ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN
Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten shillings a day, by his labour, and goes abroad, or sits idle one half of that day, though he spends but six-pence during his diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only expense; he has really spent, or rather thrown away five shillings besides.
Remember that credit is money. If a man let his money lie in my hands, after it is due, he gives me the interest, or so much as I can make of it, during that time. This amounts to a considerable sum where a man has good and large credit, and makes good use of it.
Remember that money is of a very breeding prolific nature. Money begets money; and its offspring can beget more: and so on. Five shillings turned is six. Turned again it is seven and three-pence; and so on, till it becomes hundreds and thousands of pounds. The more there is of it, the more it produces, every turning; so that the profits rise quicker and quicker. He, who kills a breeding sow, destroys all her offspring, to the thousandth generation. He, who murders a crown, destroys all that it might have produced; even scores of pounds.
Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a day. For this little sum, which may be daily wasted either in time or expense, unperceived, a man of credit may, on his own security, have the constant possession and use of an hundred pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious man, produces great advantages.
Remember this saying, "the good paymaster is lord of another man's purse." He who is known to pay punctually and exactly to the time he promises, may, at any time, and on any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This is sometimes of great use. After industry and frugality, nothing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the world, than punctuality and justice in all his dealings. Therefore never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend's purse for ever.
The most trifling actions, that affect a man's credit, are to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer; but if he see you at a billiard table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his money next day; and demands it before he can receive it in a lump.
It shows, besides, that you are mindful of what you owe. It makes you appear a careful as well as an honest man; and that still increases your credit.
Beware of thinking all your own, that you possess; and of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many people, who have credit, fall into.
To prevent this, keep an exact account, for some time, both of your expenses and your income. If you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will have this good effect:—you will discover how wonderfully small, trifling expenses mount up to large sums; and will soon discern, what might have been, and may for the future be saved, without occasioning any great inconvenience.
Again: he, who sells upon credit, asks a price, for what he sells, equivalent to the principal and interest of his money, for the time he is to be kept out of it. Therefore, he who buys upon credit, pays interest for what he buys; and, he who pays ready money, might let that money out to use. So, that he who possesses any thing he has bought, pays interest for the use of it.
Yet, in buying goods, it is best to pay ready money; because, he who sells upon credit, expects to lose five per cent, by bad debts. Therefore, he charges, on all he sells upon credit, an advance that shall make up that deficiency.
Those who pay for what they buy upon credit, pay their share of this advance.
He who pays ready money, escapes, or may escape that charge.
A penny sav'd is two-pence clear,
A pin a day's a groat a year.
In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words: Industry and Frugality. Waste neither time nor money; but make the best use of both. Without industry and frugality, nothing will do; but with them every thing. He who gets all he can, honestly, and saves all he gets, necessary expenses excepted, will certainly become rich; if that Being who governs the world, to whom all should look for a blessing on their honest endeavours, doth not, in his wise providence, otherwise determine.
AN OLD TRADESMAN.
Every reader will be diverted with the following.
IDLE CURIOSITY CURED
On his first trip, by land, to see his father in Boston, he was worried almost to death by the abominable inquisitiveness of the New England tavern-keepers.
Neither man nor beast could travel among them in comfort. No matter how wet or weary, how hungry or thirsty, the poor traveller might be, he was not to expect an atom of refreshment from these silly publicans until their most pestiferous curiosity was first gratified. And then Job himself could not stand such questions as they would goad him with; such as, where he came from—and where he might be a-going—and what religion he might be of—and if he was a married man—and so on. After having been prodigiously teazed in this way for several days, until at last the bare sight of a public house almost threw him into an ague, he determined to try the following remedy at the very next tavern. Soon as he alighted from his horse he desired the tavern keeper to collect his whole family, wife, children, and servants, every soul of them; for that he had something vastly important to communicate. All being assembled and wondering what he had to say, he thus addressed them. "My name is Benjamin Franklin. I am a printer by trade. I live, when at home, in Philadelphia. In Boston I have a father, a good old man who taught me, when I was a little boy, to read my book and say my prayers. I have, ever since, thought it my duty to visit and pay my respects to such a father; and I am on that errand to Boston now. This is all that I can at present recollect of myself that I think worth telling you. But if you can think of any thing else that you wish to know about me, I beg you to out with it at once, that I may answer, and so give you opportunity to get me something to eat; for I long to be on my journey that I may return as soon as possible to my family and business, where I most of all delight to be."
Forty thousand sermons against Idle Curiosity could hardly have driven it so effectually out of New England as did this little squib of ridicule.
The following jeu d'esprit is peculiarly in character with Dr. Franklin. It proves that his wit and his benevolence were equal to every emergence, and that if he carried the Old Testament language in his head, he carried the New Testament spirit in his heart.
WIT AND PERSECUTION
The conversation turning, one day, on persecution, a doctor of divinity, distinguished for his wit, but, unfortunately, a little too much infected with that acrimony which is caught by reading books of religious controversy, took the part of persecution and contended that it was sometimes right to employ it. Franklin said, he could not think of any case wherein persecution was admissible among rational creatures. It might be very excusable in error to persecute, whose nature it was to see things wrong, and to get angry; but that for such a "divinity as truth," to persecute, was, in his opinion, a sin against the Holy Ghost, never to be forgiven. After using, in his facetious manner, a variety of arguments honourable to wit and philanthropy, and the clergyman still remaining unconvinced, Franklin called out to him with an air of great surprise, "Why, my dear sir, I am astonished that you plead thus for persecution when it is so diametrically opposite to your Bible."
The clergyman replied, that he did not know what doctor Franklin meant. He thought, he said, he knew something of his Bible, but he did not recollect any chapter in point.
"No, sir!" answered Franklin, still with the look and voice of surprise, "not that memorable chapter concerning Abraham and the poor man! Pray, sir, favour us with your Bible a minute or two."
"With all my heart," replied the clergyman, "I should like to see that memorable chapter."
The company manifested a solicitude for the issue of the pending controversy—the family Bible was brought and laid on the table by the side of doctor Franklin. "Well, reverend sir," said he, looking at the preacher, as he took up the Bible, "shall I read this chapter?"
"Certainly," replied the divine, settling himself in his chair to listen.—The eyes of all were fixed on Franklin; when, opening the Bible and turning back the leaves as to find the place, he thus audibly began:—
The twenty-seventh chapter of the first book of Moses, commonly called the book of Genesis.
1. And it came to pass, after these things, that Abraham sat in the door of his tent, about the going down of the sun.
2. And behold a man, bowed with age, coming from the way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff.
3. And Abraham arose, and met him, and said unto him, turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all night, and thou shalt arise early in the morning and go on thy way.
4. But the man said, nay, for I will abide under this tree.
5. And Abraham pressed him greatly; so he turned, and they went into the tent; and Abraham baked unleavened bread, and they did eat.
6. And when Abraham saw that the man blessed not God, he said unto him, wherefore dost thou not worship the most high God, Creator of heaven and earth.
7. And the man answered and said, I do not worship thy God, neither do I call upon his name; for I have made to myself a God, which abideth always in mine house, and provideth me all things.
8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against the man, and he arose and fell upon him, and drove him forth with blows into the wilderness.
9. And at midnight God called unto Abraham, saying, where is the stranger?
10. And Abraham answered, and said, Lord, he would not worship thee, neither would he call upon thy name, therefore have I driven him out from before my face into the wilderness.
11. And God said, have I borne with him these hundred and ninety and eight years, and nourished him and clothed him, notwithstanding his rebellion against me; and couldest not thou, that art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night?
12. And Abraham said, let not the anger of my Lord wax hot against his servant; lo, I have sinned: forgive me, I pray thee.
13. And he arose, and went forth into the wilderness, and sought diligently for the man and found him:
14. And returned with him to his tent; and when he had entreated him kindly, he sent him away in the morning with gifts.
15. And God spake again unto Abraham, saying, for this thy sin, shall thy seed be afflicted four hundred years in a strange land:
16. But for thy repentance, will I deliver them; and they shall come forth with power, and with gladness of heart, and with much substance.
That witty but splenetic old bachelor, Dean Swift, used to say, that "there was no dispute which a man of a tolerably good head and heart might not easily avoid falling into, or honourably get out of; and, therefore, as none but fools and rascals fought duels, the sooner such beasts cut each other's throats, the better for the community." This, no doubt, is very true, but still it is too much like striking with a war club, or tomahawk, to be allowed among christians. The following impromptu on duelling, by Dr. Franklin, claims a far higher admiration. It is an arrow pointed with the diamond of wit, dipt in the oil of kindness, that wounds but to heal.
THE FOLLY OF DUELLING
This most pusillanimous practice was one day made the theme of conversation in a large party in London, where Doctor Franklin dined. The philosophers and divines of the company joined unanimously to execrate it; and so many sensible and severe things were said against it, that everybody seemed willing to give it up to its father, the devil, except a young officer, whose ugly distortions showed plainly enough that he did not at all relish their strictures. Soon as they were done, he called aloud, "well, gentlemen, you may preach as much as you please against duelling, but I'll never pocket an insult for all that. No, if any man affront me, I'll call him to an account, if I lose my life for it."
The philosophers and divines looked at each other in silence, like fools who had shot their last bolt.
Here Franklin took up the cudgels; and looking at the young officer with a smile, said, "This, sir, puts me in mind of an affair that lately happened in a Philadelphia coffee-house."
The young fellow, rather pertly, said he should like to hear what had lately happened in a Philadelphia coffee-house.
"Why, sir," continued the doctor, "two gentlemen were sitting together in the coffee-house, when one said to the other, for heaven's sake, sir, sit further off, and don't poison me; you smell as bad as a pole-cat."
"Sir," resorted the other, "what do you mean? Draw, and defend yourself."
"O, sir," quoth the first, "I'll meet you in a moment, if you insist on it; but let's see first how that's to mend the matter. If you kill me, I shall smell as bad as a pole-cat too. And if I kill you, you will only smell ten times worse."
In short, that divine motto,
"Homo sum, nil humani a me alienum puto."
In English thus,
A man I am, in man I take a part,
And good of man is ever next my heart.
has seldom been more justly applied than to Dr. Franklin. He seems to have been all eye, all ear, all touch, to every thing that affected human happiness. Did he, even at the early age of twenty-five, form an acquaintance with young persons fond of reading, but unable to purchase books? Instantly he suggested the plan for obviating that great, great misfortune, by founding a Public Library; whereby, at a small expense in hand, and a much smaller paid annually, a subscriber might have his choice of books, on all subjects, whether of pleasure or profit. This Library, which was commenced in 1731, by Franklin and only thirty-seven members, and no more than one hundred volumes, consisting of much little parcels of books as each subscriber possessed, is now, 1820, enlarged to six hundred members, and upwards of twenty thousand volumes.
The great advantages arising from this library became so sensibly felt that others were soon founded; and they have now kindled up their salutary lights not only in several parts of the city, but in almost every county in the state. From the choicest books on Religion, Morals, History, Voyages, Travels, &c. thus brought home to their fire-sides and constantly lying on their mantlepieces, the citizens derive advantages incalculable. Their idle hours, formerly so dangerous, were now innocently filled up; solitude was cheered with a succession of new ideas; company enlivened by witty conversation, and labour itself sweetened by the thought of a beloved book at night.
With their taste thus exalted to better pleasures, the youth of all classes were saved from the brutalizing sensualities that destroy character and health. Having their understandings enlightened, they were led to greater virtues and usefulness. And being thus taught to enjoy life, they felt the strongest inducements to preserve it. Hence the astonishing prosperity of Philadelphia in industry and morals, population and wealth.
The mother Library now displays its twenty thousand volumes, in an elegant building, on the corner of Fifth and Chestnut. In a niche on the wall above the door is a fine marble likeness of Dr. Franklin at full length, presented by William Bingham, Esq.
Again:—Did Franklin catch a glimpse of those poor pusillanimous creatures, who rather than live nobly independent in the pure aired country, by cultivating their own sweet vegetables, and raising fat poultry, will run into the sickly towns to sell whiskey and apples in the summer, and take their chance to starve and freeze in the winter? Did he, I say, catch a glimpse of these poor spiritless creatures with their children, shivering over small fires kindled by a little "charity wood?" Instantly his bowels of compassion were stirred within him. Although he was no friend to such lazy self-made paupers, nor to the miserable policy that winks at them, yet it was impossible for him to remain unconcerned at their sufferings. In a letter to one of his friends, he says, "since we can get no more wood for the poor, we must try from that wood to get more warmth for them." He set himself to examine the principles of the stoves generally in use. His genius, as usual, discovered such room for amendment, that he soon came out with a stove, which to this day, in honour of him, is called "the franklin stove," and wherein one cord of charity oak would afford as much heat and comfort to those poor people, as two cords in the old way!
Did he hear the shrill midnight cry of fire! and mark the deep distress of the citizens, as with tearful eyes they beheld the flames swallowing up their pleasant habitations and furniture? Instantly he set himself to call up all the energies of the public against this dire calamity, and to point them to the only adequate remedy, Mutual Insurance Companies.
"Man," said he, in his calls to the citizens through his popular newspaper, "Man separate from man, is but a feeble creature; and like the filament of flax before the thread is formed, he is without strength, because without connexion. But union will make us strong, and enable us to do all things essential to our safety. The houses burnt every year are, compared with all the houses in the city, but few. And were all the housekeepers in the city, joined for mutual security, to pay a certain sum; and were that sum put to interest, it would not only cover all the losses by fire, but would bring in every year, clear profit on his money to each subscriber."
Numbers of the citizens came into his scheme; and a large "Mutual Insurance Company," was immediately formed. The great benefits, foretold to flow from it, being soon realized, several others were presently set on foot: and now (in 1820,) there are, in Philadelphia, no fewer than forty engines, with eight thousand feet of hose, (strong leather pipes,) to convey the water from the pumps or hydrants to the engines; whereby in less than two minutes they are in full play, pouring their watery cataracts on the flames. Hence, while for lack of one Franklin, one intelligent and public spirited philanthropist, many of our promising young towns are suddenly turned to ashes, and their hapless families, driven out naked into the weather; the favoured citizens of Philadelphia, guarded by forty engines, and hundreds of well trained young firemen, seldom suffer any thing beyond a momentary pang from this most alarming element!
CHAPTER XXXVI
"To him who hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance."
The life of Dr. Franklin appears to have been one continued exemplification of this most animating promise; for scarcely had he finished that noble work just mentioned, before he was called to another which acquired him a still higher reputation, I mean his wonderful discoveries in electricity, and his application of them to the preservation of human life and property. The manner in which this honour was conferred on Dr. Franklin, is enough to convince all honest minds that there is a kind Providence over the ways of men, that often turns their "seeming evils into real good."
Among the many benefits which he derived from the dangerous scenes of London, where he was so severely tried, and where he so gloriously triumphed, was his acquaintance with a Mr. Collinson, of that city. This gentleman had a soul of uncommon sensibility to the charms of virtue. His first interview with Franklin, was in Watts's printing-office. The sight of a youthful stranger, not yet out of his teens, exhibiting such practical lessons of virtue to the deluded young porter drinkers of London, filled him with admiration of his character. On getting acquainted with him, he was in pleasing doubt, whether most to esteem his heart or admire his head.
When Franklin left England, the generous Collinson accompanied him on board the ship, and at parting, the two friends exchanged canes, with promises of everlasting friendship and constant correspondence by letters. Soon as all London had become filled with the aforesaid rage for electricity, and electrical experiments, Collinson wrote the whole history of them to Franklin, with a compliment to his genius, and an earnest request that he would turn it to that subject, and accompanied all with the present of a small electrical instrument. Franklin's curiosity was excited. He immediately set to work; and presently made discoveries that far exceeded all that Collinson had promised himself. He discovered the power of metallic points to draw off the electrical matter—he discovered a positive and a negative state of electricity—he explained on electrical principles, the phenomena of the famous Leyden vial—he explained the phenomena of the aurora borealis, and of thunder-gusts—he showed the striking resemblance in many respects between electricity and lightning.
1 st. In giving light.
2 d. In colour of the light.
3 d. In crooked direction.
4 th. In swiftness of motion.
5 th. In being conducted by metals.
6 th. In cracking in exploding.
7 th. In subsisting in water or ice.
8 th. In rending the bodies it passeth through.
9 th. In killing animals.
10 th. In melting metals.
11 th. Firing inflammable substances.
12 th. Emitting a sulphurous smell.
13 th. In being attracted by iron points.
"We do not, indeed," says he, "know that this property is in lightning, but since electricity and lightning agree in so many other particulars, is it not probable that they agree also in this?"
He resolved at any rate to make the experiment. But foreseeing what a blessing it would be to mankind, to disarm the lightnings of their power to harm, he did not in the pitiful spirit of ordinary inventors, cautiously conceal the dawnings of a discovery that promised so much glory to his name. On the contrary, and with a philanthropy that throws eternal loveliness over his character, he published his ideas, inviting all the philosophers to make experiments on this important subject, and even pointed the way, i.e. by insulated bars of iron raised to considerable heights in the air.
Immediately, metallic bars, some of them forty feet high, were raised towards the heavens, by sundry philosophers, both in France and England. But God, as if pleased with such disinterested virtue, determined to reserve to Franklin the honour of confirming the truth of his own great theory. His plan to accomplish this, was in that simplicity which characterizes all his inventions.
To a common kite, made of silk rather than paper, because of the rain, he fixed a slender iron point. The string which he chose for his kite was of silk, because of the fondness of lightning for silk; and for the same reason, at the lower end of the string he tied a key. With this simple preparation, he went out on the commons back of Philadelphia, as a thundergust was coming on, and raised his kite towards the clouds. The lightning soon found out his metallic rod, as it soared aloft on the wings of the kite, and greeted its polished point with a cordial kiss. With joy he beheld the loose fibres of his string raised by the fond salute of the celestial visitant.
He hastened to clap his knuckle to the key, and behold, a smart spark! having repeated a second, and a third time, he charged a phial with this strange visitor from the clouds, and found that it exploded gunpowder, set spirits of wine on fire, and performed in all respects as the electrical fluid.
It is not easy to express the pleasure which this clear confirmation of his theory must have given to our benevolent philosopher, who had already counted up some of the great services which he should thereby render to the world.
He lost no time in communicating these discoveries to his friend Collinson in London, by whom they were read with unimaginable joy. Collinson instantly laid them before the Royal Society, not doubting but they would be printed among their papers, with the same enthusiasm which he had felt. But to his great mortification they were utterly rejected. Upon this, Collinson went in high dudgeon and printed them himself, which was looked on as a very desperate kind of undertaking, especially as he chose for his book, a title that seemed to carry a death warrant on its face, viz. "New Experiments on Electricity, made at Philadelphia, in North America." Some ventured however to read the Experiments on Electricity made in North America, though with pretty nearly such motives as usually lead people to see the learned pig, or to hear a woman preach. But the scoffers were soon turned into admirers. Discoveries so new and astonishing, presented in a manner so simple, struck every reader with admiration and pleasure. The book soon crossed the British channel, and was translated into most of the languages of Europe. A copy of it, though miserably translated, had the fortune to fall into the hands of the celebrated Buffon, who immediately repeated the experiments and with the most complete success. Lewis XV. hearing of these curious exhibitions, expressed a wish to be a spectator of them. A course of experiments was made before him and his court, to their exceeding surprise and diversion, by Buffon and De Lor. The history of electricity has not recorded those experiments. But it is probable, that they were not of so comic a character as the following, wherewith Dr. Franklin would sometimes astonish and delight his Philadelphia friends, during the intervals of his severer studies.
I. In the presence of a large party at his house, he took up a pistol which he had beforehand charged with inflammable air, well stopped with a cork, and presented it to Miss Seaton, a celebrated belle in those days. She took it from the doctor, but could not help turning pale, as though some conjuration was brewing. "Don't be afraid, madam," said he, "for I give you my word that there is not a grain of powder in it; and now turn it against any gentleman in the room that you are angry with." With a sudden blush, she turned it towards a gentleman whom she soon after married. In the same instant, the doctor drew a charged rod near the mouth of the pistol, the electric spark rushed in, and set fire to the inflammable air; off went the pistol; out flew the cork, and striking her lover a smart shock in the face, fell down on the floor, to the exceeding terror at first, but afterwards, to the equal diversion of the young lady and the whole company. This he called the magic pistol.
II. At another time, in a large party at his house, all eager, as usual, to see some of his electrical curiosities, he took from the drawer a number of little dogs, made of the pith of elder, with straw for feet and tails, and set them on the table. All eyes were fixed on him. "Well, Miss Eliza," said he, addressing the elegant Miss E. Sitgreaves, "can you set these little dogs a dancing?" "No indeed, I can't," replied she. "Well," replied he, "if I had such a pair of eyes as you have, I think I could do it." She blushed. "However, let us see," continued he, "if we can't do something." He then took a large tumbler from the table, which he had previously charged with the electric fluid, and clapped the tumbler over the dogs; whereupon they instantly fell to skipping and jumping up the sides of the tumbler, as if they were half mad to get out of it. This he called "the DANCING DOGS."
III. During something like a levee, at his house, one night, a couple of ladies who had been at London and Paris, were speaking in rapturous terms of the splendours of those royal courts, and of the diamond stars which they had seen, glittering with more than solar lustre on the breasts of the Prince of Wales and the Dauphin. At length one of the fair orators, as if wrought up to a perfect adoration of the wondrous stars which she had been so elegantly depicting, turned to the doctor, and smartly asked him if he would not like mightily to have such a star. "To be sure, madam," replied he with his usual gallantry, "and suppose we order one?" She looked surprised. "Boy," continued he, "bring me down one of my electrical jars, and put it on the sideboard." While the servant was gone, the doctor took a plate of tin, and cutting it into a dozen angles, like a star, poised it on a wire projecting from his prime conductor. "Well now, ladies, put out the candles, and you shall see a star not inferior to that of the prince of Wales." The candles were put out, and a turn or two of the jar being made, the lightning flew to the plate of tin, and appeared at the extremities of its angles, in a blaze of light beautiful as the morning star. This he called "the electric star."
IV. On his sideboard was placed an electrical jar, concealed behind a large picture of a man dressed in purple and fine linen. At a short distance stood a little brass pillar, in front of which was the picture of a poor man lying down ragged and wan as Lazarus. From the ceiling, and reaching down to the sideboard, was suspended by a fine thread, the picture of a boy, with a face benevolent and beautiful as a youthful cherub. "Well, now, gentlemen, do you know who these are?—This is the proud, unfeeling Dives; that, the poor dying Lazarus; and here is a beautiful boy, that for humanity's sake, we will call the son of Dives. Now gentlemen, can any of you make this lovely child the minister of Dives' bounty to poor Lazarus?"
They all confessed their inability; regarding him at the same time with an eye of expectation. Without being noticed by his company, he charged the jar behind the picture of Dives with electric fluid from his prime conductor. Instantly, the beauteous youth flew to it, and getting charged flew to the brass pillar behind Lazarus, which possessed no electricity, and imparted to it his whole load. He then flew back to the jar of Dives, and receiving a second supply, hastened to poor Lazarus and emptied himself again. And thus it went on to the astonishment of the spectators, alternately receiving and imparting until it had established a balance between them, and then, as if satisfied, it came to a pause.