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

Star (Christchurch), Issue 1687, 24 July 1873, Page 4

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

The man lives in Philadelphia, who, when yonng and poor entered a bank, and says he " Please sir don't you want a little boy ?" 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 hiß good and pious aunt, with sobs plainly audib'e, and with great globules of water running down his cheekß, glided Bilently down the marble steps of the bank. Beading his noble form, the bank man dodged behind a door, for he thought the little boy waa going to shy astone at bim. But the boy picked, up something and stuck it in his poor but ragged jacket. " Come here, little boy," aod the little, boy did come here ; and the bank man said, "Lo I what pickeßt thou up ?" And he answered and aaid, " A pin." Arid the bank man said, " Little boy, are you good ?" and he said hfe was. And the bank maa said, " How do you vote — excuse me. do you go to Sunday school ?" And he said he did. And the bank man took down a pen made of pure gold, and flowing with pure ink, and wrote on a piece of paper " St. Peter," and asked the little boy what ifc stood for, and he said " Sanlt Peter." Then the bank man said it meant " Saint Peter." The little boy said ".Oh 1" The bank man took the little fcoy to his bosom and the little boy said "Oh 1" again, for he squeezed him. " Then the bank man took the little boy into a part nership, and gave him half the profits and al the capital, and he married the bank man's daughter, and all he has is all his, and all his own too.

Story of Another Little Boy : My uncle told me this story, and I Bpent six weeks • picking up pins in front of a bank. I expected the bank man would call me in and cay, "Little boy, are you good ?" and lway going to say " Yes ;" and when he asked me what " St. John " stood for, I was going to cay " Sault John." Bu~ I guess the bank nan wasn't anxious to hare a partner, and 1 guess the daughter was a son, for one day cays he to me, " Little boy, wnat's tbat you're picking up?" Says I, awf oily I meekly, " Pins.'* Says be, " Let's see 'em." I

And he took 'em, and I took off my cap, all ready to go in the bank, and become a partner and marry his 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 I" Then I left, and the mean old cuss kept the pins. Such is life as I fiad it.