Jul 23, 2026 · 31 min · 11 segments
Building on an engaging essay by Benjamin Franklin, we're talking today about the items and decisions in our lives that end up costing *way* too much. Sometimes it's a monetary cost, sometimes it's…
So the reason why we're talking about this topic is because Eric found this fantastic essay written by Benjamin Franklin called "The Whistle." Do you wanna tell how you even found this story?
It's also in his collection, I think, uh, a family member or friend put together called The Bagatelles, which is a collection of short essays of, like, wit and satire and wisdom that I'll probably share a few more.
Yeah, I just found this in the back of his autobiography, and it's a great two-page...
Like, it's really short, but it's a great story that kinda highlights, yeah, how we maybe pay a little too much in our lives, not just with money, but in terms of time and effort and energy and our attention.
As we live out our lives, life is precious, right? And we have scarce resources like time and energy and health, and we wanna use them well.
So I'll just read this story from Benjamin Franklin that he wrote to a friend named Madame Brillon from Passy, France in 1779.
It begins: I am charmed with your description of Paradise and with your plan of living there, and I approve much of your conclusion that in the meantime we should draw all the good we can find from this world.
In my opinion, we might draw more good from it than we do, and suffer less evil if we would take care not to give too much for whistles.
For me, it seems that most of the unhappy people we meet with are become so by neglect of that caution.
When I was a child of seven year old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers.
I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children, and being charmed with the sound of a whistle that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all my money for one.
I then came home and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family.
My brothers, my sisters and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me that I had given four times as much for it as it was worth.
Put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money, and laughed at me so much for my folly that I cried with vexation, and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.
The impression continuing on my mind, so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, "Don't give too much for the whistle," and I saved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.
When I saw one too ambitious to court favor, sacrificing his time and attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends to attain it, I have said to myself, "This man gives too much for his whistle." When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs and ruining them by neglect, "He pays indeed," said I, "too much for his whistle." If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasures of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow citizens and the joys of benevolent friendship for the sake of accumulating wealth, "Poor man," said I, "you pay too much for your whistle." When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind or of his fortune to mere corporeal sensations and ruining his health in their pursuit, "Mistaken man," said I, "you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure.
You give too much for your whistle." If I see one fond of appearance or fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he has contracts, contracts debt and ends his career in a prison, "Alas," say I, "he has paid dear, very dear for his whistle." When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to a, married to an ill-tempered brute of a husband, "What a pity," say I, "that she should pay so much for a whistle." In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by false estimates that they have made of the value of things, and they-- and by their giving too much for their whistles.
Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people when I consider that with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John, which happily are not to be bought, for if they were put to sale by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase and find that I had once more given too much for the whistle.
Adieu, my friend, and believe me ever yours, very sincerely and with unalterable affection, B. Franklin.
So the reason why we're talking about this topic is because Eric found this fantastic essay written by Benjamin Franklin called "The Whistle." Do you wanna tell how you even found this story?
It's also in his collection, I think, uh, a family member or friend put together called The Bagatelles, which is a collection of short essays of, like, wit and satire and wisdom that I'll probably share a few more.
Yeah, I just found this in the back of his autobiography, and it's a great two-page...
Like, it's really short, but it's a great story that kinda highlights, yeah, how we maybe pay a little too much in our lives, not just with money, but in terms of time and effort and energy and our attention.
As we live out our lives, life is precious, right? And we have scarce resources like time and energy and health, and we wanna use them well.
So I'll just read this story from Benjamin Franklin that he wrote to a friend named Madame Brillon from Passy, France in 1779.
It begins: I am charmed with your description of Paradise and with your plan of living there, and I approve much of your conclusion that in the meantime we should draw all the good we can find from this world.
In my opinion, we might draw more good from it than we do, and suffer less evil if we would take care not to give too much for whistles.
For me, it seems that most of the unhappy people we meet with are become so by neglect of that caution.
When I was a child of seven year old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers.
I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children, and being charmed with the sound of a whistle that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all my money for one.
I then came home and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family.
My brothers, my sisters and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me that I had given four times as much for it as it was worth.
Put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money, and laughed at me so much for my folly that I cried with vexation, and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.
The impression continuing on my mind, so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, "Don't give too much for the whistle," and I saved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.
When I saw one too ambitious to court favor, sacrificing his time and attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends to attain it, I have said to myself, "This man gives too much for his whistle." When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs and ruining them by neglect, "He pays indeed," said I, "too much for his whistle." If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasures of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow citizens and the joys of benevolent friendship for the sake of accumulating wealth, "Poor man," said I, "you pay too much for your whistle." When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind or of his fortune to mere corporeal sensations and ruining his health in their pursuit, "Mistaken man," said I, "you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure.
You give too much for your whistle." If I see one fond of appearance or fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he has contracts, contracts debt and ends his career in a prison, "Alas," say I, "he has paid dear, very dear for his whistle." When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to a, married to an ill-tempered brute of a husband, "What a pity," say I, "that she should pay so much for a whistle." In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by false estimates that they have made of the value of things, and they-- and by their giving too much for their whistles.
Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people when I consider that with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John, which happily are not to be bought, for if they were put to sale by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase and find that I had once more given too much for the whistle.
Adieu, my friend, and believe me ever yours, very sincerely and with unalterable affection, B. Franklin.
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