Part 31 (1/2)

”Industry need not wish.”

”In things of moment, on thyself depend, Nor trust too far thy servant or thy friend; With private views, thy friend may promise fair, And servants very seldom prove sincere.”

Besides these quaint sayings, which became a part of the proverbial wisdom of the world, Franklin had a comical remark for every occasion, as, when a boy, he advised his father to say grace over the whole pork barrel, and so save time at the table. He once admonished Jenny in regard to her spelling, and that after she was advanced in life, by telling her that the true way to spell wife was _yf_. After the treaty of peace with England, he thought it only a courtesy that America should return deported people to their native sh.o.r.es. Once in Paris, on receiving a cake labeled _Le digne Franklin_, which excited the jealousy of Lee and Dean, he said that the present was meant for Lee-Dean-Franklin, that being the p.r.o.nunciation of the French label.

Every event had a comical side for him.

Let us bring prosperous Benjamin Franklin back to Boston to see his widowed mother again, after the old story-book manner. She is nearly blind now, and we may suppose Jamie the Scotchman to be halting and old.

He comes into the town in the stagecoach at night. Boston has grown. The grand old Province House rises above it, the Indian vane turning hither and thither in the wind. The old town pump gleams under a lantern, as does the spring in Spring Lane, which fountain may have led to the settlement of the town. On a hill a beacon gleams over the sea. He pa.s.ses the stocks and the whipping-post in the shadows.

There is a light in the window of the Blue Ball. He sees it. It is very bright. Is his mother at work now that she is nearly blind?

He dismounts. He pa.s.ses close to the old window. His father is not in the room; he never will be there again. But an aged man is there. Who is he?

The man is reading--what? The most popular pamphlet or little book that ever appeared in the colonies; a droll story.

He knocks at the door. The old man rises and opens the door; the bell is gone.

”Abiah, there's a stranger here.”

”Ask him who he is.”

”Say that he used to work here many years ago, and that he knew Josiah Franklin well, and was acquainted with Ben.”

”Tell him to come in,” said the bent old woman with white hair.

The stranger entered, and avoided questions by asking them.

”What are you reading to-night, my good friend?” he asked.

”The Old Auctioneer,” answered the aged man. ”Have you read it?”

”Yes; it is on the taxes.”

”So it is--I've read it twice over. I'm now reading it to Abiah. Let me tell you a secret--her son wrote it. My opinion is that it is the smartest piece of work that ever saw the light on this side of the water. What's yourn?”

”There's sense in it.”

”What did he say his name was?” asked Abiah.

”Have you ever read any of Poor Richard's maxims?” asked the stranger quickly.

”Yes, yes; we have taken the Almanac for years. Ben publishes it.”

”What did he say?” asked Abiah. ”I can not hear as well as I once could.--Stranger, I heard you when you spoke loud at the door.”

”Repeat some of 'Poor Richard's' sayings,” said the stranger.

”You may well say 'repeat,'” said the old man. ”I used to hear Ben Franklin say things like that when he was a 'prentice lad.”

”Like what, my friend?”