At twenty-one he
could neither read nor write.
We have turned aside from our narrative to record a somewhat barbaric
custom of our forefathers, that the reader may appreciate all the more
the higher civilization and more congenial experiences of this age.
Benjamin had become a printer-boy as fully equipped for duty as
documents, pledges, and promises could make him. His _heart_ entered
into this new work, and his _head_ also. The business set him to
thinking. He liked it. Indeed, he could find no fault with it. The
business liked him, too; that is, he had a tact for it--he was adapted
to it. The boy and the trade were suited to each other. Hence, he
became even fascinated with it.
"I like it better than I thought I should," he said to his mother. "I
have to use my brains more in putting a single paragraph into type
than I did in filling a whole regiment of candle-moulds. I like it
better and better."
"I am glad to hear that, though I rather expected as much. If you like
it as well as James does, you will like it well enough. He is
thoroughly satisfied with his trade, and I think he will find it to be
a profitable one by and by. In a new country it takes time to build up
almost any trade."
Mrs. Franklin spoke from a full heart, for she had great interest in
Benjamin's chosen pursuit, because she believed that he possessed
remarkable talents.
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