"Are your parents not willing that you should go to sea?"
"No; they won't hear a word about it. I have talked with them till it is of no use. They seem to think that I should be shipwrecked, or that something else would happen, to prevent my return."
"Then, if you can't go to sea, and you won't be a tallow-chandler, what can you do?"
"I hardly know myself; but almost anything is preferable to this greasy business. If people had no more light than the candles I should make, unless I was obliged, they would have a pretty dark time of it."
"I don't think it is a very disagreeable business," continued his companion. "It is quite easy work, certainly,—much more to my liking than sawing wood, and some other things I could name."
"It may be easy," replied Benjamin; "but it is dirty and simple. It requires no ingenuity to do all that I do. Almost any simpleton could cut wicks and fill candle-moulds. A fellow who can't do it couldn't tell which side his bread is buttered. I prefer to do something that requires thought and ingenuity."
"There is something in that; but I guess it will take all your ingenuity to work yourself out of the tallow-chandler's business," responded his friend, rather dryly.
This conversation occurred one day in the shop, when Mr. Franklin was out. But just at this point he returned, and soon after the young visitor left. Benjamin was not acquainted with all his father's plans, and he had actually proceeded further than he was aware of towards introducing him into another calling, as the following conversation with Mrs. F., on the previous evening, will show—
"I have resolved to find some other employment for Benjamin at once," said he; "as John is to be married so soon, he will be able to render me but little more assistance, and I must have some one to take his place."
"Are you satisfied," inquired Mrs. Franklin, "that Benjamin cannot be prevailed upon to take the place of John in your shop?"