The Printer Boy

The Printer Boy.

by William M. Thayer.

PREFACE.

This book is designed to ill.u.s.trate the familiar maxim, that "THE BOY IS FATHER TO THE MAN." The early life of Franklin is sketched from his childhood to the time he was established in business, thus showing what he was in boyhood and youth; and the achievements of his manhood are summed up in a closing chapter, to substantiate the truth of the above proverb.

The author believes that the lives of distinguished men may be incorporated into a story, uniting narrative and dialogue so as to be more attractive to the young. John Bunyan was the first to adopt this style, and his inimitable Pilgrim's Progress charms the young reader, not only by its graphic imagery, but also by its alternation of narrative and dialogue. Since his day, others have adopted a similar style, particularly in works of fiction, with success. Why may not truth appear in such a dress as successfully as fiction? Why may not _actual_ lives be presented in this manner as vividly as _imaginary_ ones? The young mind will seize upon a truth or fact that is conveyed in a story, when it will remain wholly indifferent to it as it appears in a simple statement. So the life of an eminent man may engage the attention of this cla.s.s, if he is made to speak and act for himself, when they would not be interested in it, if it were presented to them in a plain summary of facts.

In this volume, the actual, early life of Franklin is wrought into a story. The imagination has done no more than weave the facts of his boyhood and youth into a "tale of real life." It makes Benjamin and his a.s.sociates speak and do what biographers say they spoke and did.

It simply paints the scenes and acts of which other writers have _told_.

A conspicuous place is given in the work to the maxims of Franklin, for the purpose of conveying important lessons in regard to the formation of character, and thus stimulating the young in the path of well-doing. Whole volumes of meaning are condensed into many of his wise and pithy sayings.

W. M. T.

THE PRINTER-BOY.

CHAPTER I.

THE WHISTLE.

It was a bright, welcome holiday to little Benjamin Franklin, when his kind parents put some coppers into his pocket, to spend as he saw fit.

Possibly it was the first time he was ever permitted to go out alone into the streets of Boston with money to spend for his own pleasure; for he was now but seven years old.

"Can I have more coppers when these are gone?" he inquired.

"No," replied his mother, "you have quite as many now as will be for your welfare, I think. You must be a good boy, and keep out of mischief."

"What are you going to buy?" asked an older brother; and without waiting for a reply, he answered the question himself, by saying, "Candy, of course."

"Lay out your money wisely," added his mother; "I shall want to see how much wisdom you display in your purchases. Remember 'all is not gold that glitters.'"

His mother had scarcely ceased speaking, when Benjamin bounded out of the house, eager to enjoy the antic.i.p.ated pleasures of the day. Like other boys, on such occasions, his head was filled with bewitching fancies, and he evidently expected such a day of joy as he never had before. First in his thoughts stood the toy-shop, into the windows of which he had often looked wistfully, although it was a small affair compared with the Boston toy-shops of the present day. Every article in it could have been examined in one or two hours, while now it would take as many days to view all the articles in one of these curiosity-shops. It is almost wonderful, and even fabulous, this multiplication of playthings for the children. There seems to be no end to them, and many a girl and boy have been put to their "wits'

end" to know what to choose out of the thousands of articles arranged on the shelves.

Benjamin had not proceeded far before he met a boy blowing away upon, a new-bought whistle, as if its music were sweeter than the voice of lark or nightingale. He could scarcely help envying him the happiness of owning so valuable a treasure. He stopped and looked at him with an expression of delight, and they exchanged glances that showed a genuine sympathy springing up between them. At once he resolved to possess a similar musical instrument, as I suppose it may be called; and away he hastened to the toy-shop, knowing that it must have been purchased there.

"Any whistles?" he inquired.

"Plenty of them," answered the proprietor, with a smile, as he brought forth a number, to the amazement of his little customer.

"I will give you all the money I have for one," said Benjamin, without waiting to inquire the price, so enthusiastic was he to become the possessor of such a prize.

"Ah! all you have?" responded the merchant. "Perhaps you have not so much as I ask for them. You see these are very nice whistles."

"I know it," added Benjamin, "and I will give you all the money I have for one," still more afraid that he should not be able to obtain one.

"How much money have you?"

Benjamin told him honestly just how much he had, and the merchant agreed to give him a whistle in exchange for it.

Never was a child more delighted than he, when the bargain was made.

He tried every whistle, that he might select the one having the most music in it; and when his choice was settled, he turned his steps towards home. He thought no more of other sights and scenes, and cared not for sweetmeats and knick-knacks, now that he owned this wonderful thing. He reached home and hurried into the house, blowing his whistle l.u.s.tily as he went, as if he expected to astonish the whole race of Franklins by the shrillness, if not by the sweetness, of his music.

"What have you there, Benjamin?" inquired his mother.

"A whistle," he answered, hardly stopping his blowing long enough to give a reverent reply.

"You got back quick, it seems to me," she continued. "Have you seen all that is to be seen?"

"All I want to see," he answered; which was very true. He was so completely carried away with his whistle that he had lost all his interest in everything else belonging to the holiday. His cup of delight was running over now that he could march about the house with musical sounds of his own making.

"How much did you give for your whistle?" asked one of his cousins, who was present.

"All the money I had," he replied.

"What!" exclaimed his brother, "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," continued his brother. "It is four times as much as the whistle is worth."

"You should have asked the price of it, in the first place," said his mother. "Some men will take all the money they can get for an article. Perhaps he did not ask so much as you gave for it."

"If you had given a reasonable price for it," said his brother, "you might have had enough left to have bought a pocketful of good things."

"Yes," added his cousin, "peppermints, candy, cakes, and more perhaps; but it is the first time he ever went a shopping on a holiday."

"I must confess you are a smart fellow, Ben" (as he was familiarly called by the boys), "to be taken in like that," continued his brother, rather deridingly. "All your money for that worthless thing, that is enough to make us crazy! You ought to have known better.

Suppose you had had twice as much money, you would have given it all for the whistle, I suppose, if this is the way you trade."

"Perhaps he would have bought two or three of them in that case," said his cousin, at the same time looking very much as if he intended to make sport of the young whistler.

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. He burst into tears, and made even more noise by crying than he had done with his whistle. Both their ridicule and the thought of having paid so much more than he ought for the article, overcame him, and he found relief in tears. His mother came to the rescue, by saying--

"Never mind, Benjamin, you will understand better next time. We must all live and learn. Perhaps you did about as well as most boys of your age would."

"I think so, too," said his cousin; "but we wanted to have a little sport, seeing it is a holiday. So wipe up, 'Ben,' and we will have a good time yet."

On the whole, it was really a benefit that Benjamin paid too much for his whistle. For he learned a lesson thereby which he never forgot. It destroyed his happiness on that holiday, but it saved him from much unhappiness in years to come. More than sixty years afterwards, when he was in France, he wrote to a friend, rehearsing this incident of his childhood, and said--