“It was a very pretty piece of work,” said Mr. Temple.  “But wait till you hear the end of the story.”

“Father,” inquired Edward, “whereabouts in Boston was the mill-pond, on which Ben built his wharf?”

“I do not exactly know,” answered Mr. Temple; “but I suppose it to have been on the northern verge of the town, in the vicinity of what are now called Merrimack and Charlestown streets.  That thronged portion of the city was once a marsh.  Some of it, in fact, was covered with water.”

Chapter VIII

As the children had no more questions to ask, Mr. Temple proceeded to relate what consequences ensued from the building of Ben Franklin’s wharf.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN—­CONTINUED

In the morning, when the early sunbeams were gleaming on the steeples and roofs of the town, and gilding the water that surrounded it, the masons came, rubbing their eyes, to begin their work at the foundation of the new house.  But, on reaching the spot, they rubbed their eyes so much the harder.  What had become of their heap of stones!

“Why, Sam,” said one to another, in great perplexity, “here’s been some witchcraft at work, while we were asleep.  The stones must have flown away through the air!”

“More likely they have been stolen!” answered Sam.

“But who on earth would think of stealing a heap of stones?” cried a third.  “Could a man carry them away in his pocket?”

The master-mason, who was a gruff kind of man, stood scratching his head, and said nothing, at first.  But, looking carefully on the ground, he discerned innumerable tracks of little feet, some with shoes, and some barefoot.  Following these tracks with his eye, he saw that they formed a beaten path towards the water-side.

“Ah, I see what the mischief is,” said he, nodding his head.  “Those little rascals, the boys! they have stolen our stones to build a wharf with!”

The masons immediately went to examine the new structure.  And to say the truth, it was well worth looking at, so neatly, and with such admirable skill, had it been planned and finished.  The stones were put together so securely, that there was no danger of their being loosened by the tide, however swiftly it might sweep along.  There was a broad and safe platform to stand upon, whence the little fishermen might cast their lines into deep water, and draw up fish in abundance.  Indeed, it almost seemed as if Ben and his comrades might be forgiven for taking the stones, because they had done their job in such a workmanlike manner.

“The chaps, that built this wharf, understood their business pretty well,” said one of the masons.  “I should not be ashamed of such a piece of work myself.”

But the master-mason did not seem to enjoy the joke.  He was one of those unreasonable people, who care a great deal more for their own rights and privileges, than for the convenience of all the rest of the world.