<h4><SPAN name="VII" id="VII" />VII</h4>
<h4>BEGINNING BUSINESS IN PHILADELPHIA</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-w.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt=
"block-W" />E sail'd from Gravesend on the 23rd of July, 1726. For
the incidents of the voyage, I refer you to my Journal, where you
will find them all minutely related. Perhaps the most important
part of that journal is the <i>plan</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_50" id=
"FNanchor_50" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</SPAN> to
be found in it, which I formed at sea, for regulating my future
conduct in life. It is the more remarkable, as being formed when I
was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite
thro' to old age.</p>
<p>We landed in Philadelphia on the 11th of October, where I found
sundry alterations. Keith was no longer governor, being superseded
by Major Gordon. I met him walking the streets as a common citizen.
He seem'd a little asham'd at seeing me, but pass'd without saying
anything. I should have been as much asham'd at seeing Miss Read,
had not her friends, despairing with reason of my return after the
receipt of my letter, persuaded her to marry another, one Rogers, a
potter, which was done in my absence. With him, however, she was
never happy, and soon parted from him, refusing to cohabit with him
or bear his name, it being now said that he had another wife. He
was a worthless fellow, tho' an excellent workman, which was the
temptation to her friends. He got into debt, ran away in 1727 or
1728, went to the West Indies, and died there. Keimer had got a
better house, a shop well supply'd with stationery, plenty of new
types, a number of hands, tho' none good, and seem'd to have a
great deal of business.</p>
<p>Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street, where we open'd our
goods; I attended the business diligently, studied accounts, and
grew, in a little time, expert at selling. We lodg'd and boarded
together; he counsell'd me as a father, having a sincere regard for
me. I respected and loved him, and we might have gone on together
very happy; but, in the beginning of February, 1726/7, when I had
just pass'd my twenty-first year, we both were taken ill. My
distemper was a pleurisy, which very nearly carried me off. I
suffered a good deal, gave up the point in my own mind, and was
rather disappointed when I found myself recovering, regretting, in
some degree, that I must now, some time or other, have all that
disagreeable work to do over again. I forget what his distemper
was; it held him a long time, and at length carried him off. He
left me a small legacy in a nuncupative will, as a token of his
kindness for me, and he left me once more to the wide world; for
the store was taken into the care of his executors, and my
employment under him ended.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="60%" src= "images/illus-015-red.jpg" alt= "Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street" title= "Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street" /></div>
<p>My brother-in-law, Holmes, being now at Philadelphia, advised my
return to my business; and Keimer tempted me, with an offer of
large wages by the year, to come and take the management of his
printing-house, that he might better attend his stationer's shop. I
had heard a bad character of him in London from his wife and her
friends, and was not fond of having any more to do with him. I
tri'd for farther employment as a merchant's clerk; but, not
readily meeting with any, I clos'd again with Keimer. I found in
his house these hands: Hugh Meredith, a Welsh Pennsylvanian, thirty
years of age, bred to country work; honest, sensible, had a great
deal of solid observation, was something of a reader, but given to
drink. Stephen Potts, a young countryman of full age, bred to the
same, of uncommon natural parts, and great wit and humor, but a
little idle. These he had agreed with at extream low wages per week
to be rais'd a shilling every three months, as they would deserve
by improving in their business; and the expectation of these high
wages, to come on hereafter, was what he had drawn them in with.
Meredith was to work at press, Potts at book-binding, which he, by
agreement, was to teach them, though he knew neither one nor
t'other. John——, a wild Irishman, brought up to no
business, whose service, for four years, Keimer had purchased from
the captain of a ship; he, too, was to be made a pressman. George
Webb, an Oxford scholar, whose time for four years he had likewise
bought, intending him for a compositor, of whom more presently; and
David Harry, a country boy, whom he had taken apprentice.</p>
<p>I soon perceiv'd that the intention of engaging me at wages so
much higher than he had been us'd to give, was, to have these raw,
cheap hands form'd thro' me; and, as soon as I had instructed them,
then they being all articled to him, he should be able to do
without me. I went on, however, very chearfully, put his
printing-house in order, which had been in great confusion, and
brought his hands by degrees to mind their business and to do it
better.</p>
<p>It was an odd thing to find an Oxford scholar in the situation
of a bought servant. He was not more than eighteen years of age,
and gave me this account of himself; that he was born in
Gloucester, educated at a grammar-school there, had been
distinguish'd among the scholars for some apparent superiority in
performing his part, when they exhibited plays; belong'd to the
Witty Club there, and had written some pieces in prose and verse,
which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers; thence he was sent
to Oxford; where he continued about a year, but not well satisfi'd,
wishing of all things to see London, and become a player. At
length, receiving his quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas,
instead of discharging his debts he walk'd out of town, hid his
gown in a furze bush, and footed it to London, where, having no
friend to advise him, he fell into bad company, soon spent his
guineas, found no means of being introduc'd among the players, grew
necessitous, pawn'd his cloaths, and wanted bread. Walking the
street very hungry, and not knowing what to do with himself, a
crimp's bill<SPAN name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51" /><SPAN href=
"#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</SPAN> was put into his hand,
offering immediate entertainment and encouragement to such as would
bind themselves to serve in America. He went directly, sign'd the
indentures, was put into the ship, and came over, never writing a
line to acquaint his friends what was become of him. He was lively,
witty, good-natur'd, and a pleasant companion, but idle,
thoughtless, and imprudent to the last degree.</p>
<p>John, the Irishman, soon ran away; with the rest I began to live
very agreeably, for they all respected me the more, as they found
Keimer incapable of instructing them, and that from me they learned
something daily. We never worked on Saturday, that being Keimer's
Sabbath, so I had two days for reading. My acquaintance with
ingenious people in the town increased. Keimer himself treated me
with great civility and apparent regard, and nothing now made me
uneasy but my debt to Vernon, which I was yet unable to pay, being
hitherto but a poor æconomist. He, however, kindly made no
demand of it.</p>
<p>Our printing-house often wanted sorts, and there was no
letter-founder in America; I had seen types cast at James's in
London, but without much attention to the manner; however, I now
contrived a mould, made use of the letters we had as puncheons,
struck the mattrices in lead, and thus supply'd in a pretty
tolerable way all deficiencies. I also engrav'd several things on
occasion; I made the ink; I was warehouseman, and everything, and,
in short, quite a fac-totum.</p>
<p>But, however serviceable I might be, I found that my services
became every day of less importance, as the other hands improv'd in
the business; and, when Keimer paid my second quarter's wages, he
let me know that he felt them too heavy, and thought I should make
an abatement. He grew by degrees less civil, put on more of the
master, frequently found fault, was captious, and seem'd ready for
an outbreaking. I went on, nevertheless, with a good deal of
patience, thinking that his encumber'd circumstances were partly
the cause. At length a trifle snapt our connections; for, a great
noise happening near the court-house, I put my head out of the
window to see what was the matter. Keimer, being in the street,
look'd up and saw me, call'd out to me in a loud voice and angry
tone to mind my business, adding some reproachful words, that
nettled me the more for their publicity, all the neighbours who
were looking out on the same occasion being witnesses how I was
treated. He came up immediately into the printing-house, continu'd
the quarrel, high words pass'd on both sides, he gave me the
quarter's warning we had stipulated, expressing a wish that he had
not been oblig'd to so long a warning. I told him his wish was
unnecessary, for I would leave him that instant; and so, taking my
hat, walk'd out of doors, desiring Meredith, whom I saw below, to
take care of some things I left, and bring them to my lodgings.</p>
<p>Meredith came accordingly in the evening, when we talked my
affair over. He had conceiv'd a great regard for me, and was very
unwilling that I should leave the house while he remain'd in it. He
dissuaded me from returning to my native country, which I began to
think of; he reminded me that Keimer was in debt for all he
possess'd; that his creditors began to be uneasy; that he kept his
shop miserably, sold often without profit for ready money, and
often trusted without keeping accounts; that he must therefore
fail, which would make a vacancy I might profit of. I objected my
want of money. He then let me know that his father had a high
opinion of me, and, from some discourse that had pass'd between
them, he was sure would advance money to set us up, if I would
enter into partnership with him. "My time," says he, "will be out
with Keimer in the spring; by that time we may have our press and
types in from London. I am sensible I am no workman; if you like
it, your skill in the business shall be set against the stock I
furnish, and we will share the profits equally."</p>
<p>The proposal was agreeable, and I consented; his father was in
town and approv'd of it; the more as he saw I had great influence
with his son, had prevailed on him to abstain long from
dram-drinking, and he hop'd might break him of that wretched habit
entirely, when we came to be so closely connected. I gave an
inventory to the father, who carry'd it to a merchant; the things
were sent for, the secret was to be kept till they should arrive,
and in the meantime I was to get work, if I could, at the other
printing-house. But I found no vacancy there, and so remained idle
a few days, when Keimer, on a prospect of being employ'd to print
some paper money in New Jersey, which would require cuts and
various types that I only could supply, and apprehending Bradford
might engage me and get the jobb from him, sent me a very civil
message, that old friends should not part for a few words, the
effect of sudden passion, and wishing me to return. Meredith
persuaded me to comply, as it would give more opportunity for his
improvement under my daily instructions; so I return'd, and we went
on more smoothly than for some time before. The New Jersey jobb was
obtained, I contriv'd a copperplate press for it, the first that
had been seen in the country; I cut several ornaments and checks
for the bills. We went together to Burlington, where I executed the
whole to satisfaction; and he received so large a sum for the work
as to be enabled thereby to keep his head much longer above
water.</p>
<p>At Burlington I made an acquaintance with many principal people
of the province. Several of them had been appointed by the Assembly
a committee to attend the press, and take care that no more bills
were printed than the law directed. They were therefore, by turns,
constantly with us, and generally he who attended, brought with him
a friend or two for company. My mind having been much more improv'd
by reading than Keimer's, I suppose it was for that reason my
conversation seem'd to be more valu'd. They had me to their houses,
introduced me to their friends, and show'd me much civility; while
he, tho' the master, was a little neglected. In truth, he was an
odd fish; ignorant of common life, fond of rudely opposing receiv'd
opinions, slovenly to extream dirtiness, enthusiastic in some
points of religion, and a little knavish withal.</p>
<p>We continu'd there near three months; and by that time I could
reckon among my acquired friends, Judge Allen, Samuel Bustill, the
secretary of the Province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, and
several of the Smiths, members of Assembly, and Isaac Decow, the
surveyor-general. The latter was a shrewd, sagacious old man, who
told me that he began for himself, when young, by wheeling clay for
brick-makers, learned to write after he was of age, carri'd the
chain for surveyors, who taught him surveying, and he had now by
his industry, acquir'd a good estate; and says he, "I foresee that
you will soon work this man out of his business, and make a fortune
in it at Philadelphia." He had not then the least intimation of my
intention to set up there or anywhere. These friends were
afterwards of great use to me, as I occasionally was to some of
them. They all continued their regard for me as long as they
lived.</p>
<p>Before I enter upon my public appearance in business, it may be
well to let you know the then state of my mind with regard to my
principles and morals, that you may see how far those influenc'd
the future events of my life. My parents had early given me
religious impressions, and brought me through my childhood piously
in the Dissenting way. But I was scarce fifteen, when, after
doubting by turns of several points, as I found them disputed in
the different books I read, I began to doubt of Revelation itself.
Some books against Deism<SPAN name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</SPAN> fell into my hands;
they were said to be the substance of sermons preached at Boyle's
Lectures. It happened that they wrought an effect on me quite
contrary to what was intended by them; for the arguments of the
Deists, which were quoted to be refuted, appeared to me much
stronger than the refutations; in short, I soon became a thorough
Deist. My arguments perverted some others, particularly Collins and
Ralph; but, each of them having afterwards wrong'd me greatly
without the least compunction, and recollecting Keith's conduct
towards me (who was another free-thinker), and my own towards
Vernon and Miss Read, which at times gave me great trouble, I began
to suspect that this doctrine, tho' it might be true, was not very
useful. My London pamphlet, which had for its motto these lines of
Dryden:<SPAN name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53" /><SPAN href=
"#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</SPAN></p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Whatever is, is right. Though purblind man</div>
<div class="i2a">Sees but a part o' the chain, the nearest
link:</div>
<div class="i2a">His eyes not carrying to the equal beam,</div>
<div class="i2a">That poises all above;"</div>
</div></div>
<p>and from the attributes of God, his infinite wisdom, goodness
and power, concluded that nothing could possibly be wrong in the
world, and that vice and virtue were empty distinctions, no such
things existing, appear'd now not so clever a performance as I once
thought it; and I doubted whether some error had not insinuated
itself unperceiv'd into my argument, so as to infect all that
follow'd, as is common in metaphysical reasonings.</p>
<p>I grew convinc'd that <i>truth</i>, <i>sincerity</i> and
<i>integrity</i> in dealings between man and man were of the utmost
importance to the felicity of life; and I form'd written
resolutions, which still remain in my journal book, to practice
them ever while I lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with me,
as such; but I entertain'd an opinion that, though certain actions
might not be bad <i>because</i> they were forbidden by it, or good
<i>because</i> it commanded them, yet probably these actions might
be forbidden <i>because</i> they were bad for us, or commanded
<i>because</i> they were beneficial to us, in their own natures,
all the circumstances of things considered. And this persuasion,
with the kind hand of Providence, or some guardian angel, or
accidental favourable circumstances and situations, or all
together, preserved me, thro' this dangerous time of youth, and the
hazardous situations I was sometimes in among strangers, remote
from the eye and advice of my father, without any willful gross
immorality or injustice, that might have been expected from my want
of religion. I say willful, because the instances I have mentioned
had something of <i>necessity</i> in them, from my youth,
inexperience, and the knavery of others. I had therefore a
tolerable character to begin the world with; I valued it properly,
and determin'd to preserve it.</p>
<p>We had not been long return'd to Philadelphia before the new
types arriv'd from London. We settled with Keimer, and left him by
his consent before he heard of it. We found a house to hire near
the market, and took it. To lessen the rent, which was then but
twenty-four pounds a year, tho' I have since known it to let for
seventy, we took in Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, and his family, who
were to pay a considerable part of it to us, and we to board with
them. We had scarce opened our letters and put our press in order,
before George House, an acquaintance of mine, brought a countryman
to us, whom he had met in the street inquiring for a printer. All
our cash was now expended in the variety of particulars we had been
obliged to procure, and this countryman's five shillings, being our
first-fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than
any crown I have since earned; and the gratitude I felt toward
House has made me often more ready than perhaps I should otherwise
have been to assist young beginners.</p>
<p>There are croakers in every country, always boding its ruin.
Such a one then lived in Philadelphia; a person of note, an elderly
man, with a wise look and a very grave manner of speaking; his name
was Samuel Mickle. This gentleman, a stranger to me, stopt one day
at my door, and asked me if I was the young man who had lately
opened a new printing-house. Being answered in the affirmative, he
said he was sorry for me, because it was an expensive undertaking,
and the expense would be lost; for Philadelphia was a sinking
place, the people already half-bankrupts, or near being so; all
appearances to the contrary, such as new buildings and the rise of
rents, being to his certain knowledge fallacious; for they were, in
fact, among the things that would soon ruin us. And he gave me such
a detail of misfortunes now existing, or that were soon to exist,
that he left me half melancholy. Had I known him before I engaged
in this business, probably I never should have done it. This man
continued to live in this decaying place, and to declaim in the
same strain, refusing for many years to buy a house there, because
all was going to destruction; and at last I had the pleasure of
seeing him give five times as much for one as he might have bought
it for when he first began his croaking.</p>
<p>I should have mentioned before, that, in the autumn of the
preceding year, I had form'd most of my ingenious acquaintance into
a club of mutual improvement, which was called the <span class=
"smcap">Junto</span>;<SPAN name="FNanchor_54" id="FNanchor_54" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</SPAN> we met on Friday
evenings. The rules that I drew up required that every member, in
his turn, should produce one or more queries on any point of
Morals, Politics, or Natural Philosophy, to be discuss'd by the
company; and once in three months produce and read an essay of his
own writing, on any subject he pleased. Our debates were to be
under the direction of a president, and to be conducted in the
sincere spirit of inquiry after truth, without fondness for
dispute, or desire of victory; and, to prevent warmth, all
expressions of positiveness in opinions, or direct contradiction,
were after some time made contraband, and prohibited under small
pecuniary penalties.</p>
<p>The first members were Joseph Breintnal, a copyer of deeds for
the scriveners, a good-natur'd, friendly middle-ag'd man, a great
lover of poetry, reading all he could meet with, and writing some
that was tolerable; very ingenious in many little Nicknackeries,
and of sensible conversation.</p>
<p>Thomas Godfrey, a self-taught mathematician, great in his way,
and afterward inventor of what is now called Hadley's Quadrant. But
he knew little out of his way, and was not a pleasing companion;
as, like most great mathematicians I have met with, he expected
universal precision in everything said, or was forever denying or
distinguishing upon trifles, to the disturbance of all
conversation. He soon left us.</p>
<p>Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, afterwards surveyor-general, who
lov'd books, and sometimes made a few verses.</p>
<p>William Parsons, bred a shoemaker, but, loving reading, had
acquir'd a considerable share of mathematics, which he first
studied with a view to astrology, that he afterwards laught at it.
He also became surveyor-general.</p>
<p>William Maugridge, a joiner, a most exquisite mechanic, and a
solid, sensible man.</p>
<p>Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb I have
characteriz'd before.</p>
<p>Robert Grace, a young gentleman of some fortune, generous,
lively, and witty; a lover of punning and of his friends.</p>
<p>And William Coleman, then a merchant's clerk, about my age, who
had the coolest, clearest head, the best heart, and the exactest
morals of almost any man I ever met with. He became afterwards a
merchant of great note, and one of our provincial judges. Our
friendship continued without interruption to his death, upwards of
forty years; and the club continued almost as long, and was the
best school of philosophy, morality, and politics that then existed
in the province; for our queries, which were read the week
preceding their discussion, put us upon reading with attention upon
the several subjects, that we might speak more to the purpose; and
here, too, we acquired better habits of conversation, everything
being studied in our rules which might prevent our disgusting each
other. From hence the long continuance of the club, which I shall
have frequent occasion to speak further of hereafter.</p>
<p>But my giving this account of it here is to show something of
the interest I had, everyone of these exerting themselves in
recommending business to us. Breintnal particularly procur'd us
from the Quakers the printing forty sheets of their history, the
rest being to be done by Keimer; and upon this we work'd
exceedingly hard, for the price was low. It was a folio, pro patria
size, in pica, with long primer notes.<SPAN name="FNanchor_55" id=
"FNanchor_55" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</SPAN> I
compos'd of it a sheet a day, and Meredith worked it off at press;
it was often eleven at night, and sometimes later, before I had
finished my distribution for the next day's work, for the little
jobbs sent in by our other friends now and then put us back. But so
determin'd I was to continue doing a sheet a day of the folio, that
one night, when, having impos'd<SPAN name="FNanchor_56" id=
"FNanchor_56" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</SPAN> my
forms, I thought my day's work over, one of them by accident was
broken, and two pages reduced to pi,<SPAN name="FNanchor_57" id=
"FNanchor_57" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</SPAN> I
immediately distribut'd and composed it over again before I went to
bed; and this industry, visible to our neighbors, began to give us
character and credit; particularly, I was told, that mention being
made of the new printing-office at the merchants' Every-night club,
the general opinion was that it must fail, there being already two
printers in the place, Keimer and Bradford; but Dr. Baird (whom you
and I saw many years after at his native place, St. Andrew's in
Scotland) gave a contrary opinion: "For the industry of that
Franklin," says he, "is superior to anything I ever saw of the
kind; I see him still at work when I go home from club, and he is
at work again before his neighbors are out of bed." This struck the
rest, and we soon after had offers from one of them to supply us
with stationery; but as yet we did not chuse to engage in shop
business.</p>
<p>I mention this industry the more particularly and the more
freely, tho' it seems to be talking in my own praise, that those of
my posterity, who shall read it, may know the use of that virtue,
when they see its effects in my favour throughout this
relation.</p>
<p>George Webb, who had found a female friend that lent him
wherewith to purchase his time of Keimer, now came to offer himself
as a journeyman to us. We could not then employ him; but I
foolishly let him know as a secret that I soon intended to begin a
newspaper, and might then have work for him. My hopes of success,
as I told him, were founded on this, that the then only newspaper,
printed by Bradford, was a paltry thing, wretchedly manag'd, no way
entertaining, and yet was profitable to him; I therefore thought a
good paper would scarcely fail of good encouragement. I requested
Webb not to mention it; but he told it to Keimer, who immediately,
to be beforehand with me, published proposals for printing one
himself, on which Webb was to be employ'd. I resented this; and, to
counteract them, as I could not yet begin our paper, I wrote
several pieces of entertainment for Bradford's paper, under the
title of the <span class="smcap">Busy Body</span>, which Breintnal
continu'd some months. By this means the attention of the publick
was fixed on that paper, and Keimer's proposals, which we
burlesqu'd and ridicul'd, were disregarded. He began his paper,
however, and, after carrying it on three quarters of a year, with
at most only ninety subscribers, he offered it to me for a trifle;
and I, having been ready some time to go on with it, took it in
hand directly; and it prov'd in a few years extremely profitable to
me.</p>
<p>I perceive that I am apt to speak in the singular number, though
our partnership still continu'd; the reason may be that, in fact,
the whole management of the business lay upon me. Meredith was no
compositor, a poor pressman, and seldom sober. My friends lamented
my connection with him, but I was to make the best of it.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p120" id="p120" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-016-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-016thumb.jpg" alt="I see him still at work when I go home from club" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"I see him still at work when I go home
from club"</div>
<p>Our first papers made a quite different appearance from any
before in the province; a better type, and better printed; but some
spirited remarks of my writing, on the dispute then going on
between Governor Burnet and the Massachusetts Assembly, struck the
principal people, occasioned the paper and the manager of it to be
much talk'd of, and in a few weeks brought them all to be our
subscribers.</p>
<p>Their example was follow'd by many, and our number went on
growing continually. This was one of the first good effects of my
having learnt a little to scribble; another was, that the leading
men, seeing a newspaper now in the hands of one who could also
handle a pen, thought it convenient to oblige and encourage me.
Bradford still printed the votes, and laws, and other publick
business. He had printed an address of the House to the governor,
in a coarse, blundering manner; we reprinted it elegantly and
correctly, and sent one to every member. They were sensible of the
difference: it strengthened the hands of our friends in the House,
and they voted us their printers for the year ensuing.</p>
<p>Among my friends in the House I must not forget Mr. Hamilton,
before mentioned, who was then returned from England, and had a
seat in it. He interested himself for me strongly in that instance,
as he did in many others afterward, continuing his patronage till
his death.<SPAN name="FNanchor_58" id="FNanchor_58" /><SPAN href=
"#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</SPAN></p>
<p>Mr. Vernon, about this time, put me in mind of the debt I ow'd
him, but did not press me. I wrote him an ingenuous letter of
acknowledgment, crav'd his forbearance a little longer, which he
allow'd me, and as soon as I was able, I paid the principal with
interest, and many thanks; so that erratum was in some degree
corrected.</p>
<p>But now another difficulty came upon me which I had never the
least reason to expect. Mr. Meredith's father, who was to have paid
for our printing-house, according to the expectations given me, was
able to advance only one hundred pounds currency, which had been
paid; and a hundred more was due to the merchant, who grew
impatient, and su'd us all. We gave bail, but saw that, if the
money could not be rais'd in time, the suit must soon come to a
judgment and execution, and our hopeful prospects must, with us, be
ruined, as the press and letters must be sold for payment, perhaps
at half price.</p>
<p>In this distress two true friends, whose kindness I have never
forgotten, nor ever shall forget while I can remember any thing,
came to me separately, unknown to each other, and, without any
application from me, offering each of them to advance me all the
money that should be necessary to enable me to take the whole
business upon myself, if that should be practicable; but they did
not like my continuing the partnership with Meredith, who, as they
said, was often seen drunk in the streets, and playing at low games
in alehouses, much to our discredit. These two friends were William
Coleman and Robert Grace. I told them I could not propose a
separation while any prospect remain'd of the Meredith's fulfilling
their part of our agreement, because I thought myself under great
obligations to them for what they had done, and would do if they
could; but, if they finally fail'd in their performance, and our
partnership must be dissolv'd, I should then think myself at
liberty to accept the assistance of my friends.</p>
<p>Thus the matter rested for some time, when I said to my partner,
"Perhaps your father is dissatisfied at the part you have
undertaken in this affair of ours, and is unwilling to advance for
you and me what he would for you alone. If that is the case, tell
me, and I will resign the whole to you, and go about my business."
"No," said he, "my father has really been disappointed, and is
really unable; and I am unwilling to distress him farther. I see
this is a business I am not fit for. I was bred a farmer, and it
was a folly in me to come to town, and put myself, at thirty years
of age, an apprentice to learn a new trade. Many of our Welsh
people are going to settle in North Carolina, where land is cheap.
I am inclin'd to go with them, and follow my old employment. You
may find friends to assist you. If you will take the debts of the
company upon you; return to my father the hundred pounds he has
advanced; pay my little personal debts, and give me thirty pounds
and a new saddle, I will relinquish the partnership, and leave the
whole in your hands." I agreed to this proposal: it was drawn up in
writing, sign'd, and seal'd immediately. I gave him what he
demanded, and he went soon after to Carolina, from whence he sent
me next year two long letters, containing the best account that had
been given of that country, the climate, the soil, husbandry, etc.,
for in those matters he was very judicious. I printed them in the
papers, and they gave great satisfaction to the publick.</p>
<p>As soon as he was gone, I recurr'd to my two friends; and
because I would not give an unkind preference to either, I took
half of what each had offered and I wanted of one, and half of the
other; paid off the company's debts, and went on with the business
in my own name, advertising that the partnership was dissolved. I
think this was in or about the year 1729.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></SPAN> "Not found in
the manuscript journal, which was left among Franklin's
papers."—Bigelow.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></SPAN> A crimp was the
agent of a shipping company. Crimps were sometimes employed to
decoy men into such service as is here mentioned.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></SPAN> The creed of an
eighteenth century theological sect which, while believing in God,
refused to credit the possibility of miracles and to acknowledge
the validity of revelation.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></SPAN> A great English
poet, dramatist, and critic (1631-1700). The lines are inaccurately
quoted from Dryden's Œdipus, Act III, Scene I, line 293.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></SPAN> A Spanish term
meaning a combination for political intrigue; here a club or
society.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></SPAN> A sheet 8-1/2 by
13-1/2 inches, having the words <i>pro patria</i> in translucent
letters in the body of the paper. Pica—a size of type; as,
<big><big>A B C D</big></big>: Long Primer—a
smaller size of type; as, <big>A B C D.</big></p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></SPAN> To arrange and
lock up pages or columns of type in a rectangular iron frame, ready
for printing.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></SPAN> Reduced to
complete disorder.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58" /><SPAN href=
"#FNanchor_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></SPAN> I got his son
once £500.—<i>Marg. note</i>.</p>
</div>
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