But it was not long before this obstinate dislike of Ben's to all ordinary pursuits was found out; it was found out by his mother. "Bless me," said she one night to her husband, as he lay sleepless and sighing on his son's account, "why do we make ourselves so unhappy about Ben for fear he should go to _sea!_ let him but go to _school_, and I'll engage we hear no more about his running to sea. Don't you see the child is never happy but when he has a book in his hand? Other boys when they get a little money never think of any thing better to lay it out on than their backs or their bellies; but he, poor fellow, the moment that he gets a shilling, runs and gives it for a book; and then, you know, there is no getting him to his meals until he has read it through, and told us all about it." Good old Josias listened very devoutly to his wife, while she uttered this oration on his youngest son. Then with looks as of a heart suddenly relieved from a heavy burden, and his eyes lifted to heaven, he fervently exclaimed--"O that my son, even my little son Benjamin, may live before God, and that the days of his usefulness and glory may be many!" How far the effectual fervent prayer of this righteous father found acceptance in heaven, the reader will find perhaps by the time he has gone through our little book. CHAPTER VI. _Ben taken from school, turns his own teacher--History of the books which he first read--Is bound to the printing trade._ At a learned table in Paris, where Dr. Franklin happened to dine, it was asked by the abbé Raynal, _What description of men most deserves pity?_ Some mentioned one character, and some another. When it came to Franklin's turn, he replied, _A lonesome man in a rainy day, who does not know how to read._