absolute,” on the foundation of morals, on consciousness as a guide in metaphysical speculation, had lost much of their prestige, if Jonathan Edwards’ immortal deductions may be considered an exception.  Prosperity and wars and adventures had made men material, and political themes had more charm than theological discussion.  Pascal had given place to Hobbes and Voltaire, and Hooker to Paley.  In such a state of society, “Poor Richard,” inculcating thrift and economy, in English as plain and lucid as that of Cobbett half-a-century later, had an immense popularity.  For twenty-five years, it annually made its way into nearly every household in the land.  Such a proverbial philosophy as “Honesty is the best policy,” “Necessity never made a good bargain,” “Fish and visitors smell in three days,” “God heals, and the doctors take the fees,” “Keep your eyes open before marriage, and half-shut afterwards,” “To bear other people’s afflictions, every one has courage enough and to spare,”—­savored of a blended irony and cynicism exceedingly attractive to men of the world and wise old women, even in New England parishes, whatever Calvinistic ministers might say of the “higher life.”  The sale of the almanac was greater than that of the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” and the wealth of Franklin stood out in marked contrast with the poverty of Bunyan a century before.

The business enterprise of the gifted publisher at this time was a most noticeable thing.  He began to import books from England and to print anything that had money in it,—­from political tracts to popular poems, from the sermons of Wesley to the essays of Cicero.  He made no mistakes as to the popular taste.  He became rich because he was sagacious, and an oracle because he was rich as well as because he was wise.  Everybody asked his advice, and his replies were alike courteous and witty, although sometimes ironical.  “Friend Franklin,” said a noted Quaker lawyer, “thou knowest everything,—­canst thou tell me how I am to preserve my small beer in the back yard? for I find that my neighbors are tapping it for me.”  “Put a barrel of Madeira beside it,” replied the sage.

In 1736 Franklin was elected clerk of the General Assembly,—­a position which brought more business than honor or emolument.  It secured his acquaintance with prominent men, many of whom became his friends; for it was one of his gifts to win hearts.  It also made him acquainted with public affairs.  Its chief advantage, however, was that it gave him the public printing.  His appointment in 1737 as postmaster in Philadelphia served much the same purposes.  With increase of business, the result of industry and good work, and of influence based on character, he was, when but thirty years old, one of the most prominent citizens of Philadelphia.  His success as a business man was settled.  He had the best printing jobs in Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey, and Delaware.  No one could compete with him successfully.  He inspired confidence