"Ben Franklin"

 

Benjamin Franklin, Autobiography: Page 9 of 154

From a child I was fond of reading, and all the little money that came into my 
hands was ever laid out in books. Pleased with the Pilgrim's Progress, my first 
collection was of John Bunyan's works in separate little volumes. I afterward 
sold them to enable me to buy R. Burton's Historical Collections; they were 
small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40 or 50 in all. My father's little library 
consisted chiefly of books in polemic divinity, most of which I read, and have 
since often regretted that, at a time when I had such a thirst for knowledge, 
more proper books had not fallen in my way since it was now resolved I should 
not be a clergyman. Plutarch's Lives there was in which I read abundantly, and I 
still think that time spent to great advantage. There was also a book of De 
Foe's, called an Essay on Projects, and another of Dr. Mather's, called Essays 
to do Good, which perhaps gave me a turn of thinking that had an influence on 
some of the principal future events of my life. 
This bookish inclination at length determined my father to make me a printer, 
though he had already one son (James) of that profession. In 1717 my brother 
James returned from England with a press and letters to set up his business in 
Boston. I liked it much better than that of my father, but still had a hankering 
for the sea. To prevent the apprehended effect of such an inclination, my father 
was impatient to have me bound to my brother. I stood out some time, but at last 
was persuaded, and signed the indentures when I was yet but twelve years old. I 
was to serve as an apprentice till I was twenty-one years of age, only I was to 
be allowed journeyman's wages during the last year. In a little time I made 
great proficiency in the business, and became a useful hand to my brother. I now 
had access to better books. An acquaintance with the apprentices of booksellers 
enabled me sometimes to borrow a small one, which I was careful to return soon 
and clean. Often I sat up in my room reading the greatest part of the night, 
when the book was borrowed in the evening and to be returned early in the 
morning, lest it should be missed or wanted. 
And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr. Matthew Adams, who had a pretty 
collection of books, and who frequented our printing-house, took notice of me, 
invited me to his library, and very kindly lent me such books as I chose to 
				

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