From Boyhood to Manhood

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"Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears, while the used
key is always bright."

"But dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the
stuff life is made of."

"If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be the
greatest prodigality."

"Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy; and he that
riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business
at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon overtakes
him."

"At the working-man's house hunger looks in but dares not enter."

"Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to
industry."

"One to-day is worth two to-morrows."

"Drive thy business! let not thy business drive thee."

"God helps those that help themselves."

He wrote to a young tradesman as follows:

"Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten shillings a day by
his labor, and goes abroad or sits idle one-half that day, though he
spend but sixpence during his diversion or idleness, ought not to
reckon _that_ the only expense; he has really spent, or rather thrown
away, five shillings besides.

"The sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or nine at night,
heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer; but, if he sees
you at a billiard-table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you
should be at work, he sends for his money the next day; demands it
before he can receive it in a lump."

Benjamin became a better teacher than his father; and, no doubt, was
indebted to his father for the progress. Had he gone to college
instead of the candle-shop, the world might not have received his
legacy of proverbial wisdom. For these were the outcome of secular
discipline, when he was brought into direct contact with the realities
of business and hardship. Colleges do not teach proverbs; they do not
make practical men, but learned men. Practical men are made by
observation and experience in the daily work of life. In that way
Franklin was made the remarkable practical man that he was.

Had "Uncle Benjamin" lived to read such words of wisdom from the pen
of his namesake, when his reputation had spread over two hemispheres,
he would have said, "I told you so. Did I not say that Benjamin would
not always make candles? Did I not prophesy that he would make his
mark in manhood?"

Benjamin became a tallow-chandler when he was ten years old; and he
meant to make a good one, though the business was repulsive to his
feelings. At first his industry and tact were all that his father
could desire. He devoted the hours of each workday closely to the
trade, though his love for it did not increase at all. If any thing,
he disliked it more and more as the weeks and months dragged on.
Perhaps he became neglectful and somewhat inefficient, for he said, in
his manhood, that his father often repeated to him this passage from
the Bible:

"Seest thou a man diligent in his business? He shall stand before
kings; he shall not stand before mean men."

When Benjamin became the famous Dr. Franklin, and was in the habit of
standing before kings, he often recalled this maxim of Solomon, which
his father dinged rebukingly in his ear. It was one of the pleasantest
recollections of his life.

Mr. Franklin watched his boy in the candle-trade closely, to see
whether his dislike for it increased or diminished. His anxiety for
him was great. He did not wish to compel him to make candles against
an increasing desire to escape from the hardship. He had great
sympathy for him, too, in his disappointment at leaving school. And it
was a hard lot for such a lover of school and study to give them up
forever at ten years of age. No more school after that! Small
opportunity, indeed, in comparison with those enjoyed by nearly every
boy at the present day! Now they are just beginning to learn at this
early age. From ten they can look forward to six, eight, or ten years
in school and college.

Mr. Franklin saw from month to month that his son more and more
disliked his business, though little was said by either of them.
"Actions speak louder than words," as Mr. Franklin saw to his regret;
for it was as clear as noonday that Benjamin would never be contented
in the candle-factory. He did his best, however, to make the boy's
situation attractive; allowed him frequent opportunities for play, and
praised his habit of reading in the evening and at all other times
possible. Still, a tallow-candle did not attract him. It shed light,
but it was not the sort of light that Benjamin wanted to radiate. One
day, nearly two years after he engaged in the candle-business, he said
to his father:

"I wish I could do something else; I can never like this work."

"What else would you like to do?" inquired his father.

"I would like to go to sea," was the prompt and straight reply; and it
startled Mr. Franklin. It was just what he feared all along. He was
afraid that compulsion to make him a tallow-chandler might cause him
to run away and go to sea, as his eldest son, Josiah, did.
Emphatically his father said:

"Go to sea, Benjamin! Never, never, with my consent. Never say another
word about it, and never think about it, for that is out of the
question. I shall never give my consent, and I know your mother never
will. It was too much for me when your brother broke away from us and
went to sea. I can not pass through another such trial. So you must
not persist in your wish, if you would not send me down to the grave."

Josiah, the eldest son, named for his father, became dissatisfied with
his home when Benjamin was an infant, ran away, and shipped as a
sailor. The parents knew not where he had gone. Month after month they
waited, in deep sorrow, for tidings from their wayward boy, but no
tidings came. Years rolled on, and still the wanderer was away
somewhere--they knew not where. Morning, noon, and night the memory of
him lay heavy upon their hearts, turning their cup of earthly joy to
bitterness, and furrowing their faces with anxiety and grief. He might
be dead. He might be alive and in want in a strange land. The
uncertainty and suspense hanging over his fate magnified their sorrow.
The outlook was unpleasant; there was no comfort in it. They appealed
to God. Before Him they pleaded for their prodigal son--for his
safety, his return, his salvation.

Not long after Benjamin had expressed his longing for the sea, when
almost the last hope of seeing the lost son again had vanished, Josiah
returned and startled his parents by his sudden and unexpected
presence. They could scarcely believe their eyes. Twelve years, and
hard service before the mast, had wrought a great change in his
appearance. He was a youth when he ran away,--he was a man now,
toughened by exposure, dark as an Indian, stalwart and rough; but
still the eldest son and brother, Josiah Franklin, Jr. They were glad
to see him. They rejoiced more over this one returning prodigal than
they did over the sixteen that went not astray. "The father said:
Bring forth the best robe and put it on him; and put a ring on his
finger, and shoes on his feet. And bring hither the fatted calf, and
kill it; and let us eat and be merry: For this my son was dead, and is
alive again; he was lost and is found. And they began to be merry."

It was the first time in twelve years that family had been "merry."
Past sorrows were forgotten in the joy of their meeting. On that day a
new life began around that hearthstone. Father and mother began to
live again. As if they had never shed a tear or felt a pang, they
looked into the future with cheerful hope and expectation.

To return to Benjamin. His father's quick and sharp reply left no room
for doubt. If he went to sea it must be against his father's will. He
turned to his mother, but was repulsed with equal decision.

"You surprise me, Benjamin. Want to go to sea! You must not harbor
such a thought. Is it not enough that we have lost one son in that
way? You might have known that I should never give my consent. I
should almost as lief bury you. How can you want to leave your good
home, and all your friends, to live in a ship, exposed to storms and
death all the time?"

"It is not because I do not love my home and friends; but I have a
desire to sail on a voyage to some other country. I like the water,
and nothing would suit me better than to be a cabin-boy."

"You surprise and pain me, Benjamin. I never dreamed of such a thing.
If you do not like work in the candle-factory, then choose some other
occupation, but never think of going to sea."

"I would choose any other occupation under the sun than
candle-making," replied Benjamin. "I have tried to like it for two
years, but dislike it more and more. If I could have my own way, I
would not go to the factory another day."

Perhaps the opposition of his parents would have prevented his going
to sea, but the return of Josiah, with no words of praise for the
calling, might have exerted a decided influence in leading him to
abandon the idea altogether.

"Uncle Benjamin," of course, could not tolerate the idea of his nephew
becoming a sailor. With his poor opinion of the candle-trade, he would
have him pursue the business all his life rather than become a sailor.

"Do any thing rather than follow the seas," he said. "If you want to
throw yourself away, body and soul, go before the mast. But if you
want to be somebody, and do something that will make you respectable
and honored among men, never ship for a voyage, long or short. A boy
of one talent can be a cabin-boy, but a boy of ten talents ought to be
above that business, and find his place on a higher plane of life."

VII.

CHOOSING A TRADE AND STEALING SPORT.

Mr. and Mrs. Franklin canvassed the subject thoroughly, and wisely
decided that Benjamin might engage in some other pursuit.

"To be successful a man must love his calling," remarked Mr. Franklin,
"and Benjamin hates his. He appears to go to each day's work with a
dread, and as long as he feels so he will not accomplish any thing."

"You have come to a wise decision, I think," responded "Uncle
Benjamin." "Ordinarily a boy should choose his own occupation. He may
be instructed and assisted by his parents, but if he makes his own
selection he is likely to choose what he has tact and taste for.
Certainly, I would not compel a son to follow a business that he hates
as Benjamin does candle-making."

"That is true on the whole, but circumstances alter cases," remarked
Mr. Franklin. "I believe I shall take him around to examine different
trades in town, and he can see for himself and choose what he likes
best."

"He has seemed to be interested in my son's business," added "Uncle
Benjamin."

His son Samuel was a cutler, and he had established the cutlery
business in Boston, in which he was quite successful.

"Well, he can look into that; I have no objections to it; it is a good
business. I will let him examine others, however, and take his choice.
I want he should settle the matter of occupation now for life. I do not
want to go through another experience with him, such as I have been
through two years in the candle-factory."

Mr. Franklin had evidently acquired new views about boys, judging from
his last remarks. He saw but one way out of the difficulty. Choice of
an occupation was a more important matter than he had dreamed of.
However, he had acted in accordance with the custom of that day, to
choose occupations for sons without the least regard to fitness or
their preferences. Boys must not have their own way in that matter any
more than they should in other things, was the opinion of that age.
But progress has been made on this line. It is thought now that the
more nearly the aptitudes of the person fit the occupation, the more
congenial and successful is the career. To follow the "natural bent,"
whenever it is possible, appears to be eminently wise. For square men
should be put into square holes and round men into round holes.
Failing to regard the drift of one's being in the choice of an
occupation, is almost sure to put square men into round holes, and
round men into square holes. In this way good mechanics have been
spoiled to make poor clergymen or merchants, and a good minister
spoiled to make a commonplace artisan.

The celebrated English engineer, Smeaton, displayed a marvellous
ability for mechanical pursuits even in his childhood. Before he had
donned jacket and pants in the place of short dress, his father
discovered him on the top of the barn, putting up a windmill that he
had made. But he paid no regard to the boy's aptitude for this or that
position. He was determined to make a lawyer of him, and sent him to
school with that end in view. But the boy thought more of windmills
and engines than he did of Euclid or Homer, and the result was
unfavorable. His father was trying to crowd a square boy into a round
hole, and it was repugnant to the born engineer.

Josiah Franklin tried to do with Benjamin just what Smeaton tried to
do with his son, squeeze a square boy into a round hole. That was a
mistake. The son did not like the operation, and rebelled against the
squeezing. This created trouble for both, until, with the aid of
"Uncle Benjamin," Josiah discovered the way out of the difficulty.

Benjamin was delighted when his father disclosed to him his new plan.

"Anything is preferable to making candles," he said. "It will not take
me long to choose something in place of a soap-factory."

"You have considerable mechanical ingenuity," his father said; "you
like to work with tools, and you can see how tools are handled in
different trades. How would you like your Cousin Samuel's business?"

"I should like it vastly better than making candles, though I have not
examined it much. I can tell better when have looked in upon other
trades When shall we go?"

"Begin to-morrow, and first call upon your Cousin Samuel. His cutlery
trade is good, and it must increase as the population grows. Then we
will examine other kinds of business. It will take some time to go the
rounds."

On the morrow, as agreed upon, they went forth upon the memorable
errand. Benjamin felt like an uncaged bird, and was highly elated by
his prospects. Their first call was at Samuel's shop, where they could
see a line of cutlery that was quite ample for that day. Samuel
explained his methods, use of tools, etc., and Benjamin listened. He
was well pleased with the trade, as Samuel saw at once, who encouraged
him to choose it.

"I was never sorry that I learned the business," he said. "There is no
easier way of getting a living, and the work is interesting, because
it requires some ingenuity and skill. Benjamin has both, and will
succeed."

"But I want he should examine other trades," replied his father. "When
he has taken in several he will know more what he wants."

"Perhaps he will not know as well what he wants," rejoined Samuel. "If
he is like some boys he will be less settled in his mind what to
choose than he is now."

"My mind is partly settled now," said Benjamin. "I should choose any
trade on earth in preference to making candles and boiling soap. I
should be content with your business."

Next they called on a brazier, who manufactured many articles in
brass. This was entirely new to Benjamin; he had never seen any thing
of the kind before, and he examined the methods of work with much
interest. The brazier was communicative, and explained matters fully
and clearly, at the same time assuring Benjamin that he would like to
teach a boy like him.

In like manner they visited a joiner, or carpenter, as he is called in
New England now; also, a turner, who formed various things with a
lathe; also, a silversmith, bricklayer, and stone-mason. A part of
several days was occupied in this examination; and it was time well
spent, for it put much information into Benjamin's head, and enlarged
his ideas. Referring to the matter when he had become an old man, he
said: "It has ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen
handle their tools. And it has often been useful to me to have learned
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 these was warm
in my mind."

"I like Samuel's trade as well as any," Benjamin remarked, after the
trips of examination were concluded; and his father rejoiced to hear
it. From the start Mr. Franklin showed that none of the trades suited
him so well as his nephew's; so that he was particularly gratified to
hear the above remark.

"Do you like it well enough to choose it, Benjamin?"

"Yes, father; on the whole, I think I shall like it best of any; and
cutlery will always be needed."

"We will understand, then, that you choose that trade, and I will see
Samuel at once. It may be best for you to go into the shop for a short
time before I make a bargain with him. Then he will know what you can
do, and you will know how you like it."

At that time it was customary to bind boys to their employers, in
different pursuits, until twenty-one years of age. Benjamin was
twelve, and, if he should be bound to his cousin, as was the custom,
it would be for nine years. For this reason it was a step not to be
hastily taken. If a short service in the shop should prove favorable
for both sides, the long apprenticeship could be entered upon more
intelligently and cheerfully.

Mr. Franklin lost no time in securing a place in Samuel's shop. Both
parties agreed that it would be best for Benjamin to spend a brief
period in the business before settling the terms of apprenticeship.
Accordingly he entered upon his new trade immediately, and was much
pleased with it. It was so different from the work of candle-making,
and required so much more thought and ingenuity, that he enjoyed it.
He went to each day's work with a light and cheerful heart. He was
soon another boy in appearance, contented, happy, and hopeful. Samuel
recognized his ingenuity and willingness to work, and prophesied that
he would become an expert cutler. He was ready to receive him as an
apprentice, and Benjamin was willing to be bound to him until he was
twenty-one years of age.

But when Mr. Franklin conferred with Samuel as to the terms of the
apprenticeship, they could not agree. The latter demanded an
exorbitant fee for his apprenticeship, which the former did not feel
able to pay. With good nature they discussed the subject, with
reference to an agreement on the terms; but Samuel was immovable. He
had but one price. Benjamin might stay or go. Very much to the
disappointment of both father and son, the plan failed and was
abandoned.

Benjamin was afloat again. He had no disposition to return to
candle-making, nor did his father desire that he should. He must
choose an occupation again. As it turned out, it would have been
better to settle the terms of apprenticeship in the first place.

It has been said that "there is no loss without some gain." So there
was some gain to Benjamin. He was sadly disappointed; and he had given
some time to a trade that amounted to nothing, but it was not all
loss. He had learned much about the trades: the importance of a trade
to every boy, and its necessity as a means of livelihood, and he never
lost the lesson which he learned at that time. In his ripe manhood he
wrote,--

"He that hath a trade hath an estate.
He that hath a calling hath an office of honor."

He believed that a trade was as good as a farm for a livelihood, and
that a necessary calling was as honorable as a public office of
distinction. How much his early discipline about trades had to do with
these noble sentiments of his mature life, we may not say, but very
much, without doubt.

While Benjamin was waiting for something to turn up, an incident
occurred which may be rehearsed in this place. He was already an
expert in swimming and rowing, and he loved the water and a boat
passionately. He was fond of fishing, also; and there was a marsh,
flooded at high tides, where the boys caught minnows. Here they
repaired for a fine time one day, Benjamin and several companions.

"All aboard!" exclaimed Benjamin, as he bounded into the boat lying at
the water's edge. "Now for a ride; only hurry up, and make the oars
fly"; and several boys leaped in after him from the shaky, trampled
quagmire on which they stood.

"We shall be heels over head in mud yet," said one of the number,
"unless we try to improve this marsh. There is certainly danger that
we shall go through that shaky place, and we do not know where we shall
stop when we begin to go down."

"Let us build a wharf; that will get rid of the quagmire," suggested
Benjamin. "It won't be a long job, if all take hold."

"Where will you get your lumber?" inquired John.

"Nowhere. We do not want any lumber; stones are better."

"That is worse yet, to bring stones so far, and enough of them," said
John. "You must like to lift better than I do, and strain your gizzard
in tugging stones here."

"Look there," continued Benjamin, pointing to a heap of stones only a
few rods distant, "there are stones enough for our purpose, and one or
two hours is all the time we want to build a wharf with them."

"Those stones belong to the man who is preparing to build a house
there," said Fred. "The workmen are busy there now."

"That may all be, but they can afford to lend them to us for a little
while; they will be just as good for their use after we have done with
them." There was the rogue's sly look in Benjamin's eye when he made
the last remark.

"Then you expect they will loan them to you; but I guess you will be
mistaken," responded Fred.

"I will borrow them in this way: We will go this evening, after the
workmen have gone home, and tug them over here, and make the wharf
before bedtime." Benjamin made this proposition for the purpose of
adding to their sport.

"And get ourselves into trouble thereby," answered a third boy. "I
will agree to do it if you will bear all the blame of stealing them."

"Stealing!" exclaimed Benjamin, who was so bent on sport that he had
no thought of stealing. "It is not stealing to take stones. A man
could not sell a million tons of them for a copper."

"Well, anyhow, the man who has borne the expense of drawing them there
won't thank you for taking them."

"I do not ask them to thank me. I do not think the act deserves any
thanks." And a roguish twinkle of the eye showed that Benjamin knew he
was doing wrong for the sake of getting a little sport. "Wouldn't it
be a joke on those fellows if they should find their pile of stones
missing in the morning?"

"Let us do it," said John, who was taken with the idea of playing off
a joke. "I will do my part to put it through."

"And I will do mine."

"And so will I."

"And I, too."

By this time all were willing to follow Benjamin, their leader.
Perhaps some of them were afraid to say "No," as their consciences
suggested, now that the enterprise was endorsed by one or two of their
number. Both boys and men are quite disposed to "go with the multitude
to do evil." They are too cowardly to do what they know is right.

The salt marsh bounding a part of the mill-pond where their boat lay
was tramped into a quagmire. The boys were wont to fish there at high
water, and so many feet treading on the spot reduced it to a very soft
condition. It was over this miry marsh that they proposed to build a
wharf. The evening was soon there, and the boys, too, upon their
rogues' errand. They surveyed the pile of stones, and found it ample
for their purpose, though it appeared to be a formidable piece of work
to remove them.

"Two of us can't lift and carry some of them," said Fred.

"Then three of us will hitch on and carry them," replied Benjamin.
"They must all be worked into a wharf this evening. Let us
begin--there is no time to lose."

"The largest must go first," suggested John. "They are capital stones
for the foundation. Come, boys, let us make quick work of it."

So they went to work with a will and "where there's a will there's a
way," in evil as well as good. It was unfortunate for Benjamin that he
did not hate such an enterprise as much as he did candle-making. If he
had, he would have given a wide berth to the salt marsh and the wharf
project. But neither he nor his companions disliked the evil work in
which there was sport. We say that they worked with a will; and their
perseverance was the only commendable thing about the affair.
Sometimes three or four of them worked away at a stone, rolling it
along or lifting, as necessity required. Then one alone would catch up
a smaller one, and convey it to the wharf at double-quick. Half their
zeal, tact, and industry, in doing this wrong, would have made the
candle-trade, or any other business, a success.

The evening was not quite spent when the last stone was carried away,
and the wharf finished,--a work of art that answered their purpose
very well, though it was not quite as imposing as Commercial Wharf is
now, and was not calculated to receive the cargo of a very large
Liverpool packet.

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