True Stories From History and Biography (29 page)

One truth, therefore, which Edward's blindness had taught him, was, that
his mind and soul could dispense with the assistance of his eyes.
Doubtless, however, he would have found this lesson far more difficult to
learn, had it not been for the affection of those around him. His parents,
and George and Emily, aided him to bear his misfortune; if possible, they
would have lent him their own eyes. And this, too, was a good lesson for
him. It taught him how dependent on one another God has ordained us to be;
insomuch that all the necessities of mankind should incite them to mutual
love.

So Edward loved his friends, and perhaps all the world, better than he
ever did before. And he felt grateful towards his father for spending the
evenings in telling him stories—more grateful, probably, than any of my
little readers will feel towards me for so carefully writing those same
stories down.

"Come, dear father," said he, the next evening, "now tell us all about
some other little boy, who was destined to be a famous man."

"How would you like a story of a Boston boy?" asked his father.

"Oh, pray let us have it!" cried George eagerly. "It will be all the
better if he has been to our schools, and has coasted on the Common, and
sailed boats in the Frog Pond. I shall feel acquainted with him then."

"Well, then," said Mr. Temple, "I will introduce you to a Boston boy, whom
all the world became acquainted with, after he grew to be a man."

The story was as follows:—

In the year 1716, or about that period, a boy used to be seen in the
streets of Boston, who was known among his schoolfellows and playmates by
the name of Ben Franklin. Ben was born in 1706; so that he was now about
ten years old. His father, who had come over from England, was a
soap-boiler and tallow-chandler, and resided in Milk Street, not far from
the old South Church.

Ben was a bright boy at his book, and even a brighter one when at play
with his comrades. He had some remarkable qualities which always seemed to
give him the lead, whether at sport or in more serious matters. I might
tell you a number of amusing anecdotes about him. You are acquainted, I
suppose, with his famous story of the WHISTLE, and how he bought it with a
whole pocketful of coppers, and afterwards repented of his bargain. But
Ben had grown a great boy since those days, and had gained wisdom by
experience; for it was one of his peculiarities, that no incident ever
happened to him without teaching him some valuable lesson. Thus he
generally profited more by his misfortunes, than many people do by the
most favorable events that could befall them.

Ben's face was already pretty well known to the inhabitants of Boston. The
selectmen, and other people of note, often used to visit his father, for
the sake of talking about the affairs of the town or province. Mr.
Franklin was considered a person of great wisdom and integrity, and was
respected by all who knew him, although he supported his family by the
humble trade of boiling soap, and making tallow-candles.

While his father and the visitors were holding deep consultations about
public affairs, little Ben would sit on his stool in a corner, listening
with the greatest interest, as if he understood every word. Indeed, his
features were so full of intelligence, that there could be but little
doubt, not only that he understood what was said, but that he could have
expressed some very sagacious opinions out of his own mind. But, in those
days, boys were expected to be silent in the presence of their elders.
However, Ben Franklin was looked upon as a very promising lad, who would
talk and act wisely by and by.

"Neighbor Franklin," his father's friends would sometimes say, "you ought
to send this boy to college and make a minister of him."

"I have often thought of it," his father would reply; "and my brother
Benjamin promises to give him a great many volumes of manuscript sermons
in case he should be educated for the church. But I have a large family to
support, and cannot afford the expense."

In fact, Mr. Franklin found it so difficult to provide bread for his
family, that, when the boy was ten years old, it became necessary to take
him from school. Ben was then employed in cutting candlewicks into equal
lengths, and filling the moulds with tallow; and many families in Boston
spent their evenings by the light of the candles which he had helped to
make. Thus, you see, in his early days, as well as in his manhood his
labors contributed to throw light upon dark matters.

Busy as his life now was, Ben still found time to keep company with his
former schoolfellows. He and the other boys were very fond of fishing, and
spent any of their leisure hours on the margin of the mill-pond, catching
flounders, perch, eels, and tom-cod, which came up thither with the tide.
The place where they fished is now, probably, covered with stone-pavements
and brick buildings, and thronged with people, and with vehicles of all
kinds. But, at that period, it was a marshy spot on the outskirts of the
town, where gulls flitted and screamed overhead, and salt meadow-grass
grew under foot. On the edge of the water there was a deep bed of clay, in
which the boys were forced to stand, while they caught their fish. Here
they dabbled in mud and mire like a flock of ducks.

"This is very uncomfortable," said Ben Franklin one day to his comrades,
while they were standing mid-leg deep in the quagmire.

"So it is," said the other boys. "What a pity we have no better place to
stand!"

If it had not been for Ben, nothing more would have been done or said
about the matter. But it was not in his nature to be sensible of an
inconvenience, without using his best efforts to find a remedy. So, as he
and his comrades were returning from the water-side, Ben suddenly threw
down his string of fish with a very determined air:

"Boys," cried he, "I have thought of a scheme, which will be greatly for
our benefit, and for the public benefit!"

It was queer enough, to be sure, to hear this little chap—this
rosy-cheeked, ten-year-old boy—talking about schemes for the public
benefit! Nevertheless, his companions were ready to listen, being assured
that Ben's scheme, whatever it was, would be well worth their attention.
They remembered how sagaciously he had conducted all their enterprises,
ever since he had been old enough to wear small-clothes.

They remembered, too, his wonderful contrivance of sailing across the
mill-pond by lying flat on his back, in the water, and allowing himself to
be drawn along by a paper-kite. If Ben could do that, he might certainly
do any thing.

"What is your scheme, Ben?—what is it?" cried they all.

It so happened that they had now come to a spot of ground where a new
house was to be built. Scattered round about lay a great many large
stones, which were to be used for the cellar and foundation. Ben mounted
upon the highest of these stones, so that he might speak with the more
authority.

"You know, lads," said he, "what a plague it is, to be forced to stand in
the quagmire yonder—over shoes and stockings (if we wear any) in mud and
water. See! I am bedaubed to the knees of my small-clothes, and you are
all in the same pickle. Unless we can find some remedy for this evil, our
fishing-business must be entirely given up. And, surely, this would be a
terrible misfortune!"

"That it would!—that it would!" said his comrades, sorrowfully.

"Now I propose," continued Master Benjamin, "that we build a wharf, for
the purpose of carrying on our fisheries. You see these stones. The
workmen mean to use them for the underpinning of a house; but that would
be for only one man's advantage. My plan is to take these same stones, and
carry them to the edge of the water and build a wharf with them. This will
not only enable us to carry on the fishing business with comfort, and to
better advantage, but it will likewise be a great convenience to boats
passing up and down the stream. Thus, instead of one man, fifty, or a
hundred, or a thousand, besides ourselves, may be benefited by these
stones. What say you, lads?—shall we build the wharf?"

Ben's proposal was received with one of those uproarious shouts, wherewith
boys usually express their delight at whatever completely suits their
views. Nobody thought of questioning the right and justice of building a
wharf, with stones that belonged to another person.

"Hurrah, hurrah!" shouted they. "Let's set about it!"

It was agreed that they should all be on the spot, that evening, and
commence their grand public enterprise by moonlight. Accordingly, at the
appointed time, the whole gang of youthful laborers assembled, and eagerly
began to remove the stones. They had not calculated how much toil would be
requisite, in this important part of their undertaking. The very first
stone which they laid hold of, proved so heavy, that it almost seemed to
be fastened to the ground. Nothing but Ben Franklin's cheerful and
resolute spirit could have induced them to persevere.

Ben, as might be expected, was the soul of the enterprise. By his
mechanical genius, he contrived methods to lighten the labor of
transporting the stones; so that one boy, under his directions, would
perform as much as half a dozen, if left to themselves. Whenever their
spirits flagged, he had some joke ready, which seemed to renew their
strength by setting them all into a roar of laughter. And when, after an
hour or two of hard work, the stones were transported to the water-side,
Ben Franklin was the engineer, to superintend the construction of the
wharf.

The boys, like a colony of ants, performed a great deal of labor by their
multitude, though the individual strength of each could have accomplished
but little. Finally, just as the moon sank below the horizon, the great
work was finished.

"Now, boys," cried Ben, "let's give three cheers, and go home to bed.
To-morrow, we may catch fish at our ease!" "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
shouted his comrades.

Then they all went home, in such an ecstasy of delight that they could
hardly get a wink of sleep.

The story was not yet finished; but George's impatience caused him to
interrupt it.

"How I wish that I could have helped to build that wharf!" exclaimed he.
"It must have been glorious fun. Ben Franklin for ever, say I!"

"It was a very pretty piece of work," said Mr. Temple. "But wait till you
hear the end of the story."

"Father," inquired Edward, "whereabouts in Boston was the mill-pond, on
which Ben built his wharf?"

"I do not exactly know," answered Mr. Temple; "but I suppose it to have
been on the northern verge of the town, in the vicinity of what are now
called Merrimack and Charlestown streets. That thronged portion of the
city was once a marsh. Some of it, in fact, was covered with water."

As the children had no more questions to ask, Mr. Temple proceeded to
relate what consequences ensued from the building of Ben Franklin's wharf.

In the morning, when the early sunbeams were gleaming on the steeples and
roofs of the town, and gilding the water that surrounded it, the masons
came, rubbing their eyes, to begin their work at the foundation of the new
house. But, on reaching the spot, they rubbed their eyes so much the
harder. What had become of their heap of stones!

"Why, Sam," said one to another, in great perplexity, "here's been some
witchcraft at work, while we were asleep. The stones must have flown away
through the air!"

"More likely they have been stolen!" answered Sam.

"But who on earth would think of stealing a heap of stones?" cried a
third. "Could a man carry them away in his pocket?"

The master-mason, who was a gruff kind of man, stood scratching his head,
and said nothing, at first. But, looking carefully on the ground, he
discerned innumerable tracks of little feet, some with shoes, and some
barefoot. Following these tracks with his eye, he saw that they formed a
beaten path towards the water-side.

"Ah, I see what the mischief is," said he, nodding his head. "Those little
rascals, the boys! they have stolen our stones to build a wharf with!"

The masons immediately went to examine the new structure. And to say the
truth, it was well worth looking at, so neatly, and with such admirable
skill, had it been planned and finished. The stones were put together so
securely, that there was no danger of their being loosened by the tide,
however swiftly it might sweep along. There was a broad and safe platform
to stand upon, whence the little fishermen might cast their lines into
deep water, and draw up fish in abundance. Indeed, it almost seemed as if
Ben and his comrades might be forgiven for taking the stones, because they
had done their job in such a workmanlike manner.

"The chaps, that built this wharf, understood their business pretty well,"
said one of the masons. "I should not be ashamed of such a piece of work
myself."

But the master-mason did not seem to enjoy the joke. He was one of those
unreasonable people, who care a great deal more for their own rights and
privileges, than for the convenience of all the rest of the world.

"Sam," said he, more gruffly than usual, "go call a constable."

So Sam called a constable, and inquiries were set on foot to discover the
perpetrators of the theft. In the course of the day, warrants were issued,
with the signature of a Justice of the Peace, to take the bodies of
Benjamin Franklin and other evil-disposed persons, who had stolen a heap
of stones. If the owner of the stolen property had not been more merciful
than the master-mason, it might have gone hard with our friend Benjamin
and his fellow-laborers. But, luckily for them, the gentleman had a
respect for Ben's father, and moreover, was amused with the spirit of the
whole affair. He therefore let the culprits off pretty easily.