u.s.trated in a clear way, like so many flashes, how the resources of life may be wasted. The story has been printed, we may safely say, a thousand times. Few stories have ever had a wider circulation or been more often quoted. It has in it a picture of his old home, and as such we must give it here. Here is the parable again, as in the original:
”When I was a child, at seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children, and, being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_ that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my _whistle_, but disturbing all the family. My brothers and sisters and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth.
This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly that I cried with vexation, and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the _whistle_ gave me pleasure.
”This, however, was afterward of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, _Don't give too much for the whistle_, and so I saved my money.
”As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who _gave too much for the whistle_.
”When I saw any one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, _This man gave too much for his whistle._
”When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by neglect, _He pays, indeed_, says I, _too much for this whistle._
”If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friends.h.i.+p for the sake of acc.u.mulating wealth, _Poor man_, says I, _you do, indeed, pay too much for your whistle._
”When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, _Mistaken man_, says I, _you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle._
”If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prison, _Alas!_ says I, _he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle._
”When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured brute of a husband, _What a pity it is_, says I, _that she had paid so much for a whistle!_