The man lives in Philadelphia, who, when young and poor, entered a bank, and said: ”Please, sir, don’t you want a boy?” And the bank man said: “No, little boy, I don’t want a little boy.” The little boy went down the steps of the bank. The bank man stepped behind a door for he thought the little boy was going to throw a stone at him. But the little boy picked up something, and stuck it in his poor jacket. “Come here, little boy,” the bank man said, and the little boy came up to him, “What did you pick up?” The little boy answered: “A pin.” And the bank man said: “Little boy, are you good?” and he said he was. And the bank man said: “Do you go to school?” and he said he did. Then the bank man took down a pen made of gold, and he wrote, on a peace of paper, “St. Peter”. And he asked the little boy what it stood for, and he said: “Salt Peter”. Then the bank man said it meant “Saint Peter”. Then the little boy said: “Oh!” Then the bank man took the little boy into partnership, and gave him half the profits and all the capital, and he married the bank man’s daughter and now all he has is all his, and all his own too. My uncle told me this story, and I spent six weeks picking up pins in front of the bank. I expected the bank man would call me in and say: “Little boy, are you good?” and I was going to say, “Yes,” and when he asked me what “St. John” stood for, I was going to say “Salt John”. But the bank man didn’t want to have a partner, for one day he told to me, “Little boy, what’s that you’re picking up?” I said, “Pins.” He said: “Let’s see them.” And he took them, and I took off my cap, 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 any more I’ll set a dog on you!” Then I left and the old man kept the pins. Such is life as I find it.
