"Not at all, sir; we are told from good authority, that it was the reading of Homer that first put it into the head of Alexander the great to become a HERO: and after him of Charles the 12th. What millions of human beings have been slaughtered by these two great butchers is not known; but still probably not a tythe of what have perished in duels between individuals from the pride and revenge nursed by reading Homer." "Well, sir," replied the governor, "I never heard the prince of bards treated in this way before. You must certainly be singular in your charges against Homer." "I ask your pardon, sir, I have the honour to think of Homer exactly as did the greatest philosopher of antiquity; I mean Plato, who strictly forbids the reading of Homer in his republic. And yet Plato was a heathen. I don't boast myself as a christian; and yet I am shocked at the inconsistency of our Latin and Greek teachers (generally christians and DIVINES too,) who can one day put Homer into the hands of their pupils, and in the midst of their recitations can stop them short to point out the _divine beauties_ and _sublimities_ which the poet gives to his hero, in the bloody work of slaughtering the poor Trojans; and the next day take them to church to hear a discourse from Christ on the blessedness of meekness and forgiveness. No wonder that hot-livered young men thus educated, should despise meekness and forgiveness, as mere cowards' virtues, and deem nothing so glorious as fighting duels, and blowing out brains." Here the governor came to a pause, like a gamester at his last trump. But perceiving Ben cast his eyes on a splendid copy of Pope's works, he suddenly seized that as a _fine_ opportunity to turn the conversation. So stepping up, he placed his hand on his shoulder, and in a very familiar manner said, "Well, Mr. Franklin, there's an author that I am sure you'll not quarrel with; an author that I think you'll pronounce _faultless_." "Why, sir," replied Ben, "I entertain a most exalted opinion of Pope; but still, sir, I think he is not without his faults." "It would puzzle you, I suspect, Mr. Franklin, as keen a critic as you are, to point out _one_." "Well, sir," answered Ben, hastily turning to the place, "what do you think of this famous couplet of Mr. Pope's-- "Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense." "I see no fault there." "No, indeed!" replied Ben, "why now to my mind a man can ask no better excuse for any thing wrong he does, than his _want of sense_." "Well, sir," said the governor, sensibly staggered, "and how would you alter it?" "Why, sir, if I might presume to alter a line in this great Poet, I would do it in this way:-- "Immodest words admit but _this_ defence-- That want of decency is want of sense."