Part 68

"I will go," replied Benjamin; "and I must go at once if I go at all."

They posted off, Benjamin querying on the way whether the governor of New York would prove as friendly to him as the governor of Pennsylvania.

It was a pleasant call he had upon the governor. This dignitary gave him a cordial welcome, took him into his library, conversed with him about books and authors, complimented him for his love of learning and his evident high aims, and invited him to call whenever he should visit New York. Benjamin began to think that governors had a particular passion for him; and what little vanity he possessed became inflated. Many years thereafter, referring to the experience, he said: "This was the second governor who had done me the honor to take notice of me; and, for a poor boy like me, it was very pleasing." If he had been as foolish as some youth, and some men, too, he would have concluded that it pays to run away, since the only boy that two governors were known to patronize especially was a runaway. But we repeat what we have said before, that Benjamin, the wise son, never concluded that it pays to run away from home. He met with some pleasant experiences, but they came, not through his runaway qualities, but through his aspiring and noble aims.

Collins was not too drunk to understand that Benjamin went to see the governor by invitation, and he was on tiptoe to learn what it all meant.

"Been to see the governor, hey?" he said.

"Yes; and I should have taken you if you had not been drunk."

"Good on you, Ben; you'll be governor yourself yet." And John laughed at his own suggestion as only a silly drinker will.

"You will not, John, unless you change your course. I have a mind to leave you here in New York; then I shall not be disgraced by you in Philadelphia. If you can't keep sober for your own sake nor mine, I want nothing more to do with you."

This was a revelation to John. He had not dreamed of being left penniless and friendless in New York. So he was ready to make promises of the most flattering kind, in order to proceed with Benjamin to Philadelphia.

"But you promised me as squarely as possible in Boston that you would not drink any more," continued Benjamin. "Your promise is not worth any thing to me, when it is worth nothing to you; and it is not worth as much to you as a glass of brandy. I am tempted to leave you and all your truck in the sloop here in New York."

John begged and entreated Benjamin not to desert him now, and promised by all that was great and good that he would stop drinking and lead a sober life. In the circumstances, Benjamin could scarcely do otherwise than to pay his bill at the inn and take him along with him, though he very reluctantly decided to do so. Having collected the thirty-five pounds for Mr. Vernon, paid John's bill, and transacted some other business, by the time the sloop was ready to sail, they proceeded to Philadelphia.

There is no record preserved of his experience on the sloop between New York and Philadelphia, except a paragraph in a letter written by Doctor Franklin to Doctor Priestley, in 1780, when the former was seventy-four years of age. He related the experience in order to illustrate the truth, "that all situations in life have their inconveniences." The paragraph is as follows:

"In my youth, I was passenger in a little sloop, descending the river Delaware. There being no wind, we were obliged, when the ebb was spent, to cast anchor and wait for the next. The heat of the sun on the vessel was excessive, the company strangers to me, and not very agreeable. Near the river-side I saw what I took to be a pleasant green meadow, in the middle of which was a large shady tree, where, it struck my fancy, I could sit and read (having a book in my pocket), and pass the time agreeably till the tide turned. I therefore prevailed with the captain to put me ashore. Being landed, I found the greatest part of my meadow was really a marsh, in crossing which, to come at my tree, I was up to my knees in mire; and I had not placed myself under its shade five minutes, before the mosquitoes in swarms found me out, attacked my legs, hands, and face, and made my reading and my rest impossible; so that I returned to the beach, and called for the boat to come and take me on board again, where I was obliged to bear the heat I had strove to quit, and also the laugh of the company. Similar cases in the affairs of life have since frequently fallen under my observation."

In these modern days, it would be said that, when Benjamin arrived in Philadelphia, he "had an elephant on his hands." The most unmanageable and dangerous sort of an elephant on one's hands is a dissolute friend. Benjamin scarcely knew what to do with John. It troubled him exceedingly. But he was wont to make the best of everything, and so he did in this case.

He took John with him to his boarding place, promising to pay his bills until he could find work in some counting-room. John was well qualified for such business, and Benjamin supposed that he could readily find a situation. His estimate of Collins, before and after he began to drink to excess, is given by his own pen, as follows:

"At New York I found my friend Collins, who had arrived there some time before me. We had been intimate from children, and had read the same books together; but he had the advantage of more time for reading and studying, and a wonderful genius for mathematical learning, in which he far outstripped me. While I lived in Boston, most of my hours of leisure for conversation were spent with him, and he continued a sober as well as industrious lad; was much respected for his learning by several of the clergy and other gentlemen, and seemed to promise making a good figure in life. But, during my absence, he had acquired a habit of drinking brandy and I found by his own account, as well as that of others, that he had been drunk every day since his arrival at New York, and behaved himself in a very extravagant manner. He had gamed, too, and lost his money, so that I was obliged to discharge his lodgings, and defray his expenses on the road and at Philadelphia; which proved a great burden to me."

Benjamin called upon Governor Keith as soon as possible, with a letter from his father, in which the governor was thanked and praised for his kindness to his son.

"Your father is too cautious," remarked the governor, after reading the letter. "Some young men are better qualified to do business for themselves at eighteen than others are at twenty-one."

"He said that he would assist me at twenty-one if I should need assistance," replied Benjamin.

"Yes; he says so in this letter. But I think you will be established in a good business three years from now, and need no help. Some aid now will do more for you than at any future time."

"I dare say that is true; but, as father declines to do it, that ends the matter, I suppose."

"No; not by any means," replied the governor, earnestly. "If your father will not set you up in business, I'll see what I can do for you. I want a first-class printing house in this town; and a young man like you, capable of running it, should be encouraged."

"That is more than I expected, and I shall feel myself under great obligations to you for aid of that kind, if you deem it best." Benjamin spoke in a tone of grateful feeling, but without the least show of importunity.

"I do deem it best; and I will give you a start in business. You can keep the matter a secret; continue at work for Keimer, and use your first leisure moments to make out an inventory of what a first-class printing establishment requires. That will be the first thing."

"How soon will you want the inventory of articles?"

"As soon as you can make it out. I shall be obliged to send to England for them, and that will take considerable time."

It was a lengthy interview that Benjamin had with the governor, and he was very much elated by this turn of affairs. It looked now as if he would start the printing business in Philadelphia under the patronage of the governor himself! That seemed to promise more than to go into business by the aid of only a tallow-chandler.

He reported next to Keimer, who was glad to welcome him back, especially so because he had considerable work on hand, and no person could turn it off like Benjamin.