Lucky was it for Girard that he got into Philadelphia just when he did, with all his possessions with him.  He had the narrowest escape from capture.  On his way from New Orleans to a Canadian port, he had lost himself in a fog at the entrance of Delaware Bay, swarming then with British cruisers, of whose presence Captain Girard had heard nothing.  His flag of distress brought alongside an American captain, who told him where he was, and assured him that, if he ventured out to-sea, he would never reach port except as a British prize. “Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Girard in great panic, “what shall I do?” “You have no chance but to push right up to Philadelphia,” replied the captain.  “How am I to get there?” said Girard; “I have no pilot, and I don’t know the way.”  A pilot was found, who, however, demanded a preliminary payment of five dollars, which Girard had not on board.  In great distress, he implored the captain to be his security for the sum.  He consented, a pilot took charge of the sloop, the anchor was heaved, and the vessel sped on her way.  An hour later, while they were still in sight of the anchorage, a British man-of-war came within the capes.  But Dr. Franklin, with his oared galleys, his chevaux de frise, his forts, and his signal-stations, had made the Delaware a safe harbor of refuge; and Girard arrived safely at Philadelphia on one of the early days of May, 1776.  Thus it was a mere chance of war that gave Girard to the Quaker City.  In the whole world he could not have found a more congenial abode, for the Quakers were the only religious sect with which he ever had the slightest sympathy.  Quakers he always liked and esteemed, partly because they had no priests, partly because they disregarded ornament and reduced life to its simplest and most obvious utilities, partly because some of their opinions were in accord with his own.  He had grown up during the time when Voltaire was sovereign lord of the opinions of Continental Europe.  Before landing at Philadelphia, he was already a republican and an unbeliever, and such he remained to the last.  The Declaration of Independence was impending:  he was ready for it.  The “Common Sense” of Thomas Paine had appeared:  he was the man of all others to enjoy it.  It is, however, questionable if at that time he had English enough to understand it in the original, since the colloquy just reported with the American captain took place in French.  He was slow in becoming familiar with the English language, and even to the end of his life seemed to prefer conversing in French.

He was a mariner no more.  The great fleet of Lord Howe arrived at New York in July.  Every harbor was blockaded, and all commerce was suspended.  Even the cargoes of tobacco despatched by Congress to their Commissioners in France, for the purchase of arms and stores, were usually captured before they had cleared the Capes.  Captain Girard now rented a small store in Water Street, near the spot where