“‘But, Your Honor, Virginia is in great need of ministers,’ said the commissary.  ‘It has souls to be saved.’

“‘Souls—­damn your souls!  Make tobacco,’ said the Queen’s lawyer.

“The counselors of royalty have no high opinion of souls or principles.  Think of these taxes on exports needed by neighbors.  The minds that invented them had the genius of a pickpocket.”

“I see that you are not in love with England, sir,” said Jack.

“My boy, you do not see straight,” the Doctor answered.  “I am fond of England.  At heart she is sound.  The King is a kind of wooden leg.  He has no feeling and no connection whatever with her heart and little with her intellect.  The people are out of sympathy with the King.  The best minds in England are directly opposed to the King’s policy; so are most of the people, but they are helpless.  He has throttled the voting power of the country.  Jack, I have told you all this and shall tell you more because—­well, you know Plato said that he would rather be a blockhead than have all knowledge and nobody to share it.  You ought to know the truth but I have told you only for your own information.”

“I am going to write letters to The Gazette but I shall not quote you, sir, without permission,” said Jack.

At this point the attendant entered and announced that Mr. Thomas Paine had called to get his manuscript.

“Bring him up,” said the Doctor.

In a moment a slim, dark-eyed man of about thirty-three in shabby, ill-fitting garments entered the room.

Doctor Franklin shook his hand and gave him a bundle of manuscript and said: 

“It is well done but I think it unsound.  I would not publish it.”

“Why?” Paine asked with a look of disappointment.

“Well, it is spitting against the wind and he who spits against the wind spits in his own face.  It would be a dangerous book.  Think how great a portion of mankind are weak and ignorant men and women; think how many are young and inexperienced and incapable of serious thought.  They need religion to support their virtue and restrain them from vice.  If men are so wicked with religion what would they be without it?  Lay the manuscript away and we will have a talk about it later.”

“I should like to talk with you about it,” the man answered with a smile and departed, the bundle under his arm.

“Now, Jack,” said Franklin, as he looked at his watch, “I can give you a quarter of an hour before I must go and dress for dinner.  Please tell me about your resources.  Are you able to get married?”

Jack told him of his prospects and especially of the generosity of his friend Solomon Binkus and of the plight the latter was in.

“He must be a remarkable man,” said Franklin.  “With Preston’s help he will be coming on to London in a day or so.  If necessary you and I will go down there.  We shall not neglect him.  Have you any dinner clothes?  They will be important to you.”