PRINTER-BOY.

CHAPTER I.

THE WHISTLE.

It was a bright, welcome holiday to little Benjamin Franklin, when his
kind parents put some coppers into his pocket, to spend as he saw fit.
Possibly it was the first time he was ever permitted to go out alone
into the streets of Boston with money to spend for his own pleasure;
for he was now but seven years old.

"Can I have more coppers when these are gone?" he inquired.

"No," replied his mother, "you have quite as many now as will be for
your welfare, I think. You must be a good boy, and keep out of
mischief."

"What are you going to buy?" asked an older brother; and without
waiting for a reply, he answered the question himself, by saying,
"Candy, of course."

"Lay out your money wisely," added his mother; "I shall want to see
how much wisdom you display in your purchases. Remember 'all is not
gold that glitters.'"

His mother had scarcely ceased speaking, when Benjamin bounded out of
the house, eager to enjoy the anticipated pleasures of the day. Like
other boys, on such occasions, his head was filled with bewitching
fancies, and he evidently expected such a day of joy as he never had
before. First in his thoughts stood the toy-shop, into the windows of
which he had often looked wistfully, although it was a small affair
compared with the Boston toy-shops of the present day. Every article
in it could have been examined in one or two hours, while now it would
take as many days to view all the articles in one of these
curiosity-shops. It is almost wonderful, and even fabulous, this
multiplication of playthings for the children. There seems to be no
end to them, and many a girl and boy have been put to their "wits'
end" to know what to choose out of the thousands of articles arranged
on the shelves.

Benjamin had not proceeded far before he met a boy blowing away upon,
a new-bought whistle, as if its music were sweeter than the voice of
lark or nightingale. He could scarcely help envying him the happiness
of owning so valuable a treasure. He stopped and looked at him with an
expression of delight, and they exchanged glances that showed a
genuine sympathy springing up between them. At once he resolved to
possess a similar musical instrument, as I suppose it may be called;
and away he hastened to the toy-shop, knowing that it must have been
purchased there.

"Any whistles?" he inquired.

"Plenty of them," answered the proprietor, with a smile, as he brought