Seed of the Dream

8/9/2019 Seed of the Dream

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Featuring

the Self Improvement Tool developed and used by

Benjamin Franklinfor the pursuit of lasting happiness.

The

Seedof the

Dream

Proving the PromiseSM

Its about how to govern yourself


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Copyright 1992, 2004 Kenneth L. PepitonPine Valley, CA 91962

All rights reserved.

The ruled pages may be copied for personal use.

CalebLand Production Company

Proving the Promise

SM


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Dedicated to my childrens children.


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History does not long entrust the care of freedomto the weak or timid...

A people that values its privilegesabove its principles

soon loses both.

These basic precepts are not lofty abstractions,far removed from matters of daily living.They are laws of spiritual strengththat generate and dene our material strength.

Dwight Eisenhower,1953 Inaugural Address


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Contents

Preface...................................................................................................... 9

Self Government .................................................................................... 11

Fit To Be Imitated.................................................................................. 17

Wisdoms Stream.................................................................................... 21

The Waymark......................................................................................... 29

The Great Project................................................................................... 37

Old Mans Vision ................................................................................... 45

Two Requirements ................................................................................. 55

Ultimate Destiny .................................................................................... 59

A Tool for Success .................................................................................. 63

Poor Richard says: .................................................................................. 84

Wisdom from Thomas Jefferson ............................................................ 89

Epilogue ................................................................................................. 91


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Not knowing everything about anything

is no excuse for not using what you do know.


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Know, Dear Reader,

that both treasure and truth

are where you find them.

All the worth

of any treasure or truth

is in the use of it.


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Wise men prot more from foolsthan fools prot from wise men,for wise men will tryto avoid the faults of fools,but few fools ever try to emulatethe good example of wise men.

Cato_


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Preface

Long ago, there lived a wise man in Philadelphia, a truephilosopher, a lover of knowledge, who knew that in his futurethere could arise a generation who might be taught that all ofhistory is an accident.

He foresaw that such an innocent generation might be led tobelieve that the United States of America was founded for noreasons except greed and superstition. He knew such a generation

would search vainly for the secrets of success and happiness thatwould seem to them, along with everything else, to be productsof time and chance. They would confuse their right to pursueHappiness with their natural tendency to pursue pleasure and

mistake hedonisim for Liberty. The old philosopher knew such a generation would need

signs, instructions, clues, and tools with which to discover howto realize the American Dream.

He knew assuredly that the value of Liberty would plummetwhen the generation who had paid its price had passed away.

He knew ignorance of spiritual truth would allow materialisticimaginations to masquerade as the American Dream, whilestealing the very memory of the original idea. So, he crafted asubtle plan to preserve the Dream and Hope of Liberty. Hecreated a seed, an idea seed.

He expected to store a book containing the secretly contrivedplan in the nations libraries, (invented, by him, for just such a

purpose), along with a tool that can plow hearts, hardened bydoubt and despair, into fertile elds of courage and hope. Roy-alists grudges nearly prevented publishing of the manuscript,mysteriously lost for half a century after the old philosophersdeath; but, of course, the old philosopher had already sown theSeed of the Dream...


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Stand ye in the ways, and see,

and ask for the old paths,where is the good way,

and walk therein,

and ye shall nd rest for your souls

Jeremiah of Anathoth, 600 B.C.


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Self Government1.Philadelphia, March, 1790

The old philosopher was dying. He had lived twice as longas men were expected to live in those days. By his living, hehad changed the world.

With condence and anticipation, he looked forward to what-ever was beyond this life. He did not fear death; he regrettedit. He wished to somehow live long enough to see what wouldbecome of the American experiment. He was curious to knowif free men would continue to put forth the effort required togovern themselves and remain free.

Peacefully, nearly dreaming, his thoughts drifted back intime, lingering at a summer day three years earlier. He smiled,remembering how close to failure the experiment had comethat day, before it even began.

He recalled how the sultry heat had increased tension anddiscomfort, making tempers grow short and patience wane.

The men who would be known as Americas founding fathersheld many opinions regarding the road our newborn nationshould travel. Disagreement on moral and nancial questionshad created a rip in the fabric of the infant nation that wouldnot be mended at all if it were not mended quickly. There wasone common thread holding them together and that thread

was fraying fast... the dying man remembered every detail of

June 28, 1787...So much of the future hinged on the events of that day


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The respected co-author of the Declaration of Independencerose painfully to deliver his last spoken message to the Con-

stitutional Convention. He directed his comments to GeorgeWashington, speaking slowly and deliberately, matter-of-factly, asa trusted advisor to a revered leader, using no rhetorical appealsto emotions:

In the beginning of the contest with Britain, when wewere sensible of danger, we had daily prayers in this roomfor Divine protection. Our prayers, Sir, were heard, andthey were graciously answered. All of us who were engagedin the struggle must have observed frequent instances of asuperintending Providence in our favor.... And have wenow forgotten this Powerful Friend? Or do we nowimagine we no longer need His assistance?

The speaker paused and looked around the room, meeting

eyes of honest and devout men who were nodding their headsin acknowledgment.

I have lived, Sir, a long time, and the longer I live, themore convincing proofs I see of this truth: That Godgoverns in the affairs of man.

And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His

notice, is it probable that an empire can arise without Hisaid?

We have been assured, Sir, in the sacred

writings that except the Lord build the house, they laborin vain that build it.

I rmly believe this.

I also believe that, without His concurring aid, weshall succeed in this political building no better than thebuilders of Babel; we shall be divided by our little, partiallocal interests; our projects will be confounded; and weourselves shall become a reproach and a byword down tofuture ages.


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And what is worse, mankind may hereafter, from thisunfortunate instance, despair ofestablishing government

by human wisdom and leave it to chance, war, orconquest.

The room was silent except for the hushed swish of hand-heldfans as the oldest, and possibly best loved and most respected,man in the room seemed to gather his thoughts before makinghis formal motion to the convention.

The old philosopher knew how to use a fraying thread offaith to sew a rip started by arrogance and doubt:

I therefore beg leave to move that, hence-forth, prayersimploring the assistance of Heaven and its blessing onour deliberation be held in this assembly every morning before we proceed to business.

The dying man smiled as he remembered how the framersof the constitution had responded. They had not passed hisresolution, but they had prayed. He enjoyed remembering howquickly thereafter a compromise had been reached and the infantnation nally had a constitution to stand on, to build on.

Prayer mends, he said softly, A stitch in time saves nine,Tom.

His friend, Thomas Jefferson, stood beside his bed. Jeffersondid not think it odd that the old man would open his eyes andspeak a seemingly disconnected proverb without even sayinghello rst.

The old philosopher was nearly twice Jeffersons age; theyounger man knew his friend and advisor would not live muchlonger. Jefferson had come to say good-bye and to receiveany last bits of advice from the man who had offered subtle,deeply meaningful, corrections to the document that declaredthe reason and reasonableness for severing ties between the


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Colonies and the English Monarchy. Jefferson recalled onecorrection in particular.

Based on his understanding of John Lockes Treatise onGovernment, Jefferson had written, We hold these truths toSacred and Undeniable, that all men are created equal, that they areendowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rightsTheold philosopher, had scratched out Sacred and Undeniable, andhad replaced it with self-evident, humbly saying its was lessarguable and more powerful that way.

Both men knew that Locke had supported his own reasoningsby quoting Richard Hooker, a 16th Century preacher, regard-ing the equality of men in Nature being evident in itself.

Now, the old man pointed to the table beside his bed andbade his young grandson, who was in the room to help his frailgrandfather, to hand a stack of about twenty ve large sheets

of paper, to Jefferson. The boy carefully handed the stack ofhand-written pages to Jefferson.

Im glad you came, Tom. You may nd this of some inter-est, said the old man, very softly, taking short, shallow breathsbetween every phrase.

I believe that young men seldom understand how we are

prepared for the tasks we accomplish, Tom. Will tomorrowschildren comprehend the price we paid for their hope of Liberty?

Will they comprehend the evidence of our responsibility thatis so clear to you and me?

These pages are a part of my personal history. They cover anobscure part of my life and show, as well as I could recall, how

I found what happiness this life affords. Its a plan, a tool youmight say. I know for sure it works. I used it.

It is my hope that my lifes greatest unnished task may yetbear fruit. In these pages you will nd the very seeds of mydreams. I leave you to see they are planted.


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Jefferson took the papers and thanked the old man, promisingto read them and return them quickly.

Keep it.Not sure what the old man meant, Jefferson restated himself.

I shall keep it safe and return it quickly.

No, keep it.

The old philosopher closed his eyes and seemed to sleep.

Jefferson stood a while beside the bed. He did not expectto see his friend alive again. He rolled the papers gently andquietly left the room.

The old philosopher spoke without opening his eyes, his voicebarely audible

Its about self-government, Tom...

Its about how to govern yourself.Its a plan I conceived a long time ago


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Everything has been thought of before,the problem is to think of it again.

Goethe


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Fit To Be Imitated2.Twyford, England, 1771

The old philosopher had some time, a quire of ne foolscap,a dozen quills, a trusty pen knife that had trimmed many a

feather in the past fty years and a wonderful story to tell ofhow a poor, landless lad became a rich and honored gentleman.He turned the tiny knife over in his hand and ran his thumblightly across the cutting edge...

If the iron be blunt, and he do not whet the edge,the old manmuttered, then must he put to more strength... He paused,chuckled softly and said aloud in full voice,but wisdom isprofitable to direct.

The blade was razor sharp, worn thin by years of gentlestrokes along the miniature butcher's steel. Both tools always

went everywhere in the vest pocket across the belly from thegold watch, ever ticking.

As iron sharpeneth iron...,muttering again as he deftly shapeda point on each of all twelve quills. Do not put off until themorrow what ye may do today. Proverbs owed through his

mind, each attached to a pure idea. The old philosopher lovedpure ideas. He loved to follow a stream of thought to its sourceand drink deeply there.

A dip of the quill, a tap on the blotter, he began to write:

Dear son:

I have ever had pleasure in obtaining

any little anecdotes of my ancestors.You may remember the inquiries I made

among the remains of my relations

when you were with me in England,


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That had been a journey of wonder and discovery. It was1757, the philosopher and his handsome teenage son, journeyingfrom the harbor at Falmouth to London, had stopped to viewStonehenge on the Salisbury Plain.

Who built this, Father?

I dont know that, Billy, and I have no idea why they built it; butI believe I know why I dont know.

These people left us no writings, so all their reasonings have blown

away on the winds of spoken words. What we have here are ashes ofideas. We can see evidence that tells all our senses that some one hada purpose in wrestling these stones, but, for all intents and purposes,now, it was vanity.

Vanity and vexation of spirit,the father had said to the son.Thats what is left if you can not leave writings behind, and eventhen, often as not. Thats what is left of dreams and aspirations that

never get writ into real plans and purposes. They blow away.

That was so long ago. The writer paused and reected on hisson. What can I leave him? This incessantly ticking watch? Iwonder if he remembers accompanying me to the auction where Ibought it? It has ticked every second... an apt adage popped into

his mind...Do ye love life? Waste not time for thats the stuff lifesmade of thoughts of his son resumed...

Hell gain little wealth when Im gone. Most of the income Ivelearned with is subject now to whim of politics. Therell not be muchof an estate in worldly goods, God knows. And we seem, sadly, to bedrifting to opposite sides of the struggle which I have inadvertently

given my life to prepare for. He becomes more and more the loyalist;I more and more the rebel.

Nay, I am no rebel, but free! I can leave him that, the key to free-dom. I can show him the means Ive made use of to get the most outof every tick of this watch!


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Back to the page. Quills dry, another dip and tap.

Imagining it may be equally agreeable to you to know

the circumstances of my life, many of which you are yetunacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment ofa weeks uninterrupted leisure in my present countryretirement, I sit down to write them for you.

Dry quill, poised above the ink well, the old man lifted hiseyes to see out of the top half of his gold-rimmed spectacles.

The muses love the morning,he said, gazing far away intothe clear summer morning, seeing the sun two-hours-old glinton gossamer strands left behind by meadow spiders sailing onthe wind.

The early morning does have gold in its mouth, doesnt it,Richard? He spoke cheerily to the empty room. He spoke tohis alter-ego, Richard Saunders, Bonhomme Richard, Poor

Richard, who had spoken to the public all the gems of wisdomthe old printer had gleaned from the elds of historys nestminds.

Nodding his head, the old man answered himself, with acontented sigh, Yes, amen.

A peaceful glow seemed to settle on his face; his thoughtsdrifted back to his son and his sons son. A dip of the quill, a

careful blotI have besides some other inducements.

Having emerged from the poverty and obscurity in whichI was born and bred, to a state of afuence and somedegree of reputation in the world, and having gone sofar through life with a considerable share of felicity, the

conducing means I made use of, which with the blessingsof God so well succeeded, my posterity may like to know,as they may nd some of them suitable to their ownsituations, and therefore t to be imitated.

He wrote on for some time, pausing and glancing every nowand then beneath the dust covers on memories long stored andseldom recalled.


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He declared to his son that his life had been lled with somuch happiness that he would gladly live it again, even without

the opportunity to correct mistakes.Since such a repetition is not to be expected, the next bestthing most like living ones life over again seems to be arecollection of that life, and to make that recollection asdurable as possible by putting it down in writing.

Aware that his son might assume vanity were his motiva-tion, the old philosopher confessed it readily, assured that

his denial of it would not be believed. He wrote that it is thenatural inclination of old men to speak of their past and theirpast actions.

... vanity is often productive of good to the possessor, andto others that are within his sphere of action it wouldnot be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for

his vanity among the other comforts of life.He paused and stared across the meadow and spoke with

a touch of homesickness Theres a ne, bright key, son, thanksgiving. Thats how we enter the Gate.

Theres no better activity to spend a tick of that old watch onthan counting your blessings.

Pen to paper, with a ourish...I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humility toacknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of mypast life to His kind providence, which led me to themeans I used and gave them success.

My belief of this induces me to hope, though I must not

presume, that the same goodness will still be exercisedtoward me, in continuing that happiness, or enabling meto bear a fatal reverse, which I may experience as othershave done; the complexion of my future fortune beingknown only to Him in whose power it is to bless to useven our afictions.


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Wisdoms Stream3.A light tap on the already open door. Jonathan Shipley, the

recent political-appointee Bishop of St. Asaph, looked in. Theold philosophers room overlooking the meadow and the woodsbeyond was in the Bishops home at Twyford.

Seeing the famed man already at the desk, Shipley beggedforgiveness for the interruption.

Not at all. I should rather enjoy company right now. Please,come in, replied the guest. My thoughts have just run agroundon Solomon, the preacher, I could use a tug from your memory.Do you recall where to nd this verse:

Truly the light is sweet and a pleasant thing it is forthe eyes to behold the sun: but if a man live many yearsand rejoice in them all; yet let him remember the days ofdarkness; for they shall be many?

The two old men were alike in their love of sharply honedphrases. They both relished Defoe and Jonathan Swift as well

as Solomon and David. They both had troves of proverbs andpoems which could set true course through lifes ercest stormsor stir up an inspiration in lifes tropical doldrums that some-times seem to stall all progress.

Shipley thought a moment , glancing at the ceiling whilerubbing his chin, then he said, That would be Ecclesiastes, by

far my favorite text lately. Strange that you would be ponder-ing the very book I am studying. The passage you quote leadson to say:

Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in theways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: butknow thou, that for all these things God will bring theeinto judgement.


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Old men must sh in the same streams of thought, eh?remarked the old philosopher. By my reckoning, Solomon

must have been eighty-odd, don't you think, when he wroteabout remembering his Creator in the days of his youth?

I must say I do love to hear the tales they tell about oldSolomon, especially when he was young.

Shipley responded with a slightly sarcastic tone.Do you referto the Holy Scriptures as tales, you old heretic?

Of course not, my friend, but the man was quite a travelerbefore he became king, you know. And I know, a man does notnd the treasures of wisdom Solomon found, if he waits til heis old and gouty to begin his quest.

Among the merchants who move this worlds bounty thereare many wonderful legends regarding Solomon which makeno pretense of detracting from or ascending to Holy Writ.

There are, even among the Mohametans and Ethiopians leg-ends about how God prepared Solomon to receive the wisdomhe requested by teaching him lessons long before the time hetook the throne in Jerusalem. It is a true saying:

Great tasks require men of great preparation.

The old philosopher went on, Theres one ne tale the Jewsin Holland tell yet, according to the mate on Captain Kennedys

crew who regaled me with tales on my recent crossing.It seems young Solomon sojourned deep in Araby, seeking

keys to wisdom. The young prince is said to have met whatthe legend calls a djinn, but I reckon it was one of the mortalmagi, for in those times practically anyone who could cipher asum or start a re was deemed a devil or an angel.

Whosoever it was that he met, according to the mates tell-ing, was asked by Solomon, What are words? He was in thatregion from whence all this babble we call language began,

you know.

The magus, thats one magi

I know, said Shipley, patiently.


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The magus said, Theyare wind that passes.

But how, asked the the boy who was to become the wisest

of men, can one capture the wind?By one art only, replied the magus, by the art of writing.

The old philosopher nished his story with a ourish of hisquill in the air.

Your collection of tales and their telling never cease todelight, said his host. My daughters say they cant wait for

dinner tonight; they expect more of your anecdotes. Whathave you begun here? Have you resurrected Richard Saunders?Perhaps a sequel to Father Abrahams Speech.

No, nothing commercial Im afraid. Im just capturing thewind. Ive begun my personal history as a legacy to my son.Ive much to say to him about how Ive come to be the manI am.

You have much to say to the world about that.

Much the world has already heard.

Aye, but when your life has past, my friend, I fear the warmththat has cheered so many hearts may well be lost. You shouldleave behind a waymark for future pilgrims.

Whats written wont be unwrote.True, but Poor Richard and Father Abraham have hardly

made the way clear for future wayfaring strangers. You shouldnish your piece, but not for your son alone, for all the sonso God.

Ive thought to do something of that sort, to leave a landmarkpointing toward lifes best, to provide soil where virtuous menmight grow to full fruition, tis my great and extensive projectthat always gets set aside for a better time.

Alas, I have time now and no notes, but, for that matter, Im notso sure I know all I thought I knewthen. I do recollect, though,thinking that whoever attempted such a task honestly,


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could not fail of pleasing God and would most certainlymeet with great success. I still believe that. Any person who

determines to settle for nothing less on his sojourn than lifesmost noble pleasures, can never fail to nd great joy along theway.

The bishop assured him, I feel certain you hold in yourmemory all a person might need to avoid the pitfalls and con-quer the peaks that you have found on your own sojourn. Tellme what you remember of your plan.

Briey, I saw in my mind a kind of sect, I suppose, not exactlyof any religious sort, but not lacking any of the virtues commonin the heart of all of them. And this sect should be made up ofsuch persons who, rst of all, love truth and virtue. I should havecalled it The Society of the Free and Easy: free, as being, by thegeneral practice and habit of virtue, free from the dominion

of vice; and particularly by the practice of industry and frugal-ity, free from debt which exposes a man to connement and aspecies of slavery to his creditors and employer.

The whole plan, continued the old philosopher, includesthe use of a device for self-government which I myself haveused, with the blessing of God, to arrive at what measure of

stature I have attained.In my legacy, there should also be instruction in the art of

planning ones life, setting goals or targets. Those who writeof the art of poetry teach us that if we would write what maybe worth reading we ought always, before we begin, to form aregular plan and design of our piece; otherwise we shall be indanger of incongruity. I am apt to think life requires the equal

diligence. A person must plan his own life, if he would livelifes best plan.

He tended to speak as long as he could on one breath and,sometimes, spoke quite rapidly, especially when he becameexcited.


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But he slowed as he recollected,Before the time of my rstvoyage back to America, I never xed a regular design or plan to

my life . My early years of self-reliance were a confused varietyof different scenes. I made a decision on that rst homewardvoyage to make some resolutions, and form some scheme ofaction, that from that time forward I might live, in all respects,like a rational being. I decided:1. It was necessary for me to be extremely frugal for some

time, till I had paid what I owed.

2. To endeavor to speak truth in every instance, to givenobody expectations that were not likely to be answered,

but to aim at sincerity in every word and action: the most

amiable excellence in a rational being.

3. To apply my self industriously to whatever business I took

in hand, and not to divert my mind from my business by

any foolish project of growing suddenly rich; for industry

and patience are the surest means of plenty.

4. I resolved to speak ill of no man whatever, not even in

a matter of truth; but rather by some means excuse the

faults I hear charged upon others, and upon proper occa-

sions speak all the good I know of everybody.

I still hold the conclusion I came to then when I was but

a lad of twenty-something:The foundation of all virtue and happiness is right think-

ing.

This is all to be part of what I plan to write, so if you wishI shall rehearse my thoughts before you.

By all means, said the bishop. Might I call for tea?

Taxed tea, muttered the old philosopher.Pardon?

Yes, tea. Thank you.


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Shipley merely leaned out into the hall and the maid, whohad been waiting with tea and cakes and some dried apples

(which the honored guest had brought with him, a pragmaticgift from a loving wife far away in the colonies), rolled in a cartand placed settings for two at the round table in the corneropposite the desk where the old philosopher had been writing.She walked over to the desk and capped the ink well as if it werecommon for her to nd dried up bottles of ink in this mansroom on former visits, so she meant to preserve that bottle for

its intended purpose.Will you be needing me, mlord?

Not for a while, Anne, you may go.

Thank you, mlord, mlord, she nodded to each and left theroom, shutting the door behind her.

The old philosopher walked over and opened the door.You people, he said in a slightly disgusted tone, have such

a caution against air. Such stopping of crevices, such wrappingup in warm clothes, such shutting of doors and windows, evenin the midst of summer! We need air, God knows!

The evangelist of ventilation. Youll have us all convertedto daily tub-baths next.

The present unconverted state is precisely why we need air,said the guest with a warmhearted laugh.

Whats a breeze between friends! Lets examine the catchyou netted in that old mans stream of wisdom this morning,said the bishop while pouring the tea.

I netted this quite a long while ago, replied the guest. He

reached into his pocket and retrieved a little leather-boundbook of the sort that has a ap to protect the leaves.

I have carried this little book with me for nearly forty years.Though I ceased the ritual use of it more than a decade ago, Icontinue to peruse its pages now and then and I never forget


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to thank my Creator who caused me to remember Him in thedays of my youth.

Though I hold little by revelation, in truth, I must say thislittle book or the power it holds was, in a way, revealed to me.I did not know how difcult my task was and, therefore, I hadno idea how powerful the tool to accomplish it must be. Theuse of this little book has brought me all I dreamed of attain-ing and more.

The old philosopher took a somewhat noisy sip of too-hottea and continued, relishing that drawing force which attentivefriends exert on burdened hearts.

In my study, I have concluded that the most acceptableservice to God is the doing of good to man. I want my son tounderstand that I believed this before and beyond my youthfulsojourn through the unfruitful elds of the free thinkers, for

whom there is no wrong or right.

Which, by the way, was the route to Dungeon Despair formy close friend, James Ralph. I know not to this day if he everfound Pilgrims Key to loose those chains, but I have that Keystill and would gladly give it to any person who sets out in questof wisdom and truth and nds himself waylaid by confusion

and despair when the way becomes difcult.A pause for a bite of apple. One a day, good Bishop, will

keep the doctor away, said the old sage, then he continued,With Gods help this little book shall be a part of a projectof great good to all mankind and may even serve as GiantDesponds head served those who followed Bunyans Pilgrimand his good friend Faithful.

Ah, the waymark I mentioned is already set in your mind,exulted the host.


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It seems so. I know the way to here, for sure, and beyondhere I am trusting God. Thus far, I have used this simple tool,a moral steering device. It is easily usable by any who might

wish to better control that part of our lives which is in ourcontrol. It steered me past many a shoal in my younger days.And thats a fact.

A quizzical expression crossed the good bishops face, Amoral steering device for a young persons life... God knowsmy daughters could use such a tool.

Quite certainly, any man or woman, who was at least

willing to begin, should be quite able to use this tool.

The old philosopher rose, stretched his arms and archedhis back. Might we take our conversation to the garden? Alittle walk will take the stiffness from these old joints and keepmy mind from listening to complaints from muscles too longneglected.

I would enjoy that, but are you certain I have not distractedyou from your task?

I am certain you have helped draw out the denition of mytask. Have you never read the proverb, Iron sharpeneth iron,so a man sharpeneth the thinking of his friend?

Does it not read more exactlyso a man sharpeneth the coun-tenance of his friend.

The thinking, Im sure, is the same.


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There was a path winding through the Twyford garden toa stile that allowed pedestrians to go over the stone wall thatkept the little foxes and hares out of Shipleys meticulouslymanicured estate. The old philosopher stood with one foot on

the rst step of the stile and gazed beyond the wall. He stretchedhis arms above his bald head, interlaced his ngers and archedhis back, this time letting out a cheerful groan.

Pray, lets cross the meadow and walk in the shade of thewoods. The fresh air and the company should serve well toprime the pump for this afternoons session at the desk.

I havent walked in those woods since I was a lad, repliedShipley. This shall be delightful to recall my youth and toimagine what destiny I might have found had I learned then

what I shall learn now.

Destiny, my friend, is destination not whimsical fate,remarked the American as he tried to keep his balance. We

both have yet to see our nal destination; however, I feel a sweetcondence that we are certainly facing the right direction.

The two old men, neither of whom had thought to take acane, balanced each other as they stepped over the boundary ofmans orderly inuence into the natural garden of the Twyfordmeadow.

Walking with you, I share that condence, said the bishop.Now, you must explain your moral steering device to me.

One moment, rst let use reach Terra Firma. Watch thatlast step.

They were over the stile. The upstairs maid chuckled as shecleared the tea cups and watched the old mens triumphantgestures when they cleared the wall.

4. The Waymark


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The old philosophers mind quickly returned to his tellingas the two friends set off across the meadow, unmindful of the

startled pheasant they set to ight.All right, where to begin? The beginning, I suppose.

I thought I knew, even in my youth, what was right orwrong. I did not see why I might not always do the right andavoid the wrong. I set my heart and mind to do just that, butI soon found I had undertaken a task of more difculty than

I had imagined.While my care was employed in guarding against one fault,

I was often surprised by another; habit took the advantage ofinattention; inclination was sometimes too strong for reason.I concluded, at length, that the mere speculative convictionthat it was in our best interest to be completely virtuous wasnot sufcient to prevent slipping. I realized that the contrary

habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and established,before we can really depend on a steady, uniform rectitude ofconduct.

I was not after heavenly perfection or sainthood. Mortallythat is impossible. But that a man is not capable of being soperfect here as he is capable of being here is nonsense. I mean,

I was certain there must be a way for a man to be as good asa man can be, without resigning himself to live with faults hedespises.

I devised the method which comprises my little book, hesaid, patting the little leather volume in his coat pocket, forthe purpose of establishing good habits and conquering badones. Truly Providence played a role, for as I said, I had no ideahow difcult a task that is.

If a person faithfully applied himself to this exercise, thereis no reason to doubt that after a year the good habits willhave the advantage over the bad and that person will have theadvantage over all who seek to succeed by baser means.


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The old philosopher kept talking, forming his sentencespurposefully as though he were writing, relating ideas and

dreams to purposes and historical destinations, In the vari-ous accountings of the moral virtues I have met with in myreading, I nd the sum of essential virtues or character traits

vary, as different writers include more or fewer ideas under thesame name. Temperance, for example, is by some conned toeating and drinking, while by others it means the moderatingof every other pleasure, appetite, inclination, or passion, bodily

or mental, even to our avarice and ambition.I proposed, for the sake of clearness, to use more names,

with fewer ideas attached to each, rather than a few names,with more ideas. I included under thirteen names of virtuesall that at that time occurred to me as necessary or desirable,and annexed to each a short precept, which fully expressed the

extent I gave to its meaning.He took his little book out and opened it to the rst of sev-

eral pages marked with red ink into columns and rows aboutan half an inch apart.

See, the names are here above each page and the preceptright below the name.1. Temperance.

Eat not to dullness: drink not to elevation.

2. Silence

Speak not but what may benet others or yourself; avoid

triing conversation.This one has been more difcult now that I am famed than

before kings and royals knew my name.

The old philosopher delicately ipped a page.3. Order.

Let all your things have their places; let each part of your

business have its time.


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Order I should stress is very important, especially when ournear innite memory becomes so cluttered we can not ndone thought without dragging along ten more, all linked tan-gently.

4. Resolution.

Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail

what you resolve.

The bishop spoke up, Ecclesiastes again: When thou vowesta vow unto God, defer not to pay it; for he hath no pleasure

in fools.Exactly, in a way, beamed the old philosopher, his face

reecting the sheen that seemed to surround the two men asthe words poured freely from him while his friend listened withrapt attention. God has no pleasure in fools.

Friend, said the bishop, you are not the rst to enumerate

virtues and set their perfection in yourself as your lifes ambition.But I see a subtlety in your device of carrying your book with

you that others have overlooked. Ah, heres a convenient log,let us rest here while you nish telling me of your list.

Delightedly, said the old philosopher, who was quite out ofbreath. In the telling, I nd myself encouraged that, perhaps,there was a purpose to it all which though I have nevercounted revelation much credence perhaps there is a purpose

yet to be revealed.

Ive no doubt, my friend, no doubt at all. What is virtuenumber ve?

Number ve is Frugality.Make no expense but to do good to others or your-

self; that is, waste nothing.There was a reason for the sequence of these I shall explain

momentarily. A smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, helicked his thumb and turned the page.

After Frugality comes:


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6. Industry.

Lose no time; be always employed in something useful;

cut off all unnecessary actions.My father, among his instructions to me when I was a boy,

frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon: Seest thou a mandiligent in his business, he shall stand before kings, not beforemean men. Since then I have always considered industry, andby that I mean working hard, as a means of obtaining wealthand distinction, which encouraged me, though I did not think

that I should ever literally stand before kings, that, however,has since happened on several occasions.

Next in my list of virtues is:7. Sincerity

Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly; and, if

you speak, speak accordingly.

8. Justice.Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benets

that are your duty.

9. Moderation.

Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as you

think they deserve.

10. Cleanliness.

Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation.11. Tranquility.

Be not disturbed at tries, or at accidents common or

unavoidable.

12. Chastity.

Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to

dullness, weakness, or injury of your own or anothers

peace or reputation.

13. Humility

Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

With Jesus I agree, remarked the bishop, when his friendpaused to breathe. Socrates, however, has a great incongruenceof character. I dare say he scorned your tenth precept of


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cleanliness alltogether. In fact, I am not so sure he was not justa ctional device of Platos, akin to your own Father Abraham

or Bunyans Pilgrim. Perhaps there never was a man so goodas Socrates, except Jesus.

Perhaps so, but I am telling how I set my course not how Ishall instruct others to set their own. Perhaps including Socrates

will open doors for heathen to include Jesus.

Or close doors for Christians.

Truth is never closed to Christians, though they often choosepiously to ignore it. Dont you agree that all the wars ever foughtin the name of Christ have no Scriptural sanction? Yet menhave killed and will doubtless kill again in the name of him

who said, Love your enemies.

The bishop parried, Do you say there is no place nor timeto resort to arms?

I have a Quaker friend who can argue well for that point ofview, said the American. I, however, tend to agree with yourMr. Burke, who has declared rightly that all Tyranny needsfor total triumph is for good men to do nothing. Sad but true,there are certain causes even old men can see the worth ofdying for. Prudence and wisdom, on the other hand, forbid

following after fools in the name of Jesus. What god told theCrusaders who conquered Jerusalem to burn the synagogue

with all its members?

The bishop nodded. I accept your point, although I stillrefuse to emulate Socrates. Humility, or any virtue, is neveran end in itself; but a means to an end. Gods will is our trueHappiness, not our Humbleness.

Yes, said the philosopher, and likewise Happiness is not anal destination, but a process. Experience, my own and thatof Israels children in the wilderness, teaches that Humilitysteers us toward true Happiness.


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In the case of my little book, he continued, Humility wastruly an afterthought. My list contained at rst only twelve

virtues; but another Quaker friend kindly informed me that Iwas generally thought proud; and that my pride showed itselffrequently in conversation.

A broad grin came over the old philosophers face as he recalledhis practice of using Socratic techniques for winning many aconversational victory which he nor his cause deserved. Inthat point, imitation of Socrates added to my pride, Im afraid.My Quaker friend was honest enough to point out that I wasnot even content with just being in the right when discussingany point, but was overbearing, and rather insolent, of whichhe convinced me by mentioning several instances, which tothis day I do not enjoy remembering. So perhaps one shouldselectively imitate Socrates.

My point precisely, said Shipley, clapping his hand on hisfriends shoulder. But one may imitate all of Jesus.

But, laughed the old philosopher, I determined to curemyself, if I could, of that pride along with all the rest of my

vices, so I added Humility to my list, giving an extensive mean-ing to the word.

I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the reality ofthis virtue, but I had a good deal of success with regard to theappearance of it.

I made it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to thesentiments of others, and all positive assertion of my own. Isometimes slip with close friends whom I am sure can with-stand my contradiction now and then, for the sake of mutualgrowth and understanding.

I even forbid myself the use of every word or expression inthe language that implies a xed opinion, such as certainly, orundoubtedly, and I adopted, instead of them, phrases such asI conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing to be so or


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so; or it so appears to me at present. When someone assertedsomething that I thought an error, I denied myself the pleasureof contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immediately

some absurdity in his proposition; and in answering I beganby observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion

would be right, but in the present case there appeared, or seemedto me, some difference, and so on.

I soon found distinct advantage of this change in my manner.Conversations went on more pleasantly. The modest way Iproposed my opinions procured them better reception and lesscontradiction; I had less mortication when I was found wrong,and I more easily prevailed with others to give up their mistakesand join with me when I happened to be in the right.

The attentive host nodded and raised one nger. Thisreminds me again of Solomon: A soft answer turneth away

wrath. And also the statement our Lord made: Blessed are

the peace makers...The old philosopher nished the quote, ...For they shall be

called the children of God. I truly hope so, for I found this lasthabit required all the exercised virtue of the other twelve andmuch violence to my natural inclination. But after a while, itbecame easy. Perhaps forty years have passed since a dogmati-cal expression escaped me. I think I owe to this habit, after

integrity, the fact that I had early in my life so much weightwith my fellow-citizens when I proposed new institutions, oralterations of the old.

I am not agood public speaker, I hesitate in my choice ofwords, hardly correct in language, and yet I generally havecarried my points due in great measure, I am sure, to my habit

of Humility rather than to my natural pride.No doubt, agreed Bishop Shipley, rising slowly from the

log, but you should indeed be proud of having consolidated somuch wisdom into your device. Careful though, we know theproverb says that pride comes before a fall, so let us humblyattempt to retrace our steps and to scale yon stile and see abouta bit of refreshment.


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The Great Project5.It was a bit beyond noon when the two old men sat down onthe bench beneath the grape arbor in the garden.

Beg pardon, mlord, said the maid, as she walked towardthem. She had a knowing smile on her face, having seen the

way they returned over the stile as compared to how they hadset out across the meadow. She offered a cool towel for eachto wipe his brow.

Cook sent me to ask if you would take noon meal here orin the dining room?

The master of the house looked inquiringly at his guest whoanswered, Tell him here, please Anne and if it wont be

too great a trouble I should like nothing better than a fewslices of that melon. Cook knows the one I mean, we broke fasttogether as we watched the sunrise this morning.

Turning to his host, he asked, Have you ever seen the sunrisefrom your kitchen window?

No, good sir, nor have I ever taken breakfast there with

Cook, the noble-born bishop replied, but I suppose that ispart of the charm of the colonies, you have such liberal opinionsregarding class.

The American responded, Class seems to be rich man's ideamore than a divine mandate. If we see all men as created equal,not in strength or talent of course, but in value; I believe wemight see a world in which all men were considered noble. Yes,I even contend, myself, that the colonies, if united, could proveto be the greatest nursery of freedom and justice the world hasever known.

Shipley laughed, And you will plant the seeds. Perhaps youvemissed your calling. We have pulpits here in England sproutingthat same line regarding all men being created equal.


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No pulpit would take all of me, I assure you. However, thereis much to be thought regarding Gods true purpose for man

and I will say that all I have seen indicates his purpose is kind-ness, not wrath; equality, not iniquity.

However, stated the bishop, we cannot chose our parents.Some of us do come into this world with inherited blessings andinherited responsibilities which seem to have the Almightysapprobation.

There are arguments to the contrary, proclaimed theAmerican, that is, there are arguments which indicate Godsplan was never for one man to rule another, but to serve oneanother, to love one another. We have traditions which mustbe tolerated, but which must not be attributed to the God ofthe universe. Did not the apostle command followers of Christto owe nothing to each other unless it be in such a way that

they might still love one another? Erasmus said something tothis effect, Surely you do not believe that Christ meant Peterreally owed Caesar tribute just because He is said to have paidPeters taxes.

Dont start on taxes, Im afraid you will veer from the course. You have just begun to tell me of your great and extensive

project; nish the tale before you lose the thought.I shant lose this thought, said the old philosopher. Actually,

the idea is fresher now than it was forty years ago. I naturallytend to meander, but shall get to the sea, eventually. You areright about one thing: taxes have shipwrecked many a goodplan. My hope is that my project might bear the fruit of anyseeds of wisdom I have scattered over the years.

We need persons now who have moral foundations they candefend against the wild nature of mankind. We need persons

who can govern themselves in lifes daily tests and who cansee afar off the man or woman they hope to be, as the sculp-tor sees the angel in the marble and continues chipping til itis free. Yet now more than ever individualsseem to be content


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with a speckled ax and in many cases are quite happy with a

dull one.A puzzled look came over the bishops face and he asked,

Whatever do you mean, a speckled ax?

Oh, I am sorry! Pardon me, my mind has raced arounda familiar corner and left my telling in the dust. You knoweverything reminds me of a tale or a parable. Let me explain

this mystery of the speckled ax.As I pursued perfection, I found myself consistently fall-

ing far short of the mark, particularly regarding the virtue ofOrder. I had in my younger days a wonderful memory andseldom needed the discipline of always putting things in theirappointed places which is a large part of Order.

The older I grow the more aware of that virtue, or the wantof it, in my habits I become. My natural lack of Order has costme much in Tranquility.

In fact, I made so little improvement, and had such fre-quent relapses into chaos, that I was almost ready to give upthe attempt, and content myself with a faulty character in thatrespect. Then I heard of a man buying an ax from a blacksmith,

who, in fact, was my neighbor.

The buyer desired to have the whole surface of the ax shineas bright as the edge. The smith consented to grind it brightfor him if he would turn the wheel. So the nicky customerturned, while the smith pressed the broad face of the ax hardand heavily on the stone, which made the turning of it very

fatiguing. The buyer came every now and then from the wheelto see how the work went on, and after a while decided to takehis ax as it was, without further grinding.

No, said the smith, turn on, turn on; we shall have it allbright by and by; as yet it is only speckled.

Yes, said the weary man, but I think I like the speckled ax

best.


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The arbor rocked with the bishops hearty laughter.

What I meant earlier was, continued the old philosopher,

this has been the case with many; who, having found obtaininggood habits and breaking bad habits practically impossible ornot worth the effort, have given up the struggle, and concludedthat a speckled ax is best. Those persons chose to live shack-led with chains of bad habits and tyrants rather than governthemselves with the free reins of good habits and good sense.

Worse still is the man too lazy to even whet the edge, who letshis God-given talents grow dull and must in the long run putforth more strength with less effect.

I see, said the bishop. And you think the world could usea few sharp axes, eh? My wife has oft said she doubts I am thesharpest tool in the shed. Perhaps when she hears your parableI will become her darling, speckled ax.

Speckled perhaps, dull never. But I fear I have near stolenyour day and really I have wandered far from my own morn-ing task of relating a few family stories and some of my ownobscure history to my son. Such, however, is my old, speckledax. If I fail to follow a plan the muses can take me on journeysof minutes and hours that take all day. A chief good I hope to

come from my personal history is that my son and his sons sonsmay recognize the marvelous power that xedness of purposeand conscious planning have to achieve denite objectives.

The maid appeared with a tray of melon, along with freshbread, glasses and a china pitcher full of new wine from thegrapes in the very arbor where the two scholars rested.

The bishop spoke up, Before I allow you to return to yourink well, please, nish telling. How exactly did you employ

your little book, pray tell?

I used it every day to examine myself, to examine my behavior.It was a means of measuring my progress. A very importantpart of any journey or project is knowing how far


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you have come. It tends to encourage the soul, even if youhave no idea how far you may have yet to go, because you can

see that you are indeed progressing.My intention was to acquire the habitude of all those vir-

tues. I judged it would be well not to distract my attention byattempting the whole at once, but to x it on one good habit ata time; and, when I should be master of that, then to proceedto another, and so on, until I should have gone through thethirteen.

Because I reasoned acquiring certain good habits rst mightmake the acquisition of certain others easier, I arranged them

with that view.

I put Temperance rst, because it tends to procure thatcoolness and clearness of head, which is so necessary whereconstant vigilance was to be kept up, and guard maintained

against the unremitting attraction of ancient habits, and theforce of perpetual temptations.

Temperance being acquired and established, Silence wouldbe more easy. My desire being to gain knowledge at the sametime that I improved in virtue, and considering that in conver-sation it was obtained rather by the use of the ears than of the

tongue, and therefore wishing to break a habit I was gettinginto of prattling, punning, and joking, which made me accept-able to triing company, I gave Silence the second place. Thisand the next, Order, I expected would allow me more time forattending to my project and my studies.

Resolution, once become habitual, would keep me rm inmy endeavors to obtain all the subsequent virtues; Frugality andIndustry freeing me from my remaining debt, and producingafuence and independence, would make more easy the practiceof Sincerity and Justice, et cetera, et cetera.

Pythagoras advised in his Golden Verses that daily examina-tion would be necessary to any quest of self-improvement, so I


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contrived my little book for conducting that examination.

I allotted a page for each of the virtues. I ruled each page with

red ink, so as to have seven columns, one for each day of theweek, marking each column with a letter for the day. I crossedthese columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginningof each line with the rst letter of one of the virtues, on whichline, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little blackspot, every fault I found upon examination to have been com-mitted respecting that virtue upon that day.

I determined to give a weeks strict attention to each of thevirtues successively. Thus, in the rst week, my great guard wasto avoid the least offence against Temperance, leaving the other

virtues to their ordinary chance, only marking every eveningthe faults of the day.

Thus, if in the rst week I could keep my rst line, Temper-

ance, clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that virtue so muchstrengthened, and its opposite weakened, that I might ventureextending my attention to include the next, and for the fol-lowing week to keep both lines clear of spots. Proceeding thusto the last, I could go through a course complete in thirteen

weeks, and four courses in a year.

And like him who, having a garden to weed, does not attemptto eradicate all the bad herbs at once, which would exceed hisreach and strength, but he works on one of the beds at a time,and, having accomplished the rst, proceeds to a second, so Ishould have, I hoped, the encouraging pleasure of seeing onmy pages the progress I made in virtue, by clearing successivelymy lines of their spots, til in the end, by a number of courses, I

should be happy in viewing a clean book, after thirteen weeksdaily examination.

Did you ever ask yourself if your efforts were worth thewhile?, the bishop asked.

Yes. And something, that pretended to be reason, every nowand then suggested to me that such extreme detail as I exacted


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of myself might be a kind of foppery in morals, which if anyoneever discovered, would make me seem ridiculous.

This Tempter, as it were, suggested that, were I to succeedin my efforts, my longed-for perfect character might cause meto be envied and hated.

And, that seducing thought went on to say, a benevolentman should allow a few faults in himself to keep his friends.

Without regard to this Tempter, and despite my best efforts,

I am quite sure that I have retained enough faults to preventdriving away my frail mortal friends.

Honestly, I have not exercised myself in things too high forme. My plan for moral perfection has not been abandoned,but the dreams of the twenty year old are never the realities ofthe fty year old.

The actions of the twenty year old, in pursuit of his dreams,those make the reality of the fty year old. My little book hasmade the efforts quite rewarding, it has put a dream to work,for I have always had small, attainable tasks to do each day

which, looking back, have been the many strokes which felledthe oaks which I used to build the fortress of my life in whichI am so comfortable and happy as an old man.

Truly attempting to mend every aw is impossible. Withoutsuch means as I employed, to break the whole into fundamentalpieces, all such efforts would certainly not be worth the while.But correcting one single area will make a better person andgood habits grow just as fast as bad. My little book is a furrowedeld for the orderly sowing of good habits. And a habit sownbrings a crop of character. And character sown brings forth acrop of destiny.

And we know destiny, remarked the bishop.

Aye, my friend, we know destiny. We are steering in the rightdirection and ultimately we shall arrive where we shall knoweven as we are known. Thats a crop I long to harvest.


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The noblest question

in the world is,

What good may I do in it?


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Old Mans Vision6.Passy, France, 1784The quiet time at Twyford had passed and the old philosophers

tapestry was only woven up to his telling of marrying the girlabout whom he had sung,

Not a Word of her Face, her Shape, or her Eyes,

Of Flames or of Darts shall you hear;Tho Beauty I admire tis Virtue I prize,That fades not in seventy years,My dear Friends,That fades not in seventy years.

Thirteen years had passed since the conversations with BishopJonathan Shipley about thegreat project.

The rebellion that had threatened to separate father and sonin 1771 was over. The separation was complete. The son hadchosen to serve his king, the father to serve all mankind.

The printers apprentice, who had doubted in his youth that

he could take the proverb literally which said a diligent manwould stand before kings, had grown old and had stood beforeve kings.

At the urging of all who had read the few pages penned atTwyford, the old scholar took up his quill again. He may havebeen somewhat homesick and even a little lonely; the old phi-losopher had been a widower a long while and he had beenaway from his wife, in service of his newly birthed nation, fornearly ten years when she had died. He continued his personalhistory, but his plan was not to leave a legacy for his son;


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this time he aimed to leave a legacy for his infant nation. Heembarked on the rst leg of his great and extensive project;

which had hitherto been little more than a young mans dream,but now became an old mans vision. He looked back to signposts that marked important junctions in his life. Without thebenet of notes he told a self-edited version of his life's story,picking carefully anecdotes he believed would help build thekind of men who could complete his dream or at least defendmen's right to dream it.

He had begun to doubt many of the doctrines of the Chris-tian sects of his day when he was only fteen years old. Hehad doubted the basic doctrines of revelation and had leanedto the Deist interpretation of things, which was then popularamong liberal intellectuals in Europe and England.

Now he was old, pondering once again the fruit which that way

of thinking had brought to his life. He included in his history asort of confession regarding the zealous freethinking pamphlethe had written on his rst journey to London. It began witha line from Dryden, Whatever is, is right, and it questionedthe very possibility of distinction between virtue and vice. Hehad been young and passionate and had heartily agreed withfreethinker-deist concepts which deny moral absolutes, even

to the point of seeking converts to that way of thinking.

He told of perverting his friends, James Ralph and John Col-lins, to that doctrine which declared that all is right, anythinggoes. He noted that Collins and Ralph, after their conver-sion, both wronged him greatly, causing him to examine theconduct of other freethinkers toward himself and of his own

conduct toward friends and even toward his then future wife.He wrote:I began to suspect that this doctrine, tho it might be true, wasnot very useful and I doubted whether some error had notinsinuated itself unperceived into my argument, so as to infectall that followed, as is common in metaphysical reasonings.


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As the old philosopher sat alone in his room so far fromhome, he searched his hearts memories to nd and mark the

path he had traveled so that others could bypass some of hisdisasters and struggles.

He was not yet nineteen when he wrote his freethinker pam-phlet. He only printed one hundred, gave a few to friends, thendestroyed all but one (because it had manuscript notes writtenby a friend of his at the time).

He laughed and shook his head. That Deist pamphlet hadsurvived and would no doubt remain after he was dead andburied, but a pamphlet he had written in 1730, arguing thenecessity and validity of prayer, was lost and not a single copyremained.

His thought that he should be remembered by some as theOld Pagan brought a smile to his face and he recalled a letter

he had written to his mother reassuring her while defendinghis own unorthodox faith:I think vital religion has always suffered, when orthodoxy is

more regarded than virtue. And Scripture assures me, that at

the last day, we shall not be examined by what we thought, but

by what we did; and our recommendation will not be that we

said Lord, Lord, but that we did good to our fellow creatures.

The old man smiled even bigger, he was leaving behind goodseed that would bring forth good fruit long after his frail oldbody had become food for worms. A glint of inspiration lit a

junction in his past. In his musing, he relived a pointed incidentthat had spurred him along his path.

About ten years after his introduction to freethinking andfour or ve years after he discovered it was not very useful, aPresbyterian preacher had piqued his curiosity by announcingthat the Sunday sermon would be from Philippians 4:8

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, what-soever things are honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good


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report; if there be any virtue, or any praise, think onthese things.

That incident was a true waymark for his great project.Looking back, he recognized that he could have chosen the

well-traveled path of hypocrisy, but he had chosen otherwise.This was a slippery part of the path. The right way had to bemarked clearly, leaving no room for future confusion.

He cautiously mentioned that he had never despised ministers

as a whole, but he did remember having had a low opinion ofthat particular preachers style. All the mans sermons had beenvery dry, uninteresting and unedifying, since not a single moralprincipal was inculcated or enforced....

However, the philosopher imagined back then that any sermonon Philippians 4:8

could not miss of having some morality.But that preacher had conned himself to only ve dogmatic

points, declaring (as preachers sometimes do) that the apostlemeantvewhen he said whatsoever:

1. Keep the Sabbath.

2. Be diligent to read the Holy Scriptures.

3. Go to church regularly.4. Partake of the Sacrament.

5. Pay due respect to Gods ministers.

As the old philosopher sat sorting his memories he noted:Truly, those all may be good things, but they were not the kind of good things I expected from that text. Whatsoever covers a far

broader spectrum of things. Especially when God says it.

He remembered hoping that preacher would connect theexhortation for right thinking with the state of mind the apostlespoke of in verse thirteen of the same chapter:

I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.


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The philosopher never went back to church regularly afterthat incident and fty years later he still remembered why, but

he also remembered the commandment: whatsoever thingsare true, whatsoever things are honest, just, pure, lovely, or ofgood report; if there be any virtue, or any praise, think on thesethings.

As he wrote, the old philosopher picked up, as nearly as hecould remember, where he had left off at Twyford. He describedhis little book just as he had to Jonathan Shipley. He even drewone of the pages to clarify any obscurities.

Quill to page, he wrote, honestly, earnestly:

I entered upon the execution of this plan for selfexamination, and continued it with occasionalintermissions for some time. I was surprised to nd my selfso much fuller of faults than I had imagined but I had the

pleasure of seeing them diminish.

There was no like-minded friend to draw him into a conver-sation so he was able to write for most of one day and part ofthe next.

He marked honestly the path he had followed, in hope thatthere might be some who would prot from his mistakes as

well as his successes. He told no tales of womanizing and follybeyond his early years in London because there were none.(He would have guffawed if any one had been able to tell him

what gossip regarding his time in France would still be told twohundred years later. By 1784 his gout and gall stones made himnearly unable to walk.)

He included much in his story that critics would term moral-izing and historians would see from a rationalist perspective.But, had there been an observer in the room, he would haveseen the old philosopher praying as he tried to explain his ownhabitual reliance on prayer.


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Conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom,

I thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for

obtaining it; to this end I formed the following little prayer,which was prexed to my tables of examination in my little

book, for daily use:

O powerful Goodness! Bountiful Father! MercifulGuide! Increase in me that wisdom

which discovers my truest interest.

Strengthen my resolutions to performwhat that wisdom dictates.

Accept my kind ofces to thy other children

as the only return in my power

for thy continual favors to me.

Prayer was an important part of his plan. He made sure itwould not be overlooked or interpreted as nonessential. Hequoted another little prayer he sometimes used which he tookfrom Thompsons Poems

Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme!Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,

from every low pursuit; and ll my soulWith knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure;Sacred, substantial, never fading bliss!

He wrote on, hour after hour. When one quill began to frayand smear he took another from his pre-sharpened stack and

wrote. He was racing time to tell his tale before the last tick ofthat old watch. He was determined not to leave behind ashesof ideas to blow away in the passing winds.

He lamented that, regarding order, he had indeed settled fora speckled ax and regretted that memories, somewhat dim, nowhad to replace notes he had hoped to draw from which hadbeen destroyed or scattered in the war.


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Quill to paper, he sowed far into the future the rich lessonsof his long life:

On the whole, though I never arrived at the perfection Ihad been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short ofit, yet I was, by the endeavor, a better and a happier manthan I otherwise should have been if I had not attemptedit, as those who aim at perfect horsemanship by imitatingthe steeple chase champions, though they never reach thewished-for excellence, their balance is mended by theendeavor, and, though not perfect, is tolerable as long asthey continue in the saddle over whatever obstacles theychose to clear.

His purpose was clear in his mind. He wrote details thatemphasized his humanity and his concern with the problemscommon to mortals in order to clarify his belief that greatness

among men required onlytolerableabilities, good plans anddeniteaction, plus the grace of God. As a useful denite actionhe recommended his little book:

My posterity should be informed that to this little artice,with the blessing of God, their ancestor owed the constantfelicity of his life.

He commented briey on each of the virtues and the benetshe had experienced.

To Temperance he ascribed his long continued health, andwhat was still left to him of good constitution. At 78, he hadburied many friends who had thought less of temperance thanhe.

He credited the early easiness of his circumstances andacquisition of his fortune to Industry and Frugality. He alsoattributed to Industry and Frugality all the knowledge that hadenabled him to be a useful citizen, and had obtained for himsome degree of reputation among the learned.


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To Sincerity and Justice, he said that he owed the condencehis country had placed in him, and the honorable employs it

had conferred upon him.To the joint inuence of the whole mass of the virtues, even

in the imperfect state he was able to acquire them, he believedthat he owed all the evenness of temper, and cheerfulness inconversation, which made his company still sought for evenin his old age, and which made is ideas agreeable even to hismuch younger friends.

I hope, therefore, that some of my descendants may follow theexample and reap the benet.

Perhaps anticipating comments from detractors of his dreamwho were jealous of their own version of truth, the old philoso-pher put forth a declaration regarding his nondenominationalstance and his Bible-based reasoning:

It will be remarked that, though my scheme was notwholly without religion, there was in it no mark of anyof the distinguishing tenets of any particular sect. I hadpurposely avoided them; for, being fully persuaded of theutility and excellency of my method, and that it might beserviceable to people in all religions, and intending some

time or other to publish it, I would not have anything init that should prejudice any one, of any sect, against it.

I planned to write a little comment on each virtue, inwhich I would have shown the advantages of possessingit, and the mischiefs attending its opposite vice; andI should have called my little book THE ART OFVIRTUE, because it would have shown the meansand manner of obtaining virtue, which would havedistinguished it from the mere exhortation to be good,that does not instruct and indicate the means, but is likethe apostles man of verbal charity, who only without


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showing to the naked and hungry how or where theymight get clothes or food, exhorted them to be fed and

clothed.

The old philosopher paused to look up the exact scripturereference and went back to add it so future readers would knowhis source precisely James 2: 15,16. He also penned a notein the margin:Nothing so likely to make a mans fortune as virtue.


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Great beauty, great strength, andgreat riches are

really and trulyof no great use;

a right heart exceeds them all.


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Philadelphia, March, 1790.

The old philosopher was dying. He was at home, surroundedby memories, tended to by loving grand children, visited oftenby long time friends. He was concerned about his friends in

France and saddened by the bloody events there that had takenthe lives of men he admired. He particularly grieved when Jef-ferson recounted the death of the chemist who rst isolatedoxygen, Lavoisier, upon the machine named for its inventor,another friend, Guillotin. The three had served together in 1784on a royal committee which investigated the animal magnetismtheories of Mesmer. Jefferson later wrote that the Franklin

Committee, as it was known, had dealt the "death wound" tothe compound fraud and folly of Mesmerism.

Hearing the news from France saddened the old man, butdid not discourage him. He believed that he had invested hislife in mans last, great hope. The horrible fruit of the FrenchRevolution convinced him even more that reliance on the Cre-

ator who endowed men with rights was the better choice overreliance on man's powers of reason to bring about justice. Now,he counted the cost of his investment and dozed off, smiling.

The constitution he had urged the founding fathers to prayfor in the summer of 87 had been ratied by the states lessthan three months after that seed which grew into the tradi-tion of opening each session of Congress with prayer had beenplanted. The old philosopher had been too ill to speak at theratication meeting, but he had James Wilson read a speechfor him. He said in it that he was not sure the constitution wasthe best they could have written, but he was also not sure thatit was not the best:

Two Requirements7.


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having lived long, I have experienced many instances of beingobliged, by better information or fuller consideration, to change my

opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought right,but found to be otherwise.

When asked what kind of government the constitutional con-vention had come up with, the old philosopher had replied, Arepublic, if you can keep it.

The prerequisite of a republic is a people who, individually,

can govern themselves. A republic,Jefferson would say, is theonly form of government which is not eternally at open or secret warwith the rights of man.

The old philosopher knew he could not complete hisgreat andextensive projecthimself, so he had written a brief but detaileddescription of the plan and its object, anticipating a reader whomight attempt the rst requirements and go on to establish theentire project.

The nal object of the project was to be the formation of abody of good and virtuous persons, The Society of the Free andEasy. It was wise, he thought, that the society should be keptsecret until its numbers had become considerableto prevent menof the baser sort from seeking membership.Whoever attempts this aright, and is well qualied, can notfail of pleasing God, and meeting with success.

The rst requirement for membership in the secret societywas agreement with a plain statement of belief:

That there is one God, who made all things.

That he governs the world by his providence.

That he ought to be worshipped by adoration, prayer, andthanksgiving.

But that the most acceptable service of God is doing goodto man.

That the soul is immortal.


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And that God will certainly reward virtue and punishvice, either here or hereafter.

Nothing in that requirement disagrees with the two essentialrequirements of the Judeo-Christian credo: Love the Lord, yourGod, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all yourmind. And love your neighbor as yourself . If you believe one,

you believe the other as well. Believing either alone gets littleaccomplished. One must act.

The second requirement for membership was the use andpractice of the thirteen week examination and exercise in selfgovernment which comprised the old philosophers little book.He concluded the description of his long-planned project bysaying:I have no longer strength or activity left sufcient for such anenterprise; though I am still of the opinion that it is a practicable

scheme, and might be very useful, by forming a great number ofgood citizens; and I am not discouraged by the seeming magni-tude of the undertaking, as I have always had the thought thatone man of tolerable abilities may work great changes, andaccomplish great affairs among mankind if he rst forms a goodplan and, cutting off all amusements or other employments thatwould divert his attention, makes the execution of that same planhis sole study and business.

The great project was the seed of a dream too big to maturein one lifetime. The old philosopher regretted not seeing itbear fruit, but he was condent that the fertile soil of free-dom he had helped to till would nurture the dream long afterhe was gone.

Those requirements and hopes were attached to the copy ofhis personal history, written in his own owing hand, that hehanded to Thomas Jefferson that day in March of 1790.

Thank you, Sir, I shall read it and return it quickly.


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Keep it.

Not sure what the old man meant, Jefferson restated himself.I shall keep it safe and return it quickly.

No, keep it.

The old philosopher closed his eyes and appeared to be sleep-ing. Jefferson stood a while beside the bed. He did not expect tosee his friend alive again. He rolled the papers gently and quietlyleft the room, his thoughts on the dangers already beginning toerode the foundations of his nation. As he shut the door and

walked down the hall he repeated softly a pledge he and theold philosopher had made twice, once when they wrote it andonce when they signed the Declaration of Independence: Wemutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and oursacred honor.

In his room, the old philosopher spoke without opening hiseyes, Its about self-government, Tom...Its about how to govern yourself.


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Ultimate Destiny8.For the earnest expectation of creation waits for themanifestation of the sons of God.

Romans 8:19

The old philosopher died in April, 1790. His dream did notdie with him. The pain in his body had prevented his complet-

ing his autobiography, but he continued to correspond withfriends right up to the day of his death. Again and again, hementioned his disappointment at not being able to nish hisgreat project.

His intention of writing and publishing the book of com-ments, which he had planned to call The Art of Virtue, was

never fullled unless one takes a hint early in the autobiographyto indicate that the personal history was always meant to bemore than meets the eye:

Men should be taught as though ye taught them not,And things unknown proposd as things forgot;To speak, tho sure, with seeming difdence.For want of modesty is want of sense.

Perhaps the great and extensive projectwas all along takingshape by presenting itself to the readers mind as a thing whichhad yet to be created, a dream in embryo.

In the old philosophers Art of Virtue his plan was to explainand enforce this doctrine:

that vicious actions (sins) are not hurtful because

they are forbidden, but forbidden because they arehurtful, the nature of man alone considered;that it is, therefore, every ones interest to be virtuouswho wished to be happy even in this world.

Because there are always in the world a number of rich


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merchants, nobility, states, and princes, who have need of honest persons for the management of their affairs,and such persons

being so rare, his purpose was to convince young persons thatno qualities were so likely to make a poor mans fortune as those ofprobity and integrity.

Now, the purpose of this book is to put in the hands of personsstriving to be the best that they can be, the device which theold philosopher used so well, his little book of thirteen virtues,the moral steering device.

The pages that follow the next chapter are similar to thosethe old philosopher used in his little book. They were designedso that you may copy the pages and continue with the exerciseuntil you feel you have put on the good habits and thrown offthe bad.

The part of his autobiography the old philosopher did com-

plete, is widely available in public libraries, another of the manylegacies we all have from him. In that autobiography the reader

will nd great detail regarding the thoughts of an old lover of wisdom and much from the imaginary conversations thatmade up this book.

We can draw from the old philosophers collected writings

much to indicate that he never became incongruous to his lifesgoal of serving God by doing good to his fellow man. No mancan be his judge. He died happy.

How we think about our Creator and our world and our fellowman will determine how happy we can be. If we deny ourCreator and choose to believe that our world and we ourselvesare the products of a cosmic accident, then we will surely failto see lifes best plan.

As the old philosopher pointed out:The foundation of all happiness is right thinking.

The best efforts of man, without Gods concurring aid, cansucceed no better than the efforts of Babylons builders. Deny-ing Gods sovereign roll in our lives leads French and Russian


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Revolutions and to the despair we read about in newspaperseveryday.

Jefferson wrote in an 1821 letter that he never really understoodthat Franklin meant for him to keep the papers until, shortlyafter Franklin's death, when he arranged to give the papers toFranklin's son William, who, as he put the papers in his pocket,expressed to Jefferson that he already had a copy.

"This last expression struck my attention forcibly," said Jef-

ferson, "and for the rst time suggested to me the thought thatDr. Franklin had meant it as a condential deposit in my hands,and that I had done wrong in parting from it. "

Some time ago, I thought, Our world could be quite differ-ent if Jefferson had seen the simplicity of the old philosopherssublime vision of thegreat and extensive project. Had he put hisown considerable talents into nurturing the seeds of the dream

there might have been all along a conspiracy of virtuous per-sons manipulating governments and industries and schools andchurches and families to call earnestly upon God to establishAmerica, and then the whole world, as a place where all personscould be free to pursue what the Bible calls the ultimate destinyof mankind, to be conformed to the image of the son of God.

Our world is quite different than many of us believe. Perhapsif we take a step beyond simple, childish assumptions aboutlife and history being an accident we may see the sublime planour Creator has in mind.

And we know all things work together for goodto them that love God, to them who are the called

according to his purpose. For whom he didforeknow, he also did predestinate to be conformedto the image of his Son, that he might be therstborn among many brethren.

Romans 8:28,29.

Dreams and hopes are spiritual things. It is true that not alldreams and hopes are from God... but some are.


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Stand ye in the ways, and see,and ask for the old paths,

where is the good way,

and walk therein,

and ye shall nd rest for your souls.

But they said, We will not walk therein.

Jeremiah

Reproof of instruction

is the way of Life

Solomon


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You want to succeed? Find a need, and ll it.

Our planet has become a village. As our world shrinks busi-nesses and governments everywhere are waking up to the factthat doing well requires doing good. Old ideas like wastenot, want not are invading the consumer based economy. Doingthe right thing is in Some corporations are even beginningto think Honesty is the best Policy.

From Watts to Western Australia the search is on for per-sons who have habits of honesty, dedication and perseverance.History has proven that these are the habits which produce

wealth. Every where the search is on for old-fashioned good

people any size, shape, color or creed but GOOD!The world is crying out for men and women who can dream

the American dream!

Theres the need. Fill it!

How?

Find the old way, where good is, and walk in it.

Every dream that ever became a reality was dreamed by some-one who had a plan. Far more important than chance or luckare faith and vision harnessed in a denite, measurable plan.

A denite, measurable, see-able, hope-able, believable plan,thats the one tool you can not be without.

This book provides access to such a plan, a time-tested toolfor becoming as good as you can be by replacing bad habitswith g

Documents

Seed of the Dream