Benjamin Franklin: “We send you here a little book, For you to look upon; That you may see your father's face, Now he is dead and gone.”

It is with a melancholy regret I think of his death; but to death we are all bound by the irreversible order of nature, and in looking forward to it, there is comfort in being able to reflect--that we have not lived in vain, and that all…

With these sentiments he left England; but when, on his arrival in America, he found the war begun, and that there was no receding, no man entered more warmly into the interests of what he then considered as his country, in opposition to…

But if I were in his place, and not otherwise instructed, I should be apt to say, Take your own time, gentlemen.

To strangers he was cold and reserved; but where he was intimate, no man indulged to more pleasantry and good humour.