handle of white
hazel, which almost killed him, caused him to run away." A dark
prospect was before him, since "he had only twopence in his pocket, a
spacious world before him, and no plan of operation." Yet he
afterwards became an author of some celebrity, and a most exemplary
and esteemed man. He lived to the age of ninety, his last days being
gladdened by the reflection of having lived a useful life, and the
consciousness of sharing the confidence of his fellow-men.

CHAPTER XVI.

ANOTHER TRIP AND ITS TRIALS.

On arriving at New York, Benjamin applied to a well known printer, Mr.
William Bradford, for work.

"Where are you from?" he inquired.

"From Boston," was Benjamin's reply.

"Used to the printing business?"

"Yes, that is my trade. I have worked at it several years."

"I am sorry I cannot employ you. Just now my business is small, and I
have all the help I need."

"What do you think of the prospect of getting work at some other
office in the town?" inquired Benjamin.

"Not very flattering, I am sorry to say. Dull times, my son, very dull
indeed. But I can tell you where you can find employment, I think. My
son carries on the printing business in Philadelphia, and one of his
men died the other day. I think he would be glad to employ you."

"How far is it to Philadelphia?"

"It is a hundred miles," replied Mr. Bradford, "a much shorter
distance than you have already travelled."

[Illustration: Franklin saving the Dutchman.--See page 149.]

Benjamin looked somewhat disappointed when he found that Philadelphia
was a hundred miles farther; still, he was after work, and he was
determined to find it; so he made inquiries about the mode of
conveyance, and left Mr. Bradford, thanking him for his kindness.
Immediately he engaged a passage in a boat to Amboy, and made
arrangements for his chest to be carried round by sea. He was less
disheartened, probably, on account of the assurance of Mr. Bradford
that his son would employ him. If he could procure work by travelling
a hundred miles more, he would cheerfully do it, although a journey of
a hundred miles then was about equal to one thousand now.

At the appointed time Benjamin went aboard, and the boat started. She
had not proceeded far when a squall struck her, tore her rotten sails
to pieces, and drove her upon Long Island. Before this, however, a
drunken Dutchman, who was also a passenger, fell overboard, and would
have lost his life but fo