side of the question. In this cause Franklin's genius flashed out once more in all its originality. Twenty-four days before his death, at the age of eighty-four, he wrote for the newspapers a humorous piece describing a debate in the Divan of Algiers on the petition of a religious sect to deliver the Christian slaves, putting all the arguments of a champion of American slavery in the mouth of an advocate of the Algerian pirates who argued in favor of keeping the Christian dogs in bondage. Here was once more, as fresh as in his youthful days, the old quaintness of conceit, the old delicate irony, the old kindly wit and humor, illustrating the old strength of argument in a cause sacred to his heart, a cause fit to inspire the last effort of a great man. He died on the 17th of April, 1790.
His last years since his return from France were less active than had been his wont. He began to feel that the responsibility for what then happened belonged to a generation younger than his. While he freely contributed his wisdom to the movements of opinion then going on, he felt also that he was somewhat entitled to rest and might take his ease without any sense of neglected duty. He expressed this in his own quaint manner when in a letter he described his home life with his daughter and grandchildren, saying:
Cards we sometimes play here, in long winter evenings; but it is as they play at chess, not for money, but for honor, or the pleasure of beating one another. I have, indeed, now and then a little compunction in reflecting that I spend time so idly; but another reflection comes to relieve me, whispering: “You know that the soul is immortal; why then should you be such a niggard of a little time, when you have all eternity before you?” So, being easily convinced, and, like other reasonable creatures, satisfied with a small reason when it is in favor of doing what I have a mind to, I shuffle the cards again, and begin another game.
