On the 23rd day of July, 1726, Benjamin sailed for Philadelphia, in company with Mr. Denham. After a successful and rather pleasant voyage of nearly three months, they reached Philadelphia, much to the satisfaction of Benjamin, who always enjoyed his stay there. He was now twenty years of age.

“Ah! is it you, Benjamin? I am glad to see you back again,” said Keimer, as his old journeyman made his appearance; and he shook his hand as if his heart was in it. “I began to think you had forsaken us.”

“Not yet,” replied Benjamin. “I think too much of Philadelphia to forsake it yet.”

“Want work at your old business, I suppose?” added Keimer. “I have a plenty of it. You see I have improved things since you were here; my shop is well supplied with stationery, plenty of new types, and a good business!”

“I see that you have made considerable advance,” replied Benjamin. “I am glad that you prosper.”

“And I shall be glad to employ you, as none of my men are complete masters of the business.”

“But I have relinquished my old trade,” answered Benjamin. “I ”

“Given up the printing business!” interrupted Keimer. “Why is that?”

“I have made arrangements with Mr. Denham to keep his books, and serve him generally in the capacity of clerk.”

“I am sorry for that, and I think you will be eventually. It is a very uncertain business.”

“Well, I have undertaken it for better or worse,” said Benjamin, as he rose to leave the shop.

As he was going down the street, who should he meet but Governor Keith, who had been removed from his office, and was now only a common citizen. The ex-Governor appeared both surprised and ashamed at seeing him, and passed by him without speaking.

Benjamin was quite ashamed to meet Miss Read, since he had not been true to his promise. Though he had been absent eighteen months, he had written her but a single letter, and that was penned soon after his arrival in London, to inform her that he should not return at present. His long absence and silence convinced her that he had ceased to regard her with affection; in consequence of which, at the earnest persuasion of her parents, she married a potter by the name of Rogers. He turned out to be a miserable fellow, and she lived with him only a short time. He incurred heavy debts; ran away to the West Indies to escape from his creditors, and there died.

Miss Read (she refused to bear the name of Rogers) was disconsolate and sad, and Benjamin pitied her sincerely, inasmuch as he considered himself to blame in the matter. He was not disposed to shield himself from the censure of the family, had they been disposed to administer any; but the old lady took all the blame upon herself, because she prevented an engagement, and persuaded her daughter to marry Rogers.

These circumstances rendered his meeting with Miss Read less unpleasant, so far as his own want of fidelity was concerned. His intimacy with the family was renewed, and they frequently invited him there to tea, and often sought his advice on business of importance.

Mr. Denham opened a store in Water Street, and Benjamin entered upon his new business with high hopes. He made rapid progress in acquiring knowledge of traffic, and soon became expert in keeping accounts and selling goods. But in February, 1727, when Benjamin was twenty-one years of age, both he and his employer were prostrated by sickness. Benjamin’s disease was pleurisy, and his life was despaired of, though he unexpectedly recovered. Mr. Denham lingered along for some time, and died. His decease was the occasion of closing the store and throwing Benjamin out of business. It was a sad disappointment, but not wholly unlike the previous checkered experience of his life. He had become used to “ups and downs.”

As a token of his confidence and esteem, Mr. Denham left a small legacy to Benjamin, a fact that speaks well for the young man’s faithfulness. And here it should be said, that, whatever faults the hero of our story had, he always served his employers with such ability and fidelity as won their approbation and confidence. Unlike many youth, who care not for their employers’ interests if they but receive their wages and keep their places, he ever did the best he could for those who employed him. He proved himself trustworthy and efficient; and here is found one secret of his success.

In his disappointment, Benjamin sought the advice of his brother-in-law, Captain Homes, who happened to be in Philadelphia at the time.

“I advise you to return to your old business,” said he. “I suppose you can readily get work here, can you not?”

“All I want,” Benjamin answered. “Keimer was very anxious to employ me when I returned from England, and I dare say that he would hire me now.”

“Then I would close a bargain with him at once, were I in your place. I think you will succeed better at your trade than in any other business, and perhaps the way will soon be prepared for you to open a printing-office of your own.”

This advice was followed without delay, and Keimer was eager to employ him. At the outset, he offered him extra wages to take the entire management of his printing-office, so that he (Keimer) might attend more closely to his stationer’s shop. The offer was accepted, and Benjamin commenced his duties immediately. He soon found, however, that Keimer’s design in offering him so large wages was, that the hands he already employed might be improved under his experience, when it would not be necessary for him to hire so competent a person. The facts show us that good workmen can command employment and high wages, when poor ones are obliged to beg their bread.

Among Keimer’s workmen was an Oxford student, whose time he had bought for four years. He was about eighteen years of age, smart and intelligent. Benjamin very naturally became interested in him, as it was quite unusual to find an Oxford scholar acting in the capacity of a bought servant; and he received from him the following brief account of his life. He “was born in Gloucester, educated at a grammar-school, and had been distinguished among the scholars for some apparent superiority in performing his part when they exhibited plays; belonged to the Wits’ Club there, and had written some pieces in prose and verse, which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers. Thence was sent to Oxford, where he continued about a year, but not well satisfied; wishing, of all things, to see London, and become a player. At length, receiving his quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas, instead of discharging his debts, he went out of town, hid his gown in a furze-bush, and walked to London; where, having no friend to advise him, he fell into bad company, soon spent his guineas, found no means of being introduced among the players, grew necessitous, pawned his clothes, and wanted bread. Walking the street, very hungry, not knowing what to do with himself, a crimp’s bill was put into his hand, offering immediate entertainment and encouragement to such as would bind themselves to work in America. He went directly, signed the indentures, was put into the ship, and came over; never writing a line to his friends, to acquaint them what was become of him.”

Such a case has several important lessons for the young. In the first place, it shows the danger that attends theatrical performances. Youth often wonder that good people object to them; but here they may see one reason of their opposition. It was at the school in Oxford that he imbibed a love for the stage. There he participated in dramatic plays, which caused him to run away, and seek a residence in London, where he was ruined. There are hundreds of similar examples, and these cause good people to condemn theatrical amusements. It is said that when Lord Jeffrey was a youth, at the college in Glasgow, he was instrumental in originating a dramatic performance. The play was selected, and a room of the college designated as a fitting theatre, when the authorities interfered, and forbade them to perform the play. Their interference aroused the ire of Jeffrey, who, in his “Notes on Lectures,” denounced their conduct as “the meanest, most illiberal, and despicable.” Many youth cherish similar feelings towards those who condemn such performances; and, if one of the number shall read these pages, we would point him to the sad end of the Oxford student.

This case also illustrates the sad consequences of keeping bad company, as well as the perils of the city. He associated with the vicious in London, and became really a vagabond in consequence.

As the workmen improved under Benjamin’s supervision, Keimer evidently began to think of discharging him, or cutting down his wages. On paying his second quarter’s wages, he told him that he could not continue to pay him so much. He became less civil, frequently found fault, and plainly tried to make Benjamin’s stay uncomfortable so that he would leave. At length a rare opportunity offered for him to make trouble. An unusual noise in the street one day caused Benjamin to put his head out of the window to see what was the matter. Keimer happened to be in the street, and seeing him, he cried out, “Put your head in, and attend to your business;” and added some reproachful words which all in the street heard. Then, hastening up into the office, he continued his insulting language.

“Men who work for me must give better heed to their business,” said he. “If they care more for a noise in the street than for their work, it is time they left.”

“I am ready to leave any time you please,” retorted Benjamin, who was considerably nettled by such treatment. “I am not dependent on you for a living, and I shall not be treated in this way long, I assure you.”

“That, indeed!” exclaimed Keimer. “You would not stay another hour if it were not for our agreement, in accordance with which I now warn you that, at the end of a quarter’s time, I shall hire you no more.”

“You need not regret that you cannot send me away to-day,” answered Benjamin. “I shall work no longer for a man who will treat me thus;” and, taking his hat, he left. As he passed down, he requested Meredith, one of the hands, to bring some things which he left behind to his lodgings.

In the evening Meredith went to see Benjamin, carrying the articles referred to.

“What shall you do now?” Meredith inquired.

“I shall return to Boston forthwith.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You can do much better here than you can there.”

“What can I do here now?”

“Set up business for yourself.”

“I have no money to do it with.”

“My father has,” said Meredith; “and I will go into company with you if he will furnish the means. I am not acquainted with the business, and you are; so I will furnish the capital, and you shall manage the concern, and we will share the profits equally.”

“Your father will never do it,” suggested Benjamin.

“I am confident that he will,” replied Meredith. “He has a high opinion of you, and he wants a good opportunity to set me up. I will ask him, at any rate.”

“I would like such an enterprise myself,” added Benjamin; “but can we succeed against Keimer? He will now do all he can to crush me.”

“He will be crushed himself before long,” answered Meredith. “I happen to know that he is in debt for all the property in his hands. He keeps his shop miserably, too; often sells without profit in order to raise money; and trusts people without keeping accounts. He will fail as surely as he keeps on in this way.”

“I will agree to your plan if you can make it work,” said Benjamin. “See your father immediately, and let me know the result.”

Accordingly, Meredith saw his father, and he was ready to furnish the necessary capital, because of his high regard for Benjamin.

“I am the more ready to do this,” said he to Benjamin, afterwards, “because of your good influence over my son. You have prevailed upon him to leave off drinking to excess, and I hope he will be persuaded, by your more intimate connection in business, to reform entirely.”

It was settled that they should set up business as soon as they could procure the necessary articles from England.