“Sam,” said he, more gruffly than usual, “go call a constable.”

So Sam called a constable, and inquiries were set on foot to discover the perpetrators of the theft.  In the course of the day, warrants were issued, with the signature of a Justice of the Peace, to take the bodies of Benjamin Franklin and other evil-disposed persons, who had stolen a heap of stones.  If the owner of the stolen property had not been more 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.

“Benjamin,” said his father, “what could induce you to take property which did not belong to you?”

“Why, father,” replied Ben, hanging his head, at first, but then lifting his eyes to Mr. Franklin’s face, “if it had been merely for my own benefit, I never should have dreamed of it.  But I knew that the wharf would be a public convenience.  If the owner of the stones should build a house with them, nobody will enjoy any advantage except himself.  Now, I made use of them in a way that was for the advantage of many persons.  I thought it right to aim at doing good to the greatest number.”

“My son,” said Mr. Franklin, solemnly, “so far as it was in your power, you have done a greater harm to the public, than to the owner of the stones.”

“How can that be, father?” asked Ben.

“Because,” answered his father, “in building your wharf with stolen materials, you have committed a moral wrong.  There is no more terrible mistake, than to violate what is eternally right, for the sake of a seeming expediency.  Those who act upon such a principle, do the utmost in their power to destroy all that is good in the world.”