The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1865-03-02
srEpnrN GfRAkD.

Stephen Girard has not been 50 long dead but
many Of the present generation still remember him
and his peculiarities; and TO man DOS.
sc.sed peculiarties Of more striking character
Various sketches of his life have been given to the
public but tho following, from the North Arericnn
Reriso for January, is moro discriminating in
its character. and presents a tolerably accurate
picture Of the man and his mental and social Pc
culiaritcs;
"Within the memory Of many pers9ns still alive
old 6irard,' as the famous banker was hstaly
styled short Stout brisk old gentleman, used to
walk, in his swift. awkward way TIE streets Of the
lower part Of Phiadelpiihl Though everything
about him indicated that he had very little IN com
mon with his fellow-citiZens, he was the marked
map of the city for more than a generation. His
aspect rather Insignificant and quite unprepos-
sessin3 His dress was oid-Elshioned ana shabby;
and he wore the pigtail, the white neck-clcth the
widebrrmed hat, and the large sklrtcd coat OF the
last century. He was blind in one eye, and though
his burly eyebrows gave some character To his
countenance, it curiously devoid OF expression
He had also the absent look OF man who either
had no thoughts was absorbed IN thought; and
he shufiled along on his enormous leet, looking
neither the right to the left. There. was al
ways certain look Of the old mariner about him.
though he had been fifty years an lnhaDtans OF the
town. W hen he rode. 1t was III the piainest least
comfortable gig in Philadelphia, drawn by an an
cent and Informed horse. driven always by the
masters own hand at a good pace. lie chose still
to live where he had lived for fifty years IN Water
convenient house, darkencd by tall store-houses
amid the hustle, the noise and the odors OF COM
merce.
Ills sole pleasure to VISIT once day, lit
tie farm which he possessed few miles oNt Oh tow,
where he was wont to take off his coat, roll up his
shirt sleeves and personally labor in the held ana
in the barn, hocing corn, pruning trees, tossing
hay, and not disdanng even to assist IN butchelnS
the animals which he raised for market. 1t Was
no mere ornamental experimental farm. 1ie
made it pay. All Of its produce was carefully nay
scrupulously, husbanded, sod recorded an! account
cd for. He loved his gapes his plunls, ms piss,
and especially his rare breed Of canary birds but
the people of Philadelphia had the full benefit OF
their ncrease-at the highest market rates. Many
feared and many served, bat none loved this slns"
lar and lonely old man. If there was, among the
very few who habitually convcrsed with MIN, one
who understood and esteemed him, there was but
one, and he was man Of such ahounding charity
that, like Uncle Toby, if he had heard that the
Devil was hope!essiy CANNED, '7oula have sala' \
am sorry for it, Never was there person more
destitute than Gvard Of the qualities which WIN the
affection of others His temper was violent, MS
presence forblddns. his usual manner ungraclous'
his will intlcxble, his hea1t untendcr, his lmagina-
ton dead lie was odous to many OF his fellow
citizens who considered him the hardest and mean
es. of men. He had lived among them Tor half:a
century but he no more Pnliadeiphlan 10
1889 than he was in 1916 lie still spoke with a
French accent and accompanied his words with
French slrug and French gesticuidtion Hufrouno-
ed with Christian churches, which he had nelped to
build, he remained sturdy unbeilevcr, and pos
sessed the complete work Of only one man-Fol-
tairo.
s'He made it point Of duty to labor on Sunday,
as a good example to others. He made no secret
of the fact that he considered the idleness OK Sun
an injury to the people, moral and economical
He would have opened mis- bank on Su16ny Ii any
one would have tot For his part, he required
no rest, and would have none. lie never Travelled.
He never attended public assemblies or amusenents.
He had affections to crafty, no f1endS to visit,
no curiosity to appeeSe no tastes to indulge hat
he once said of himself appeared to be true-that
he rose in the morning with but single object, and
that was to labor hard all day as to be able to
sleep n, night The world was absolutely nothing
to him but working place. lie scorned and secuted
the idea that old men should to labor, and
should spend the evening of their daysin tranQuiu-
IT, No. he would say, labor is the price OF lie,
its happiness, its everythlng TO rest is to rust
every man should LABOR to the last hour of his abl-
ty.' Such was Stephen Girard.
"This is an unpleasirg picture Of citizen of po-
lite and auliab,e Philadelphia. 1t were indeed q
grim and drcary world wherein should prevail the
principles of Girard. But see what this man has
done for the city that loved him not. Vast and I'M
posing structures rise or the banks OF the Schuyl-
kill, wherein, at this hour, six hundred orphan boys
are fed, clothed, trained and taught upon the in
of the enormous estate which he Won by tins
entire conservation to the work Of accommodating
property. In the ample grounds of Girard College,
looking up at its five massive marble edltcCs. stroll
ing in its shady walks or By its verddnt play
grounds listening to the cheerful cries of the boys
at play, the most sympathetic and imaginative OF
meu mus: pause before cenSUylDg the steilie and
uuloyely If. of its founder. And if he should III
quire closely into the character and career OF the
man who Uiled this great institution into being,
he would, perhaps, be W filing to admit that there
was room in the world for one G'rord, though 1t
were ply there should ever beano.hcr."