Family Origins and Early Years in Boston

Dear Son: I have ever had pleasure in obtaining any little anecdotes of my ancestors. You may remember the inquiries I made among the remains of my relations when you were with me in England, and the journey I undertook for that purpose. Imagining it may be equally agreeable to you to know the circumstances of my life, many of which you are yet unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a week's uninterrupted leisure in my present country retirement, I sit down to write them for you. To which I have besides some other inducements. Having emerged from the poverty and obscurity in which I was born and bred, to a state of affluence and some degree of reputation in the world, and having gone so far through life with a considerable share of felicity, the conducing means I made use of, which with the blessing of God so well succeeded, my posterity may like to know, as they may find some of them suitable to their own situations, and therefore fit to be imitated.

Dear Son: I have always enjoyed collecting any little anecdotes of my ancestors. You may remember the inquiries I made among my surviving relatives when you were with me in England, and the journey I made for that purpose. I imagine it may be just as agreeable to you to know the circumstances of my life, many of which you do not yet know. I also expect to enjoy a week of uninterrupted leisure in my present country retreat. So I sit down to write them for you. I have some other reasons as well. I have emerged from the poverty and obscurity in which I was born and raised to a state of wealth and some degree of reputation in the world. I have also gone this far through life with a considerable share of happiness. My descendants may like to know the means I used, which, with the blessing of God, succeeded so well. They may find some of them suited to their own situations, and therefore fit to be imitated.

That felicity, when I reflected on it, has induced me sometimes to say, that were it offered to my choice, I should have no objection to a repetition of the same life from its beginning, only asking the advantages authors have in a second edition to correct some faults of the first. So I might, besides correcting the faults, change some sinister accidents and events of it for others more favourable. But though this were denied, I should still accept the offer. Since such a repetition is not to be expected, the next thing most like living one's life over again seems to be a recollection of that life, and to make that recollection as durable as possible by putting it down in writing.

When I thought about that happiness, I sometimes said I would not mind living the same life again. I would only ask the advantage authors have in a second edition. They can correct some faults of the first. Then I could, besides fixing mistakes, replace some unlucky events with more favorable ones. But if that were not allowed, I would still accept. Since such a repetition is unlikely, the next best thing to living your life over again is remembering it. The best way to make that memory last is to write it down.

Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination so natural in old men, to be talking of themselves and their own past actions; and I shall indulge it without being tiresome to others, who, through respect to age, might conceive themselves obliged to give me a hearing, since this may be read or not as anyone pleases. And, lastly (I may as well confess it, since my denial of it will be believed by nobody), perhaps I shall a good deal gratify my own vanity.⁴ Indeed, I scarce ever heard or saw the introductory words, "Without vanity I may say," etc., but some vain thing immediately followed. Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share they have of it themselves; but I give it fair quarter wherever I meet with it, being persuaded that it is often productive of good to the possessor, and to others that are within his sphere of action; and therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life.

In this way, too, I shall indulge the inclination so natural in old men to talk about themselves and their own past actions. And I shall indulge it without tiring others. Out of respect for age, they might think themselves obliged to listen to me, but this may be read or not as anyone pleases. And lastly (I may as well confess it, since nobody would believe me if I denied it), perhaps I shall do a good deal to gratify my own vanity.⁴ Indeed, I have hardly ever heard or seen the opening words, "Without vanity I may say," etc., without some vain thing following immediately. Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share of it they have themselves. But I give it fair treatment wherever I meet it. I am convinced that it often does good to the person who has it, and to others within his sphere of action. Therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd for a man to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life.

Gibbon and Hume, the great British historians, who were contemporaries of Franklin, express in their autobiographies the same feeling about the propriety of just self-praise.

Gibbon and Hume were great British historians and contemporaries of Franklin. In their autobiographies they express the same feeling about the appropriateness of deserved self-praise.

And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humility to acknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of my past life to His kind providence, which lead me to the means I used and gave them success. My belief of this induces me to hope, though I must not presume, that the same goodness will still be exercised toward me, in continuing that happiness, or enabling me to bear a fatal reverse, which I may experience as others have done; the complexion of my future fortune being known to Him only in whose power it is to bless to us even our afflictions.

And now that I speak of thanking God, I wish with all humility to acknowledge that I owe the happiness of my past life, which I mentioned, to his kind providence. It led me to the means I used and gave them success. My belief in this leads me to hope, though I must not presume, that the same goodness will still be shown toward me, either by continuing that happiness or by enabling me to bear a fatal reversal, which I may suffer as others have. The nature of my future fortune is known only to him who has the power to make even our afflictions a blessing to us.

The notes one of my uncles (who had the same kind of curiosity in collecting family anecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished me with several particulars relating to our ancestors. From these notes I learned that the family had lived in the same village, Ecton, in Northamptonshire,⁵ for three hundred years, and how much longer he knew not (perhaps from the time when the name of Franklin, that before was the name of an order of people,⁶ was assumed by them as a surname when others took surnames all over the kingdom), on a freehold of about thirty acres, aided by the smith's business, which had continued in the family till his time, the eldest son being always bred to that business; a custom which he and my father followed as to their eldest sons. When I searched the registers at Ecton, I found an account of their births, marriages and burials from the year 1555 only, there being no registers kept in that parish at any time preceding. By that register I perceived that I was the youngest son of the youngest son for five generations back. My grandfather Thomas, who was born in 1598, lived at Ecton till he grew too old to follow business longer, when he went to live with his son John, a dyer at Banbury, in Oxfordshire, with whom my father served an apprenticeship. There my grandfather died and lies buried. We saw his gravestone in 1758. His eldest son Thomas lived in the house at Ecton, and left it with the land to his only child, a daughter, who, with her husband, one Fisher, of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Isted, now lord of the manor there. My grandfather had four sons that grew up, viz.: Thomas, John, Benjamin and Josiah. I will give you what account I can of them at this distance from my papers, and if these are not lost in my absence, you will among them find many more particulars.

One of my uncles, who had the same kind of curiosity about collecting family anecdotes, once gave me some notes. They supplied me with several details about our ancestors. From these notes I learned that the family had lived in the same village, Ecton, in Northamptonshire,⁵ for three hundred years, and he did not know how much longer. Perhaps they had lived there since the time when they took the name of Franklin as a surname, when others all over the kingdom were taking surnames. Before that, Franklin had been the name of a class of people.⁶ The family lived on a freehold of about thirty acres, helped by the smith's trade. That trade had continued in the family up to my uncle's time, and the eldest son was always raised to it. He and my father followed this custom with their own eldest sons. When I searched the registers at Ecton, I found records of their births, marriages, and burials only from the year 1555. No registers had been kept in that parish at any earlier time. From that register I saw that I was the youngest son of the youngest son for five generations back. My grandfather Thomas, born in 1598, lived at Ecton until he grew too old to carry on his business. Then he went to live with his son John, a dyer at Banbury, in Oxfordshire, with whom my father served an apprenticeship. There my grandfather died and lies buried. We saw his gravestone in 1758. His eldest son, Thomas, lived in the house at Ecton and left it, with the land, to his only child, a daughter. She and her husband, one Fisher, of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Isted, now lord of the manor there. My grandfather had four sons who grew up, namely Thomas, John, Benjamin, and Josiah. I will give you what account of them I can at this distance from my papers. If those papers are not lost in my absence, you will find many more particulars among them.

Thomas was bred a smith under his father; but, being ingenious, and encouraged in learning (as all my brothers were) by an Esquire Palmer, then the principal gentleman in that parish, he qualified himself for the business of scrivener; became a considerable man in the county; was a chief mover of all public-spirited undertakings for the county or town of Northampton, and his own village, of which many instances were related of him; and much taken notice of and patronized by the then Lord Halifax. He died in 1702, January 6, old style,⁷ just four years to a day before I was born. The account we received of his life and character from some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck you as something extraordinary, from its similarity to what you knew of mine. "Had he died on the same day," you said, "one might have supposed a transmigration."

Thomas was trained as a smith under his father. But he was clever, and he was encouraged in learning (as all my brothers were) by an Esquire Palmer, then the principal gentleman in that parish. So he qualified himself for the business of a scrivener, who drew up legal documents. He became a man of standing in the county. He was a chief mover of all public-spirited undertakings for the county or the town of Northampton, and for his own village, and many examples of this were told about him. He was much noticed and patronized by the Lord Halifax of that time. He died on January 6, 1702, old style,⁷ just four years to the day before I was born. I remember that the account of his life and character we heard from some old people at Ecton struck you as something extraordinary, because it was so like what you knew of mine. "Had he died on the same day," you said, "one might have supposed a transmigration."

John was bred a dyer, I believe of woollens, Benjamin was bred a silk dyer, serving an apprenticeship at London. He was an ingenious man. I remember him well, for when I was a boy he came over to my father in Boston, and lived in the house with us some years. He lived to a great age. His grandson, Samuel Franklin, now lives in Boston. He left behind him two quarto volumes, MS., of his own poetry, consisting of little occasional pieces addressed to his friends and relations, of which the following, sent to me, is a specimen.⁸ He had formed a short-hand of his own, which he taught me, but, never practising it, I have now forgot it. I was named after this uncle, there being a particular affection between him and my father. He was very pious, a great attender of sermons of the best preachers, which he took down in his short-hand, and had with him many volumes of them. He was also much of a politician; too much, perhaps, for his station. There fell lately into my hands, in London, a collection he had made of all the principal pamphlets relating to public affairs, from 1641 to 1717; many of the volumes are wanting as appears by the numbering, but there still remain eight volumes in folio, and twenty-four in quarto and in octavo. A dealer in old books met with them, and knowing me by my sometimes buying of him, he brought them to me. It seems my uncle must have left them here when he went to America, which was about fifty years since. There are many of his notes in the margins.

John was trained as a dyer. I believe he worked with woolens. Benjamin was trained as a silk dyer and served an apprenticeship in London. He was an ingenious man. I remember him well. When I was a boy he came to my father in Boston and lived with us for several years. He lived to a very old age. His grandson, Samuel Franklin, now lives in Boston. He left two quarto manuscript volumes of his own poetry. They consist of small occasional pieces addressed to his friends and relatives, and the following piece, which he sent to me, is an example.⁸ He had invented his own shorthand and taught it to me. Because I never practiced it, I have now forgotten it. I was named after this uncle because he and my father were especially close. He was very pious and attended the sermons of the best preachers. He took them down in his shorthand and kept many volumes of his notes. He was also very involved in politics. Perhaps he was too much so for his station. Recently in London I came into possession of a collection he had made of the principal pamphlets relating to public affairs from 1641 to 1717. Many volumes are missing, as the numbering shows. Eight folio volumes remain, and twenty-four in quarto and octavo. A dealer in old books found them. He knew me because I sometimes bought from him, so he brought them to me. It seems my uncle must have left them here when he went to America, about fifty years ago. Many of his notes are in the margins.

This obscure family of ours was early in the Reformation, and continued Protestants through the reign of Queen Mary, when they were sometimes in danger of trouble on account of their zeal against popery. They had got an English Bible, and to conceal and secure it, it was fastened open with tapes under and within the cover of a joint-stool. When my great-great-grandfather read it to his family, he turned up the joint-stool upon his knees, turning over the leaves then under the tapes. One of the children stood at the door to give notice if he saw the apparitor coming, who was an officer of the spiritual court. In that case the stool was turned down again upon its feet, when the Bible remained concealed under it as before. This anecdote I had from my uncle Benjamin. The family continued all of the Church of England till about the end of Charles the Second's reign, when some of the ministers that had been outed for non-conformity, holding conventicles⁹ in Northamptonshire, Benjamin and Josiah adhered to them, and so continued all their lives: the rest of the family remained with the Episcopal Church.

Our modest family joined the Reformation early and remained Protestants during Queen Mary's reign. They were sometimes in danger because of their zeal against popery. They had an English Bible. To hide and protect it, they fastened it open with tapes and hid it under and within the cover of a joint-stool. When my great-great-grandfather read it to his family, he turned the joint-stool up on his knees and turned over the pages that lay under the tapes. One child stood at the door to warn if he saw the apparitor coming. The apparitor was an officer of the spiritual court. If that happened, they turned the stool back upright and the Bible stayed hidden beneath it. I heard this anecdote from my uncle Benjamin. The family remained members of the Church of England until about the end of King Charles II's reign. At that time some ministers who had been removed for nonconformity held conventicles⁹ in Northamptonshire. Benjamin and Josiah joined them and stayed with those meetings all their lives. The rest of the family remained with the Episcopal Church.

Josiah, my father, married young, and carried his wife with three children into New England, about 1682. The conventicles having been forbidden by law, and frequently disturbed, induced some considerable men of his acquaintance to remove to that country, and he was prevailed with to accompany them thither, where they expected to enjoy their mode of religion with freedom. By the same wife he had four children more born there, and by a second wife ten more, in all seventeen; of which I remember thirteen sitting at one time at his table, who all grew up to be men and women, and married; I was the youngest son, and the youngest child but two, and was born in Boston, New England.¹⁰ My mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one of the first settlers of New England, of whom honorable mention is made by Cotton Mather,¹¹ in his church history of that country, entitled Magnalia Christi Americana, as "a godly, learned Englishman," if I remember the words rightly. I have heard that he wrote sundry small occasional pieces, but only one of them was printed, which I saw now many years since. It was written in 1675, in the home-spun verse of that time and people, and addressed to those then concerned in the government there. It was in favour of liberty of conscience, and in behalf of the Baptists, Quakers, and other sectaries that had been under persecution, ascribing the Indian wars, and other distresses that had befallen the country, to that persecution, as so many judgments of God to punish so heinous an offense, and exhorting a repeal of those uncharitable laws. The whole appeared to me as written with a good deal of decent plainness and manly freedom. The six concluding lines I remember, though I have forgotten the two first of the stanza; but the purport of them was, that his censures proceeded from good-will, and, therefore, he would be known to be the author.

Josiah, my father, married young and brought his wife and three children to New England about 1682. Conventicles had been forbidden by law and were often disturbed. This led some men of standing among his acquaintance to move to that country, and he was persuaded to go with them. There they expected to practice their form of religion freely. By the same wife he had four more children born there, and by a second wife ten more, seventeen in all. I remember thirteen of them sitting at his table at one time, and all of them grew up to be men and women and married. I was the youngest son. Of all the children, only two were younger than I. I was born in Boston, New England.¹⁰ My mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one of the first settlers of New England. Cotton Mather¹¹ mentions him with honor in his church history of that country, titled Magnalia Christi Americana, as "a godly, learned Englishman," if I remember the words correctly. I have heard that he wrote various small pieces for particular occasions, but only one of them was printed, and I saw it many years ago. It was written in 1675, in the homespun verse of that time and people, and addressed to those then in charge of the government there. It argued for liberty of conscience and spoke on behalf of the Baptists, Quakers, and other sects that had been persecuted. It blamed the Indian wars and other troubles that had struck the country on that persecution. It called them so many judgments of God to punish so wicked an offense, and it urged the repeal of those uncharitable laws. The whole piece seemed to me written with a good deal of decent plainness and manly freedom. I remember the six closing lines, though I have forgotten the first two of the stanza. Their meaning was that his criticisms came from good will, and therefore he wanted to be known as the author.

My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. I was put to the grammar-school at eight years of age, my father intending to devote me, as the tithe¹³ of his sons, to the service of the Church. My early readiness in learning to read (which must have been very early, as I do not remember when I could not read), and the opinion of all his friends, that I should certainly make a good scholar, encouraged him in this purpose of his. My uncle Benjamin, too, approved of it, and proposed to give me all his short-hand volumes of sermons, I suppose as a stock to set up with, if I would learn his character.¹⁴ I continued, however, at the grammar-school not quite one year, though in that time I had risen gradually from the middle of the class of that year to be the head of it, and farther was removed into the next class above it, in order to go with that into the third at the end of the year. But my father, in the meantime, from a view of the expense of a college education, which having so large a family he could not well afford, and the mean living many so educated were afterwards able to obtain—reasons that he gave to his friends in my hearing—altered his first intention, took me from the grammar-school, and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a then famous man, Mr. George Brownell, very successful in his profession generally, and that by mild, encouraging methods. Under him I acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed in the arithmetic, and made no progress in it. At ten years old I was taken home to assist my father in his business, which was that of a tallow-chandler and sope-boiler; a business he was not bred to, but had assumed on his arrival in New England, and on finding his dyeing trade would not maintain his family, being in little request. Accordingly, I was employed in cutting wick for the candles, filling the dipping mould and the moulds for cast candles, attending the shop, going of errands, etc.

My elder brothers were all apprenticed to different trades. I was put in the grammar school at eight years old. My father intended to devote me to the service of the Church, as the tithe¹³ of his sons. I was ready at reading very early. It must have been very early, since I do not remember a time when I could not read. That, and the opinion of all his friends that I would certainly make a good scholar, encouraged him in this purpose. My uncle Benjamin approved of it too. He offered to give me all his shorthand volumes of sermons, I suppose as a stock to set up with, if I would learn his shorthand.¹⁴ However, I stayed at the grammar school less than a year. In that time I had risen step by step from the middle of the class that year to the head of it. I was then moved up into the next class above, so that I could go with it into the third class at the end of the year. But in the meantime my father changed his first intention. He considered the expense of a college education, which he could not well afford with so large a family. He also considered the poor living that many people so educated were later able to earn. He gave these reasons to his friends where I could hear. So he took me out of the grammar school and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic. It was kept by Mr. George Brownell, a famous man at that time, who was generally very successful in his profession, and by mild, encouraging methods. Under him I soon learned to write a good hand, but I failed in arithmetic and made no progress in it. At ten years old I was taken home to help my father in his business, which was that of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler. He had not been trained to that business. He took it up on his arrival in New England, when he found that his dyeing trade was in little demand and would not support his family. So I was put to cutting wick for the candles, filling the dipping mold and the molds for cast candles, minding the shop, running errands, and so on.

I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination for the sea, but my father declared against it; however, living near the water, I was much in and about it, learnt early to swim well, and to manage boats; and when in a boat or canoe with other boys, I was commonly allowed to govern, especially in any case of difficulty; and upon other occasions I was generally a leader among the boys, and sometimes led them into scrapes, of which I will mention one instance, as it shows an early projecting public spirit, tho' not then justly conducted.

I did not like the trade and I strongly wanted to go to sea, but my father was against it. However, living near the water, I spent a lot of time there. I learned to swim well and to handle boats. When I was in a boat or canoe with other boys, I was usually allowed to take charge. I was especially put in charge during difficult situations. At other times I was often the leader among the boys, and sometimes I led them into trouble. I will mention one example, because it shows an early spirit of public initiative, though it was not properly directed.

There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of the mill-pond, on the edge of which, at high water, we used to stand to fish for minnows. By much trampling, we had made it a mere quagmire. My proposal was to build a wharf there fit for us to stand upon, and I showed my comrades a large heap of stones, which were intended for a new house near the marsh, and which would very well suit our purpose. Accordingly, in the evening, when the workmen were gone, I assembled a number of my playfellows, and working with them diligently like so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a stone, we brought them all away and built our little wharf. The next morning the workmen were surprised at missing the stones, which were found in our wharf. Inquiry was made after the removers; we were discovered and complained of; several of us were corrected by our fathers; and, though I pleaded the usefulness of the work, mine convinced me that nothing was useful which was not honest.

There was a salt marsh bordering part of the mill pond. At high water we used to stand on its edge to fish for minnows. By trampling it so much, we had turned it into a mere bog. I proposed building a wharf there for us to stand on. I showed my friends a large heap of stones that were meant for a new house near the marsh and would suit our purpose very well. So in the evening, when the workmen had gone, I gathered a number of my playmates. We worked hard like so many ants, sometimes two or three to a stone, until we had carried them all off and built our little wharf. The next morning the workmen were surprised to find the stones missing, and they were found in our wharf. People inquired who had taken them. We were found out and complained of, and several of us were punished by our fathers. I argued that the work was useful, but my father convinced me that nothing was useful which was not honest.

I think you may like to know something of his person and character. He had an excellent constitution of body, was of middle stature, but well set, and very strong; he was ingenious, could draw prettily, was skilled a little in music, and had a clear, pleasing voice, so that when he played psalm tunes on his violin and sung withal, as he sometimes did in an evening after the business of the day was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear. He had a mechanical genius too, and, on occasion, was very handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools; but his great excellence lay in a sound understanding and solid judgment in prudential matters, both in private and publick affairs. In the latter, indeed, he was never employed, the numerous family he had to educate and the straitness of his circumstances keeping him close to his trade; but I remember well his being frequently visited by leading people, who consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the town or of the church he belonged to, and showed a good deal of respect for his judgment and advice: he was also much consulted by private persons about their affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently chosen an arbitrator between contending parties. At his table he liked to have, as often as he could, some sensible friend or neighbor to converse with, and always took care to start some ingenious or useful topic for discourse, which might tend to improve the minds of his children. By this means he turned our attention to what was good, just, and prudent in the conduct of life; and little or no notice was ever taken of what related to the victuals on the table, whether it was well or ill dressed, in or out of season, of good or bad flavor, preferable or inferior to this or that other thing of the kind, so that I was bro't up in such a perfect inattention to those matters as to be quite indifferent what kind of food was set before me, and so unobservant of it, that to this day if I am asked I can scarce tell a few hours after dinner what I dined upon. This has been a convenience to me in traveling, where my companions have been sometimes very unhappy for want of a suitable gratification of their more delicate, because better instructed, tastes and appetites.

I think you may like to know something about his appearance and character. He had an excellent constitution. He was of middle height but sturdily built, and very strong. He was clever, could draw nicely, was a little skilled in music, and had a clear, pleasing voice. So when he played psalm tunes on his violin and sang along, as he sometimes did in the evening after the day's work was done, it was extremely pleasant to hear. He had a mechanical genius too, and when needed he was very handy with other tradesmen's tools. But his great excellence was a sound understanding and solid judgment in matters of prudence, in both private and public affairs. In public affairs, it is true, he was never employed. The large family he had to educate and his tight circumstances kept him close to his trade. But I remember well that leading people often visited him to ask his opinion on affairs of the town or of the church he belonged to. They showed a good deal of respect for his judgment and advice. Private persons also often consulted him about their affairs when any difficulty came up, and he was often chosen as an arbitrator between parties in a dispute. At his table he liked to have, as often as he could, some sensible friend or neighbor to talk with. He always took care to start some clever or useful topic of conversation that might tend to improve his children's minds. In this way he turned our attention to what was good, just, and prudent in the conduct of life. Little or no notice was ever taken of the food on the table. Nobody remarked whether it was well or badly cooked, in or out of season, good or bad in flavor, better or worse than some other thing of the kind. So I was brought up with such complete inattention to those matters that I became quite indifferent to what kind of food was set before me. I notice it so little that even today, if I am asked a few hours after dinner, I can hardly tell what I ate. This has been a convenience to me in traveling. My companions have sometimes been very unhappy there for lack of food to satisfy their tastes and appetites, which were more delicate because they had been better taught.

My mother had likewise an excellent constitution: she suckled all her ten children. I never knew either my father or mother to have any sickness but that of which they dy'd, he at 89, and she at 85 years of age. They lie buried together at Boston, where I some years since placed a marble over their grave,¹⁵ with this inscription:

My mother also had an excellent constitution. She breastfed all ten of her children. I never knew either of them to be sick, except for the illnesses that led to their deaths. My father died at 89. My mother died at 85. They are buried together in Boston. Some years ago I placed a marble over their grave,¹⁵ with this inscription:

By my rambling digressions I perceive myself to be grown old. I us'd to write more methodically. But one does not dress for private company as for a publick ball. 'Tis perhaps only negligence.

My rambling digressions show me that I have grown old. I used to write more methodically. But one does not dress for private company the way one dresses for a public ball. Perhaps it is only negligence.

To return: I continued thus employed in my father's business for two years, that is, till I was twelve years old; and my brother John, who was bred to that business, having left my father, married, and set up for himself at Rhode Island, there was all appearance that I was destined to supply his place, and become a tallow-chandler. But my dislike to the trade continuing, my father was under apprehensions that if he did not find one for me more agreeable, I should break away and get to sea, as his son Josiah had done, to his great vexation. He therefore sometimes took me to walk with him, and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers, etc., at their work, that he might observe my inclination, and endeavor to fix it on some trade or other on land. It has ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle their tools; and it has been useful to me, having learnt so much by it as to be able to do little jobs myself in my house when a workman could not readily be got, and to construct little machines for my experiments, while the intention of making the experiment was fresh and warm in my mind. My father at last fixed upon the cutler's trade, and my uncle Benjamin's son Samuel, who was bred to that business in London, being about that time established in Boston, I was sent to be with him some time on liking. But his expectations of a fee with me displeasing my father, I was taken home again.

To return: I continued working in my father's business in this way for two years, that is, until I was twelve. My brother John, who had been trained to that business, had left my father, married, and set up for himself in Rhode Island. So it looked in every way as though I was meant to take his place and become a tallow-chandler. But I still disliked the trade. My father feared that if he did not find me a more agreeable one, I would break away and go to sea, as his son Josiah had done, to his great vexation. So he sometimes took me walking with him to watch joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers, and others at their work. He wanted to observe my inclination and try to fix it on some trade or other on land. Ever since, it has been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle their tools. It has also been useful to me. I learned enough from it to do little jobs myself in my house when a workman could not readily be found. I could also build little machines for my experiments while the idea of the experiment was fresh and warm in my mind. My father at last settled on the cutler's trade. My uncle Benjamin's son Samuel, who had been trained to that business in London, had just then set up in Boston. I was sent to stay with him for a while on trial. But he expected a fee for taking me, which displeased my father, and I was taken home again.