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little I can in this respect," repeated Mr Adams. Boys who are not privileged to go to school need such help, and I am glad to see that you are disposed to accept of it."

Benjamin thanked him for his kindness, and assured him that he should embrace the first opportunity to call at his house. He redeemed his promise at his earliest convenience, and Mr Adams received him with genuine cordiality. He shewed him his library, and allowed him to select any book he preferred to carry home, and invited him to come as often as he pleased for others. This was a brimful cup of kindness to Benjamin, and the reader may be sure that he thought highly of Mr Adams. Nor was he backward in availing himself of the privilege offered, but went often to gratify his thirst for knowledge.

The habit of reading which Benjamin had thus early formed, served to make him punctual. In order to command the more time, he was promptly at his work, and efficiently discharged every duty. He was seldom, if ever caught idle, and this well-formed habit of punctuality made him very reliable in the printing-office. His brother knew that he would be there at such a time, and that he would

remain just so many hours. This fact won his confidence, as it does the confidence of every one. There is no quality that does more to gain a good name for an individual, and inspire the confidence of his fellow-men, than this one of punctuality. It is so generally found in company with other excellent traits of character, that it seems to be taken for granted usually, that the punctual person is worthy in other respects.

CHAPTER VII.

FIRST LITERARY ENTERPRISE.

"WHAT have you there?" inquired James, one day, looking over Benjamin's shoulder at some composition which he held in his hand. "Ay! Poetry, is it? Then you are a poet, are you? Let me read it."

Benjamin rather hesitated to exhibit the first attempts of his muse to fly, but James was determined to read it, and so he gave it up to him, saying, "I was only seeing what I could do."

The fact was, Benjamin had been reading poetry, and having a little of its spirit in his own nature, he was tempted to try his ability at writing some.

"That is really good," said James, after he had read it; "not quite equal to Virgil or Homer, but very good for a printer-boy to write. Have you any other pieces ?”

"Two or three more," answered Benjamin, somewhat encouraged by his brother's commendation; "but they are not worth reading."

"Produce them," said James, "and I will tell you what they are worth." Whereupon Benjamin took two or three more from his pockets, which James read with evident satisfaction.

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"I tell you what it is, Benjamin," said James after having read them all, you can write something worth printing if you try; and if you will undertake it, you may print and sell

a sheet in the streets. I have no doubt that it would sell

well."

"I will see what I can do," replied Benjamin, "though I suspect my poetry won't read very well in print."

Benjamin was not long in producing two street ballads, better, perhaps, than anything he had written before, but still susceptible of very great improvement. One was entitled, "The Lighthouse Tragedy," and was founded on the shipwreck of Captain Worthilake and his two daughters. The other was a sailor's song, on the capture of the famous "Teach," or Bluebeard," the pirate. James read them with approbation.

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Now," said he, "you shall put them into type, and sell them about the town, if you are willing. I have no doubt that a good number of them may be disposed of." "How many copies of them would you print ?" inquired Benjamin.

"We can print a few to begin with, standing until we see how they go. risk."

"Shall I do it immediately?"

and let the type remain Then we shall run no

"As soon as you can," answered James. the better."

"The quicker

Benjamin was not long in printing the two ballads, and having them ready for sale. Under the direction of his brother, he went forth, in due time, to offer them about the town. He met with very good success, particularly in the sale of the first, "The Lighthouse Tragedy." That commemorated an event of recent occurrence, and which ex

cited much public feeling and sympathy at the time, so that people were quite prepared to purchase. It sold even beyond his expectations, and his success inflated his vanity somewhat. It caused him to believe, almost, that he was a genuine poet, and that distinction and a fortune were before him. If he had not been confronted by his father on the subject, it is possible that the speculation might have proved a serious injury to him. But his father learned of his enterprise, and called him to an account.

"I am ashamed to see you engaged in such a business, Benjamin," said he.

"Why so, father?"

"Because it is not an honourable business. You are not a poet, and can write nothing worthy of being printed."

"James approved of the pieces," said Benjamin, "and proposed that I should print and sell them.

"James is not a judge of poetry," replied his father. "It is wretched stuff, and I am ashamed that you are known as the author. Look here, let me shew you wherein it is defective;" and here Mr Franklin bgean to read it over aloud, and to criticise it. He was a man of sound sense, and competent to expose the faults of such a composition. He proceeded with his criticisms, without sparing the young author's feelings at all, until Benjamin himself began to be sorry that he had undertaken the enterprise.

"There, I want you should promise me," said his father, "that you will never deal in such wares again, and that you will stick to your business of setting up type.”

"Perhaps I may improve by practice," said Benjamin,

"so that I may yet be able to write something worthy of being read. You couldn't expect me to write very well at first."

"But you are not a poet," continued Mr Franklin. "It is not in you, and even if it was, I should not advise you to write it; for poets are generally beggars,-poor, shiftless members of society.

"How does

"That is news to me," responded Benjamin. it happen, then, that some of their works are so popular ?" "Because a true poet can write something worthy of being read, while a mere verse-maker, like yourself, writes only doggerel that is not worth the paper on which it is printed. Now I advise you to let verse-making alone, and attend closely to your business, both for your own sake and your brother's."

Mr Franklin was rather severe upon Benjamin, although what he said of his verses was true. Still, it was a commendable effort in the boy to try to improve his mind. Some of the best poets who had lived, wrote mere doggerel when they began. Many of our best prose-writers, too were exceedingly faulty writers at first. It is a noble effort of a boy to try to put his thoughts into writing. If he does not succeed in the first instance, by patience, energy, and perseverance, he may truimph at last. Benjamin might not have acted wisely in selling his verses about town, but his brother, so much older and more experienced than himself, should bear the censure of that, since it was done by his direction.

The decided opposition that Mr Franklin shewed to verse