which we may get rid of them. Death is that way. We ourselves, in some cases, prudently choose a partial death. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, parts with it freely, since the pain goes with it and he who quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and possibilities of pains and diseases, it was liable to, or capable of making him suffer.

Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of pleasure, which is to last forever. His chair was ready first; and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together: and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and know where to find him?

Adieu.

B. FRANKLIN

To the late Ioctor Mather, of Boston.

REV. SIR,

I received your kind letter, with your excellent advice to the United States, which I read with great pleasure, and hope it will be duly re garded. Such writings, though they may be lighte ly passed over by many readers, yet, if they make a deep impression on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be considerable.

Permit me to mention one little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite unin. teresting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book entitled" "Essays to do good." which I think was written by your father. It had been so little regarded by a former possessor, that several leaves of it were torn out; but the remainder gave

me such a turn for thinking, as to have an influence on my conduct through life: for I have always set a greater value on the character of a doer of good, than any other kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book.

You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year. I am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown ol together. It is now more than sixty years since I left Boston; but I remember well both your fath er and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last

time I saw your father was in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him after my first trip to Pennsyl vania: he received me in his library; and on my taking leave, shewed me a shorter way out of the house, through a narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam over head. We were still talking as I withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he said hastily. "Stoop, Stoop!" I did not understand him till I felt my head hit against the beam. He was a man who never missed any occasion of giving instruction and upon this he said to me: You are young, and have the world before you: stoop as you go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps. This advice, thus beat into my heart. has frequently been of use to me; and I often think of it, when I see pride mortified, and misfortune brought upon people by their carrying their heads too high.

I long much to see again my native place; and once hoped to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723. I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763; and in 1773 I was in England. In 1775 I had a sight of it, but could not enter, it being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to have been there in 1783,

but could not obtain my dismission from this em ployment here; and now I fear I shall never have that happiness. My best wishes however attend my dear country, "esto perpetua." It is now blessed with an excellent constitution: may it last for ever!

This powerful monarchy continues its friendship for the United States. It is a friendship of the ut most importance to our security, and should be carefully cultivated. Britain has not yet digested the loss of its dominion over us; and has still at times some flattering hopes of recovering it. Accidents may increase those hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts. A breach between us and France would infallibly bring the English again upon our backs and yet we have some wild beasts among our country men, who are endeavoring to weaken that connection.

Let us preserve our reputation, by performing Our engagements; our credit, by fulfilling our contracts; and our friends, by gratitude and kindness: for we know not how soon we may again have oc◄ casion for all of them.

With great and sincere esteem,

I have the honor to be,

Reverend sir,

Your most obedient and

most humble servant,

B. FRANKLIN,

Passy, May 12, 1784.

169

THE WHISTLE.

A TRUE STORY.

WRITTEN TO HIS NEPHEW.

WHEN I was a child, about seven year old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was wor h. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of my money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gavę ́me pleasure.

This however was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind: so that often when I was tempted to buy some unni ćessary thing I said to myself, don't give too much for the whistle; and so I saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.

When I saw any one too ambitious of court favors, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, this man gives too much for his whistle.

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting

P

his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect ; He pays indeed, says I, too much for his whistle.

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth: poor man, says I, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle.

When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations: Mistaken man, savs I, you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle.

If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prison: Alas, says I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.

When I see a beautiful sweet-tempered girl, married to an ill natured brute of a husband: What a piny it is, says I, that she has paid so much for a whistle.

In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistle.

A PETITION

To those who have the superintendency of
Education.

I ADDRESS myself to all the friends of youth, and conjo them to direct their compassionate regards to my unhappy fate, in order to remove the prejudices of -which I am the victim. There are twin sisters of us: and the two eyes of man do not more resemble, nor are capable of being upon better terms with each other,