So intensely bent on the acquisition of knowledge was Franklin, that he often preferred his book to his meal, and studied whole nights, in defiance of the commands and entreaties of Morpheus. As he was paid a weekly sum for his board, he adopted a course of simple vegetable diet, by which he saved money to purchase books. He manifested a correct taste and a sound judgment in the selection of authors and subjects. Among them, he studied with admiration and attention the Memorabilia of Xenophon, and became one of the closest imitators of Socrates, in his mode of reasoning and habits of life, to be found on record. Before he became versed in the rules of propriety, he often gave offence by the bold and obstinate manner in which he advanced and maintained his opinions. He now commenced his literary career; and, as is most usually the case with young authors, he offered his first sacrifice to Calliope, in a strain of rhyming ideas. His poetry was applauded, but his father, who was a man of sound judgment, cured him of his poetic mania, by turning his verses into ridicule; at the same time encouraging him to improve his talents by writing prose. Suspicious of his own ability, fearing the shafts of criticism, he managed to have several of his productions published in the paper edited by his brother, in so clandestine a manner, that no one could know the author. When he found they met with general admiration, his vanity, as he says, did not let the world long remain ignorant of the writer. Being flattered by praise and attention from others, he began to feel his importance, which resulted in an open rupture between him and his brother, to whom he was an apprentice. For some time, he endured a course of harsh treatment, but at length resolved to free himself from the chains of bondage. He soon found an opportunity of embarking for New York, where he arrived in safety. Not being able to obtain business there, he bent his course towards the city of Philadelphia, on foot, and alone. On his arrival there, he had but one solitary dollar left; was a stranger, and only seventeen years of age; and, without business, must soon be dependent on the cold charities of the world for his bed and board. On entering Market street, his eccentric appearance excited the gaze of the multitude, as much as his towering talents subsequently did the gaze of the world. He had a roll of bread under each arm, and, approaching the Delaware, he sat down and feasted upon his bread and the pure water from the river. His pockets were projected to an enormous size with the various articles of his wardrobe, and, on the whole, his corpulent appearance was not in bad keeping with old Boniface.