Having now got the printing-office in his own hands, Ben began to find the unspeakable advantage of his past labours to acquire ideas, and to convey them handsomely by his pen. The town and country getting at this time prodigiously excited about a paper currency, Ben came out with a most luminous pamphlet, on "The advantages and disadvantages of a paper currency." The pamphlet gave such satisfaction to the legislature, that they rewarded him with the printing of all their money bills. His pamphlet producing the same effect on the legislature of Delaware, they rewarded him in the same way—as also did both these legislatures by throwing into his way several other jobs of public printing.
Money now coming in, he went at once, and paid his good friends Coleman and Grace what they had so nobly lent him. With a light heart he then wiped off that old score of Vernon's, which had given him so much uneasiness, but which now receipted in full, principal and interest, made him feel himself the freest, and therefore the happiest man in Pennsylvania. Money still coming in, he fitted up a few shelves in the front room of his printing-office, where he spread out an assortment of Books, Blanks, Paper and Quills; but all in the small way—for he always thought, that though
"Vessels large may venture more,
Yet little boats should keep near shore."
Like a ship that after long tacking against winds and tides, through dangerous straits and shallows, has at last got safely out on the main ocean flood, and at liberty to lay her own course; such was now the condition of Ben; who hereupon felt it his duty immediately to take on board those two grand guides and guardians of his voyage—religion and a good wife.
As to religion—the grum looks and bitter sectarian animosities of the christians in those wretched days, had early made a deist of him; and he, in turn, had made deists of others, as Collins and Ralph. But on coming to test the thing by its fruits, he found that this new religion (deism) was not yet the religion he could admire. He found that poor Collins, with all his deism, was but a drunkard—Ralph, an ungrateful swindler—governor Keith, a great rascal—and even himself, though a prime deist, yet in his treatment of Miss Read, as culpable as any of them all. This led him to a train of thought which resulted in the conclusion, that though he could not conceive that bad actions are bad, merely because revelation forbids them; nor good actions good, because revelation enjoins them: yet he doubted not but the former were forbidden, because they are hurtful, and the latter enjoined because they are beneficial to us—all things considered. On this grand principle then, the inseparable connexion between vice and misery, and virtue and happiness, he determined from that day to shun the one, and embrace the other; thus summing up his religion in those beautiful lines:—
"What CONSCIENCE dictates to be done,"
Or warns me not to do;"
This teach me more than HELL to shun,"
That more than HEAVEN pursue."