The former, usually without the means and often without the advantages of paternal or maternal care, is compelled to become familiar with men and things, without a knowledge of which, the classics are a mere toy and the high branches of science only an ornament. With the never ending every day concerns of life where usefulness holds her dominion they have little to do. A man of letters who is unacquainted with the routine of business transactions is incapable of protecting his own interests—of course he cannot be useful to community until he goes through another and more important course of study. A great change is necessary in most of our colleges to make full men of students. Hence the blasted hopes of many a fond father who is led astray by the popular error—that colleges mould all their students into men. A large majority of the most useful citizens of our country, from its first settlement to the present time, never enjoyed a collegiate education. Especially was this the case with many of the sages and heroes of the Revolution whose memory we delight to honor and perpetuate.

Such was the case of Benjamin Franklin, born at Boston on 17th of January 1706—exactly ninety years before the writer. His father was among the Puritans who fled from persecution and sought repose in the wilds of Massachusetts. His parents were poor but honest and respectable. This may seem paradoxical to the aristocracy of the present day—but is unquestionably true. The time was when poverty was not a crime nor wealth a mask for corruption. Honesty and industry were formerly the brightest stars on the escutcheon of fame.

At an early age Benjamin Franklin exhibited a mind of superior cast and a strong desire for improvement. His pious parents advanced his education as far as their limited means would enable them being anxious to see this son prepared for the pulpit. At the age of ten years his father was compelled to take him from school to aid him in the chandler business. This did not arrest the onward course of his genius. Original in every trait of his character, eccentric in his manner, the child of bold experiment, he commenced the study of natural philosophy in the midst of candle wicks, tallow and soap. He first ascertained the precise quantity of sleep and food requisite to sustain nature and the kind of aliment most conducive to health. At that early age he adopted a system of temperance, frugality and economy, worthy the imitation of men. He accustomed himself to meet every disappointment without a murmur. He continued to improve his mind by reading during every hour he was not at labor. Nothing passed by him unnoticed. His expanding intellect drew philosophy from nature, things and men. He reasoned, analyzed, moralized and improved from everything he saw. Hence the vast and rapid expansion of his towering genius that ultimately commanded the awe of kings and the admiration of the world—comprehending the philosophy of mind, nature, science, art, government—all the relations of creation from the dust under his feet—the myriads of animalculæ in a drop of water, up to the bright seraphs in the skies and up to Nature's God.

A mind like his would not long be confined in a chandler shop. Open and honest at all times and under all circumstances, he apprised his father of his wish to change his occupation. He was bound to his brother to learn the art of printing. His industry enabled him to master his profession rapidly. All his leisure moments were employed in study, thus preparing himself for a useful and glorious career through future life—leaving a bright example worthy the imitation of every apprentice in our country.

So intently bent on the acquisition of knowledge—he often preferred his book to his meal and studied whole nights—defying the commands of Morpheus. He was paid a weekly sum for his board and adopting a simple vegetable diet was enabled to save money for the purchase of books. He selected them with reference to substantial usefulness. He studied with enthusiasm the Memorabilia of Xenophon and found a model in Socrates which he delighted in imitating.

About this time he was seized with the scribbling mania. Committing the usual error of youthful authors—he offered his first sacrifice to Calliope the goddess of heroic poetry. The production was applauded but his father turned his rhyming propensity into ridicule and encouraged him to write prose. Fearing the shafts of criticism, he had several articles published in the paper edited by his brother, in so clandestine a manner that the author was not suspected. Finding that they were admired, he says his vanity did not long keep the world ignorant of the writer.

Flattery from others caused him to assume an air of importance that soon resulted in an open rupture between him and his brother. For some time he endured a course of harsh treatment and at length resolved to free himself from the chains of bondage. He embraced the first opportunity for New York. Not being able to obtain business there he proceeded to Philadelphia on foot and alone. On his arrival he had but one dollar—was a stranger only seventeen years of age and knew not where to go. On entering Market street his eccentric appearance excited the gaze of the multitude as much as his gigantic talents subsequently did the gaze of the world. He had a roll of bread under each arm and proceeded to the margin of the Delaware river and partook of his bread and pure water. His pockets were enormously enlarged with the various articles of his wardrobe rendering him a fair representation of old Boniface.

There were then but two printing offices in Philadelphia. In one of these he obtained the situation of compositor. He now reduced his theories of economy to successful practice maintaining himself at a trifling expense—pursuing a correct and industrious career which gained for him the esteem of all his acquaintances. Among others, his talents attracted the attention of Sir William Keith, then Governor of the province, who invited him to his house and treated him with great kindness. The Governor was a man whose liberality in promises went beyond the dust in his purse. Anxious to see his young friend placed in more prosperous circumstances by his benefaction he proposed to set him up in business. He at once gave him letters to London. On his arrival there, Franklin found that no pecuniary arrangements had been made for him by his tongue benefactor. He was in a strange land, without money to pay his return passage. He took a new lesson in the school of experience in which he delighted to study. Disappointment did not deject him. He soon obtained employment and gained the confidence and esteem of his new acquaintances. At the end of eighteen months he embarked for Philadelphia. On his passage he digested a set of rules for future action substantially as follows. I resolve to be frugal—to speak truth at all times—never to raise expectations not to be realized—to be sincere, industrious, stable—to speak ill of no man—to cover rather than expose the faults of others and to do all the good I can to my fellow man.

Upon this foundation, formed of the unadulterated materials of primitive Christianity, he raised a superstructure, more beautiful and as enduring as the proudest memorials of Greece and Rome. When the whole human family shall adopt and fully exemplify these rules, we may hope to see millennial glory eclipse the meridian sun and cover the earth with one broad sheet of celestial light.

He arrived at Philadelphia on the 11th of October 1726 and became the clerk of the merchant who owned the goods brought over by the ship in which he took his passage. His proverbial industry made him as successful in the counting house as at the press—showing a rare versatility of talent. His future prospects in this new sphere of action brightened as time rolled on but were suddenly blasted by the death of his employer. He then returned to the types—worked a few months for his old patron where he found a partner with more money than skill and with him commenced a lucrative business. His industry and artistic talents were now put in full requisition. He manned his wheel-barrow in collecting material for business—put nature on short allowance and by punctuality and perseverance gained many valuable friends and money enough to purchase the interest of his partner who had become worthless and embarrassing to the firm.