series of
articles signed "Silence Dogood," and are a clever enough imitation of
the "Spectator's" style of allegory and humorous satire, such as
Franklin was fond of using all his life. The signature, too, Silence
Dogood, was characteristic of the man who turned all religion into a
code of morality, and was famous for his power of keeping a secret.
Like the ancient poet Simonides, he knew the truth of the saying,
_Silence hath a safe reward_.

Those days were not easy times for printers, nor was the freedom of the
press any more respected than liberty of conscience. Trouble very soon
arose between the new paper and the authorities chiefly on account of
the "Courant's" free handling of the church. Already the free-thinking
party which afterwards formed into the Unitarian church was showing its
head, and the writers for the "Courant" were among the most outspoken.
The climax was reached when one day the paper appeared with a diatribe
containing such words as these: "For my own part, when I find a man
full of religious cant and palaver, I presently suspect him to be a
knave,"--a sentiment which the religious authorities very properly took
as an insult to themselves. James was arrested and imprisoned for a
month, and on his release was forbidden to print the "Courant." To
escape this difficulty the old indenture of Benjamin was canceled and
the paper was printed in his name; at the same time, however, a new
indenture was secretly made so that James might still, if he desired,
claim his legal rights in the apprentice. It was a "flimsy scheme," and
held but a little while.

Bickerings had been constant between the two brothers, and Benjamin was
especially resentful for the blows his master's passion too often urged
him to bestow.

"My mind now is set,
My heart's thought, on wide waters,"--

said the youth in the old Anglo-Saxon poem, and this same sea-longing
was bred in the bones of our Boston apprentice. Now at length the boy
would break away; at least he would voyage to another home, though he
might give up the notion of becoming a sailor. He intimates, moreover,
that the narrow bigotry of New England in religion was distasteful to
him--as we may well believe it was. Yet he always retained an
affectionate memory of the place of his birth; and only two years
before his death he wrote pleasantly regarding the citizens of that
town, "for besides their general good sense, which I value, the Boston
manner, turn o