There was a fine, busy old gentleman that young Franklin met about the time that he opened his printing office, whose course it will be interesting to follow. Almost every young man sometimes meets a man of this type and character. He is certain to be found, as are any of the deterrent people in the Pilgrim's Progress. He is the man in whose eyes there is ruin lurking in every form of prosperity, who sees only the dark side of things—to whom, as we now say, everything "is going to the dogs."
We will call him Mr. Calamity, for that name represents what he had come to be as a prophet.[B]
One day young Franklin heard behind him the tap, tap, tap of a cane. It was a time when Philadelphia was beginning to rise, and promised unparalleled prosperity. The cane stopped with a heavy sound.
"What—what is this I hear?" said Mr. Calamity. "You are starting a printing office, they say. I am sorry, sorry."
"Why are you sorry, sir?" asked the young printer.
"Oh, you are a smart, capable young man, one who in the right place would succeed in life. I hate to see you throw yourself away."
"But is not this the right place?"
"What, Philadelphia?"
"Yes, it is growing."