drinking, and save their money; but they told him it made them strong, and that they could not do their work without it. He convinced them that this was not true, because he could lift and carry a greater weight than any of them. Some of them at last gave it up, and drank as he did.

Franklin passed eighteen months in London, working hard at his business, and diligently improving his mind by study and observation. He was liked and respected by every body; for being industrious, temperate, and studious, he was very good-natured and obliging, and always ready to do a good turn to others. He was also a very pleasant and entertaining companion, and always full of life, and spirit, and cheerfulness.

He returned to Philadelphia when he was twenty years old; and soon afterwards he set up the printing business on his own account, in partnership with a man named Meredith, who had some money. The business prospered in their hands, and his career afterwards was one of uniform success, usefulness, and distinction.

But our account of Franklin stops with the end of his youth. Our young readers, when they grow older, will read his Life, and learn how he became a great statesman, and a great philosopher, and what valuable discoveries he made, and how much good he did to his country and to mankind.

Our object is to show that his success and distinction as a man were owing in part to his diligence and industry as a boy. He never wasted his time in idle sports or frivolous amusements, but stored his mind with useful knowledge in his leisure hours. Boys at this time have more advantages of education than Franklin had. They have better schools to go to, and far more books to read. They have only to improve their chances as he did his, and they cannot fail to be good scholars and respectable men.

[This lesson is from one of Harpers' story books, called Dialogues. Timboc is a native of one of the South Sea Islands, and lives with Mr. and Mrs. Cheveril, on the Hudson River. Mark and Fanny are their children. Timboo is an honest, worthy lad, whose influence over the children is good. Mark had been hiding from his mother, to escape the trouble of going an errand for her; and Timboo reproves him, as will be read.]

Timboo. I DID not say that you were worse than a tiger in general, but only that I once knew some tigers that were in some respects better than you.

Mark. In what respect?

Tim. Why, they were grateful, and you were ungrateful. Mark. Nonsense, Timboo. But, nevertheless, tell us about those tigers.

Fanny. Yes, Timboo, do.

Tim. Well, once upon a time, in the course of my voyages, I stopped at the port of Havre, in France. If you had not been in the habit, like other foolish boys, of wasting your time in school in whispering and playing, instead of attending to your studies, you would know where Havre is.

Mark. I do know where it is. It is on the northern coast of France on the shore of the English Channel.

Tim. Right. You have studied your geography better than I thought you had. It was up the English Channel that I sailed when I went to Havre.

Mark. Well, go on about the tigers. Do they have these tigers in Havre ?

Tim. They had some for a show when I was there, and I went to see them. They had them in a tent, at a sort of fair, outside the town. One evening, I was strolling about, and I came to this fair, and I thought I would go into the tent and see the tigers.

Mark.

How much did you have to pay?

Tim. Two sous. *

Mark. How much is a sou?

*Pronounced suze.

Tim. About a cent.

Mark. Then it was a very cheap show.

Tim. Yes; the shows at those fairs are always pretty cheap. Besides, I took one of the cheapest seats. When I went in and had taken my seat, I saw before me a number of cages, and a tiger in every cage.

Mark. How did they look?

Tim. They looked very ferocious. They were roaring and growling dreadfully, and they walked back and forth, and jumped up and down, as if they were in a state of great fury. Fan. I should have been afraid of them.

Tim. No, there were strong iron bars in front of the cages; so we were not afraid. Well, in a few minutes, a young girl came in. She was dressed all in white, and was, I should think, about fifteen years of age. She was a very delicate and pretty looking girl. She came in upon the stage, and took her stand in front of the cages. There she stood and courtesied to the audience.

Mark. Did the tigers stop growling?

Tim. No; they looked fiercer and more ferocious than ever. Pretty soon, some rough-looking men came in from a side door, bringing some baskets with great pieces of meat in them. Fan. Meat?

Tim. Yes, meat to feed the tigers with. One of the men had a wooden pitchfork. He gave the pitchfork to the girl. She took it and held it with the points up. Then another man took a piece of the meat and put it upon the points of the pitchfork, and the girl, turning round, held it to the bars of one of the tigers' cages. The tiger immediately seized it with his paws, and pulled it through the grating.

Tim. He crouched down upon the floor, and holding the meat in his paws, he began to gnaw it, as a dog would a bone. The girl then held her pitchfork again, and the man put a second piece of meat upon it, and the girl then fed the second tiger. And so on, along the whole row. The tigers seemed