WHILE Benjamin was waiting for an opening, and growing every day more tired of the candle factory, his brother James, who was a good deal older than himself, returned to Boston from England, where he had spent several years. He had gone to learn the art of printing, and when he returned had acquired a thorough knowledge of the trade, and as he intended to open a printing office in Boston, had brought with him from England a printing press, types and other things that were, he knew, likely to be required in the business.
It was not many days before Benjamin and his father paid James a visit. Benjamin was much interested in all he saw and heard, and when his father said, "It is quite time to apprentice you to some useful trade, how should you like to be a printer?" Benjamin replied, "I think I should like it very well, but it will be nine years before I am twenty-one, and it seems a little strange to be apprenticed to my own brother.”
Mr. Franklin replied, "I think James will make a good teacher, and as you are fond of reading, you will have an opportunity of improving your education by reading many useful books, as all books have to pass through the hands of printers.”
James was quite willing to take Benjamin as an apprentice, and as his father was able and willing to pay a small fee for him, his indentures were made out in a way that we should think very strange and old-fashioned, though at the time of which I am writing, about one hundred and eighty years ago, it was quite the custom.
One thing tried him a good deal at first: he had to leave home. There were so many boys and girls in the Franklin family that there was no room for James, and Benjamin was to board and lodge with him. He was not far away and could look in almost every day, still, it was leaving home, and he felt it.
He applied himself to his new employment with a will, learned quickly, and soon became of real use to his brother. It did not take him long to learn to set type, a part of his work in which he soon became skilled and rapid.
In reply to a question asked by his mother, as to how he liked his work, he replied, "Better and better every day; I think it just suits me. It takes more brains to put a single paragraph into type than it does to fill a whole regiment of candle molds.”
When Benjamin had been about three years in his brother's printing office, he was surprised to hear James say that he had made up his mind to edit and print a weekly newspaper. There were only two at that time in Boston, and though some of his friends thought that there was not room for a third, others advised him to make the venture.
Benjamin was greatly pleased with the proposal, and was anxious to help to the utmost of his ability. Had either of the brothers foreseen how much trouble would be the result of the new departure, I hardly think they would have attempted it.
“What is the title of the paper to be?" Benjamin asked.
“The New England Courant," was the reply.
“How many copies will the first issue number?”
“Not a great many; we will begin with a few, keep the type set, and it will be easy to print more if we find the paper sells," said James.
“I think I shall be able to sell a good many on the street," suggested Benjamin. Many people were looking with interest for the newspaper. We do not know if Benjamin called the papers about the streets, in just the same way that newsboys do now, but he proved himself a good salesman.
Setting type for "The Courant" was interesting certainly, but the printer boy had a great desire to write for it, and at first he could not see how his desire was to be gratified. He felt quite sure that if he told his brother he would not meet with any encouragement. At last he made up his mind to try; he need not sign his real name. But James would know his handwriting; he must disguise that. So his first paper was written and slipped under the door of the printing office, and found by James when he unlocked the door the following morning.
Benjamin kept steadily on setting type, but watching his brother's face as he read and re-read the roll of MS. he had picked up. After a time James said, "It is really very good, and I think I shall be able to print it in our next issue, but I should like to know who wrote it. It is signed Silas Dogood, and I do not know any one of that name.”
James read the paper to several of his friends who during the day paid him a visit, and they all agreed that it was very good and ought to be printed; they made several guesses as to who the writer could be. Benjamin listened, smiled, and kept his secret.