Whether so or not,
his father learned of the fact, and the following interview will show
what he thought of it:
"I am ashamed to see you engaged in such a business, Benjamin. It is
unworthy of a son of Josiah Franklin."
"Why so, father? I can't understand you."
"Because it is not an honorable business. You are not a poet, and can
write nothing of that sort worth printing."
"James approved of the pieces, and proposed that I should print and
sell them," Benjamin pleaded.
"James is not a good judge of poetry, nor of the propriety of hawking
them about town. It is wretched stuff, and I am ashamed that you are
known as the author. Look here; let me show you wherein it is
defective."
Benjamin was so dumbfounded that he could not say much in reply; and
his father proceeded to expose the faults of the poetical effusion. He
did not spare the young author at all; nor was he cautious and lenient
in his criticisms. On the other hand, he was severe. And he went on
until Benjamin began to feel sorry that he had ever written a scrap of
poetry.
"There, I want you should promise me," continued his father, "that you
will never deal in such wares again, and that you will stick to your
business of setting up type."
"Perhaps I may improve by practice," suggested Benjamin, whose
estimation of his literary venture was modified considerably by this
time.
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