"I will go right about it, and I will not be long in getting up something, good, bad, or indifferent." Within a few days Benjamin produced two street ballads, after the style of that day. They were better than any thing he had written, but still susceptible of great improvement. One was entitled "The Light-house Tragedy," and was founded on the shipwreck of Captain Worthilake and his two daughters. The other was a sailor's song on the capture of the famous _Teach_, or "Blackbeard, the Pirate." James read them critically, to see if it would do to put them in print and offer them to the public. "These are really better than what I read the other day," he remarked, when he had examined them all he desired. "Now, you may put them into type, and sell them about the town, if you are willing. I think a good number of them may be disposed of." "How many copies will you print?" "We can print a few to begin with, and let the type remain standing until we see how they go Then we shall run no risk." "Shall I do it immediately?" "Just as soon as you can. The quicker the better. I am anxious to see how they take with the public." Benjamin was not long in printing the two ballads, and having them ready for sale. Under the direction of his brother, he went forth, in due time, to offer them about the town. Whether he cried them on the streets as the newsboys do the daily papers now, we have no means of knowing. But he was successful in selling his wares, whatever his method was. "The Light-house Tragedy" sold the most readily. That commemorated an event of recent occurrence, and which excited much public feeling and sympathy at the time, so that people were quite prepared to purchase it. It sold even beyond his expectations, and seemed to develop what little vanity there was in his soul. He began to think that he was a genuine born poet, and that distinction and a fortune were before him. If he had not been confronted by his father on the subject, it is possible that the speculation might have proved a serious injury to him. But Mr. Franklin learned of his enterprise, and called him to an account. Perhaps he stepped into his shop, as he was selling them about town, and gave him a copy. Whether so or not, his father learned of the fact, and the following interview will show what he thought of it: "I am ashamed to see you engaged in such a business, Benjamin. It is unworthy of a son of Josiah Franklin." "Why so, father? I can't understand you." "Because it is not an honorable business. You are not a poet, and can write nothing of that sort worth printing." "James approved of the pieces, and proposed that I should print and sell them," Benjamin pleaded. "James is not a good judge of poetry, nor of the propriety of hawking them about town. It is wretched stuff, and I am ashamed that you are known as the author. Look here; let me show you wherein it is defective."