with a large number of Printers, some of whom have gone to their last resting place, while others are occupying stations of influence in the world. Among the most prominent of those who assisted in conducting or printing the Rochester Telegraph, was a gentleman whose early history bears a striking resemblance to that of the illustrious member of the craft whose memory we have met this evening, to honor. Both were cast in their boyhood upon their own resources, and both alike struggled manfully and successfully with poverty, and its trials and difficulties. It was an incident in Franklin's life, which every printer's boy knows, and which will never be forgotten, that he trundled his paper on a wheelbarrow, from the warehouse in Philadelphia to his printing office. I have known the individual whose name I will present to you, carry bundles of newspaper to his place of business, which none but a stalwart man whose limbs had been inured to labor, could shoulder. More than this; I remember to have seen him, when he first came to Rochester with his small and dependent family, carry in his arms from the Carpenter's shop to his obscure dwelling place, a table, of which essential article it was till then destitute; and more than all, though I saw him daily, and knew him intimately, I never heard him repine at his hard lot, or complain of his misfortunes.
In the success of a man who possessed talent and intellect that raised him afterwards to important State offices, and of which he need not have been ashamed if he had, like his honored fellow craftsman, been called to "stand before Kings,"—who submitted with so much philosophy to circumstances of trial and difficulty in which he was placed,—in the success of such a man I say, I have always felt a deep interest, and such examples, may, I think, be held up for the imitation of young printers, who expect to carve their way by their own exertions "to fortune and to fame." I give you
Thurlow Weed: Formerly Editor of the Rochester Telegraph, afterwards State Printer, and now Editor of the Albany Evening Journal.
This sentiment, it is hardly necessary to remark, was received with enthusiastic applause.
William S. Falls, Chairman of the Committee of Arrangements, being called on, remarked:
Mr. President—It has frequently occurred to me, that, after all, the great Typographic Brotherhood of this Nation have not, as fully as was befitting, appreciated the virtues, intelligence, and worth of their Immortal Patron—Benjamin Franklin—the good man and Printer, whose natal day we have met to commemorate. Had this been the case, would not the monumental slab indicate the fact? 'Tis true, sir, it may be said, his name occupies a position so prominent on the temple of Fame, and his memory is so indelibly engraven upon the hearts of his countrymen, that further mementos would be unnecessary. Yet, as fellow-craftsmen in the "Art preservative of all arts," ought we to tolerate this objection, and permit the consideration to rest here?
We are happy to know, that the skill of the artist has frequently been brought into requisition in order to place before the view of succeeding generations, the statue of our beloved Washington, whose memory is also cherished and revered by every true American? Is not the memory of Franklin to the Printer, what that of Washington is to the Soldier?
These thoughts, sir, have been more especially suggested, from reading in a recent publication, the following:
franklin's grave.
Franklin lies buried in the church-yard, corner of Fifth and Arch streets, Philadelphia, where an obscure stone, bearing his name, half obliterated, marks the spot. The Philadelphia Printers appear to have forgotten him. It is not alone, the Printers, however, but the whole city that is chargeable with gross negligence and ingratitude, in allowing his resting-place to go unmarked by a single monument. It appears that an obelisk was erected to his memory in Boston, in 1827, on the spot where repose the remains of his parents. The monument, we learn from the Transcript, is of granite, 27 feet in height and 7 feet base. In front is the name of Franklin in large bronze letters, and below it is a tablet of bronze, 32 inches long and 16 wide, sunk in the stone, on which is engraved his original inscription, upon the marble tablet which he placed there nearly a century ago. It is well known that Franklin wrote his own epitaph: we give it here, as it may be new to some of our readers:
THE BODY
of
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,
Printer,
like the cover of an old book,
its contents torn out,
and stript of its lettering and gilding,
lies here food for worms;
yet the work itself shall not be lost,
for it will (as he believed) appear once mere
in a new
and more beautiful edition,
corrected and amended
by
THE AUTHOR.
Before submitting the sentiment which I wish to propose, I would respectfully ask: Would not the Printers of Western New York, so generally represented here this evening, esteem it a privilege to participate in the erection, in such place as shall hereafter be designated, of an appropriate memorial to the memory of him whose fellow-craftsmen we are proud to be? I submit the question, for the consideration of the members of the Profession, trusting that, on the gathering of the Craft, at our next Anniversary, they will be prepared to act in reference to the subject in question:
Franklin, the Printer: His name and memory should be alike endearing and sacred to the members of the Profession in this Republic.—May his fellow-craftsmen in Western New York
