merciful than the master mason, it might have gone hard with our friend
Benjamin and his fellow-laborers. But, luckily for them, the gentleman
had a respect for Ben's father, and, moreover, was amused with the
spirit of the whole affair. He therefore let the culprits off pretty
easily.

But, when the constables were dismissed, the poor boys had to go through
another trial, and receive sentence, and suffer execution, too, from
their own fathers. Many a rod, I grieve to say, was worn to the stump
on that unlucky night.

As for Ben, he was less afraid of a whipping than of his father's
disapprobation. Mr. Franklin, as I have mentioned before, was a
sagacious man, and also an inflexibly upright one. He had read much for
a person in his rank of life, and had pondered upon the ways of the
world, until he had gained more wisdom than a whole library of books
could have taught him. Ben had a greater reverence for his father than
for any other person in the world, as well on account of his spotless
integrity as of his practical sense and deep views of things.

Consequently, after being released from the clutches of the law, Ben
came into his father's presence with no small perturbation of mind.

"Benjamin, come hither," began Mr. Franklin, in his customary solemn and
weighty tone.

The boy approached and stood before his father's chair, waiting
reverently to hear what judgment this good man would pass upon his late
offence. He felt that now the right and wrong of the whole matter would
be made to appear.