Story by Ben Franklin (90 secs) \"An Ax to Grind.\"
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North American (General)Transcript
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an ax to grind when I was a little boy. I remember one cold winter morning I was accosted by a smiling man with an ax on my shoulder. Why, pretty boy! Said he, as your father a grindstone? Yes, sir, said I, you are a fine little fellow. Will you let me grind my axe on it, pleased with a complement of fine little fellow? Oh, yes, sir, I answered. Is down in the shop, and will you, my man? Said. He, patted me on the head, get me a little hot water. How could I refuse? I ran. Soon brought a kettle full, I am sure, continued, here you are one of the finest lad that I ever met. Will you just turn a few minutes for me, pleased with the flattery. I went to work, and I toiled and tugged till it's almost tired to death. The school bell rang, and I could not get away. My hands were blistered, and the act was not half ground. At length, however, it was sharpened, and the man turned to me and said, Now, you little rascal! You've played truant, be off to school, or you'll rue it. Alas! The high! It is hard enough to turn the grindstone. But now to be called the little rascals too much! It sank deep in my mind, and often I've thought of it since, when I see a merchant over polite to his customers me thinks that man has an ax to grind. When I see a man who was in private life. A tyrant flattering the people, and making great professions attachment to liberty. Me thinks look out my good people, That fellow would have you turning grind stones.