From Boyhood to Manhood

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III.

PAYING TOO DEAR FOR THE WHISTLE.

When Benjamin was seven years old he had not been to school a day.
Yet he was a good reader and speller. In manhood he said: "I do not
remember when I could not read, so it must have been very early." He
was one of those irrepressible little fellows, whose intuition and
observation are better than school. He learned more out of school than
he could or would have done in it. His precocity put him in advance
of most boys at seven, even without schooling. It was not necessary
for him to have school-teachers to testify that he possessed ten
talents,--his parents knew that, and every one else who was familiar
with him.

The first money he ever had to spend as he wished was on a holiday
when he was seven years old. It was not the Fourth of July, when
torpedoes and firecrackers scare horses and annoy men and women, for
Benjamin's holiday was more than sixty years before the Declaration
of Independence was declared, and that is what we celebrate now on
the Fourth of July. Indeed, his holiday was a hundred years before
torpedoes and fire-crackers were invented. It was a gala-day, however,
in which the whole community was interested, including the youngest boy
in the Franklin family.

"See that you spend your money well," remarked his mother, who
presented him with several coppers; "and keep out of mischief."

"And here is some more," added his father, giving him several coppers
to add to his spending money; "make wise investments, Ben, for your
reputation depends upon it"; and the latter facetious remark was made
in a way that indicated his love for the boy.

"What are you going to buy, Ben?" inquired an older brother, who wanted
to draw out some bright answer from the child; "sugar-plums, of
course," he added.

Benjamin made no reply, though his head was crammed with thoughts about
his first holiday.

"I shall want to know how well you spend your money, Ben," said his
mother; "remember that 'all is not gold that glitters'; you've got all
the money you can have to-day."

All the older members of the family were interested in the boy's
pastime, and while they were indulging in various remarks, he bounded
out of the house, with his head filled with bewitching fancies,
evidently expecting such a day of joy as he never knew before. Perhaps
the toy-shop was first in his mind, into which he had looked wistfully
many times as he passed, and perhaps it was not. We say toy-shop,
though it was not such a toy-shop as Boston has to-day, where thousands
of toys of every description and price are offered for sale. But it was
a store in which, with other articles, toys were kept for sale, very
few in number and variety compared with the toys offered for sale at
the present day. Benjamin had seen these in the window often, and, no
doubt, had wished to possess some of them. But there were no toys in
the Franklin family; there were children instead of toys, so many of
them that money to pay for playthings was out of the question.

Benjamin had not proceeded far on the street when he met a boy blowing
a whistle that he had just purchased. The sound of the whistle, and the
boy's evident delight in blowing it, captivated Benjamin at once. He
stopped to listen and measure the possessor of that musical wonder. He
said nothing, but just listened, not only with his ears, but with his
whole self. He was delighted with the concert that one small boy could
make, and, then and there, he resolved to go into that concert business
himself. So he pushed on, without having said a word to the owner of
the whistle, fully persuaded to invest his money in the same sort of a
musical instrument. Supposing that the whistle was bought at the store
where he had seen toys in the window, he took a bee line for it.

"Any whistles?" he inquired, almost out of breath.

"Plenty of them, my little man," the proprietor answered with a smile,
at the same time proceeding to lay before the small customer quite a
number.

"I will give you all the money I have for one," said Benjamin, without
inquiring the price. He was so zealous to possess a whistle that the
price was of no account, provided he had enough money to pay for it.

"Ah! all you have?" responded the merchant; "perhaps you have not as
much as I ask for them. They are very nice whistles."

"Yes, I know they are, and I will give you all the money I have for one
of them," was Benjamin's frank response. The fact was, he began to
think that he had not sufficient money to purchase one, so valuable did
a whistle appear to him at that juncture.

"How much money have you?" inquired the merchant.

Benjamin told him honestly how many coppers he had, which was more than
the actual price of the whistles. The merchant replied:

"Yes, you may have a whistle for that. Take your pick."

Never was a child more delighted than he when the bargain was closed.
He tried every whistle, that he might select the loudest one of all,
and when his choice was settled, he exchanged his entire wealth for the
prize. He was as well satisfied as the merchant when he left the store.
"Ignorance is bliss," it is said, and it was to Benjamin for a brief
space.

He began his concert as soon as he left the store. He wanted nothing
more. He had seen all he wanted to see. He had bought all he wanted to
buy. The whole holiday was crowded into that whistle. To him, that was
all there was of it. Sweetmeats and knick-knacks had no attractions for
him. Military parade had no charm for him, for he could parade himself
now. A band of music had lost its charm, now that he had turned himself
into a band.

At once he started for home, instead of looking after other sights and
scenes. He had been absent scarcely half an hour when he reappeared,
blowing his whistle lustily as he entered the house, as if he expected
to astonish the whole race of Franklins by the shrillness, if not by
the sweetness, of his music.

"Back so quick!" exclaimed his mother.

"Yes! seen all I want to see." That was a truth well spoken, for the
whistle just commanded his whole being, and there was room for nothing
more. A whistle was all the holiday he wanted.

"What have you there, Ben?" continued his mother; "Something to make us
crazy?"

"A whistle, mother," stopping its noise just long enough for a decent
reply, and then continuing the concert as before.

"How much did you give for the whistle?" asked his older brother, John.

"All the money I had." Benjamin was too much elated with his bargain to
conceal any thing.

"What!" exclaimed John with surprise, "did you give all your money for
that little concern?"

"Yes, every cent of it."

"You are not half so bright as I thought you were. It is four times as
much as the whistle is worth."

"Did you ask the price of it?" inquired his mother.

"No, I told the man I would give him all the money I had for one, and
he took it."

"Of course he did," interjected John, "and if you had had four times as
much he would have taken it for the whistle. You are a poor trader,
Ben."

"You should have asked the price of it in the first place," remarked
his mother to him, "and then, if there was not enough, you could have
offered all the money you had for the whistle. That would have been
proper."

"If you had paid a reasonable price for it," continued John, "you might
had enough money left to have bought a pocket full of good things."

"Yes, peppermints, candy, cakes, nuts, and perhaps more," added a
cousin who was present, desiring most of all to hear what the bright
boy would say for himself.

"I must say that you are a smart fellow, Ben, to be taken in like
that," continued John, who really wanted to make his seven-year-old
brother feel bad, and he spoke in a tone of derision. "All your money
for that worthless thing, that is enough to make us crazy! You ought to
have known better. If you had five dollars I suppose that you would
have given it just as quick for the whistle."

Of course he would. The whistle was worth that to him, and he bought it
for himself, not for any one else.

By this time Benjamin, who had said nothing in reply to their taunts
and reproofs, was running over with feeling, and he could hold in no
longer. Evidently he saw his mistake, and he burst into tears, and made
more noise by crying than he did with his whistle. Their ridicule, and
the thought of having paid more than he should for the whistle,
overcame him, and he found relief in tears. His father came to his
rescue.

"Never mind, Ben, you will understand how to trade the next time. We
have to live and learn; I have paid too much for a whistle more than
once in my life. You did as well as other boys do the first time."

"I think so too, Ben," joined in his mother, to comfort him. "John is
only teasing you, and trying to get some sport out of his holiday.
Better wipe up, and go out in the street to see the sights."

Benjamin learned a good lesson from this episode of his early life. He
only did what many grown-up boys have done, over and over again; pay
too much for a whistle. Men of forty, fifty, and sixty years of age do
this same thing, and suffer the consequences. It is one of the common
mistakes of life, and becomes a benefit when the lesson it teaches is
improved as Franklin improved it.

In the year 1779, November 10th, Franklin wrote from Passy, France, to
a friend, as follows:

"I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with your plan of
living there; and I approve much of your conclusion, that, in the mean
time, we should draw all the good we can from this world. In my
opinion, we might all draw more good from it than we do, and suffer
less evil, if we would take care not to give too much for _whistles_.
For to me it seems that most of the unhappy people we meet with are
become so by neglect of that caution. You ask what I mean? You love
stories, and will excuse my telling one of myself.

"When I was a child of seven years old my friends, on a holiday,
filled my pocket 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 and gave 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, sisters, and cousins,
understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times
as much for it as it was worth; put me in mind what good things I
might have bought with the rest of the money, and 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 afterwards 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 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 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 gives 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
that neglect, _He pays, indeed_, said I, _too much for his 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 friendship, for the sake
of accumulating wealth, _Poor man_, said I, _you pay too much for your
whistle_.

"When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable
improvement of the mind, or his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations,
and ruining his health in their pursuit, _Mistaken man_, said I, _you
are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too
much for your whistle_.

"If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses,
fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he
contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, _Alas!_ say 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_, say I, _that she should
pay so much for a whistle_.

"In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are
brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value
of things, and by their _giving too much for their whistles_.

"Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I consider
that, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain
things in the world so tempting,--for example, the apples of King
John, which happily are not to be bought; for, if they were put to
sale by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the
purchase, and find that I had once more given too much for the
_whistle_."

Thus Benjamin made good use of one of the foolish acts of his boyhood,
which tells well both for his head and heart. Many boys are far less
wise, and do the same foolish thing over and over again. They never
learn wisdom from the past.

When a boy equivocates, or deceives, to conceal some act of disobedience
from his parents or teachers, and thereby lays the foundation of habitual
untruthfulness, he pays too dear for the whistle, and he will learn the
truth of it when he becomes older, and can not command the confidence of
his friends and neighbors, but is branded by them as an unreliable,
dishonest man.

In like manner the boy who thinks it is manly to smoke and drink beer,
will find that he has a very expensive whistle, when he becomes "a hale
fellow well met" among a miserable class of young men, and is discarded
by the virtuous and good.

So, in general, the young person who is fascinated by mere pleasure,
and supposes that wealth and honor are real apples of gold to the
possessor, thinking less of a good character than he does of show and
glitter, will find that he has been blowing a costly whistle when it is
too late to recall his mistake.

IV.

IN SCHOOL.

Uncle Benjamin was so deeply interested in his namesake that he wrote
many letters about him. Nearly every ship that sailed for Boston
brought a letter from him to the Franklin family, and almost every
letter contained a piece of poetry from his pen. One of his letters
about that time contained the following acrostic on Benjamin's name:

"Be to thy parents an obedient son;
Each day let duty constantly be done;
Never give way to sloth, or lust, or pride,
If free you'd be from thousand ills beside.
Above all ills be sure avoid the shelf,
Man's danger lies in Satan, sin and self.
In virtue, learning, wisdom, progress make;
Ne'er shrink at suffering for thy Savior's sake.

"Fraud and all falsehood in thy dealings flee;
Religious always in thy station be;
Adore the maker of thy inward part;
Now's the accepted time; give him thine heart;
Keep a good conscience, 'tis a constant friend,
Like judge and witness this thy acts attend,
In heart, with bended knee, alone, adore
None but the Three in One for evermore."

The sentiment is better than the poetry, and it shows that the hero of
our tale had a treasure in the uncle for whom he was named. Doubtless
"Uncle Benjamin's" interest was largely increased by the loss of his
own children. He had quite a number of sons and daughters, and one
after another of them sickened and died, until only one son remained,
and he removed to Boston. It was for these reasons, probably, that
"Uncle Benjamin" came to this country in 1715.

Among his letters was one to his brother Josiah, our Benjamin's father,
when the son was seven years old, from which we extract the following:

"A father with so large a family as yours ought to give one son, at
least, to the service of the Church. That is your tithe. From what you
write about Benjamin I should say that he is the son you ought to
consecrate specially to the work of the ministry. He must possess
talents of a high order, and his love of learning must develop them
rapidly. If he has made himself a good reader and speller, as you say,
without teachers, there is no telling what he will do with them. By
all means, if possible, I should devote him to the Church. It will be
a heavy tax upon you, of course, with so large a family on your hands,
but your reward will come when you are old and gray-headed. Would that
I were in circumstances to assist you in educating him."

"He does not know how much thought and planning we have given to this
subject," remarked Mr. Franklin to his wife, when he read this part of
the letter. "I would do any thing possible to educate Benjamin for the
Church, and I think he would make the most of any opportunities we can
give him."

"There is no doubt of that," responded Mrs. Franklin. "Few parents
ever had more encouragement to educate a son for the ministry than we
have to educate him."

"Doctor Willard said as much as that to me," added Mr. Franklin, "and
I think it is true. I do not despair of giving Benjamin an education
yet, though I scarcely see how it ever can be done."

"That is the way I feel about it," responded Mrs. Franklin. "Perhaps
God will provide a way; somehow I trust in Providence, and wait,
hoping for the best."

"It is well to trust in Providence, if it is not done blindly,"
remarked Mr. Franklin. "Providence sometimes does wonders for people
who trust. It is quite certain that He who parted the waters of the
Red Sea for the children of Israel to pass, and fed them with manna
from the skies, can provide a way for our Benjamin to be educated. But
it looks to me as if some of his bread would have to drop down from
heaven."

"Well, if it drops that is enough," replied Mrs. Franklin. "I shall be
satisfied. If God does any thing for him he will do it in his own time
and way, and I shall be content with that. To see him in the service
of the Church is the most I want."

"Uncle Benjamin's" letter did not introduce a new subject of
conversation into the Franklin family; it was already an old theme
that had been much canvassed. Outside of the family there was an
interest in Benjamin's education. He was the kind of a boy to put
through Harvard College. This was the opinion of neighbors who knew
him. Nothing but poverty hindered the adoption and execution of that
plan.

"Uncle Benjamin's" letter did this, however: it hastened a favorable
decision, though Benjamin was eight years old when his parents decided
that he might enter upon a course of education.

They had said very little to their son about it, because they would
not awaken his expectations to disappoint them. And finally the
decision was reached with several ifs added.

"I do not know how I shall come out," added Mr. Franklin, "he may begin
to study. It won't hurt him to begin, if I should not be able to put
him through a course."

The decision to send him to school was arrived at in this doubtful
way, and it was not laid more strongly than this before Benjamin for
fear of awakening too high hopes in his heart.

"I have decided to send you to school," said his father to him, "but
whether I shall be able to send you as long as I would like is not
certain yet. I would like to educate you for the ministry if I could;
how would you like that?"

"I should like to go to school; I should like nothing better,"
answered Benjamin. "About the rest of it I do not know whether I
should like it or not."

"Well, it may not be best to discuss that," continued his father, "as
I may not be able to carry out my plan to the end. It will cost a good
deal to keep you in school and educate you, perhaps more than I can
possibly raise with so large a family to support. I have to be very
industrious now to pay all my bills. But if you are diligent to
improve your time, and lend a helping hand at home, out of school
hours, I may be able to do it."

"I will work all I can out of school, if I can only go," was
Benjamin's cheerful pledge in the outset. "When shall I begin?"

"Begin the next term. It is a long process to become educated for the
ministry, and the sooner you begin the better. But you must understand
that it is not certain I can continue you in school for a long time.
Make the most of the advantages you have, and we will trust in
Providence for the future."

Josiah Franklin's caution was proverbial. He was never rash or
thoughtless. He weighed all questions carefully. He was very
conscientious, and would not assume an obligation that he could not
see his way clear to meet. He used the same careful judgment and
circumspection about the education of his son that he employed in all
business matters. For this reason he was regarded as a man of sound
judgment and practical wisdom, and his influence was strong and wide.
When his son reached the height of his fame, he wrote as follows of
his father:

"I suppose you may like to know what kind of a man my father was. He
had an excellent constitution, was of a middle stature, well set, and
very strong. He could draw prettily and was skilled a little in music.
His voice was sonorous and agreeable, so that when he played on his
violin, and sung withal, as he was accustomed to do after the business
of the day was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear. He had some
knowledge of mechanics, and on occasion was handy with other tradesmen's
tools. But his great excellence was his sound understanding, and his
solid judgment in prudential matters, both in private and public affairs.
It is true he was never employed in the latter, 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 men, who consulted him for his opinion in public affairs,
and those of the church he belonged to; and who showed a great respect
for his judgment and advice. He was also consulted much by private
persons about their affairs, when any difficulty occurred, and
frequently chosen an arbitrator between contending parties."

Of his mother he wrote, at the same time:

"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 died--he at eighty-nine, and she at
eighty-five 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,
AND WITHOUT AN ESTATE, OR ANY GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT, BY CONSTANT
LABOR AND HONEST INDUSTRY (WITH GOD'S BLESSING), 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, AET. 89.
A.F., BORN 1667, DIED 1752, AET. 85."

We may say here that the stone which Doctor Franklin erected, as above,
became so dilapidated that in 1827, the citizens of Boston replaced it
by a granite obelisk. The bodies repose in the old Granary cemetery,
beside Park-street church.

* * * * *

It was arranged that Benjamin should begin his school-days, and enjoy
the best literary advantages which the poverty of his father could
provide. He acceded to the plan with hearty good-will, and commenced
his studies with such zeal and enthusiasm as few scholars exhibit.

The school was taught by Mr. Nathaniel Williams, successor of the
famous Boston teacher, Mr. Ezekiel Cheever, who was instructor
thirty-five years, and who discontinued teaching, as Cotton Mather
said, "only when mortality took him off." The homely old wooden
school-house, one story and a half high, stood near by the spot on
which the bronze statue of Franklin is now seen, and there was the
"school-house green" where "Ben" and his companions played together.
Probably it was the only free grammar school that Boston afforded at
that time; for the town could not have numbered a population of over
eight thousand.

From his first day's attendance at school Benjamin gave promise of
high scholarship. He went to work with a will, improving every moment,
surmounting every difficulty, and enjoying every opportunity with a
keen relish. Mr. Williams was both gratified and surprised. That a lad
so young should take hold of school lessons with so much intelligence
and tact, and master them so easily, was a surprise to him, and he so
expressed himself to Mr. Franklin.

"Your son is a remarkable scholar for one so young. I am more than
gratified with his industry and progress. His love of knowledge is
almost passionate."

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