XXIX.

UPS AND DOWNS OF LIFE.

NE of the first places that Benjamin visited was the printing house of Keimer, where he worked before leaving the country. Keimer had made up his mind that Benjamin would never return to America, so that when he entered the printing office he was startled.

"Why, Ben! can it be you?" he exclaimed in won. der. "I began to think that you would never be seen in Philadelphia again.”

"Why did you think so?"

"Because you planned to be back here a long time ago; I concluded that you had forsaken us."

"Not yet; I have seen no place abroad quite equal to Philadelphia. I did not return as soon as I expected." And Benjamin rehearsed to Keimer substantially his experience with Governor Keith, that he might understand why his return was delayed.

"That is what you got for concealing your pur-. pose," said Keimer. "I could have told you that Keith was wholly unreliable, and so could a good many other people. He has been turned out of office because of his rascality."

"I am glad to hear that. I am a little curious to

see how he will act, and hear what he will say, when I meet him."

"He won't meet you if he can help it. I see him occasionally on the street, and he looks crestfallen." "He will look more so, I imagine, when he meets me. I propose to talk matters over very plainly with him."

'That can do no good.

The less breath you waste in that way, the better for you," replied Keimer. "But I suppose you want to go to work at your old trade? Plenty of work here, and you are just the man to do it."

Keimer's business had increased largely, and he had added many facilities for doing work, so that the establishment presented a more attractive appear

ance.

"No; I am a printer no longer," answered Benja min. "I am booked for the mercantile business in Philadelphia."

"How is that? Were you not a printer in London ?"

"Yes, I followed my trade there, and learned more about it than I ever knew before. London is a great place for printing. Two printing houses there, with more than fifty hands in each."

"Think you can do better in trading than printing?" asked Keimer, who was really anxious for Benjamin's services.

"Not exactly so. But I should be in London now,

had not Mr. Denham's offer to become his clerk brought me home." And Benjamin told the story of his acquaintance with Mr. Denham and the out,

come, which was his offer to make him his business

manager.

"A good opportunity, I should think, if you like that business," answered Keimer; "but I should like to put you in manager of my printing office. You have had the experience, and understand the business much better than any man I have.”

"That is out of the question now, of course, as I am under obligations to Mr. Denham."

"Of course; I only meant to tell you what I would do if you were at liberty."

Benjamin was anxious to learn about Miss Read, whom he was quite ashamed to meet because of his neglect. Keimer was acquainted with the family, and first introduced him to them, as was stated in a former chapter. So that he had no doubt he would know all about Deborah. He ventured to inquire :

"What can you tell me about Mrs. Read and her daughter?"

"Mrs. Read lives where she did, and continues to take a few boarders. Her daughter was married to a miserable fellow, nearly a year ago, but lived with him only a few weeks, when she left him."

"Indeed! That was unfortunate for her," Benjamin answered. "She deserves a better experience

than that."

"She would not have married, had she been left to her own choice, but her mother and other friends persuaded her. Rogers was her husband's name, and he was a potter by trade, a first-class workman; and they thought he was capable of getting a good living, I suppose."

"A good character would have been of more service to him," suggested Benjamin; "a very unfortu nate affair."

"I was going to say," continued Keimer, "that she had been married but a few weeks before she found that Rogers had another wife. Of course her marriage was not legal, and she left him at once."

“Probably her mother made no inquiry about Rogers' character beforehand," remarked

"Mothers ought to be wiser than that."

Benjamin.

"We all have to live and learn, and experience is our best schoolmaster," added Keimer.

Keimer knew nothing of Benjamin's relation to Deborah Read, so that he spoke freely. The revelation was startling to Benjamin, and it set him to thinking. He concluded that Mrs. Read inferred from his first and only letter to Deborah that he would never return, or never be in a situation to support a wife and family; and, as time went on, and no other letters were received, she became fixed in her conclusion that he would not return. Benjamin took all the blame upon himself; and the honest sympathy of his heart asserted itself for the girl. He resolved to call upon her as soon as possible and confess his wrong-doing, ask her forgiveness, and renew his attentions.

"I should have said," Keimer added, "that Deborah has not changed her name. She refuses to be called Mrs. Rogers, and is still called Miss Read by her friends. This is all right, I suppose, because her marriage was illegal."

"Very wise for her, I think," responded Benjamin.

"But she may consider herself fortunate to get released from such a bondage."

He improved the first opportunity to call at Mrs. Read's, to whom he appeared as one from the dead. She had not heard of his arrival, nor that he was expected. The American Weekly Mercury, the only newspaper of the town, announced, "Entered inwards, ship Berkshire, Henry Clark, from London." That was all; nothing was said about any passengers.

"Benjamin Franklin!" exclaimed Mrs. Read in great astonishment, throwing up her hands at first, as if fearing it was his ghost, and then giving him a most cordial welcome. "Can it be you?'

"It can be," Benjamin replied, with his old-time familiarity, being reassured by Mrs. Read's friendly appearance. "If I know myself, this is Benjamin Franklin."

Deborah made her appearance before the last words were fairly off the lips of the new comer, equally surprised and glad to see her old friend.

"I am really ashamed to meet you, Deborah, after my inexcusable neglect," he said, "and first of all I ask you to forgive me. It scarcely seems possible to myself that I should treat you so.'

Before Deborah had time to reply her mother spoke :

"If there is any blame to be attached to any one, it is to me; for I opposed your engagement, and entreated Deborah to marry that apology for a man Rogers."

"But all that does not excuse me for not writing to