LESSON 3 AX GRINDING

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

WHEN I was a little boy,I remember one cold winter's mo rning I was accosted by a smiling man with an ax on his shoulder. "My pretty boy,"said he, "has you r father a grindstone?"

"Yes, sir," said I.

"You are a fine little fellow!"said he. "Will you let me grind my ax on it?"

Pleased with the compliment of "fine little fellow," "Oh, yes, sir," I answered. "It is down in the shop."

"And will you, my man," said he, patting me on the head, "get me a little hot water? How could I refuse? I ran and soon brought a kettleful.

"How old are you?—and what's your name?" continued he,without waiting for a reply. "I'm sure you are one of the finest lads that I have ever seen. Will you just turn a few minutes for me?"Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool, I went to work, and bitterly did I rue the day.

It was a new ax, and I toiled and tugged till I was almost tired to death. The school-bell rang, and I could not get away My hands were blistered, and the ax was not half ground. At length, however,it was sharpened, and the man turned to me with," Now, you little rascal, you've played truant. Scud to the school, or you'll rue it!"

"Alas!" thought I, "it was hard enough to turn a grindstone this cold day, but now to be called a little rascal is too much." It sank deep into my mind, and often have I thought of it since.

When I see a merchant over-polite to his customers, begging them to take a little brandy and throwing his goods on the counter,thinks I, "that man has an ax to grind."

When I see a man flattering the people and making great professions of attachment to liberty, who is in private life a tyrant,methinks, "Look out, good people! That fellow would set you turning grindstones!"

When I see a man hoisted into office by party spirit, without a single qualification to render him either respectable or useful,"Alas!" methinks, "deluded people, you are doomed for a season to mm the grindstone for a booby."

—BENJAMIN FRANKLIN