MARK TWAIN'S STORY OF THE POOR LITTLE STEPHEN GIRARD.

Temuka Leader, Issue 1142, 21 February 1884, Page 3

MARK TWAIN'S STORY OF THE POOR LITTLE STEPHEN GIRARD.

The man lives in Philadelphia, who, when young and poor, entered a bank, and, says he, 'Please, sir, don't you want a little boy V and the stately personage said, ' No, little boy ; I don't want a little boy.' The little boy, whose heart was too full for utterance, chewing a piece of liquorice stick he had bought with a cent he had stolen from his good and pious aunt, with sobs plainly audible and with great globules of water running down his cheeks, glided silently down the marble steps of the bank. Bending his noble form, the bank man dodged behind the door, for he thought the little boy was going to shj a stone at him. But the boy picked up something and put it in bis poor but ragged jacket. ' Come here, little boy,' and the little boy did come here, and the bank man said, 'Lo! what pickest thou up V and he answered and said' ' A pin,' and the bank man said, 'Little boy, are you good?' and he said he was. And the bank man siid, ' How do you vote—excuse me, do you go to Sunday school ?' and he said he did. Then the bank man took down a pen made of pure gold, and flowing with pnre ink, and wrote on a piece of paper, ,St Peter, 1 and asked the little boy what it stood for, and he said ' Sault Peter. Then the bank man said it meant ' Saint Peter.' The little boy said 'Oh!' The bank man took the little boy to his bosom and the little boy said ' Oh !' again, for he squeezed him. Then the bank man took the little boy into partnership, and gave him half the profits, and all the capital, and all he has is all his own, too. My uncle told me this story, and I spent six weeks picking up pins in front of a bank. I expected the bank man would call me in and say, ' Little boy, are you good V and 1 was going to say, ' Yes,' and when he asked me what ' St. John ' stood for, I was going to say 'Sault John.' But I guess the bank man was not anxious to have a partner, and I guess the daughter was a son, for one day says he to me, ' Little boy, what's that you're picking up V S;iys I, awfully meekly, •' Pins.' Says he, ' Let's see 'em.' And he took 'em, and I took oft my cap, all ready to go into the bank, and became a paitner and marry hi 3 daughter. But I didn't get an invitation. He said, ' Those pins belong to the bank, and if I catch you hanging around here any more I'll set the dogs on you!' Then I left, and the mean old cuss kept the pins. Such is life as I find it.