f phrase, and even tone of voice and accent in
pronunciation, all please and seem to refresh and revive me." The
newspapers of those days were full of advertisements for runaway
apprentices, and Benjamin was one to get his freedom in the same way.
He sold his books for a little cash, took secret passage in a sloop for
New York, and in three days (some time in October, 1723) found himself
in that strange city "without the least recommendation or knowledge of
anybody in the place." The voyage had been uneventful save for an
incident which happened while they were becalmed off Block Island. The
crew here employed themselves in catching cod, and to Franklin, at this
time a devout vegetarian, the taking of every fish seemed a kind of
unprovoked murder, since none of them had done or could do their
catchers any injury. But he had been formerly a great lover of fish,
and the smell of the frying-pan was most tempting. He balanced some
time between principle and inclination, till, recollecting that when
the fish were opened he had seen smaller fish taken out of their
stomachs, he bethought himself: "If you eat one another I don't see why
we may not eat you;" so he dined upon cod very heartily, and continued
through life, except at rare intervals, to eat as other people. "So
convenient a thing it is," he adds, "to be a reasonable creature, since
it enables one to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind
to do."

II

BEGINNINGS IN PHILADELPHIA AND FIRST VOYAGE TO ENGLAND

The only printer then in New York was old William Bradford, formerly of
Philadelphia, whose monument may still be seen in Trinity Churchyard.
To Mr. William Bradford accordingly young Franklin applied for work;
but there was little printing done in the town and Bradford had no need
of another hand at the press. He told Franklin, however, that his son
at Philadelphia had lately lost his principal assistant by death, and
advised Franklin to go thither.

Without delay Franklin set out for that place, and after a somewhat
adventurous journey arrived at the Market Street wharf about eight or
nine o'clock of a Sunday morning.

Philadelphia at that time was a comfortable town of some ten thousand
inhabitants, extending a mile or more along the Delaware and reaching
only a few blocks back into the country. It was a shady easy-going
place, with pleasant gardens about the houses, and something of Quaker
repose and substantial thrift lent a charm to