another of Dr. Mather's, called _Essays to do Good_,
which perhaps gave me a turn of thinking that had an influence on
some of the principal future events of my life.

[16] Small books, sold by chapmen or peddlers.

This bookish inclination at length determined my father to make me a
printer, though he had already one son (James) of that profession. In
1717 my brother James returned from England with a press and letters
to set up his business in Boston. I liked it much better than that of
my father, but still had a hankering for the sea. To prevent the
apprehended effect of such an inclination, my father was impatient to
have me bound to my brother. I stood out some time, but at last was
persuaded, and signed the indentures when I was yet but twelve years
old. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was twenty-one years of
age, only I was to be allowed journeyman's wages during the last year.
In a little time I made great proficiency in the business, and became
a useful hand to my brother. I now had access to better books. An
acquaintance with the apprentices of booksellers enabled me sometimes
to borrow a small one, which I was careful to return soon and clean.
Often I sat up in my room reading the greatest part of the night, when
the book was borrowed in the evening and to be returned early in the
morning, lest it should be missed or wanted.

And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr. Matthew Adams, who
had a pretty collection of books, and who frequented our
printing-house, took notice of me, invited me to his library, and
very kindly lent me such books as I chose to read. I now took a fancy
to poetry, and made some little pieces; my brother, thinking it might
turn to account, encouraged me, and put me on composing occasional
ballads. One was called _The Lighthouse Tragedy_, and contained an
account of the drowning of Captain Worthilake, with his two daughters:
the other was a sailor's song, on the taking of _Teach_ (or
Blackbeard) the pirate. They were wretched stuff, in the
Grub-street-ballad style;[17] and when they were printed he sent me
about the town to sell them. The first sold wonderfully, the event
being recent, having made a great noise. This flattered my vanity; but
my father discouraged me by ridiculing my performances, and telling me
verse-makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet, most
probably a very bad one; but as prose writing has been of great use to
me in the course of