was coarse, rough, vulgar, and ungainly; and
his one eye glared ominously upon his
customers. He met with jeers and taunts
from every side, which he bore with great
taciturnity and composure. He had but one
object in view, which he followed with all the
steady energy of an iron will. That object
was, to make money.

When Philadelphia was evacuated by the
British in seventeen hundred and seventy-
nine, Stephen Girard was again found in
Water Street, this time occupying a range of
frame stores upon the east-side. He was no
more than twenty-nine years of age, but so
plain, grave, and repulsive in appearance, that
he was known as "Old Girard." His business
could not have been very prosperous at this
period, considering the disturbed and depressed
state of the country. He was quietly biding
his time. His store was well-filled with old
blocks, sails, pieces of cordage, and other
materials useful for ship-building.

In seventeen hundred and eighty, Stephen
Girard again commenced the New Orleans
and Saint Domingo trade. In two years he
had progressed so far as to be able to
purchase a ten years' lease, with renewal, of
a range of brick and frame stores, one of
which he occupied himself. The rents were
low at the time, and the purchase very
advantageous—perhaps the turning point in
his fortunes.

In seventeen hundred and eighty, his wife,
Mary Girard, from whom he had been divorced,
was admitted an insane patient into the
Pennsylvania Hospital. Here she remained
shut up, twenty-five years and one month,
while her husband was busily pursuing his
one object in the world; at last she died in
the year eighteen hundred and fifteen. On
being told of her death, Stephen Girard
selected her burial-place, and requested that
he should be called as soon as all the arrangements
for her funeral were completed. She
was buried in the manner of the Friends. Her
husband was there, glaring with his one
tearless eye, silent and unmoved; after
taking one short look at the remains, he
departed, saying, "all is well." He returned
home, and began to give largely to the local
charities and hospitals from this day.

A circumstance occurred at this period
which materially aided Stephen Girard in
his cherished determination. He was
engaged in the West India trade—particularly
in the Island of Saint Domingo—and at
the moment of the well-known outbreak of
the slaves, he had two vessels lying off
the port. The affrighted planters rushed
to the docks, and deposited their most
valuable treasures in those ships for safety,
returning to secure more. They were nearly
all, with their families, massacred. Stephen
Girard advertised liberally for the owners to
the property, but very few claimants ever
appeared, and it was transported to Philadelphia
to swell the store and increase the
power of the one-eyed capitalist, who
commenced the building of those large ships
engaged in the trade with China and
Calcutta, which were, at that time, the pride of
America.

In seventeen hundred and ninety-three, a
fearful pestilence broke out in the City of
Philadelphia. The yellow fever left whole
streets tenantless; the hearse was the vehicle
most frequently seen in the streets; those
who wore the badge of mourning on their
arms, were avoided even by their friends; and
the fumes of tobacco and camphor filled every
house in the city. While the pestilence was
at its height, a square repulsive man boldly
entered one of the most crowded hospitals,
and bore out in his arms a victim in the last
saffron-coloured stage of the disease. For
days and weeks, this man continued to
perform the same terrible office of attending
upon the sick and dying, discharging the
most painful and dangerous duties of the
lowest servant in the place. This repulsive-
looking Samaritan was Stephen Girard, with
his strong will, his bodily energy, his stout
heart, and his one eye. The hard, griping
trader was not so selfish after all. When all
the paid attendants, all the visitors of the
poor were either dead, dying, or had fled;
when no offers of money would purchase that
labour which was required for the
re-organisation of the pest-house hospital at Bush
Hill; two men nobly volunteered for the
forlorn task—Stephen Girard and Peter
Helm. On the afternoon of the same day on
which he offered his services, Stephen Girard,
a merchant of growing wealth and influence,
a foreigner with no ties of country between
him and the afflicted city, entered upon his
dangerous task with all the perseverance and
decision of his character, He soon established
order and cleanliness; provided accommodations,
and procured supplies; and, for sixty
days continued to discharge his duties at
the hospital.

In eighteen hundred and twelve, Stephen
Girard, the one-eyed cabin boy of Bordeaux,
purchased the banking premises of the old
Bank of the United States (whose charter
was not renewed), and started the Girard
Bank: a large private establishment, which
not only conferred advantages upon the
community greater than the State institution
upon which it was founded, but, while
the public credit was shaken, and the Government
finances were exhausted by war, the
Girard Bank could command large subscriptions
of loans, and put itself in the position of
the principal creditor of the country. In
eighteen hundred and fourteen Girard
subscribed the whole of a large Government loan
from patriotic motives, and, in eighteen
hundred and seventeen, he contributed, by
his unshaken credit and undiminished funds,
to bring about the resumption of specie
payments. In eighteen hundred and thirty-one
his operations were so extensive, that when