open for me to pass through. I was
thinking of nothing but fun when I did it. Here's sixpence to make up
for it." The boy was well pleased with the amend thus honorably offered,
and they parted right good friends.

At nine years old, he began to drive a wagon to Philadelphia, to sell
vegetables and other articles from his father's farm; which he did very
satisfactorily, with the assistance of a neighbor, who occupied the next
stall in the market. According to the fashion of the times, he wore a
broad-brimmed hat, and small-clothes with long stockings. Being
something of a dandy, he prided himself upon having his shoes very
clean, and his white dimity small clothes without spot or blemish. He
caught rabbits, and sold them, till he obtained money enough to purchase
brass buckles for his knees, and for the straps of his shoes. The first
time he made his appearance in the city with this new finery, he felt
his ambition concerning personal decoration completely satisfied. The
neatness of his dress, and his manly way of proceeding, attracted
attention, and induced his customers to call him "THE LITTLE GOVERNOR."
For several years, he was universally known in the market by that title.
Fortunately, his father had no wish to obtain undue advantage in the
sale of his produce; for had it been otherwise, his straight-forward
little son would have proved a poor agent in transacting his affairs.
One day, when a citizen inquired the price of a pair of chickens, he
answered, with the utmost simplicity, "My father told me to sell them
for fifty cents if I could; and if not, to take forty."

"Well done, my honest little fellow!" said the gentleman, smiling, "I
will give you whatever is the current price. I shall look out for you in
the market; and whenever I see you, I shall always try to trade with
you." And he kept his word.

When quite a small boy, he was sent some distance of an errand, and
arrived just as the family were about to sit down to supper. There were
several pies on the table, and they invited him to partake. The long
walk had whetted his appetite, and the pies looked exceedingly tempting;
but the shyness of childhood led him to say, "No, I thank you." When he
had delivered his message, he lingered, and lingered, hoping they would
ask him again. But the family were Quakers, and they understood yea to
mean yea, and nay to mean nay. They would have considered it a mere
worldly compliment to repeat the invitation; so they