there was no poetry, such a sense of
homely duties soon passed away. He came to send her beautiful presents
of fabrics, "black and purple gowns," wearing apparel of elegant
texture, and ribbons. When he became rich it was his delight to make
happy the home of Jane Mecom--his poetic, true-hearted sister "Jenny,"
whose heart had beat to his in every step of his advancing life.

She became the mother of a large family of children, and when one of
them ran away and went to sea she took all the blame of it to herself,
and thought that if she had made his home pleasanter for him he would
not have left it. In her self-blame she wrote to her brother to confess
how she had failed in her duty toward the boy. Franklin read her heart,
and wrote to her that the boy was wholly to blame, which could hardly
have been comforting. Jenny would rather have been to blame herself.
There was but little wrong in this world in her eyes, except herself.

She saw the world through her own heart.

CHAPTER XXIII.

MR. CALAMITY.

THERE was a fine, busy old gentleman that young Franklin met about the
time that he opened his printing office, whose course it will be
interesting to follow. Almost every young man sometimes meets a man of
this type and character. He is certain to be found, as are any of the
deterrent people in the Pilgrim's Progress. He is the man in whose eyes
there is ruin lurking in every form of prosperity, who sees only the
dark side of things--to whom, as we now say, everything "is going to the
dogs."

We will call him Mr. Calamity, for that name represents what he had come
to be as a prophet.[B]

One day young Franklin heard behind him the tap, tap, tap of a cane. It
was a time when Philadelphia was beginning to rise, and promised
unparalleled prosperity. The cane stopped with a heavy sound.

"What--what is this I hear?" said Mr. Calamity. "You are starting a
printing office, they say. I am sorry, sorry."

"Why are you sorry, sir?" asked the young printer.

"Oh, you are a smart, capable young man, one who in the right place
would succeed in life. I hate to see you throw yourself away."

"But is not this the right place?"

"What, Philadelphia?"

"Yes, it is growing."

"That shows how people are deceived. Haven't you any eyes?"

"Yes, yes."

"But what were they made for? Can't you see what is coming?"

"A great prosperity, sir."

"Oh, my young man, how you are deceived, and how feather-headed people
ha