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which we may get rid of them. Death is that way* We ourselves, in some cases, prudentjy choose a partial death. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, parts with it freely, since the pain goes' with it: and he who quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and possibilities of pains and diseases, it was liable to, or capable of making him puffer.

Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of pleasute, which is to last forever. His chais was ready first; and he is. gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together: and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are •oon to follow, and know where to find him I Adieu.


To the late Toe tor Mather, of Boston.


I received your kind letter, with you* excellent advice to the United States, which I read with great pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such writings, though they may be lightlv passed over by many readers, yet, if they make a deep impression on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be considerable.

Permit me to mention one little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite uninteresting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book entitled' " Essays to do good," which I think was written by your father. It had been so little regarded by a former possessor, thivt several leaves of it were torn out; but the remainder gave *ne auch a turn for thmking, as to have an influence on my conduct through life : for I have always set a greater value on the character of a doer of good, than any other kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book.

You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year. I am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown ol'l together. It is now more than sixty years since t I left Boston; but I remember well boih your father and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last time 1 saw your father was in the bt ginning of 1724, .when I visited him after my first trip to Pennsylvania: he received me in his library; and on my taking leave, shewed me a shorter way out of the house, through a narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam over head. We were still talking as I withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he said hastilv, "Stoop, Stoop!" I did not understand him till I felt my hit against the beam. He was a man Who never missed anv occasion of giving instiuction: and upon this he said to me: "Yiu are young, and have the world before you: sloop as you go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps." This advice, thus beat into my hiart.+ias frequently been of use to me; and I often think of it, when I see pride mortified, and misfortune brought upon people by their tarrying their heads too high.

1 long much to see again my native place; and once hoped to lav my bones there. I left it in 1723. I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753. and 1763; and in 1773 I was in Kngland. In 1775 I had a sight of it. but could not enter, it being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to have been there in 1783,

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but could not obtain my dismission from this em* plovment here i and now I fear I shall never have that happiness. My best wishes however attend my dear country, "esto perpetual It is now blessed wi'h an excellent constitution; may it last for ever!

This powerful monarchy continues its friendship for the United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance to our security, and should be carefully cultivated. Britain has not yet digested the loss of its dominion over us; and has still at times some flattering hopes of recovering it. Accidents may increase those hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts. A bread) between us and France would infallibly bring the English again upon our backs: and yet we have some wild beasts among our countrj men, who are endeavoring to weaken that connection.

Let us preserve our reputation, by performing our engagements; our credit, bv fulfilling our contracts; and our friends, by gratitude and kindness; for we know not how soon we may again have occasion for all of them.

With great and sincere esteem,
I have the honor to be,
Reverend sir,
Your most obedient and
most humble servant,

B. FKANKLIN, JPtusy, May 12, 1784.




When T was a child, about seven year old, t»jr friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with cop'pers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a zvhktle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one, I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with mv wA«. tie, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain Iliadraide, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was wor h. ■I his put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of mv money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation.; and the reflection gave me more chagrin th^n the whistle gave me pleasure.

This however was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on mv mind.: so that olien when I was tempted to buy some until cessary thing I said to mvself, doiitt give too much for the whistle'{ and so L saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, Verv manv, who gave too much for the xvhklle.

When I saw any one too ambitious of court favors, sai rificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, this man gives too much for his whistle.

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political: bustles, neglecting


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his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect_: Me pays indeed,.says I, too much for his whistle.

If i knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to o.hers, all the esteem ot his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake ol accumulating wealth: poor man, says I, you do indeed fay too much for your whistle.

When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations: Mistaken man, savsl. you are providing pain for yourself instead vf pleasure",' you give too much for your whistle.

ft I see one fondol fine clothes, fine furniture, iirie equipages, all above his fortune, for which he 'contracts debts, and ends his career in prison: Alas, says I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.

When I see a beautiful sweet-tempered girl, married to an ill natured brute of a husband: What a fin/ it is, says I, that she has paid so much for a Tv/u.itle.

In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them bv the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistle.


To those who have the superintendency of

I Address myself to all the friends of youth, and conjij!. them to direct their compassionate regards to my unhappy fate, in order to remove the prejudices of which 1 am the victim. There are twin sisters of us: and the two eyes of man do not more resemble, nor are capable of being upon better.terms with each other,

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