Part 17 (2/2)

”It all comes to me what you ought to do. You should become a printer.”

”That I would like, father.”

”Then the way is clear--let me apprentice you to James.”

”Would he have me, father? We do not always get on well together. I want to learn the printer's trade; that would help me on to an education.”

Josiah Franklin was now a happier man. Ben would have no more desire to go to sea. If he could become anything out of the ordinary, the printer's trade would be the open way.

He went to his son James and presented the matter. As a result, they drew up an indenture.

This indenture, which may be found in Franklin's princ.i.p.al biographies, was a very queer doc.u.ment, but follows the usual form of the times of George I. It was severe--a form by which a lad was practically sold into slavery, and yet it contained the demands that develop right conduct in life. Ben was not const.i.tuted to be an apprentice boy under these sharp conditions even to his own brother. But all began well. His mother, who worried lest he should follow the example of his brother Josiah, now had heart content. His father secured an apprentice, and probably had drawn up for him a like form of indenture.

Benjamin, too, was happy now. He saw that his new way of life led to somewhere--where? He would do his best to make it lead to the best in life. He started with a high resolve, which we are sorry he did not always fulfill in the letter, though the spirit of it never was lost.

His successor in the tallow shop does not seem to have been more happy than he. His name was Tinsley. There appeared in the New England Courant of 1722 the following queer advertis.e.m.e.nt, which we copy because it affords a picture of the times:

Ran away from his Master, Mr. Josiah Franklin, of Boston, Tallow-Chandler, on the first of this instant July, an Irish Man-servant, named William Tinsley, about 20 Years of Age, of a middle Stature, black Hair, lately cut off, somewhat fresh-coloured Countenance, a large lower Lip, of a mean Aspect, large Legs, and heavy in his Going.

He had on, when he went away, a felt Hat, a white knit Cap, striped with red and blue, white s.h.i.+rt, and neck-cloth, a brown coloured Jacket, almost new, a frieze Coat, of a dark Colour, grey yarn Stockings, leather Breeches, trimmed with black, and round to'd Shoes. Whoever shall apprehend the said runaway Servant, and him safely convey to his above said Master, at the blue Ball, in Union street, Boston, shall have forty s.h.i.+llings Reward, and all necessary Charges paid.

As this advertis.e.m.e.nt was continued for three successive weeks, we are at liberty to conclude that William Tinsley was not ”apprehended.”

Let the reader be glad that he did not live in those days. The best of all ages is now.

”And so you have begun life as a printer?” said Uncle Benjamin. ”A printer's trade is one after my own heart. It develops thought. If I could have only kept my pamphlets until now, you would have printed the notes that I made. One of them says that what people want is not favors or patronage of any kind, but _justice_. Remember that, Ben. What the world wants is justice. You may become a printer in your own right some day.”

”I want to become one, uncle. That is just what is in my heart. I can see success in my mind.”

”But you can do it if you will. Everything goes down before 'I will!'

The Alps fell before Hannibal. Have a deaf ear, Ben, toward all who say 'You _can't_!' Such men don't count with those in the march; they are stragglers. Don't you be laughed down by anybody. Hold your head high; there is just as much royal blood in your veins as there is in any king on earth. There is no royal blood but that which springs from true worth. I put that down in my doc.u.ments years ago.

”Life is too short to stop to quarrel with any one by the way. If a man calls you a fool, you need not come out under your own signature and deny it. Your life should do that. I am quoting from my pamphlets again.

”If you meet old Mr. Calamity in your way, the kind of man who tells you that you have no ground of expectation, and that everything in the world is going to ruin, just whistle, and luck will come to you, my boy. I only wish that I had my doc.u.ments--my pamphlets, I mean. I would have left them to you in my will. In the present state of society one must save or be a slave--that also I wrote down in my doc.u.ments. It is a pity that it is so, but it is. Save what you can while you are young, and it will give your mind leisure to work when you are older. _That_ was in my pamphlets. I hope that I may live to see you the best printer in the colonies.”

The boy absorbed the spirit of these proverbial sayings. They were to his liking and bent of mind. But there came into his young face a shadow.

”Uncle Ben, I know what you say is true. I have listened to you; now I would like you to hear me. You saw the boys going to the Latin School this morning?”

”Yes, Ben.”

”I can not go there.”

”O Ben! that is hard,” said Jenny, who was by his side.

”But you can go to school, Ben,” said Uncle Benjamin.

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