f the first settlers of New England, of whom
honorable mention is made by Cotton Mather," and justly, since in those
dark days he was an active philanthropist towards the Indians, and an
opponent of religious persecution.[1] This lady outdid her predecessor,
contributing no less than ten children to expand the family circle. The
eighth of this second brood was named Benjamin, in memory of his
father's favorite brother. He was born in a house on Milk Street,
opposite the Old South Church, January 6, old style, 17, new style,
1706. Mr. Parton says that probably Benjamin "derived from his mother
the fashion of his body and the cast of his countenance. There are
lineal descendants of Peter Folger who strikingly resemble Franklin in
these particulars; one of whom, a banker of New Orleans, looks like a
portrait of Dr. Franklin stepped out of its frame."[2] A more important
inheritance was that of the humane and liberal traits of his mother's
father.

[Note 1: Parton's _Life of Franklin_, i. 27.]

[Note 2: _Ibid._ i. 31.]

In that young, scrambling village in the new country, where all
material, human or otherwise, was roughly and promptly utilized, the
unproductive period of boyhood was cut very short. Franklin's father
speedily resolved to devote him, "as the tithe of his sons, to the
service of the church," and so sent him to the grammar school. A droller
misfit than Franklin in an orthodox New England pulpit of that era can
hardly be imagined; but since he was only seven years old when his
father endeavored to arrange his life's career, a misappreciation of his
fitnesses was not surprising. The boy himself had the natural hankering
of children bred in a seaboard town for the life of a sailor. It is
amusing to fancy the discussions between this babe of seven years and
his father, concerning his occupation in life. Certainly the babe had
not altogether the worst of it, for when he was eight years old his
father definitively gave up the notion of making him a preacher of the
Gospel. At the ripe age of ten he was taken from school, and set to
assist his father in the trade of tallow-chandler and soap-boiler. But
dipping wicks and pouring grease pleased him hardly better than
reconciling infant damnation and a red-hot hell with the loveliness of
Christianity. The lad remained discontented. His chief taste seemed to
be for reading, and great were the ingenuity and the self-sacrifice
whereby he secured books and leisure to rea