for existence.

Thus it is that we find him extracting pleasure from a trip which to the globe-trotting men and women of to-day would appear unutterably dreary, and securing plenty of material for thought and record.

It may be imagined that when Franklin got back to Philadelphia, he kept his eyes open, as usual, nor did he attempt to close them when he passed on the street the shamefaced Keith, now no longer governor. Perhaps he opened them even wider than ever upon learning that, as the result of his own defection, Deborah Read had married a worthless potter, from whom she soon separated for the very good reason that he was accused of bigamy. Having seen these things and perceived that his friend Keimer was apparently on the high road to prosperity, Ben set himself hard to work in the store which Mr. Denham now opened in Water Street. To become a thrifty merchant was the palpable destiny of the clerk. But there were to be many surprises in his career, many changes of plan, and one of them now occurred. Denham and Franklin were both taken ill, the former dying and the latter slowly recovering, somewhat to his own disappointment, if we are to believe him. "I suffered a good deal [he had pleurisy], gave up the point in my own mind, and was rather disappointed when I found myself recovering, regretting, in some degree, that I might now, some time or other, have all that disagreeable work to do over again. One fact stared coldly into his bright, serene face. The taking away of Denham left his assistant, like Othello, with occupa

tion gone, and with all those prospects of future wealth vanished into air. What should he do? There was hardly time to ask the question, for Keimer came forward with a proposition that the management of his new printing-shop should be taken by his former employé. Call it a piece of rare luck, if you will, but reflect that the offer was made to one who by his business sense and his skill as a printer well deserved it.

Here we have Franklin at twenty-one. He has travelled not a little, thought much, read much, written much, worked incessantly, sinned too, and so stands forth a puzzling figure. Mixed in with shining gold is a vein of baser metal. Is the gold to triumph? There is hope that it may, for deep in the printer's soul are energy of character and strength of purpose. These are virtues which he has in common with so many natives of distant New England, and they must have an important influence upon him. The Puritan spirit of self-reliance must make itself felt in him, just as in years to come it will put so deep an impress upon the patriotism of the Revolution.

HOSE cordial relations which some

times exist between master and man, even outside of Utopia, had no place in the connection now established between the half-knavish Keimer and the observant Franklin. Keimer wished to have his crude printers whipped into shape, as it were, by the new foreman, whom he then intended to dismiss, and the latter was shrewd enough to fathom the whole plot. The days wore on, Franklin working philosophically and efficiently, and the little drama began to develop just as was expected. Keimer hinted that a reduction of Franklin's wages would be in order, "grew by degrees less civil, put on more of the master, frequently found fault, was captious, and seemed ready for an outbreaking." The crisis came soon enough.

There was a great noise in the street one day, and Franklin put his head out of a window of the printing-office to find out the cause of the outcry, when,

presto! Keimer called up to him, in angry tones, to "mind his business." This may have been entertaining for the listening neighbours, but it proved exasperating to the rebuked printer, particularly as Keimer came up into the room, and 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,"

It was a row with a capital R, and we can picture the stupid apprentices looking on open-mouthed while Ben bounced out of the place with disgust on his face and anger in his usually placid heart. Our sympathies irresistibly go with him. Yet this was

the man who would come to have such a fine control over his temper that he could stand unmoved while an English enemy loaded him with insults.

The Meredith spoken of was one of Keimer's journeymen, between whom and his foreman a considerable intimacy existed. He was a nice, honest fellow, but trifled too much with the flowing bowl. On the evening succeeding the " outbreaking" he went to see his friend at the latter's lodgings, and it was well he did. By this time the indignant Franklin had made up his mind to return to Boston, where, for aught we know, he might have degenerated into a commonplace soap-boiler, and so, practically, buried himself. Meredith suggested that when the spring (of 1728) came, and his own.

time with Keimer had expired, he would form a partnership with Franklin, into which the New Englander was to bring the skill, and Meredith's father the money needed for presses and types. The offer was accepted; the elder Meredith approved of the scheme, hoping above all things that his son would be kept too busy to think of his cups. It was agreed that Franklin should try to continue in other employment until the release of his partner. That employment, strange to tell, was obtained with Keimer, who was anxious to have the assistance of his former manager in the printing of an issue of paper money for the province of New Jersey. Forthwith, Franklin journeyed to Burlington, where he contrived a copper-plate press for the execution of the bills. He was made much of by some of the townspeople, who liked his conversation, and he was not grieved, possibly, because Keimer met with a less cordial reception. "In truth," he writes complacently," 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 knavish withal." The Keimer type is not yet extinguished.

When the spring arrived, the firm of Franklin and Meredith began life, not in an elegantly appointed structure such as we would look for to-day, but in a little house on Market Street, in which, to lessen the rental of twenty-four pounds a year, a glazier named Thomas Godfrey and his family were given room. It was a risky experiment, this starting of a