Year: 1865

was usually styled, a short, stout. brisk old
gentleman, used to walk in his swift, awk-
ward way, the streets Of the lower part of
Philadelphia. Though everything about
him indicated that he had very little in COM
mon with his fellow citizens, he was the
marked man of the city for more than a gen
Grafton. His aspect was rather insignificant
and quite unprepossessing. His dress was
old fashioned and shabby, and he wore the
pigtail, the white neckcloth the wide brim-
med hat, and the large skirted coat of the
last century. He was blind in one eye; and
though his burly eyebrows gave some char
acter to his countenance. it was curiously de-
void of expression. He had also the absent
look of a man who either had no thoughts or
wa: absorbed in thought; and he shuffled
along on his enormous feet, looking neither
to the right nor to the left.s There was al
ways a certain look of the old mariner about
him, though he had been fifty years an in.
habitant of the town. When he rode it was
in the plainest least comfortable gig in Phil
adelphia, drawn bv an ancient and ill-form.
ed horse, driven always by the masters own
hand at good pace. He chose still to live
where he I'd lived for fifty years. in Water
street, close to the wharves, in a small and
inconvenient house, darkened by tall store
houses, amid the hustle, the noise, and the
odors of commerce.


His sole pleasure was to visit once day a
little farm which he possessed few miles out
OF town, where he was wont to take off his
coat, roll up his shirt sleeves, and personally
labor in the field and in the barn, hoeing
corn, pruning trees, tossing hay, and not dis.
daining even to assist in butchering the ami
mails which he raised for market 1t was no
mere ornamental or experimental farm. He
made it pay. All of its produce was care
fully, nay scrupulously husbanded, sold, re-
corded, and accounted for. He loved his
grapes, his plums, his pigs, and especially
his rare breed of canary birds; but the peo-
pie of Philadelphia had the full benefit of
their increase-at the highest market rates
Many feared, many served, but none loved
this singular and lonely old man. If there
was among the very few who habitually con-
versed with him, one who understood and
esteemed hia, there was but one and he
was man of such abounding charity, that,
like Uncle Tobey, if he had heard that the
Devil was hopelessly damned, would have
said, 81 am sorry for it." Never was there
person more destitute than Girard of the
qualities which win the affections of others.
His temper was violent his presence forbid
ding, his, usual manner ungracious. his will
inflexible, his heart untender, his imagina-
ton dead.


lie was odious to many of his fellow citi-
zens, who considered him the hardest and
meaHest Of men. He had lived among them
for half a century, but he was no more Phil
delphian in 1880 than in 1776. He still
spoke with q French accent and accompanied
his words with French shrug and French
gestculation. Surrounded with Christian
churches which he had helped to build, he
remained a sturdy unbelieyer, and possessed
the complete works of only one man. Voltaire.


He made it point of duty to labor on Sun.
day, as good example to others. He made
no secret of the fact that he considered idle
ness of Sunday an injury to the people. NOR.
al and economical. lie would have opened
his bank on Sunday if any one would have
come to it, He never attended public assem-
bIies or amusements. He had no affections
to crafty, no friends to visit, no curiosity to
appease, no tastes to indulge. What he once
said of himself appeared to be true, that he
rose in the morning with but single object,
and that was to labor so hard all day as to
be able to sleep all night. Tbe''world was
absolutely nothing to him but working
place. He scorned and secuted the idea that
old men should cease to labor, and should
spend the evening of their days in tranquility.
8 No." he would say, "labor is the price of
life, its happiness, its everything, to rest is
to rust, every man should labor to the last
hour of his ability" Such was Stephen
Girard.


This is an unplcasing picture of citizen
of polite and amiable Philadelphia. 1t were
indeed grim and dreary world, wherein |
should prevail the principles of Girard. But
see what this man has done for the city that
loved him notl Vast and imposing structures
rise on the banks of the Schuylkill, wherein,
at this hour six hundred orphan boys are fed,
trained and taught. upon the income
of the enormous estate which he won by this
entire conservation to the work of accumua.
ting property. In the ample grounds of
Girard College, looking up at the five mas
sive marble edifces, strolling in its shady
walks or by its verdant play grounds, or lis
tening to the cheerful cries of the boys at play
the most sympathetic and imaginati,e ofmen
must pause before censuring the sterile and |
unlovely life of its founder. And if he should |
inquire closely into the character and career
of the man who willed this great institution |
into being, he would, perhaps, be willing to
admit that there was room in the world for
one Girard, though it were pity there should |
ever be another.-NorM american Reciev,
January, 1865.