 Chapter 6. First visit to London. The Governor, seeming to like my company, had me frequently to his house and his setting me up was always mentioned as a fixed thing. I was to take with me letters recommendatory to a number of his friends, besides the letter of credit, to furnish me with the necessary money for purchasing the press and types, paper, etc. For these letters I was appointed to call at different times when they were to be ready, but a future time was still named. Thus he went on till the ship, whose departure too had been several times postponed, was on the point of sailing. Then, when I called to take my leave and receive the letters, his secretary, Dr. Bard, came out to me and said the Governor was extremely busy in writing, but would be down at Newcastle before the ship, and there the letters would be delivered to me. Ralph, though married and having one child, had determined to accompany me in this voyage. It was thought he intended to establish a correspondence and obtain goods to sell on commission, but I found afterwards that through some discontent with his wife's relations he purposed to leave her on their hands and never return again. Having taken leave of my friends and interchanged some promises with Miss Reed, I left Philadelphia in the ship, which anchored at Newcastle. The Governor was there, but when I went to his lodging the secretary came to me from him with the civilest message in the world, that he could not then see me, being engaged in business of the utmost importance, but should send the letters to me on board, wished me hardly a good voyage in a speedy return, et cetera. I returned on board a little puzzled, but still not doubting. Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of Philadelphia, had taken passage in the same ship for himself and son, and with Mr. Denham, a Quaker merchant, and Messers Onion and Russell, masters of an iron work in Maryland, had engaged the Great Cabin, so that Ralph and I were forced to take up with the birth in the steerage, and none on board knowing us were considered as ordinary persons. But Mr. Hamilton and his son, it was James, since Governor, returned from Newcastle to Philadelphia, the father being recalled by a great fee to plead for a seized ship, and, just before we sailed, Colonel French coming on board and showing me great respect, I was more taken notice of, and with my friend Ralph, invited by the other gentlemen to come into the cabin, there being now room. Accordingly, we removed thither. Understanding that Colonel French had brought on board the Governor's dispatches, I asked the Captain for those letters that were to be under my care. He said, all were put into the bag together, and he could not then come at them, but before we landed in England I should have an opportunity of picking them out, so I was satisfied for the present, and we proceeded on our voyage. We had a sociable company in the cabin, and lived uncommonly well, having the addition of all Mr. Hamilton's stores, who had laid in plentifully. In this passage Mr. Denham contracted a friendship for me that continued during his life. The voyage was otherwise not a pleasant one, as we had a great deal of bad weather. When we came into the Channel, the Captain kept his word with me, and gave me an opportunity of examining the bag for the Governor's letters. I found none upon which my name was put as under my care. I picked out six or seven that, by the handwriting, I thought might be the promised letters, especially as one of them was directed to basket, the King's printer, and another to some stationer. We arrived in London the 24th of December, 1724. I waited upon the stationer, who came first in my way, delivering the letters from Governor Keith. I don't know such a person, says he, but opening the letter. Oh, this is from Riddlesden. I have lately found him to be a complete rascal, and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive any letters from him. So, putting the letter into my hand, he turned on his heel and left me to serve some customer. I was surprised to find these were not the Governor's letters, and after recollecting and comparing circumstances, I began to doubt his sincerity. I found my friend Denham, and opened the whole affair to him. He let me into Keith's character, told me there was not the least probability that he had written any letters for me, that no one, who knew him, had the smallest dependence on him, and he laughed at the notion of the Governor's giving me a letter of credit, having, as he said, no credit to give. On my expressing some concern about what I should do, he advised me to endeavor getting some employment in the way of my business. Among the printers here, said he, you will improve yourself, and when you get to America, you will set up to greater advantage. We both of us happened to know, as well as the stationer, that Riddleston, the Attorney, was a very naive. He had half-ruined Miss Reed's father by persuading him to be bound for him. By this letter it appeared there was a secret scheme on foot to the prejudice of Hamilton, supposed to be then coming over with us, and that Keith was concerned in it with Riddleston. Denham, who was a friend of Hamilton's, thought he ought to be acquainted with it, so when he arrived in England, which was soon after, partly from resentment and ill will to Keith and Riddleston, and partly from good will to him, I waited on him and gave him the letter. He thanked me cordially, the information being of importance to him, and from that time he became my friend, greatly to my advantage afterwards on many occasions. But what shall we think of a governor's playing such pitiful tricks and imposing so grossly on a poor, ignorant boy? It was a habit he had acquired. He wished to please everybody, and having little to give, he gave expectations. He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man, a pretty good writer, and a good governor for the people, though not for his constituents, the proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimes disregarded. Cephal of our best laws were of his planning and past during his administration. Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took lodgings together in Little Britain at three shillings and sixpence a week, as much as we could then afford. He found some relations, but they were poor and unable to assist him. He now let me know his intentions of Romanian in London, and that he never meant to return to Philadelphia. He had brought no money with him, the whole he could muster having been expended in paying his passage. I had fifteen pistols, so he borrowed occasionally of me to subsist, while he was out looking for business. He first endeavored to get into the playhouse, believing himself qualified for an actor. But Wilkes, to whom he applied, advised him candidly not to think of that employment, as it was impossible he should succeed in it. Then he proposed to Roberts, a publisher in Paternoster Rowe, to write for him a weekly paper like the Spectator, on certain conditions, which Roberts did not approve. Then he endeavored to get employment as a Hackney writer, to copy for the stationers and lawyers about the temple, but could find no vacancy. I immediately got into work at Palmers, then a famous printing-house in Bartholomew Close, and here I continued near a year. I was pretty diligent, but spent with Ralph a good deal of my earnings in going to plays and other places of amusement. We had together consumed all my pistols, and now just rubbed on from hand to mouth. He seemed quite to forget his wife and child, and I, by degrees, my engagements with Miss Reed, to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that was to let her know I was not likely soon to return. This was another of the great irata of my life, which I should wish to correct if I were to live it over again. In fact, by our expenses I was constantly kept unable to pay my passage. At Palmers I was employed in composing for the second edition of Walliston's Religion of Nature. Some of his reasonings not appearing to me well-founded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece, in which I made remarks on them. It was entitled A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain. I inscribed it to my friend Ralph. I printed a small number. It occasioned my being more considered by Mr. Palmer as a young man of some ingenuity, though he seriously expostulated with me upon the principles of my pamphlet, which to him appeared abominable. My printing this pamphlet was another iratum. While I lodged in Little Britain I made an acquaintance with one Wilcox, a bookseller, who shop was at the next door. He had an immense collection of second-hand books. Circulating libraries were not then in use, but we agreed that on certain reasonable terms, which I have now forgotten, I might take, read, and return any of his books. This I esteemed a great advantage, and I made as much use of it as I could. My pamphlet, by some means falling into the hands of one Lyons, a surgeon, author of a book entitled The Infallibility of Human Judgment, it occasioned an acquaintance between us. He took great notice of me, called on me often to converse on those subjects, carried me to the horns, a pale ale-house in blank lane, Cheapside, and introduced me to Dr. Mandeville, author of The Fable of the Bees, who had a club there, of which he was the soul, being a most facetious, entertaining companion. Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr. Pemberton, at Baston's Coffee-House, who promised to give me an opportunity, some time or other, of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I was extremely desirous. But this never happened. I had brought over a few curiosities, among which the principal was a purse made of the asbestos, which purifies by fire. Sir Hans Sloane heard of it, came to see me, and invited me to his house in Bloomsbury Square, where he showed me all his curiosities, and persuaded me to let him add that to the number, for which he paid me handsomely. In our house there lodged a young woman, a milliner, who I think had a shop in the Cloisters. She had been gentilely bred, was sensible and lively, and of most pleasing conversation. Ralfred placed her in the evenings. They grew intimate. She took another lodging, and he soon followed her. They lived together some time. But he, being still out of business, and her income not sufficient to maintain them with her child, he took a resolution of going from London to try for a country school, which he thought himself well qualified to undertake, as he wrote an excellent hand, and was a master of arithmetic and accounts. This, however, he deemed a business below him, and confident of better fortune, when he should be unwilling to have it known that he was once so meanly employed, he changed his name, and did me the honour to assume mine, for I soon after had a letter from him, acquainting me that he was settled in a small village, in Berkshire I think it was, where he taught reading and writing to ten or a dozen boys at sixpence each per week, recommending Mrs. T to my care, and desiring me to write to him, directing for Mr. Franklin, schoolmaster, at such a place. He continued to write frequently, sending me large specimens of an epic poem which he was then composing, and desiring my remarks and corrections. These I gave him from time to time, but endeavoured rather to discourage his proceeding. One of young satires was then just published. I copied and sent him a great part of it, which sat in a strong light the folly of pursuing the muses with any hope of advancement by them. All was in vain. Sheets of the poem continued to come by every post. In the meantime, Mrs. T, having on his account lost her friends and business, was often in distresses, and used to send for me and borrow what I could spare to help her out of them. I grew fond of her company, and, being at that time under no religious restraint, and presuming upon my importance to her, I attempted familiarities. Another erotum, which she repulsed with a proper resentment, and acquainted him with my behaviour. This made a breach between us, and when he returned again to London, he let me know he thought I had cancelled all the obligations he had been under to me. So I found I was never to expect his repaying me what I had lent to him or advanced for him. This, however, was not then of much consequence, as he was totally unable, and in the loss of his friendship I found myself relieved from a birthing. I now began to think of getting a little money beforehand, and, expecting better work, I left Palmer's to work at Watts, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, a still greater printing-house. Here I continued all the rest of my stay in London. At my first admission into this printing-house, I took to working at Press, imagining I felt a want of the bodily exercise I had been used to in America, where Press work is mixed in with composing. I drank only water. The other workmen, near fifty in number, were great guzzlers of beer. On occasion I carried up and down stairs a large form of types in each hand, when others carried but one in both hands. They wondered to see, from this in several instances, that the water American, as they called me, was stronger than themselves who drank strong beer. We had an ale-house boy who attended always in the house to supply the workmen. My companion at the Press drank every day a pint before breakfast, a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese, a pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock, and another when he had done his day's work. I thought it a detestable custom, but it was necessary, he's supposed, to drink strong beer that he might be strong to labour. I endeavored to convince him that the bodily strength afforded by beer could only be in proportion to the grain or flour of the barley dissolved in the water of which it was made, that there was more flour in a penny worth of bread, and therefore, if he would eat that with a pint of water, it would give him more strength than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had four or five shillings to pay out of his wages every Saturday night for that muddling liquor, an expense I was free from, and thus these poor devils keep themselves always under. What, after some weeks, desiring to have me in the composing-room, I left the Pressman. A new bienvenue or some for drink, being five shillings, was demanded of me by the compositors. I thought it an imposition, as I had paid below. The master thought so too and forbade my paying it. I stood out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered as an excommunicate, and had so many little pieces of private mischief done me, by mixing my sorts, transposing my pages, breaking my matter, etc., etc., if I were ever so little out of the room, and all ascribed to the chapel-ghost, which they said ever haunted those not regularly admitted, that notwithstanding the master's protection I found myself obliged to comply and pay the money, convinced of the folly of being on ill terms with those one is to live with continually. I was now on a fair footing with them, and soon acquired considerable influence. I proposed some reasonable alterations in their chapel-laws, and carried them against all opposition. For my example, a great part of them left their muddling breakfast of beer and bread and cheese, finding they could with me be supplied from a neighbouring house with a large pouringer of hot water gruel sprinkled with pepper, crumbled with bread, and a bit of butter in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz. three half-pence. This was a more comfortable as well as cheaper breakfast, and keep their heads clearer. Those who continued saughting with beer all day were often, by not paying, out of credit at the ale-house, and used to make interest with me to get beer, their light, as they phrased it, being out. I watched the pay-table on Saturday night, and collected what I stood engaged for them, having to pay sometimes near thirty shillings a week on their accounts. This, in my being esteemed a pretty good rigite, that is, a jocular verbal satirist, supported my consequence in the society. My constant attendance, I never making a saint Monday, recommended me to the master, and my uncommon quickness at composing occasioned by being put on all work of dispatch, which was generally better paid. So I went on now very agreeably. My lodging in Little Britain, being too remote, I found another in Duke Street, opposite to the Romish Chapel. It was two pairs of stairs backwards at an Italian warehouse. A widow-lady kept the house. She had a daughter, and a maid-servant, and a journeyman who attended the warehouse, but lodged abroad. After sending to inquire my character at the house where I last lodged, she agreed to take me in at the same rate, three shillings six pence per week, cheaper as she said, from the protection she expected in having a man lodge in the house. She was a widow, an elderly woman, had been bred a Protestant, being a clergyman's daughter, but was converted to the Catholic religion by her husband, whose memory she much revered, had lived much among people of distinction, and knew a thousand anecdotes of them as far back as the times of Charles II. She was lame in her knees with the gout, and therefore seldom stirred out of her room, so sometimes wanted company, and hers was so highly amusing to me that I was sure to spend an evening with her whenever she desired it. Our supper was only half an anchovy each, on a very little strip of bread and butter, and half a pie de veille between us, but the entertainment was in her conversation. My always keeping good hours, and giving her little trouble in the family, made her unwilling to part with me, so that, when I talked of a lodging I had heard of, nearer my business, for two shillings a week, which, intent as I now was on saving money, made some difference. She bid me not think of it, for she would abate me two shillings a week for the future. So I remained with her at one shilling in six pence, as long as I stayed in London. In a garret of her house there lived a maiden lady of seventy, in the most retired manner, of whom my landlady gave me this account, that she was a Roman Catholic, had been sent abroad when young and lodged in a nunnery, with an intent of becoming a nun. But the country not agreeing with her she returned to England, where, there being no nunnery, she had vowed to lead the life of a nun, as nearest might be done in those circumstances. Accordingly, she had given all her estate to charitable uses, reserving only twelve pounds a year to live on, and out of this sum she still gave a great deal in charity, living herself on water-gruel only, and using no fire but to boil it. She had lived many years in that garret, being permitted to remain there gratis by successive Catholic tenants of the house below, as they deemed it a blessing to have her there. A priest visited her to confess her every day. I have asked her, says my landlady, how she, as she lived, could possibly find so much employment for a confessor. Oh, said she, it is impossible to avoid vain thoughts. I was permitted once to visit her. She was cheerful and polite, and conversed pleasantly. The room was clean, but had no other furniture than a mattress, a table with a crucifix and book, a stool which she gave me to sit on, and a picture over the chimney of St. Veronica displaying her handkerchief, with the miraculous figure of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she explained to me with great seriousness. She looked pale but was never sick, and I give it as another instance on how small an income life and health may be supported. At Watt's printing house I contracted an acquaintance with an ingenious young man, one Wygate, who, having wealthy relations, had been better educated than most printers, was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and loved reading. I taught him and a friend of his to swim, at twice going into the river, and they soon became good swimmers. They introduced me to some gentlemen from the country, who went to Chelsea by water to see the college and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our return, at the request of the company, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and leaped into the river, and swam from near Chelsea to Blackfriars, performing on the way many feats of activity, both upon and under water, that surprised and pleased those to whom they were novelties. I had, from a child, been ever delighted with this exercise, having studied and practiced all Theveno's motions and positions, adding some of my own, aiming at the graceful and easy as well as the useful. All these I took this occasion of exhibiting to the company, and was much flattered by their admiration, and Wygate, who was desirous of becoming a master, grew more and more attached to me on that account, as well as from the similarity of our studies. He at length proposed to me travelling all over Europe together, supporting ourselves everywhere by working at our business. I was once inclined to it, but mentioning it to my good friend Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I had leisure, he dissuaded me from it, advising me to think only of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was now about to do. I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of people, compounded and went to America. There, by a close application to business as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a few years. Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited his old creditors to an entertainment, at which he thanked them for the easy composition they had favoured him with, and, when they expected nothing but the treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder, with interest. He now told me he was about to return to Philadelphia, and should carry over a great quantity of goods in order to open a store there. He proposed to take me over as his clerk, to keep his books in which he would instruct me, copy his letters, and attend the store. He added that as soon as I should be acquainted with mercantile business he would promote me, by sending me with a cargo of flour and bread, etc., to the West Indies, and procure me commissions from others which would be profitable, and, if I managed well, would establish me handsomely. The thing pleased me, for I was grown tired of London, remembered with pleasure the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania, and wished again to see it. Therefore I immediately agreed on the terms of fifty pounds a year, Pennsylvania money, less indeed than my present giddings as a compositor, but affording a better prospect. I now took leave of printing, as I thought forever, and was daily employed in my new business, going about with Mr. Denham among the tradesmen to purchase various articles, and seeing them packed up, doing errands, calling upon workmen to dispatch, etc., and, when all was on board, I had a few days leisure. On one of these days I was, to my surprise, sent for by a great man I knew only by name, a Sir William Wyndham, and I waited upon him. He had heard, by some means or other, of my swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriars, and of my teaching Wygate and another young man to swim in a few hours. He had two sons, about to set out on their travels. He wished to have them first taught swimming, and proposed to gratify me handsomely if I would teach them. They were not yet come to town, and my stay was uncertain, so I could not undertake it. But from this incident I thought it likely that, if I were to remain in England and open a swimming school, I might get a good deal of money, and it struck me so strongly that, had the overture been sooner made me, probably I should not so soon have returned to America. After many years you and I had something of more importance to do with one of these sons of Sir William Wyndham, become Earl of Egremont, which I shall mention in its place. Thus I spent about eighteen months in London. Most part of the time I worked hard at my business, and spent but little upon myself, except in scene plays and in books. My friend Ralph had kept me poor. He owed me about twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never likely to receive, a great sum out of my small earnings. I loved him notwithstanding, for he had many amiable qualities. I had by no means improved my fortune, but I had picked up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose conversation was of great advantage to me, and I had read considerably. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin Chapter 7 Beginning Business in Philadelphia We sailed from Graves End on the twenty-third of July, 1726. For the incidents of the voyage I refer you to my journal, where you will find them all minutely related. Perhaps the most important part of that journal is the plan to be found in it, which I formed at sea for regulating my future conduct in life. It is the more remarkable as being formed when I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite through to old age. We landed in Philadelphia on the eleventh of October, where I found sundry alterations. Keith was no longer Governor, being superseded by Major Gordon. I met him walking the streets as a common citizen. He seemed a little ashamed at seeing me, but passed without saying anything. I should have been as much ashamed at seeing Miss Read, had not her friends, despairing with reason of my return after the receipt of my letter, persuaded her to marry another, one Rogers, a Potter, which was done in my absence. With him, however, she was never happy, and soon parted from him, refusing to cohabit with him or bear his name. It now being said that he had another wife. He was a worthless fellow, though an excellent workman, which was the temptation to her friends. He got into debt, ran away in 1727 or 1728, went to the West Indies, and died there. Governor had got a better house, a shop well supplied with stationery, plenty of new types, a number of hands, though none good, and seemed to have a great deal of business. Mr. Denham took a store in Water Street, where we opened our goods. I attended the business diligently, studied accounts, and grew in a little time expert at selling. We lodged and boarded together. He counseled me as a father, having a sincere regard for me. I respected and loved him, and we might have got on together very happy. But in the beginning of February, 1726 or 7, when I had just passed my 21st year, we were both taken ill. My distemper was a pleurisy, which very nearly carried me off. I suffered a good deal, gave up the point in my own mind, and was rather disappointed when I found myself recovering, regretting, in some degree, that I must now, some time or other, have all that disagreeable work to do over again. I forget what his distemper was. It held him a long time, and at length carried him off. He left me a small legacy in an uncupative will, as a token of his kindness for me. And he left me once more to the wide world. For the store was taken into the care of his executors, and my employment under him ended. My brother-in-law, Holmes, being now at Philadelphia, advised my return to my business, and Chimer tempted me, with an offer of large wages by the year, to come and take the management of his printing-house, that he might better attend his station or shop. I had heard a bad character of him in London, from his wife and her friends, and was not fond of having any more to do with him. I tried for farther employment as a merchant's clerk, but not readily meeting with any, I closed again with Chimer. I found in his house these hands. Hugh Meredith, a Welsh-Pennsylvanian, thirty years of age, bred to country work, honest, sensible, had a great deal of solid observation, was something of a reader, but given to drink. Stephen Potts, a young countryman of full age, bred to the same, of uncommon natural parts, and great wit and humour, but a little idle. These he had agreed with at extreme low wages per week, to be raised a shilling every three months, as they would deserve by improving in their business. And the expectation of these high wages to come on hereafter was what he had drawn them in with. Smith was to work at press, Potts at book-binding, which he by agreement was to teach them, though he knew neither one nor other. John Blank, a wild Irishman, brought up to no business, whose service for four years Chimer had purchased from the captain of a ship, he too was to be made a pressman. George Webb, an Oxford scholar, whose time for four years he had likewise bought, intending him for a compositor, of whom more presently. And David Harry, a country boy, whom he had taken apprentice. I soon perceived that the intention of engaging me at wages so much higher than he had been used to give was to have these raw, cheap hands formed through me, and as soon as I had instructed them, then they all be an article to him he should be able to do without me. I went on, however, very cheerfully, put his printing-house in order, which had been in great confusion, and brought his hands, by degrees, to mind their business and to do it better. It was an odd thing to find an Oxford scholar in the situation of a bought servant. He was not more than eighteen years of age, and gave me this account of himself. That he was born in Gloucester, educated at a grammar-school there, had been distinguished among the scholars for some apparent superiority in performing his part when they exhibited plays, belonged to the witty club there, and had written some pieces in prose and verse, which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers. Thence he was sent to Oxford, where he continued about a year, but not well satisfied, wishing of all things to see London and become a player. At length, receiving his quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas, instead of discharging his debts he walked out of town, hid his gown in a furs-bush, and footed it to London. Where, having no friend to advise him, he fell into bad company, soon spent his guineas, found no means of being introduced among the players, grew necessitous, pawned his clothes, and wanted bread. Walking the street very hungry and not knowing what to do with himself, a crimped bill was put into his hand, offering immediate entertainment and encouragement to such as would bind themselves to serve in America. He went directly, signed the indentures, was put into the ship, and came over, never writing a line to acquaint his friends what was become of him. He was lively, witty, good-natured, and a pleasant companion, but idle, thoughtless, and imprudent to the last degree. John the Irishman soon ran away. With the rest I began to live very agreeably, for they all respected me the more as they found Chimer incapable of instructing them, and that for me they learned something daily. We never worked on Saturday, that being Chimer's sabbath, so I had two days for reading. My acquaintance with ingenious people in the town increased. Chimer himself treated me with great civility and apparent regard, and nothing now made me uneasy but my debt to Vernon, which I was yet unable to pay, being hitherto but a poor economist. He, however, kindly made no demand of it. Our printing-house often wanted sorts, and there was no letter-founder in America. I had seen types cast at James in London, but without much attention to the manner. However, I now contrived a mould, made use of the letters we had as punchins, struck the matrices in lead, and thus supplied, in a pretty tolerable way, all deficiencies. I also engraved several things on occasion. I made the ink, I was warehouseman, and everything, and in short quite a factotum. But, however serviceable I might be, I found that my services became every day of less importance, as the other hands improved in the business, and, when Chimer paid my second quarter's wages, he let me know that he felt them too heavy, and thought I should make an abatement. He grew by degrees less civil, put on more of the master, frequently found fault, was captious, and seemed ready for an outbreaking. I went on, nevertheless, with a good deal of patience, thinking that his encumbered circumstances were partly the cause. At length a trifle snapped our connections. For a great noise happening near the courthouse, I put my head out of the window to see what was the matter. Chimer, being in the street, looked up and saw me, called out to me in a loud voice and angry tone, to mind my business, adding some reproachful words that netled me the more for their publicity, all the neighbors who were looking out on the same occasion, being witnesses how I was treated. He came up immediately into the printing-house, continued the quarrel, high words passed on both sides. He gave me the quarter's warning we had stipulated, expressing a wish that he had not been obliged to so long a warning. I told him his wish was unnecessary, for I would leave him that instant, and so, taking my hat, walked out of doors, desiring Meredith, whom I saw below, to take care of some things I left, and bring them to my lodgings. Meredith came accordingly in the evening, when we talked my affair over. He had conceived a great regard for me, and was very unwilling that I should leave the house while he remained in it. He dissuaded me from returning to my native country, which I began to think of. He reminded me that Chimer was in debt for all he possessed, that his creditors began to be uneasy, that he kept his shop miserably, sold often without profit for ready money, and often trusted without keeping accounts, that he must therefore fail, which would make a vacancy I might profit of. I objected my want of money. He then let me know that his father had a high opinion of me, and, from some discourse that had passed between them, he was sure would advance money to set us up, if I would enter into partnership with him. My time, says he, will be out with Chimer in the spring. By that time we may have our press and types in from London. I am sensible, I am no workman. If you like it, your skill in the business shall be set against the stock I furnish, and we shall share the profits equally. The proposal was agreeable, and I consented. His father was in town and approved of it. The more as he saw I had great influence with his son, had prevailed on him to abstain long from dram-drinking, and he hoped might break him of that wretched habit entirely, when we came to be so closely connected. I gave an inventory to the father who carried it to a merchant. The things were sent for, the secret was to be kept till they should arrive, and in the meantime I was to get work, if I could, at the other printing-house. But I found no vacancy there and so remained idle a few days, when Chimer, on a prospect of being employed to print some paper money in New Jersey, which would require cuts in various types that I only could supply, and apprehending Bradford might engage me and get the job from him, sent me a very civil message, that old friends should not part for a few words, the effect of sudden passion and wishing me to return. Meredith persuaded me to comply, as it would give more opportunity for his improvement under my daily instructions. So I returned, and we went on more smoothly than for some time before. The New Jersey job was obtained, I contrived a copper-plate press for it, the first that had been seen in the country, I cut several ornaments and checks for the bills. We went together to Burlington, where I executed the hole to satisfaction, and he received so large a sum for the work as to be enabled thereby to keep his head much longer above water. At Burlington I made an acquaintance with many principal people of the province. Several of them had been appointed by the assembly a committee to attend the press, and take care that no more bills were printed than the law directed. They were therefore by turns constantly with us, and generally he who attended brought with him a friend or two for company. My mind, having been much more improved by reading than Chimers, I suppose it was for that reason my conversation seemed to be more valued. They had me to their houses, introduced me to their friends, and showed me much civility, while he, though the master, was a little neglected. In truth he was an odd fish, ignorant of common life, fond of rudely opposing received opinions, slovenly to extreme dirtiness, enthusiastic in some points of religion, and a little navish with all. We continued there near three months, and by that time I could reckon among my acquired friends Judge Allen, Samuel Bustle, the secretary of the province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, and several of the Smiths, members of assembly, and Isaac DeKow, the surveyor general. The latter was a shrewd, sagacious old man, who told me that he began for himself, when young, by wheeling clay for brick-makers, learned to ride after he was of age, carried the chain for surveyors who taught him surveying, and he had now, by his industry, acquired a good estate, and says he, I foresee that you will soon work this man out of his business, and make a fortune in it at Philadelphia. He had not then the least intimation of my intention to set up, there or anywhere. These friends were afterwards of great use to me, as I occasionally was to some of them. They all continued their regard for me as long as they lived. Before I enter upon my public appearance in business, it may be well to let you know the then state of my mind, with regard to my principles and morals, that you may see how far those influence the future events of my life. My parents had early given me religious impressions, and brought me through my childhood piously in the dissenting way. But I was scarce fifteen when, after doubting by turns of several points, as I found them disputed in the different books I read, I began to doubt of revelation itself. Some books against deism fell into my hands. They were said to be the substance of sermons preached at Boyle's Lectures. It happened that they wrought an effect on me, quite contrary to what was intended by them. For the arguments of the deists, which were quoted to be refuted, appeared to me much stronger than the refutations. In short, I soon became a thorough deist. My arguments perverted some others, particularly Collins and Ralph. But, each of them having afterwards wronged me greatly without the least compunction and recollecting Keith's conduct towards me, who was another free thinker, and my own towards Vernon and Miss Read, which at times gave me great trouble, I began to suspect that this doctrine, though it might be true, was not very useful. My London pamphlet, which had for its motto these lines of Dryden, whatever is, is right, though pure blind man sees but a part of the chain, the nearest link, his eyes not carrying to the equal beam, that poises all above. And from the attributes of God, his infinite wisdom, goodness and power, concluded that nothing could possibly be wrong in the world, and that vice and virtue were empty distinctions, no such things existing, appeared now not so clever a performance as I once thought it, and I doubted whether some error had not insinuated itself, unperceived, into my argument, so as to infect all that followed, as is common in metaphysical reasonings. I grew convinced that truth, sincerity, and integrity, in dealings between man and man, were of the utmost importance to the felicity of life, and I formed written resolutions, which still remain in my journal book, to practice them ever while I lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with me as such, but I entertained an opinion that though certain actions might not be bad because they were forbidden by it, or good because it commanded them, yet probably these actions might be forbidden because they were bad for us, or commanded because they were beneficial to us, in their own natures, all the circumstances of things considered. And this persuasion, with the kind hand of providence, or some guardian angel, or accidental favorable circumstances and situations, or altogether, preserved me through this dangerous time of youth, and the hazardous situations I was sometimes in among strangers, remote from the eye and advice of my father, without any willful gross immorality or injustice that might have been expected from my want of religion. I say willful because the instances I have mentioned had something of necessity in them, from my youth, inexperience, and the navery of others. I had, therefore, a tolerable character to begin the world with. I valued it properly and determined to preserve it. We had not been long returned to Philadelphia before the new types arrived from London. We settled with Chimer and left him by his consent before he heard of it. We found a house to hire near the market and took it. To lessen the rent, which was then but twenty-four pounds a year, though I have since known it to let for seventy, we took in Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, and his family, who were to pay a considerable part of it to us, and we to board with them. We had scarce opened our letters and put our press in order before George House, an acquaintance of mine, brought a countryman to us, whom he had met in the street inquiring for a printer. All our cash was now expended in the variety of particulars we had been obliged to procure, and this countryman's five shillings, being our first fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than any crown I have since earned, and the gratitude I felt toward House has made me often more ready than perhaps I should otherwise have been to assist young beginners. There are croakers in every country, always boating its ruin. Such a one then lived in Philadelphia, a person of note, an elderly man, with a wise look and a very grave manner of speaking, his name was Samuel Mickel. This gentleman, a stranger to me, stopped one day at my door, and asked me if I was the young man who had lately opened a new printing-house. Being answered in the affirmative, he said, he was sorry for me, because it was an expensive undertaking, and the expense would be lost, for Philadelphia was a sinking place, the people already half bankrupts, or near being so, all appearances to the contrary, such as new buildings and the rise of rents, being to his certain knowledge fallacious, for they were in fact among the things that would soon ruin us. And he gave me such a detail of misfortunes now existing, or that were soon to exist, that he left me half melancholy. Had I known him before I engaged in this business, probably I never should have done it. This man continued to live in this decaying place, and to declaim in the same strain, refusing for many years to buy a house there, because all was going to destruction. And at last I had the pleasure of seeing him give five times as much for one as he might have bought it for when he first began his croaking. I should have mentioned before that in the autumn of the preceding year I had formed most of my ingenious acquaintance into a club of mutual improvement, which was called the Junto. We met on Friday evenings. The rules that I drew up require that every member, in his turn, should produce one or more queries on any point of morals, politics, or natural philosophy, to be discussed by the company, and once in three months produce and read an essay of his own writing on any subject he pleased. Our debates were to be under the direction of a president, and to be conducted in the sincere spirit of inquiry after truth, without fondness for dispute or desire of victory. And, to prevent warmth, all expressions of positiveness in opinions or direct contradiction were after some time made contraband and prohibited under small pecuniary penalties. The first members were Joseph Breitnall, a copier of deeds for the Scriveners, a good-natured, friendly, middle-aged man, a great lover of poetry, reading all he could meet with, and writing some that was tolerable, very ingenious in many little knick-knackeries, and of sensible conversation. Thomas Godfrey, a self-taught mathematician, great in his way, an afterward inventor of what is now called Hadley's Quadrant. But he knew little out of his way and was not a pleasing companion, as, like most great mathematicians I have met with, he expected universal precision in everything said, or was forever denying or distinguishing upon trifles to the disturbance of all conversation. He soon left us. Nicholas Skull, a surveyor, afterward surveyor general, who loved books and sometimes made a few verses. William Parsons, bred a shoemaker but loved reading, had acquired a considerable share of mathematics which he first studied with a view to astrology, that he afterwards laughed at it. He also became surveyor general. William Malgridge, a joiner, a most exquisite mechanic, and a solid sensible man. Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb I have characterized before. Robert Grace, a young gentleman of some fortune, generous, lively, and witty, a lover of punning, and of his friends. And William Coleman, then a merchant's clerk, about my age, who had the coolest, clearest head, the best heart, and the exactest morals of almost any man I ever met with. He became afterwards a merchant of great note, and one of our provincial judges. Our friendship continued without interruption to his death, upwards of forty years, and the club continued almost as long, and was the best school of philosophy, morality, and politics that then existed in the province, for our queries, which were read the week preceding their discussion, put us upon reading with attention upon the several subjects, that we might speak more to the purpose. And here, too, we acquired better habits of conversation, everything being studied in our rules, which might prevent our disgusting each other. From hence the long continuance of the club, which I shall have frequent occasion to speak further of hereafter. But my giving this account of it here is to show something of the interest I had, every one of these exerting themselves in recommending business to us. Brighton all particularly procured us from the Quakers, the printing forty sheets of their history, the rest being to be done by Chimer, and upon this we worked exceedingly hard, for the price was low. It was a folio, pro patria size, in pica, with long primer notes. I composed of it a sheet a day, and Meredith worked it off at press. It was often eleven at night, and sometimes later, before I had finished my distribution for the next day's work, for the little jobs sent in by our other friends now and then put us back. But so determined I was to continue doing a sheet a day of the folio, that one night, when having imposed my forms, I thought my day's work over, one of them by accident was broken, and two pages reduced to pie. I immediately distributed and composed it over again before I went to bed. And this industry, visible to our neighbors, began to give us character and credit. Particularly I was told that mention being made of the new printing house at the Merchants Every Night Club, the general opinion was that it must fail there being already two printers in the place, Chimer and Bradford. But Dr. Baird, whom you and I saw many years after at his native place, St. Andrews in Scotland, gave a contrary opinion. For the industry of that Franklin, says he, is superior to anything I ever saw of the kind. I see him still at work when I go home from the club, and he is at work again before his neighbors are out of bed. This struck the rest, and we soon after had offers from one of them to supply us with stationery, but as yet we did not choose to engage in shop business. I mentioned this industry the more particularly and the more freely, though it seems to be talking in my own praise that those of my posterity, who shall read it, may know the use of that virtue when they see its effects in my favour throughout this relation. George Webb, who had found a female friend that lent him wherewith to purchase his time of Chimer, now came to offer himself as journeyman to us. We could not then employ him, but I foolishly let him know as a secret that I soon intended to begin a newspaper, and might then have work for him. My hopes of success, as I told him, were founded on this, that the then only newspaper, printed by Bradford, was a paltry thing, wretchedly managed, no way entertaining, and yet was profitable to him. I, therefore, thought a good paper would scarcely fail of good encouragement. I requested Webb not to mention it, but he told it to Chimer, who immediately, to be beforehand with me, published proposals for printing one himself, on which Webb was to be employed. I resented this, and to counteract them, as I could not yet begin our paper, I wrote several pieces of entertainment for Bradford's paper, under the title of Busy Body, which Breitnall continued some months. By this means the attention of the public was fixed on that paper, and Chimer's proposals, which we burlesked and ridiculed, were disregarded. He began his paper, however, and, after carrying it on three-quarters of a year, with at most only ninety subscribers, he offered it to me for a trifle, and I, having been ready some time to go on with it, took it in hand directly, and it proved in a few years extremely profitable to me. I perceived that I am apt to speak in the singular number, though our partnership still continued. The reason may be that, in fact, the whole management of the business lay upon me. Meredith was no compositor, a poor pressman, and seldom sober. My friends lamented my connection with him, but I was to make the best of it. Our first papers made a quite different appearance from any before in the province, a better type, and better printed, but some spirited remarks of my writing, on the dispute then going on between Governor Burnett and the Massachusetts Assembly, struck the principal people, occasioned the paper, and the manager of it, to be much talked of, and in a few weeks brought them all to be our subscribers. Their example was followed by many, and our number went on growing continually. This was one of the first good effects of my having learnt a little to scribble. Another was that the leading men, seeing a newspaper now in the hands of one who could also handle a pen, thought it convenient to oblige and encourage me. Bradford still printed the votes and laws and other public business. He had printed an address of the house to the Governor in a coarse, blundering manner. We reprinted it elegantly and correctly, and sent one to every member. They were sensible of the difference. It strengthened the hands of our friends in the house, and they voted us their printers for the year ensuing. Among my friends in the house I must not forget Mr. Hamilton, before mentioned, who was then returned from England and had a seat in it. He interested himself for me strongly in that instance, as he did in many others afterward, continuing his patronage till his death. Mr. Vernon about this time put me in mind of the debt I owed him, but did not press me. I wrote him an ingenuous letter of acknowledgment, craved his forbearance a little longer, which he allowed me, and as soon as I was able I paid the principal with interest and many thanks, so that erotum was, in some degree, corrected. But now another difficulty came upon me, which I had never the least reason to expect. Mr. Meredith's father, who was to have paid for our printing-house, according to the expectations given me, was able to advance only one hundred pounds currency, which had been paid, and a hundred more was due to the merchant who grew impatient, and sued us all. We gave bail but saw that, if the money could not be raised in time, the suit must soon come to a judgment and execution, and our hopeful prospects must, with us, be ruined, as the press and letters must be sold for payment, perhaps at half price. In this distress two true friends, whose kindness I have never forgotten nor ever shall forget while I can remember anything, came to me separately, unknown to each other, and without any application from me, offering each of them to advance me all the money that should be necessary to enable me to take the whole business upon myself, if that should be practicable. But they did not like my continuing the partnership with Meredith, who, as they said, was often seen drunk in the streets and playing at low games in ale-houses, much to our discredit. These two friends were William Coleman and Robert Grace. I told them I could not propose a separation, while any prospect remained of the Meredith's fulfilling their part of our agreement, because I thought myself under great obligations to them for what they had done, and would do if they could. But if they finally failed in their performance, and our partnership must be dissolved, I should then think myself at liberty to accept the assistance of my friends. Thus the matter rested for some time. When I said to my partner, Perhaps your father is dissatisfied at the part you have undertaken in this affair of ours, and is unwilling to advance, for you and me, what he would do for you alone. If that is the case, tell me, and I will resign the whole to you and go about my business. No, said he. My father has really been disappointed, and is really unable, and I am unwilling to distress him farther. I see this is a business I am not fit for. I was bred a farmer, and it was folly in me to come to town, and put myself at thirty years of age and apprentice to learn a new trade. Many of our Welsh people are going to settle in North Carolina, where land is cheap. I am inclined to go with them, and follow my old employment. You may find friends to assist you. If you will take the debts of the company upon you, return to my father the hundred pounds he has advanced, pay my little personal debts, and give me thirty pounds in a new saddle, I will relinquish the partnership, and leave the hole in your hands. I agreed to this proposal. It was drawn up in writing, signed, and sealed immediately. I gave him what he demanded, and he went soon after to Carolina, from whence he sent me the next year two long letters containing the best account that had been given of that country, the climate, the soil, husbandry, etc., for in those matters he was very judicious. I printed them in the papers, and they gave great satisfaction to the public. As soon as he was gone I recurred to my two friends, and because I would not give an unkind preference to either, I took half of what each had offered and I wanted of one and half of the other, paid off the company's debts, and went on with the business in my own name, advertising that the partnership was dissolved. I think this was in or about the year 1729. CHAPTER VIII. Business success in beginning public service. About this time there was a cry among the people for more paper money, only fifteen thousand pounds being extant in the province, and that seemed to be sunk. The wealthy inhabitants opposed any addition, being against all paper currency, from an apprehension that it would depreciate, as it had done in New England, to the prejudice of all creditors. We had discussed this point in Argento, where I was on the side of an addition, being persuaded that the first small sum struck in 1723 had done much good by increasing the trade, employment, and number of inhabitants in the province, since I now saw all the old houses inhabited and many new ones building. Whereas I remembered well that when I first walked about the streets of Philadelphia eating my roll I saw most of the houses in Walnut Street, between second and front streets, with bills on their doors, to be let, and many likewise in Chestnut Street and other streets, which made me then think the inhabitants of the city were deserting it one after another. Our debates possessed me so fully of the subject that I wrote and printed an anonymous pamphlet on it, entitled The Nature and Necessity of a Paper Currency. It was well received by the common people in general, but the rich men disliked it, for it increased and strengthened the clamour for more money, and they happening to have no writers among them that were able to answer it, their opposition slackened, and the point was carried by a majority in the house. My friends there, who had conceived I had been of some service, thought fit to reward me by employing me in printing the money. A very profitable job and a great help to me. This was another advantage gained by my being able to write. The utility of this currency became, by time and experience, so evident as never afterwards to be much disputed, so that it grew soon to fifty-five thousand pounds, and in eighteen thirty-nine to eighty thousand pounds, since which it arose during war to upwards of three hundred and fifty thousand pounds, trade, building, and inhabitants all the while increasing, though I now think there are limits beyond which the quantity may be hurtful. I soon after obtained, through my friend Hamilton, the printing of the Newcastle paper money, another profitable job as I then thought it, small things appearing great to those in small circumstances, and these to me were really great advantages, as they were great encouragements. He procured for me also the printing of the laws and votes of that government, which continued in my hands as long as I followed the business. I now opened a little station or shop. I had in it blanks of all sorts, the correctest that ever appeared among us, being assisted in that by my friend Brightnall. I had also paper, parchment, Chapman's books, et cetera. One White Mash, a compositor I had known in London, an excellent workman, now came to me, and worked with me constantly and diligently, and I took an apprentice, the son of Aquila Rose. I was under for the printing house. In order to secure my credit and character as a tradesman, I took care not only to be in reality industrious and frugal, but to avoid all appearances to the contrary. I dressed plainly. I was seen at no places of idle diversion. I never went out of fishing or shooting. A book indeed sometimes debauched me for my work, but that was seldom, snug, and gave no scandal. And to show that I was not above my business, I sometimes brought home the paper I purchased at the stores through the streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus being esteemed an industrious, thriving young man, and paying duly for what I bought, the merchants who imported stationery solicited my custom. Others proposed supplying me with books, and I went on swimmingly. In the meantime, Chimer's credit and business declining daily, he was at last forced to sell his printing house to satisfy his creditors. He went to Barbados, and there lived some years in very poor circumstances. His apprentice, David Harry, whom I had instructed while I worked with him, set up his place at Philadelphia, having bought his materials. I was at first apprehensive of a powerful rival in Harry, as his friends were very able and had a good deal of interest. I therefore proposed a partnership to him, which he, fortunately for me, rejected with scorn. He was very proud, dressed like a gentleman, lived expensively, took much diversion and pleasure abroad, ran in debt, and neglected his business, upon which all business left him, and finding nothing to do, he followed Chimer to Barbados, taking the printing house with him. There, this apprentice employed his former master as a journeyman. They quarreled often. Harry went continually behind hand, and at length was forced to sell his types and return to his country work in Pennsylvania. The person that bought them employed Chimer to use them, but in a few years he died. They remain now no competitor with me at Philadelphia but the old one, Bradford, who was rich and easy, did a little printing now and then by straggling hands, but was not very anxious about the business. However, as he kept the post office, it was imagined he had better opportunities of obtaining news. His paper was thought a better distributor of advertisements than mine, and therefore had many more, which was a profitable thing to him and a disadvantage to me. For, though I did indeed receive and send papers by the post, yet the public opinion was otherwise, for what I did send was by bribing the writers, who took them privately, Bradford being unkind enough to forbid it, which occasioned some resentment on my part, and I thought so meanly of him for it that when I afterward came into his situation I took care never to imitate it. I had hitherto continued to board with Godfrey, who lived in part of my house with his wife and children, and had one side of the shop for his glazier's business, though he worked little, being always absorbed in his mathematics. Mrs. Godfrey projected a match for me with a relation's daughter, took opportunities of bringing us often together till a serious courtship on my part ensued, the girl being, in herself, very deserving. The old folks encouraged me by continual invitations to supper, and by leaving us together, till at length it was time to explain. Mrs. Godfrey managed our little treaty. I let her know that I expected as much money with their daughter as would pay off my remaining debt for the printing house, which I believe was not then above a hundred pounds. She brought me word they had no such sum to spare. I said they might mortgage their house in the loan office. The answer to this after some days was that they did not approve the match, that on inquiry of Bradford they had been informed the printing business was not a profitable one. The types would soon be worn out and more wanted, that S. Keimer and D. Harry had failed one after the other, and I should probably soon follow them. And therefore I was forbidden the house, and the daughter shut up. Whether this was a real change of sentiment, or only artifice, on a supposition of our being too far engaged in affection to retract, and therefore that we should steal a marriage which would leave them at liberty to give or withhold what they pleased, I know not. But I suspected the latter, resented it, and went no more. Mrs. Godfrey brought me afterwards some more favorable accounts of their disposition, and would have drawn me on again. But I declared absolutely my resolution to have nothing more to do with that family. This was resented by the Godfrees. We differed, and they removed, leaving me the whole house. And I resolved to take no more inmates. But this affair having turned my thoughts to marriage, I looked round me and made overtures of acquaintance in other places. But soon found that the business of a printer being generally thought a poor one, I was not to expect money with a wife, unless with such a one as I should not otherwise think agreeable. A friendly correspondence as neighbors and old acquaintances had continued between me and Mrs. Reed's family, who all had a regard for me from the time of my first lodging in their house. I was often invited there and consulted in their affairs, wherein I sometimes was of surface. I pitied poor Miss Reed's unfortunate situation, who was generally dejected, seldom cheerful, and avoided company. I considered my giddiness an inconstancy when in London, as, in a great degree, the cause of her unhappiness, though the mother was good enough to think the fault more her own than mine, as she had prevented our marrying before I went with her and persuaded the other match in my absence. Our mutual affection was revived, but there were now great objections to our union. The match was indeed looked upon as invalid, a preceding wife being said to be living in England, but this could not easily be proved because of the distance, and though there was a report of his death, it was not certain. Then, though it should be true, he had left many debts, which his successor might be called upon to pay. We ventured, however, over all these difficulties, and I took her to wife, September 1st, 1730. None of the inconveniences happened that we had apprehended. She proved a good and faithful helpmate, assisted me much by attending the shop, we throved together, and have ever mutually endeavored to make each other happy. Thus I corrected that great irratum as well as I could. About this time our club meeting, not at a tavern, but in a little room of Mr. Grace's, set apart for that purpose. A proposition was made by me that, since our books were often referred to in our disquisitions upon the queries, it might be convenient for us to have them all together where we met, that upon occasion they might be consulted. And by thus clubbing our books to a common library, we should, while we like to keep them together, have each of us the advantage of using the books of all the other members, which would be nearly as beneficial as if each owned the whole. It was liked and agreed to, and we filled one end of the room with such books as we could best spare. The number was not so great as we expected, and though they had been of great use, yet some inconveniences occurring for want of due care of them, the collection after about a year was separated, and each took his books home again. And now I set on foot my first project of a public nature, that for a subscription library. I drew up the proposals, got them put into form by our great scrivener, Brockton, and, by the help of my friends in the Junto, procured fifty subscribers of forty shillings each to begin with, and ten shillings a year for fifty years, the term our company was to continue. We afterwards obtained a charter, the company being increased to one hundred. This was the mother of all the North American subscription libraries, now so numerous. It has become a great thing itself, and continually increasing. These libraries have improved the general conversation of the Americans, made the common tradesmen and farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from other countries, and perhaps have contributed in some degree to the stand so generally made throughout the colonies in defense of their privileges. Memo. Thus far was written with the intention expressed in the beginning, and therefore contains several little family anecdotes of no importance to others. What follows was written many years after, in compliance with the advice contained in these letters, and accordingly intended for the public. The affairs of the revolution occasioned the interruption. Continuation of the account of my life, begun at Passy near Paris, 1784. It is some time since I received the above letters, but I have been too busy till now to think of complying with the requests they contain. It might, too, be much better done if I were at home among my papers, which would aid my memory, and help to ascertain dates, but my return being uncertain, and having just now a little leisure, I will endeavor to recollect and write what I can. If I live to get home, it may there be corrected and improved. Not having any copy here of what is already written, I know not whether an account is given of the means I used to establish the Philadelphia Public Library, which, from a small beginning, is now become so considerable, though I remember to have come down to near the time of that transaction, 1730. I will therefore begin here with an account of it, which may be struck out if found to have been already given. At the time I established myself in Pennsylvania, there was not a good bookseller's shop in any of the colonies to the southward of Boston. In New York and Philadelphia the printers were indeed stationers, they sold only paper, etc., almanacs, ballads, and a few common school books. Those who loved reading were obliged to send for their books from England. The members of the Junto had each a few. We had left the ale-house where we first met and hired a room to hold our club in. I proposed that we should all of us bring our books to that room, where they would not only be ready to consult in our conferences, but become a common benefit, each of us being at liberty to borrow such as he wished to read at home. This was accordingly done, and for some time contented us. Finding the advantage of this little collection, I proposed to render the benefit from books more common by commencing a public subscription library. I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that would be necessary, and got a skillful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brockton, to put the whole in form of articles of agreement, to be subscribed, by which each subscriber engaged to pay a certain sum down for the first purchase of books, and an annual contribution for increasing them. So few were the readers at that time in Philadelphia, and the majority of us so poor, that I was not able with great industry to find more than fifty persons, mostly young tradesmen, willing to pay down for this purpose forty shillings each, and ten shillings per annum. On this little fund we began. The books were imported, the library was opened one day in the week for lending to the subscribers, on their promissory notes to pay double the value if not duly returned. The institution soon manifested its utility, was imitated by other towns and in other provinces. The libraries were augmented by donations, reading became fashionable, and our people, having no public amusements to divert their attention from study, became better acquainted with books, and in a few years were observed by strangers to be better instructed and more intelligent than people of the same rank generally are in other countries. When we were about to sign the above mentioned articles, which were to be binding on us, our heirs, etc., for fifty years, Mr. Brockton, the scrivener, said to us, You are young men, but it is scarcely probable that any of you will live to see the expiration of the term fixed in the instrument. A number of us, however, are yet living, but the instrument was after a few years rendered null by a charter that incorporated and gave perpetuity to the company. The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting the subscriptions made me soon feel the impropriety of presenting one's self as the proposer of any useful project that might be supposed to raise one's reputation in the smallest degree above that of one's neighbors, when one has need of their assistance to accomplish the project. I therefore put myself as much as I could out of sight, and stated it as a scheme of a number of friends who had requested me to go about and propose it to such as they thought lovers of reading. In this way my affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after practised it on such occasions, and, for my frequent successes, can heartily recommend it. The present little sacrifice of your vanity will afterwards be amply repaid. If it remains a while uncertain to whom the merit belongs, someone more vain than yourself will be encouraged to claim it, and then even envy will be disposed to do you justice by plucking those assumed feathers and restoring them to their right owner. This library afforded me the means of improvement by constant study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day, and thus repaired in some degree the loss of the learned education my father once intended for me. Reading was the only amusement I allowed myself. I spent no time in taverns, games, or frolics of any kind, and my industry and my business continued as indefatigable as was necessary. I was indebted for my printing-house, I had a young family coming on to be educated, and I had to contend with for business two printers who were established in the place before me. My circumstances, however, grew daily easier. My original habits of frugality continuing, and my father having, among his instructions to me when a boy, frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon, Seeest thou a man diligent in his calling, he shall stand before kings, he shall not stand before mean men? I from thence considered industry as a means of obtaining wealth and distinction, which encouraged me, though I did not think I should ever literally stand before kings. Which, however, has since happened, for I have stood before five, and even had the honor of sitting down with one, the king of Denmark, to dinner. We have an English proverb that says, He that would thrive must ask his wife. It was lucky for me that I had one as much disposed to industry and frugality as myself. She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding and stitching pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for the paper-makers, et cetera, et cetera. We kept no idle servants, our table was plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest. For instance, my breakfast was a long time bread and milk, no tea, and I ate it out of a two-penny earthen poringer, with a pewter spoon. But Mark how luxury will enter families and make a progress, in spite of principle. Being called one morning to breakfast, I found it in a china bowl with a spoon of silver. They had been bought for me without my knowledge by my wife, and had cost her the enormous sum of three and twenty shillings, for which she had no other excuse or apology to make, but that she thought her husband deserved a silver spoon and china bowl as well as any of his neighbours. This was the first appearance of plate and china in our house, which afterward, in a course of years, as our wealth increased, augmented gradually to several hundred pounds in value. I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian, and though some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the eternal decrees of God, election, reprobation, etc., appear to me unintelligible, others doubtful, and I early absented myself from the public assemblies of the sect, Sunday being my studying day, I was never without some religious principles. I never doubted, for instance, the existence of the deity, that he made the world, and governed it by his providence, that the most acceptable service of God was the doing good to man, that our souls are immortal, and that all crime will be punished and virtue rewarded, either here or hereafter. These I esteemed the essentials of every religion, and, being to be found in all the religions we had in our country, I respected them all, though with different degrees of respect, as I found them more or less mixed with other articles, which, without any tendency to inspire, promote, or confirm morality, served principally to divide us, and make us unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion that the worst had some good effects, induced me to avoid all discourse that might tend to lessen the good opinion another might have of his own religion, and as our providence increased in people, and new places of worship were continually wanted, and generally erected by voluntary contribution, my might, for such purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused. Though I seldom attended any public worship, I still had an opinion of its propriety, and of its utility when rightly conducted, and I regularly paid my annual subscription for the support of the only Presbyterian minister or meeting we had in Philadelphia. He used to visit me sometimes as a friend, and admonished me to attend his administrations, and I was now and then prevailed on to do so, once for five Sundays successively. Had he been in my opinion a good preacher, perhaps I might have continued, notwithstanding the occasion I had for the Sunday's leisure in my course of study. But his discourses were chiefly either polemic arguments or explications of the peculiar doctrines of our sect, and were all, to me, very dry, uninteresting and unedifying, since not a single moral principle was inculcated or enforced, their aims seeming to be rather to make us Presbyterians than good citizens. At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth chapter of Philippians. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there be any virtue or any praise, think on these things. And I imagined, in a sermon on such a text, we should not miss of having some morality. But he confined himself to five points only, as meant by the apostle Viz. One, keeping holy the Sabbath day. Two, being diligent in reading the holy scriptures. Three, attending duly the public worship. Four, partaking of the sacrament. Five, paying in due respect to God's ministers. These might be all good things, but as they were not the kind of good things that I expected from that text, I disparate of ever meeting with them from any other, was disgusted, and attended his preaching no more. I had some years before composed a little liturgy or form of prayer for my own private use, Viz in 1728, entitled Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion. I returned to the use of this, and went no more to the public assemblies. My conduct might be blamable, but I leave it without attempting further to excuse it. My present purpose being to relate facts and not to make apologies for them.