was call'd to supper, went to bed again very early, and slept
soundly till next morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could,
and went to Andrew Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop
the old man his father, whom I had seen at New York, and who,
travelling on horseback, had got to Philadelphia before me.
He introduc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me civilly, gave me
a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want a hand,
being lately suppli'd with one; but there was another printer
in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me;
if not, I should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would
give me a little work to do now and then till fuller business
should offer.
The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer;
and when we found him, "Neighbor," says Bradford, "I have brought
to see you a young man of your business; perhaps you may want such
a one." He ask'd me a few questions, put a composing stick in my
hand to see how I work'd, and then said he would employ me soon,
though he had just then nothing for me to do; and, taking old Bradford,
whom he had never seen before, to be one of the town's people that
had a good will for him, enter'd into a conversation on his present
undertaking and projects; while Bradford, not discovering that he
was the other printer's father, on Keimer's saying he expected
soon to get the greatest part of the business into his own hands,
drew him on by artful questions, and starting little doubts,
to explain all his views, what interests he reli'd on, and in what
manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood by and heard all,
saw immediately that one of them was a crafty old sophister,
and the other a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was
greatly surpris'd when I told him who the old man was.
Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted of an old shatter'd press,
and one small, worn-out font of English which he was then using himself,
composing an Elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned, an ingenious
young man, of excellent character, much respected in the town,
clerk of the Assembly, and a pretty poet. Keimer made verses too,
but very indifferently. He could not be said to write them, for his
manner was to compose them in the types directly out of his head.
So there being no copy, but one pair of cases, and the Elegy
likely to require all the letter, no one could help him.
I endeavor'd to put his press (which he had not yet us'd, and of
which he understood nothing) into order fit to be work'd with;
and, promising to come and print off his Elegy as soon as he
should have got it ready, I return'd to Bradford's, who gave me
a little job to do for the present, and there I lodged and dieted,
A few days after, Keimer sent for me to print off the Elegy.
And now he had got another pair of cases, and a pamphlet to reprint,
on which he set me to work.
These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business.