In order to keep him at home, and likewise to gratify his taste for letters, the lad was bound apprentice to his elder brother, who had lately set up a printing-office in Boston. </p> <p> Here he had many opportunities of reading new books and of hearing instructive conversation. He exercised himself so successfully in writing compositions, that, when no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, he became a contributor to his brother&rsquo;s newspaper. Ben was also a versifier, if not a poet. He made two doleful ballads,&mdash;one about the shipwreck of Captain Worthilake; and the other about the pirate Black Beard, who, not long before, infested the American seas. </p> <p> When Ben&rsquo;s verses were printed, his brother sent him to sell them to the townspeople wet from the press. &ldquo;Buy my ballads!&rdquo; shouted Benjamin, as he trudged through the streets with a basketful on his arm. &ldquo;Who&rsquo;ll buy a ballad about Black Beard? A penny apiece! a penny apiece! Who&rsquo;ll buy my ballads?&rdquo; </p> <p> If one of those roughly composed and rudely printed ballads could be discovered now, it would be worth more than its weight in gold. </p> <p> In this way our friend Benjamin spent his boyhood and youth, until, on account of some disagreement with his brother, he left his native town and went to Philadelphia. He landed in the latter city, a homeless and hungry young man, and bought three-pence worth of bread to satisfy his appetite. Not knowing where else to go, he entered a Quaker meeting-house, sat down, and fell fast asleep. He has not told us whether his slumbers were visited by any dreams. But it would have been a strange dream, indeed, and an incredible one, that should have foretold how great a man he was destined to become, and how much he would be honored in that very city where he was now friendless and unknown. </p> <p> So here we finish our story of the childhood of Benjamin Franklin. One of these days, if you would know what he was in his manhood, you must read his own works and the history of American independence. </p> <p> &ldquo;Do let us hear a little more of him!&rdquo; said Edward; &ldquo;not that I admire him so much as many other characters; but he interests me, because he was a Yankee boy.&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;My dear son,&rdquo; replied Mr. Temple, &ldquo;it would require a whole volume of talk to tell you all that is worth knowing about Benjamin Franklin. There is a very pretty anecdote of his flying a kite in the midst of a thunder-storm, and thus drawing down the lightning from the clouds and proving that it was the same thing as electricity. His whole life would be an interesting story, if we had time to tell it.&rdquo;