The fellowe, that did take in hand All you that be executors, Of children that be fatherless, FRANKLIN had been some years absent from his native city,' and was at that period of life when the greatest and most rapid alteration is made in the human appearance. He was sensible that his person had been so much changed that his mother would not know him, unless there were some instinct to point out, at a single glance, the child to its parent. To discover the existence of this instinct by actual experiment, Franklin determined to introduce himself to his mother as a stranger, and to watch narrowly for the moment in which she should discover her son. On the afternoon of a sullen cold day, in the month of January, he knocked at his mother's door, and asked to speak with Mrs. Franklin. He found the old lady knitting before the parlour fire, introduced himself, by observing that he had been informed she entertained travellers, and requested a night's lodging. She eyed him with coldness, and assured him that he had been misinformed that she did not keep a tavern, though to oblige some members of the legislature, she took a number of them into her family during the session; and at that time had four members of the Council, and six of the House of Representatives, who boarded with her. She added that all her beds were full, and went on knitting with a great deal of vehemence. Franklin wrapped his coat around him, pretending to shiver with the cold, observing that it was very chilly weather. It was, of course, nothing more than civil for the old lady to ask him to stop and warm himself. She pointed to a chair, and he drew himself up to the fire. The entrance of her boarders prevented any further conversation. Coffee was soon served, and the stranger partook with the rest of the family. To the coffee, according to the custom of the times, succeeded a plate of apples, pipes, and a paper of tobacco. A pleasant circle of smokers was then formed about the fire. Agreeable conversation followed. Jokes were cracked, stories told, and Franklin was so sensible and entertaining as to attract the attention of the whole company. In this manner the moments passed pleasantly and swiftly along, and it was eight o'clock before any of them expected it. This was the hour of supper, and Mrs. Franklin was always as punctual as the clock. Busied with family affairs, she supposed the stranger had quitted the house immediately after coffee. Imagine her surprise, when she saw him, with the utmost coolness and impudence, taking his seat with the family at the supper table! Immediately after supper she called an elderly gentleman, a member of the Council, with whom she was in the habit of consulting, into another room, complained of the rudeness of the stranger, told the manner of his coming into the house, observed that he appeared like a foreigner, and, she thought, had something about him very suspicious. The old gentleman assured her that she need not be under any alarm, that the stranger was a man of education and agreeable manners, and was, probably, unaware of the lateness of the hour. He added, that it would be well to call him aside, and repeat to him that she was unable to give him lodgings. She accordingly sent her maid to him, and then repeated the account of their situation; observed that it grew late, and gently hinted that he would do well to seek out other accommodations. The stranger replied that he should be very sorry to put her to any inconvenience, and would retire after smoking one more pipe with her boarders. He returned to the company, filled his pipe, and began talking as pleasantly and forcibly as ever. He recounted the hardships, and praised the piety and wisdom of their ancestors. A gentleman present mentioned the subject of the day's debate in the House of Representatives. A bill had been introduced to extend the powers of the royal governor. The stranger imme diately entered upon the subject, supported the rights of the colonies with many arguments and much eloquence, and showed a great familiarity with the names of influential members of the house in the time of Governor Dudley. The conversation was so animated and interesting, that the clock struck eleven unnoticed by the delighted circle. The patience of Mrs. Franklin was by this time completely exhausted. She now entered the room, and, before the whole company, addressed the stranger with much anger; told him plainly that she thought herself imposed upon, that she was a lone woman but had friends who would protect her, and concluded by telling him to leave the house. Franklin made a slight apology, put on his great coat and hat, took a polite leave of the company, and approached the street door, lighted by the maid, and attended by the mistress. While the company had been enjoying themselves within, a most tremendous snow-storm had filled the streets, knee-deep; and no sooner had the maid lifted the latch, than a roaring wind forced open the door, put out the light, and almost filled the entry with drifted snow and hail. As soon as the candle was relighted, the stranger cast a mournful look on the lady of the mansion, and said" My dear madam, if you turn me out of your house in this dreadful storm, I am a stranger in the town, and shall certainly perish in the streets. You look like a charitable lady; I should not think you could refuse shelter to a dog on such a night." "Don't tell me of charity," said the offended matron; " charity begins at home. It is your own fault that you stayed so long. In short, sir, I do not like your looks, or your conduct in thus forcing yourself upon my family, and I fear you have some bad designs." The good lady had grown so angry as to raise her voice much above its ordinary pitch, and the noise drew all the company into the entry. They did not agree with Mrs. Franklin in respect to the stranger at all. He seemed to them to be a very honest, clever-looking fellow, and, so far from wishing to turn him out of the house, there was not one of them but what would have been glad to have him for a fellow-boarder. They thought him very sensible and pleasant, and could not account for their landlady's aversion. At length, by their united interference, the stranger was permitted to remain in the house. There was no bed or part of a bed unoccupied, and he was obliged to sleep all night on an easy chair, before the parlour fire. Although her boarders appeared to have perfect confidence in his honesty, it was not so with Mrs. Franklin. She very carefully collected her silver spoons, pepper box, and porringer, from her closet, and after securing the parlour door, by sticking a fork over the latch, carried them to her chamber. She charged the negro man to sleep with his clothes on, to take the great cleaver to bed with him, and to wake up and seize the vagrant at the first noise he made in plundering the house. The good lady then retired to bed with her maid, whom she compelled to sleep in the same room. After a very restless night, Mrs. Franklin rose before the sun. She called her domestics, and proceeded with them in a body to unfasten the parlour door. To her great astonishment, she found her guest quietly sleeping in his chair. She now began to feel sorry for her suspicions. Awaking him with a cheerful good morning, she inquired how he had rested, and invited him to partake of her breakfast, which was always served before that of her boarders. "Pray, sir," said the old lady, as they were sipping their chocolate at the breakfast table, "as you appear to be a stranger here, to what distant country do you belong?" Franklin put a little more sugar into his chocolate, and, helping himself to a slice of toast, replied that he belonged to the city of Philadelphia. At the mention of this word, the old lady, for the first time, exhibited emotion. "Philadelphia ?" said she, "if you live in Philadelphia, perhaps you know our Ben ?" "Who, madam ?" replied Franklin, in the same cool and undisturbed manner that he had put on ever since he entered the house. 66 Why, Ben Franklin," said the mother; "my Benoh he is the dearest child that ever blessed a mother." What," said the stranger, "is Ben Franklin, the printer, your son? Why, he is my most intimate friend he and I lodge in the same room.' 66 "O! Heaven forgive me!" exclaimed the old lady; "and have I suffered an acquaintance of my Benny to sleep on this hard chair, while I myself rested on a good bed ?” We can well imagine that the mother was very much astonished when she found that it was not an acquaintance of her son, but her son himself, whose countenance and person had been so much changed, that she had even been on the point of turning him out of doors! She was delighted to embrace him once more before she died, and was quite pleased that the members of the council had found him so agreeable a fellow as to insist that he should remain all night in the house. -PARLEY's Life of Franklin.' 1. Franklin, the celebrated philosopher, patriot, and statesman, was born January 17, 1706, in Boston. He was ought up a printer; he worked as a eyman some time in London, but re turned to his native land, and took a leading part in securing the independence of America. He died in 1790, at the age of eighty-four. YOUNG BIRDS TAKING WING. 'Tis on some evening, sunny, grateful, mild, When nought but balm is breathing through the woods, THOMSON. I WISH, after all I have said about wit and humour, I could satisfy myself of their good effects upon the character and disposition; but I am convinced the probable tendency of both is to corrupt the understanding and the heart. I am not speaking of wit where it is kept down by more serious qualities of mind. Profound wits, though they are generally courted for the amusement they afford, are seldom respected for the qualities they possess. The habit of seeing things in a witty point of view, increases, and makes incursions from its own proper regions, upon principles and opinions which are ever held sacred by the wise and good. A witty man is a dramatic performer: in process of time he can no more exist without applause, than he can exist without air; if his audience be small, or if they are inattentive, or if a new wit defrauds him of any portion of his admiration, it is all over with him-he sickens and is extinguished. The |