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seventeen years, a runaway in a city, without a solitary acquaintance, and scarcely money enough to pay a week's board! Perhaps, with all the rest, he carried an upbraiding conscience under his jacket, more discomforting than to be a stranger in strange land.

At this crisis of Benjamin's life, he appeared to be on the highway to ruin. There is scarcely one similar case in ten where the runaway escapes the vortex of degradation. Benjamin would have been no exception, but for his early religious training and his love of books.

The case of William Hutton, who was the son of very poor parents, is very similar to that of Benjamin Franklin. He was bound to his uncle for a series of years, but he was treated so harshly that he ran away, at seventeen years of age. The record is, that " on the 12th day of July, 1741, the ill-treatment he received from his uncle in the shape of a brutal flogging, with a birch-broom handle of white hazel, which almost killed him, caused him to run away.” A dark prospect was before him, since "he had only twopence in his pocket, a spacious world before him, and no plan of operation." Yet he became an author of much celebrity, and a most exemplary and influential man. He lived to the age of ninety, his last days being gladdened by the reflection of having lived a useful life, and the consciousness of sharing the confidence of his fellow-men.

This description of Hutton would apply almost equally well to Franklin.



N arriving at New York, Benjamin's first thought was

Narriving this pocket was too near empty to remain

of work.

idle long; so he called upon Mr. William Bradford, an old printer, who removed from Philadelphia to New York some months before.

"Can I find employment in your printing office?" he inquired.

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"I am not in need of extra help, I am sorry to say," answered Mr. Bradford. 'My business is light, and will continue to be so for the present, I think. Are you a printer ? "

“Yes, sir. I have worked at the business over three years."

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"You ought to understand it well by this time. I wish I had work for you, or for any other young man who is enterprising enough to go from Boston to New York for work."

"Do you think I should be likely to find work at some other printing office in town?"

"I am sorry to say that I hardly think you can. Very dull times, indeed, my son. But I think you can get work in Philadelphia. My son runs a printing house in that city, and one of his men on whom he relied much recently died. I think he would be glad to employ you."

"How far is it to Philadelphia?"

"About a hundred miles."

"A long distance," was Benjamin's reply, evidently disappointed to find that he was still a hundred miles from. work.

"It is only one-third as far as you have already travelled for work. If you can find employment by travelling a hundred miles further, in these dull times, you will be fortunate."

"Well, I suppose that is so," replied Benjamin, musing on his situation. "What is the conveyance there?"

"You can take a boat to Amboy, and there you will find another boat to Philadelphia. A pleasant trip, on the whole." And Mr. Bradford added, for Benjamin's encouragement, "Philadelphia is a better place for a printer than New York, in some respects."

Benjamin thanked him for his kindness, expressing much pleasure in making his acquaintance, and bade him goodbye. He took the first boat to Amboy, sending his chest by sea around to Philadelphia. The more he reflected upon his situation, in connection with Mr. Bradford's encouraging words, the more cheerful and hopeful he grew. If he could get work "by going a hundred miles further he ought to be well satisfied, he said to himself. So he cheered up his almost desponding heart, in Franklin fashion, as he proceeded upon the next hundred miles.

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But more trials awaited him, however, somewhat different from those already experienced. The boat had been under way but a short time before it was struck by a sudden squall, tearing the rotten sails to pieces, and driving the craft pell-mell upon Long Island. It was the first squall of that sort Benjamin had ever experienced. Other squalls had struck him, and he was fleeing from one at that time, but this squall of wind and rain was altogether a new experience, and he wilted under it. The condition was made more tragic by a drunken Dutchman falling overboard.

"Seize him! seize him!" cried the captain; and that was what Benjamin was waiting to do when the miserable fellow should rise to the surface. As soon as he came up from the depths into which he had sunk, Benjamin seized him by the hair of his head and pulled him on board.

"There, you fool," exclaimed Benjamin. "I hope that ducking will sober you. You came within sight of eternity that time."

"He may thank you for saving his life," remarked one of the boatmen.

"He is too drunk for that," replied Benjamin. "He will never know how near he came to his own place. Strange that any man will be so foolish as to drink stuff that will steal away his brains.”

"Don't you ever drink it ?" asked the captain in reply. "Not one drop," his young passenger replied with emphasis as he rolled over the Dutchman to get the water out of him. "There, are you all right now?"

The Dutchman mumbled over something, no one could tell what. It was probably about a book in his jacket; for he took one therefrom, and signified to Benjamin that he wanted it dried; and then he dropped into a sound sleep.

"I declare, if it is not my old friend, 'The Pilgrim's Progress,"" exclaimed Benjamin; "in Dutch, too! A queer companion for a drunken man to have, though a good one."

"Knows more about the bottle, than he does about that, I bet," said the captain. "I don't suppose that it makes much difference to him whether he is under the water or on top."

"Not just now," replied Benjamin; "but what chance is there for landing on such a rocky shore?"

"Not much; we'll drop anchor, and swing out the cable towards the shore," said the captain.

"I see men on the shore, and there are boats there;

perhaps they can come to our rescue, though the wind is blowing a little too hard for them."

The captain hallooed to them, and they returned an answer, but the wind howled so that they could not be understood.

"A boat! A boat!" shouted the captain. Others of the crew joined in the call for aid, and made various signs indicating their need of assistance. But neither party could understand the other.

"What now?" inquired Benjamin, when he saw the men on shore turning their steps homeward. "A pretty dark night before us."

"Yes, dark and perilous, though I have seen a worse one," answered the captain. When we find ourselves in such a predicament, there is only one thing to be done."

"What is that?" asked Benjamin, who was quite nervous and anxious.

"Do nothing but wait patiently for the wind to abate." The captain was cool and self-reliant when he spoke.

"Then let us turn in with the Dutchman," said one of the boatmen. "I don't want he should have all the sleep there is. He is not in condition to appreciate it as I am."

"As you please," said the captain; "might as well improve the time by getting a little rest. We shall be all right in the morning."

So all crowded into the hatches, including Benjamin. But the spray broke over the head of the boat so much that the water leaked through upon them.

"A wet berth for you, friend,” said one of the boatmen to Benjamin. "You are not accustomed to sleeping in such wet blankets. You may get as wet as the Dutchman before morning."

"There is only one thing to do in these circumstances," said Benjamin in reply, "take things as they come, and make the best of it."

"If you can," added the boatman in a suggestive way.

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