urprise," the
woman used to say.

Let us picture such a day.

Benjamin Franklin sat down in his new library. His books had been placed
and his pictures hung.

Among the pictures were two that were so choice that we may suppose them
to be hung under coverings. One of them was the portrait of the King of
France in its frame of four hundred brilliants, and the other was his
own portrait with, perhaps, Turgot's famous inscription.

It was near evening when he sat down and asked to be left alone.

He opened his secretary, and took from it a letter from Washington. It
read:

"Amid the public gratulations on your safe return to America after a
long absence, and many eminent services you have rendered it, for which
as a benefited person I feel the obligation, permit an individual to
join the public voice in expressing a sense of them, and to assure you
that, as no one entertains more respect for your character, so no one
can salute you with more sincerity or with greater pleasure than I do
on the occasion."

He took from his papers the resolution of the Assembly of Pennsylvania
and began to read:

"We are confident, sir, that we speak the sentiments of the whole
country when we say that your services in the public councils and
negotiations have not only merited the thanks of the present generation,
but will be recorded in the pages of history to your immortal honor."

He dropped the paper on the table beside the letter of Washington and
sank into his armchair, for his pains were coming upon him again.

He thought of the past--of old Boston, of Passy, of all his
struggles--and he wished that he might feel again the sympathetic touch
of the hand of his sister who had been so true to him, and who had loved
him so long and well.

It was near sunset of one of the longest days of the year when he heard
a carriage stop before the door.

"I can not see any one," he said. "I must have rest--I must have rest."

There came a mechanical knock on his door. He did not respond.

A servant's voice said outside, "There is a woman, master, that asks to
see you."

"I can not see any one," answered the tortured old man.

"She is an old woman."

"I could not see the queen."

He heard an echo of the servant's voice in the hall.

"He says that he could not see the queen."

"Well, tell him that I am something more than that to him. He will see
me, or else I will die at his door."

There came a tap on the door, very gentle.