turned again to his work without saying a syllable to him. The behaviour of his own journeymen contributed still the more to anger poor James: for instead of taking part with him in his prejudices against Ben, they all appeared quite delighted with him; and breaking off from their work and gathering around him, with looks full of curiosity, they asked him a world of questions.

PHILADELPHIA! said they, O dear! have you been all the way there to Philadelphia!

Ben said, yes.

Why Philadelphia must be a tarnal nation way off!
Four hundred miles, said Ben.

At this they stared on him in silent wonder, for having been four hundred miles from Boston!

And so they have got a printing-office in Philadelphia! Two or three of them, said Ben.

O la! why that will starve us all here in Boston.

Not at all, said Ben: their advertising" lost pocket books" —“runaway servants" and "stray cows" in Philadelphia, can no more starve you here in Boston, than the catfish of Delaware, by picking up a few soft-crabs there, can starve our catfish here in Boston harbour. The world's big enough for us all.

Well, I wonder now if they have any such thing as money in Philadelphia?

Ben thrust his hand into his pocket and brought up a whole fist full of dollars!

The dazzling silver struck them all speechless-gaping and gazing at him and each other. Poor fellows, they had never, at once, seen so much of that precious metal in Boston; the money there being nothing but a poor paper proc.

To keep up their stare, Ben drew his silver watch, which soon had to take the rounds among them, every one insisting to have a look at it. Then, to crown all, he gave them a shilling to drink his health; and after telling them what great things lay before them if they would but continue industrious and prudent, and make themselves masters of their trade, he went back to the house.

This visit to the office stung poor James to the quick; for when his mother spoke to him of a reconciliation with Ben, and said how happy she should be to see them like brothers again before she died, he flew into a passion and told her such a thing would never be, for that Ben had so insulted him before his men that he would never forgive nor forget

it as long as he lived. to see that James was no prophet. For w years after this, fell behind hand and got world, Ben lent him money, and was a ste and his family all the days of his life.

BUT we have said nothing yet about th Ben's sudden return to Boston, i. e. gover to his father, on the grand project of set printer in Philadelphia. The reader has the family, his brother James excepted, joiced to see Ben again. But among them whose heart felt half such joy as did that of always doted on this young son, as one who unconquerable industry, if but conducted by assuredly, one day, lead him to greatness. ment, as we have seen, had greatly distre especially as he was under the impression And when he remembered how his young and inexperienced age, ever r blackguards and vagabonds, his heart sick and he was almost ready to wish he had n the pangs of such bitter disappointment loved. He counted the days of Ben's abse sleep departed from his eyes for thinking o day long whenever he heard a rapping at t would leap with expectation: "who knows. himself, "but this may be my child?" And feel disappointed when he saw it was not yet he was afraid, at times, to see him le him covered with the marks of dishonour what this anxious father felt when he saw he did? Not in the mean apparel and s drunkard, but in a dress far more genteel had ever been able to put on him; while h were fresh with temperance, and his eyes cence and conscious well doing. Imagin pleasure on the tender scene that mark

of seventeen met together in the eager embrace of parental affection and filial gratitude.

"God bless my son!" the sobbing sire he sigh'd. "God bless my sire!" that pious son replied.

Soon as the happy father could recover his articulation, with great tenderness he said, "but how, my beloved boy, could you give me the pain to leave me as you did?"

"Why you know, my dear father," replied Ben, "that I could not live with my brother; nor would he let me live with the other printers; and as I could not bear the thought of living on an aged father now that I was able to work for myself, I determined to leave Boston and seek my fortune abroad. And knowing that if I but hinted my intentions you would prevent me, I thought I would leave you as I did.”

"But why, my son, did you keep me so long unhappy about your fate, and not write to me sooner ?"

"I knew, father, what a deep interest you took in my welfare, and therefore I resolved never to write to you until by my own industry and economy I had got myself into such a state, that I could write to you with pleasure. This state I did not attain till lately. And just as I was a going to write to you, a strange affair took place that decided me to come and see you, rather than write to you.'

"Strange affair! what can that mean, my son ?"

"Why, sir, the governor of Pennsylvania, sir William Keith-I dare say, father, you have often heard of governor Keith "

"I may have heard of him, child-I'm not positive—but what of governor Keith?"

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Why he has taken a wonderful liking to me, father!" "Aye! has he so ?" said the old man, with joy sparkling in his eyes. "Well I pray God you may be grateful for such favours, my son, and make a good use of them!"

"Yes, father, he has taken a great liking to me sure enough; he says I am the only one in Philadelphia who knows any thing about printing; and he says too, that if I will only come and set up in Philadelphia, he will make my fortune for me in a trice!!"

Old Josias here shook his head; "No, no, Ben!" said he, "that will never do: that will never do: you are too young yet, child, for all that, a great deal too young.

So I told him, father, that I was too young. And I told him too that I was certain you would never give your con sent to it."

F

"You were right there, Ben; no indeed, I could never give my consent to it, that's certain."

So I told the governor, father; but still he would have it there was a fine opening in Philadelphia, and that I would fill it so exactly, that nothing could be wanting to insure your approbation but a clear understanding of it. And to that end he has written you a letter."

"A letter, child! a letter from governor Keith to me!" "Yes, father, here it is."

With great eagerness the old gentleman took it from Ben; and drawing his spectacles, read it over and over again with much eagerness. When he was done he lifted his eyes to heaven, while in the motion of his lips and change of countenance, Ben could clearly see that the soul of his father was breathing an ejaculation of praise to God on his account. Soon as his Te Deum was finished, he turned to Ben with a countenance bright with holy joy, and said, “Ben, I've cause to be happy; my son, I've cause to be happy indeed. O how differently have things turned out with you! God's blessed name be praised for it, how differently have they turned out to what I dreaded! I was afraid you were gone a poor vagabond, on the seas; but instead of that you had fixed yourself in one of the finest cities in the country. I was afraid to see you; yes, my dear child, I was afraid to see you, lest I should see you clad in the mean garb of a poor sailor boy; but here I behold you clad in the dress of a gentleman! I trembled lest you had been degrading yourself into the low company of the profane and worthless; and lo! you have been all the time exalting yourself into the high society of great men and governors. And all this in so short a time, and in a way most honourable to yourself. and therefore most delightful to me, I mean by your virtues and your close attention to the duties of a most useful profession. Go on, my son, go on! and may God Almighty, who has given you wisdom to begin so glorious a course, grant you fortitude to persevere in it!"

Ben thanked his father for the continuance of his love and solicitude for him; and he told him moreover, that one principal thing that had stirred him up to act as he had done, was the joy which he knew he should be giving him thereby; as also the great trouble which he knew a contrary conduct would have brought upon him. Here his father tenderly embraced him, and said, "Blessed be God for giving me such a son! I have always, Ben, fed myself with hopes of

great things from you. And now I have the joy to say my hopes were not in vain. Yes, glory to God, I trust my precious hopes of you were not in vain." Then, after making a short pause, as from fullness of joy, he went on, but as to this letter, my son; this same letter here from governor Keith; though nothing was ever more flattering to you, yet depend upon it, Ben, it will never do; at least not yet awhile. The duties of the place are too numerous, child, and difficult for any but one who has had many more years of experience than you have had.”

"Well then, father, what's to be done, for I know that the governor is so very anxious to get me into this place, that he will hardly be said nay?"

"Why, my dear boy, we must still decline it, for all that: not only because from your very unripe age and inexperience, it may involve you in ruin; but also because it actually is not in your power. It is true the governor, from his letter, appears to have the greatest friendship in the world for you; but yet, it is not to be expected that he would advance funds to set you up. O no, my dear boy, that's entirely out of the question. The governor, though perhaps rich, has no doubt too many poor friends and relations hanging on him, for you to expect any thing from that quarter. And as to myself, Ben, with all my love for you, it is not in my power to assist you in such an affair. My family you know, is very large, and the profits of my trade but small, insomuch that at the end of the year there is nothing left. And indeed I never can be sufficiently thankful to God for that health and blessing which enables me to feed and clothe them every year so plentifully."

Seeing Ben look rather serious, the old gentleman, in a livelier tone, resumed his speech, "Yes, Ben, all this is very true; but yet let us not be disheartened. Although we have no funds now, yet a noble supply is at hand."

on a

Where, father," said Ben, roused up, "where"

Why, in your own virtues, Ben, in your own virtues, my boy-There are the noblest funds that God can bestow young man. All other funds may easily be drained by our vices and leave us poor indeed. But the virtues are fountains that never fail: they are indeed the true riches and honours, only by other names. Only persevere, my son, in the virtues, as you have already so bravely begun, and the grand object is gained. By the time you reach twenty-one, for every friend that you now have, you wil