prentices of booksellers, gave him more frequent opportunities to borrow; and he had the prudence and good sense to preserve this privilege, by losing no time in reading the books thus obtained, and promptly returning them in good condition. "Often," says he, "I sat up in my chamber reading the greatest part of the night, when the book was borrowed in the evening to be returned in the morning, lest it should be found missing ;" and he further relates that he was greatly favored, in this particular, by the kindness of a neighboring merchant, an ingenious and sensible man," named Matthew Adams, who, in his frequent visits to the printing-office, finding his attention peculiarly attracted to Benjamin, invited him to see his library, and of his own accord proffered him the loan of any books it contained, which he might wish to read.

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At this period, moreover, as he relates, a strong inclination for poetry took possession of him, and he wrote some small pieces. His brother James, thinking it might be directed to the advantage of his business, encouraged the propensity. Of the performances of our apprentice-muse, about that time presented to the public, two ballads only are specially named. One of them, entitled, "The Light-House Tragedy," recorded and bewailed the shipwreck of one Captain Worthilake, with two daughters; and the other sung the capture of a truculent pirate named Teach, but better known to fame by the more impressive and appropriate appellation of Black-Beard. He pronounces them "wretched stuff;" but they were printed, and the author, not known as such, however, except only to himself and his brother, was sent forth to hawk them about the streets. The tragedy "sold prodigiously," for the disaster was recent, well known, and affecting. His father, however, soon took down the vanity of the young ballad-writer, by

his plain and searching criticism, and by telling him that "verse-makers were generally beggars."

Though rescued thus from the perils of rhyme, he felt nevertheless a strong propensity to employ his pen; and the method, which, incited by a generous ambition, he now pursued in order to attain a ready command of his mother-tongue, and to form that clear, flowing, and happy prose style, for which he afterward became distinguished, and which proved one of the most efficient means of advancing his fortunes, was so well conceived, so practical, so remarkable in a youth but little more than twelve years old, and for that reason among others so valuable as an example, that a somewhat particular account of the method ought not to be omitted.

One of Benjamin's most intimate companions at this time, was another "bookish lad" by the name of John Collins. They both had an itch for arguing, which grew into a disputatious habit, and led to frequent and eager struggles for victory. This habit, as he admits, is by no means a desirable one, and he subsequently corrected it in himself entirely; but it served, at the time, to stimulate him to the assiduous employment of his pen, and was, in part, the means, aided again by his judicious father, of leading him to the practice which he soon resorted to, for improving his style and enlarging his command of language.

In the course of his discussions with Collins, the old question was started, whether the capacities of females fitted them for the more profound and abstruse sciences, and whether such sciences should be made part of their course of study, either for the sake of positive acquirement, or for the purpose of mental discipline. Collins took the negative side of the question, and Benjamin the affirmative, the latter, in his own account of the contest, adding" perhaps a little for dispute's sake." They

commenced the discussion orally; but parting before the debate was ended, and not being likely to meet again for some little time, Benjamin embraced the occasion to write out his arguments and send them to Collins, who replied in the same way.

Several communications on each side had been made in this form, when they fell under the eye of Benjamin's father, who, without touching at all on the merits of the question, availed himself of the opportunity to comment freely on the performances of the young disputants, showing his son, as he candidly states, that, although he was more accurate in his spelling and punctuation, than his antagonist, yet that the latter much excelled him in elegance of expression, method, and perspicuity, and supporting his criticisms by reference to various passages. Benjamin saw that his father was right, and instead of being either offended, or discouraged, resolved to make more vigorous efforts to improve his manner of writing.

Fortunately for his purpose, about this time he came across a stray volume containing some of the celebrated essays of the Spectator, none of which had he ever seen before. This book he purchased, read the essays again and again, and having good sense and taste enough to perceive and admire their various merits, the desire to form his style on the model they presented, took full possession of him. The method, already alluded to,

which he pursued to attain his end, he describes as follows:

"I took some of the papers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by a few days, and then without looking at the book, tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in any suitable words that should occur to me.

MODE OF FORMING HIS STYLE.

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Then I compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them.”

This practice soon disclosed to him how comparatively limited was his command of language, and the reason of that deficiency in variety, force, and elegance of expression, which his father had so faithfully pointed out. These defects, he believed, would by this time have been considerably less, if he had continued his former practice of making verses; inasmuch as the constant necessity of finding words not only to express the intended sentiment, but to suit the adopted metre, would have enlarged his vocabulary, and given him at the same time a readier command over it. In this conviction, he next proceeded to turn some of the tales of the Spectator into verse; and then, after waiting long enough to forget the language of the original, turn his verse into his own prose.

This course of proceeding he pursued for the purpose of improving his power, variety, and fluency of expression. To acquire the habit of an appropriate and skilful arrangement of his thoughts, in composing, he "sometimes jumbled his collections of hints into confusion," and then, when their original order had been forgotten, he would, without recurring to the original, methodize them according to his own judgment, and write them out again, in full, in the best and fittest language he could draw from his own store. By faithfully persevering in these practices, and comparing his own performance with his model, his discernment was quickened for the detection of his faults and the amendment of them. His pains, moreover, were rewarded, not only by the gratifying consciousness of progress, but also by sometimes having the pleasure of fancying that in certain particulars of small consequence, as he modestly remarks, he had been fortunate enough to improve the

method, or the language, of his model.

This encour

aged him to think that he " might in time, come to be a tolerable English writer," of which, he declares, he was extremely ambitious."

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These efforts, so ingeniously devised and so resolutely continued, were crowned with marked success. The hours devoted to these exercises in composition, and to reading, were, to use his own words, "at night, or before work began in the morning, or on Sundays, when I continued to be in the printing-house; avoiding as much as I could, the constant attendance at public worship, which my father used to exact of me, when I was under his care, and which I still considered a duty, though I could not find time to practise it." In this last particular he doubtless erred; for his duty to his Maker was of higher moment than even the acquisition of a good style, or the entertainment and instruction he found in his books. But the honest frankness of his confession, and his express recognition of the duty, may be allowed, perhaps, as some compensation for his fault, and was at least an amiable trait in his character. Let the youthful reader shun the fault, and imitate the virtue.

His brother James was at this time unmarried, and hired board and lodging for himself and his apprentices. This circumstance led to another proceeding, on the part of Benjamin, of no little interest as indicating the force of his character, and his self-directing power. In his sixteenth year, or thereabouts, he met with a book by one Tryon, in favor of an exclusively vegetable diet. The book made such an impression upon young Benjamin, that he determined to renounce meat of every sort, and live on vegetable food alone. This rejection of flesh, besides being considered as a mere freak, for which he received frequent chiding, did in fact put the family where he boarded to some inconvenience. This