The Printer Boy Part 8

He had not laboured long at the business before he was quite fascinated with it. He liked it better even than he expected. He exhibited, too, a good degree of tact for it, and his progress in learning the art was rapid. His brother was highly gratified with his close attention to his business, and commended him for the use he made of his leisure moments in reading. He was introduced now to another cla.s.s of acquaintances, so that his opportunities for getting books to read were more favourable. The printing-office was frequented by booksellers' apprentices, whose employers necessarily wanted jobs of printing done. Through them Benjamin was made acquainted with the limited stock of books the market afforded.

"I will lend you that book to-night," said one of these apprentices to him, "if you will return it clean in the morning," alluding to a certain volume which Benjamin was looking over in the book-store.

"I should be glad to read it," answered Benjamin; "I think I can read it through before I go to bed, and so return it in the morning when I go to the office."

"You won't have much time left for sleep, if you read that book through before you go to bed," said the apprentice.

"Perhaps not; but I can afford to make a short night's rest of it, if I can have the reading of this book. I shall not mind that, and I can return it without a blemish."

"The book is for sale," continued the apprentice, "and we might have a call for it to-morrow, or I would let you keep it longer. If you do not read it all to-night, and we do not sell it to-morrow, you can take it home with you again to-morrow night. I frequently read a volume through, a little at a time, before we have a chance to sell it."

"You may be sure of having this in the morning, safe and sound," said Benjamin, as he left the store, thanking his friend for the kind favour.

He went home, and sat up most of the night to read the book, being more deeply interested in its contents than he was in pleasant dreams.

A short nap, after the volume was finished, was all that time could afford him; and the bookseller got his book, and the printing-office its apprentice, in good season.

This was but a single instance of the favours he received in this way from his new acquaintances in the book business. Many nights he stole from sleep, that he might read volumes which he must return in the morning. In this way his mind was much improved, so that he began to be noticed in the office as a boy of great promise. One day Mr.

Matthew Adams, a merchant of rank and influence, who had been attracted by Benjamin's appearance, said to him: "Do you find time to read any, with all the work you have to perform?"

"Yes, sir," replied Benjamin; "I read in the evenings, and occasionally find a little time during the day."

"It is an excellent plan for boys to improve their minds," said Mr.

Adams; "you will never regret spending your time in this way. I should be glad to show you my library, and to lend you any books you may be interested to read."

"That is what I should like," said Benjamin, evidently delighted with this unexpected offer; "I find it difficult to get all the books I want."

"It would afford me great pleasure to a.s.sist you what little I can in this respect," repeated Mr. Adams. "Boys who are not privileged to go to school need such help, and I am glad to see that you are disposed to accept of it."

Benjamin thanked him for his kindness, and a.s.sured him that he should embrace the first opportunity to call at his house. He redeemed his promise at his earliest convenience, and Mr. Adams received him with genuine cordiality. He showed him his library, and allowed him to select any book he preferred to carry home, and invited him to come as often as he pleased for others. This was a brimful cup of kindness to Benjamin, and the reader may be sure that he thought highly of Mr.

Adams. Nor was he backward in availing himself of the privilege offered, but went often to gratify his thirst for knowledge.

The reader can scarcely appreciate the value of this privilege to Benjamin, unless he understands that books were far from being abundant then. The bookstores, instead of being furnished with thousands of volumes to suit every taste in the reading world, offered only a meagre collection of volumes, such as would hardly be noticed at the present time. There were no large publishing houses, manufacturing many books in a year, and scattering them over the land, as is the case to-day. Neither were there any libraries at that time.

The idea of a collection of books to lend for the public good had not entered the minds of men,--a striking contrast with this feature of society now, when a city like Boston opens its splendid Public Library of seventy-five thousand volumes, free to all her citizens, and smaller towns and villages throughout the land furnish reading matter for old and young in similar proportion; whilst private libraries of five, ten, twenty, and thirty thousand volumes are not unusual. Now, the trouble with boys is not how they can possibly get books to read, but what they shall select from the vast number that load the shelves of libraries and bookstores.

The habit of reading which Benjamin had thus early formed served to make him punctual. In order to command the more time, he was promptly at his work, and efficiently discharged every duty. He was seldom, if ever, caught in tardiness. It was this well-formed habit of punctuality that made him so reliable in the printing-office. His brother knew that he would be there at such a time, and that he would remain just so many hours. This fact won his confidence, as it does the confidence of every one. There is no quality that does more to gain a good name for an individual, and inspire the confidence of his fellow-men, than this one of punctuality. It is so generally found in company with other excellent traits of character, that it seems to be taken for granted, usually, that the punctual person is worthy in other respects. This quality contributed to the renown and influence of Lord Brougham, of whom it is said, that, when he was in the zenith of his glory, presiding in the House of Lords and the Court of Chancery, he found time to manage eight or ten public a.s.sociations,--one of which was the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge,--and he was a pattern of punctuality in every place, being always in the chair when the hour for meeting arrived.

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."

"I will see what I can do," replied Benjamin, "though I suspect my poetry won't read very well in print."

Benjamin was not long in producing two street ballads, better, perhaps, than anything he had written before, but still susceptible of very great improvement. One was ent.i.tled "The Lighthouse Tragedy," and was founded on the shipwreck of Captain Worthilake and his two daughters. The other was a sailor's song, on the capture of the famous "Teach," or "Bluebeard," the pirate. James read them with approbation.

"Now," said he, "you shall put them into type, and sell them about the town, if you are willing. I have no doubt that a good number of them may be disposed of."

"How many copies of them would you print?" inquired Benjamin.

"We can print a few to begin with, and let the type remain standing until we see how they go. Then we shall run no risk."

"Shall I do it immediately?"

"As soon as you can," answered James. "The quicker the better."

Benjamin was not long in printing the two ballads, and having them ready for sale. Under the direction of his brother, he went forth, in due time, to offer them about the town. Whether he cried them about the streets, as the newsboys do the daily papers now, we have no means of knowing. But he met with very good success, particularly in the sale of the first, "The Lighthouse Tragedy." That commemorated an event of recent occurrence, and which excited much public feeling and sympathy at the time, so that people were quite prepared to purchase.

It sold even beyond his expectations, and his success inflated his vanity somewhat. It caused him to believe, almost, that he was a genuine poet, and that distinction and a fortune were before him. If he had not been confronted by his father on the subject, it is possible that the speculation might have proved a serious injury to him. But his father learned of his enterprise, and called him to an account. Perhaps he stepped into his shop, as he was selling them about town, and gave him a copy. At any rate, his father learned the fact, and the following interview will show what he thought of it.

"I am ashamed to see you engaged in such a business, Benjamin," said he.

"Why so, father?"

"Because it is not an honourable business. You are not a poet, and can write nothing worthy of being printed."

"James approved of the pieces," said Benjamin, "and proposed that I should print and sell them."

"James is not a judge of poetry," replied his father. "It is wretched stuff, and I am ashamed that you are known as the author. Look here, let me show you wherein it is defective;" and here Mr. Franklin began to read it over aloud, and to criticise it. He was a man of sound sense, and competent to expose the faults of such a composition. He proceeded with his criticisms, without sparing the young author's feelings at all, until Benjamin himself began to be sorry that he had undertaken the enterprise.

"There, I want you should promise me," said his father, "that you will never deal in such wares again, and that you will stick to your business of setting up type."

"Perhaps I may improve by practice," said Benjamin, "so that I may yet be able to write something worthy of being read. You couldn't expect me to write very well at first."

"But you are not a poet," continued Mr. Franklin. "It is not in you, and, even if it was, I should not advise you to write it; for poets are generally beggars,--poor, shiftless members of society."

"That is news to me," responded Benjamin. "How does it happen, then, that some of their works are so popular?"

"Because a true poet can write something worthy of being read, while a mere verse-maker, like yourself, writes only doggerel, that is not worth the paper on which it is printed. Now I advise you to let verse-making alone, and attend closely to your business, both for your own sake and your brother's."

Mr. Franklin was rather severe upon Benjamin, although what he said of his verses was true. Still, it was a commendable effort in the boy to try to improve his mind. Some of the best poets who have lived wrote mere doggerel when they began. Many of our best prose-writers, too, were exceedingly faulty writers at first. It is a n.o.ble effort of a boy to try to put his thoughts into writing. If he does not succeed in the first instance, by patience, energy, and perseverance he may triumph at last. Benjamin might not have acted wisely in selling his verses about town, but his brother, so much older and more experienced than himself, should bear the censure of that, since it was done by his direction.