CHAPTER IX.
FIRST LITERARY ENTERPRISE.
"What have you there?" inquired James, one day, looking over Benjamin's shoulder at some composition which he held in his hand. "Ay! poetry, is it? Then you are a poet, are you? Let me read it."
Benjamin rather hesitated to exhibit the first attempts of his muse to fly, but James was determined to read it, and so he gave it up to him, saying, "I was only seeing what I could do."
The fact was, Benjamin had been reading poetry, and, having a little of its spirit in his own nature, he was tempted to try his ability at writing some.
"That is really good," said James, after he had read it; "not quite equal to Virgil or Homer, but very good for a printer-boy to write. Have you any other pieces?"
"Two or three more," answered Benjamin, somewhat encouraged by his brother's commendation; "but they are not worth reading."
"Produce them," said James, "and I will tell you what they are worth." Whereupon Benjamin took two or three more from his pockets, which James read with evident satisfaction.
"I tell you what it is, Benjamin," said James after having read them all, "you can write something worth printing if you try; and if you will undertake it, you may print and sell a sheet in the streets. I have no doubt that it would sell well."