something original that might live; or found a
society to study science--something might come out of that; or could
make some scheme for a better government of the people in these parts;
but that would be too great for you. There I go!"

Uncle Benjamin stumbled. Little Ben helped him up.

They came to the South Church, where many lanterns, foot stoves, and
tallow dips were gathered, and shadowy forms were moving to and fro.

Little Ben set down the stove in the pew. The lecture began. He heard
the minister read the sublime passage of the ancient poem beginning,
"Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said." He heard
about the "morning stars singing together," the "sweet influences of
Pleiades," and the question, "Canst thou bind the sea?"

The boy asked, "Have I a chance? have I a chance?" The discouraging
words of Jamie the Scotchman hung over his mind like a cloud.

The influence of the coals led Josiah Franklin to slumberland after his
hard day's work. Little Ben saw his father nod and nod. But Uncle
Benjamin was in the Orient with the minister, having a hard experience
for the good of life with the patriarch Job.

"Have I a chance?" The boy shed tears. If he had not gifts, he knew that
he had personality, but there was something stirring within him that led
his thoughts to seek the good of others.

The nine-o'clock bell rang. The lecture was over.

"Good--wasn't it?" said Jamie the Scotchman as they went out of the
church and looked down to the harbor glimmering under the moon and
stars, and added:

"Ben, you will be sure to have one thing to spur you on to lead that
'projected life' your Uncle Benjamin tells about."

"What is that, sir?"

"A hard time, like Job--a mighty hard time."

"The true way to knowledge," said Uncle Benjamin encouragingly.

Uncle Benjamin felt a hand in his great mitten. It was little Ben's. The
confidence touched his heart.

"Ben, you are as likely to have a projected life as anybody. A man rises
by overcoming his defects. Strength comes in that way."

Little Ben went through the jingling door with a heart now heavy, now
light. He set down the lantern, and climbed up to his bed under the
roof.

He was soon in bed, the question, "Have I a chance?" still haunting him.

In summer there would be the sound of the wings of the swallows or
purple swifts in the chimney at night as they became displaced from
their nests. He would start up to listen to the whirring