master of the
shop had time to miss them.

Something in the demeanor of Franklin attracted the attention of a
merchant in Boston by the name of Matthew Adams. He invited him to his
library and loaned him books. The lad's Uncle Benjamin, in England,
who was very fond of composing rhymes which he called poetry, sent
many of his effusions to his favorite nephew, and opened quite a brisk
correspondence with him. Thus Benjamin soon became a fluent rhymester,
and wrote sundry ballads which were sold in the streets and became
quite popular. There was a great demand at that time for narratives of
the exploits of pirates, the doom of murderers, and wild love
adventures. It is said that one of the Boston publishers, in the sale
of ballads alone, found a very lucrative business. Benjamin, who found
it very easy to write doggerel verse, wrote one ballad called "The
Light-house Tragedy." It was a graphic, and what would be called at the
present day, a sensational account of a shipwreck, in which the
captain and his two daughters perished. He wrote another which was
still more captivating, and which in all its main features was
historically true. It was an account of the world-renowned pirate,
Edward Teach, usually called Blackbeard. The reader will find a minute
narrative of the career of that monster in the volume of this series
of Pioneers and Patriots entitled "Captain Kidd; or the early American
Buccaneers." One stanza has descended to us which it is said composed
a portion of this ballad, and which is certainly a fair specimen of
the popular style then in vogue.

"Come all you jolly sailors
You all so stout and brave,
Come hearken and I'll tell you,
What happened on the wave.
Oh 'tis of that bloody Blackbeard
I'm going now for to tell
And as how by gallant Maynard
He soon was sent to Hell.
With a down, down, derry down."

This was indeed wretched stuff, as Franklin afterwards admitted; but
it is to be remembered he was then but a boy of fifteen. Having
composed the ballad and set in type and printed it, he was then sent
to hawk it through the streets. This was certainly a remarkable
achievement for a lad of his years. The eagerness with which both of
the ballads were seized by the public must have greatly gratified the
self-esteem of the young writer.

Addison was a bungler in talk, but every sentence from his pen was
elegant. He once said, "I carry no loose change