other, which might have been written by Jean Paul or a Flemish painter: it describes a little scheme of the father to suggest to the future guide of millions the first and most important of all truths.

"One day he went into the garden and prepared a little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he wrote George's name in full. Then strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them up and smoothed all over nicely with the roller. This bed he purposely prepared close alongside of a gooseberry walk, which, happening at this time to be well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be honored with George's visits pretty regularly every day. Not many mornings passed away before in came George, with eyes wild rolling, and his little cheeks ready to

burst with great news-'0 Pa! come here come here!'

"What's the matter, my son, what's the matter?'

"O come here, I tell you, Pa! come here, and I'll show you such a sight as you never saw in all your lifetime."

"The old gentleman suspecting what George would be at, gave him his hand, which he seized with great eagerness, and tugging him along through the garden, led him point blank to the bed whereon was inscribed, in large letters, and in all the freshness of newly sprung plants, the full name of

GEORGE WASHINGTON. "There, Pa!' said George, quite in an ecstasy of astonishment; 'did you ever see such a sight in all your lifetime?'

"By chance, Pa! O no, no! it never did grow there by chance. Indeed, that it never did!'

"Heigh! why not, my son?'

666 Why, Pa, did you ever see any body's name in a plant bed before?'

"Well but, George, such a thing might happen, though you never saw it before.'

"Yes, Pa, but I did never see the little plants grow up so as to make one single letter of my name before; now, how could they grow up so as to make all the letters of my name, so exactly! and all so neat and even too, at top and bottom. O Pa! you must not say that chance did this! Indeed somebody did it, and I dare say, now, Pa, you did it, just to scare because I am your little boy.'

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66

His father smiled and said, 'Well, George, you have guessed right. I indeed did it, but not to 39 Scare you, my son, but to learn you a great thing which I wish you to understand.'

666

"Yes, Pa; that I do know, that you was here.'

Well, and as my son could not believe that chance had made and put together so exactly the letters of his name (though only sixteen), then how can he believe that chance could have made and put together all those millions and millions of things that are now so exactly fitted to his good? That my son may look at every thing around him, see what fine eyes he has got! and a little pug nose to smell the sweet flowers, and pretty ears to hear sweet sounds, and a lovely mouth for his bread and butter, and O the little ivory teeth to cut it for him! And precious little hands and fingers to hold his playthings, and beautiful little feet for him to run about upon. And when my little rogue of a son is tired with running about, then the still night comes for him to lie down, and his mother sings, and the little crickets chirp him to sleep; and as soon as he has slept enough, and

jumps up as fresh and strong as a little buck, there the sweet, golden light is ready for him! When he looks down in the water, there he sees the beautiful, silver fishes for him, and up in the trees, there are the apples and peaches, and thousands of sweet fruits for him; and all around him, wherever my dear boy looks, he sees every thing just to his wants and wishes; the bubbling springs, with cool, sweet water for him to drink; and the wood to make him sparkling fires when he is cold; and beautiful horses for him to ride, and strong oxen to work for him, and good cows to give him milk, and bees to make sweet honey for his sweeter mouth, and the little lambs, with snowy wool, for beautiful clothes for him! Now these and all the ten thousand other good things more than my son can even think of, and all so exactly fitted for his use and delight, how could chance ever have done all this for my little son?'"

We need not carry our extract further, since George's full assent to the conclusion his father wished him to draw from this beautiful picture of God's doings may easily be taken for granted. It is not difficult to recognize the warm poetic fancy of the narrator in this sketch, but we are quite willing to accept it, even as an "Imaginary Conversation" of old times, wishing it were modernized, in some shape, in every family of intelligent children.

This good father was cut off by a sudden illness, before he had reached his fiftieth year, and George, with a large family of brothers and sisters, was left to the care of his mother, who was his father's second wife. Each child had an estate, for the father was rich in lands; but the proceeds of all were placed wholly within the widow's control during the minority of the children-a circumstance which speaks plainly enough the husband's confidence in her judgment and kindness. Two sons of the first marriage were young men at the time of the father's decease, but Mrs. Washington had five children of her own, of whom George, at that time about eleven, was the oldest. He was absent, Mr. Weems says, when his father was so suddenly summoned, and arrived at home only to find him speechless, and to witness his final departure. The family seems to have been very much united, and George and his half-brothers were ever firm friends. After his father's death he lived for a while with the younger of them, Augustine, in Westmoreland, the place of his nativity, which had been bequeathed to the second son. Here he went to school, to a Mr. Williams, who, Mr.

Weems says, "knew as little of Latin, perhaps, as Balaam's ass," but who was able to give him the elements of common school knowledge, which were happily enough in this case. We need not doubt the report that he was very soon the natural head of the school, not so particularly by means of scholarship as through certain other qualities, so amply exhibited in after life. He was the umpire in all little school quarrels, the boys having implicit faith in his justice; he was easily the leader in all athletic sports, through life his delight; and by some strange, prophetic instinct-prophecy often works its own fulfilment-it was his pride to form his schoolmates into military companies, with corn-stalks for muskets and calabashes for drums, and these he drilled and exercised, as well as commanded, and led to mimic battle. He is said to have been famous for hindering quarrels however, and perhaps his early developed taste for military manœuvres was only an accidental form of that love of mathematical combination, and extreme regularity and order of every kind, which characterized him through life. there was a political bias, too; for the boy-army was arrayed in two bands, one of them personating the French, always an antagonistic idea to the English, and at that time obnoxious in the colonies, and the other the English; the former commanded by a lad named William Bustle, the latter always by George Washington. It is rather remarkable, that so exciting a sport did not end in quarrels, if not in lasting enmity; for the temperament of Washington was impetuous, and his passions were fiery, though we are little accustomed to think so, from our habit of contemplating only his after life, so marked by self-control. He was, nevertheless, known as a peacemaker, even thus early, and we have every reason to believe that peace continued to be his darling idea, through all the struggles which duty led him to engage in.

But

He was also noted for running and wrestling, pitching the bar, and leaping with a pole. Whatever stirred his blood and brought into exercise the stalwart limbs and muscles with which nature had endowed him, was his delight. His young lady cousins complained that George cared nothing for their company, but would always be out of doors. And an old gentleman, a neighbor, is quoted as saying-"Egad! he ran wonderfully! We had nobody, hereabouts, that could come near him. There was young Langhorne Dade, of Westmoreland, a confounded

clean made, tight young fellow, and a mighty swift runner too, but he was no match for George."

Colonel Lewis Willis, his playmate and kinsman, had "often seen him throw a stone across the Rappahannock, at the lower ferry of Fredericksburg," a feat, it seems, not very likely to be equalled in our degenerate days. This great strength was inherited from his father, whose fowlingpiece-still extant, it is believed,—is of extraordinary weight, confirming the tradi tion of the old planter's muscular powers.

But there are proofs of another kind of interest felt by the schoolboy in those early days;-books, dating from his thirteenth year, in which his lessons in arithmetic and geometry are written, treasured by his mother no doubt, as showing her boy's application and neatness; and of an earlier period still we have one, into which the driest business-forms were copied, under the title "Forms of writing" -bills of exchange, receipts, bonds, indentures, bills of sale, land-warrants, leases, deeds and wills, all written carefully and in imitation of lawyers' style. This is doubtless a monument of Mr. Williams's teaching, for we have seen similar books written as exercises in boys' schools long since that day. But in George Washington's book there are also copies of verses, more remarkable" says Mr. Sparks, "for the sentiments they contain and the religious tone that pervades them, than for their poetical beauties."

Still more valuable, as showing that "the child is father of the man," is another portion of this precious volume, thirty pages in which are maxims, regularly numbered, to the extent of a hundred and ten, under the title of "Rules of Behaviour in Company and Conversation." The import and value of these rules are various, ranging from a caution against drumming on the table, to a recommendation of reverence when the Highest Name is mentioned. It is evident from his after history that these very rules, copied and conned at thirteen, were inwoven into Washington's habits of thought and action; and that, having once secured the assent of his taste, reason, and conscience, they continued effective throughout his life, and seemed to guard him against instinctive selfishness and the assaults of his own passions, as well as against any encroachment on the rights or feelings of others. When we reflect how striking was ever the courtesy and appropriateness of his behavior under the most difficult circumstances, it becomes most inter

esting to read, in the stiff, boyish hand of that early time, such rules as these:

"Let your discourse with men of business be short and comprehensive. It is good manners to prefer them to whom we speak before ourselves, especially if they be above us, with whom in no sort we ought to begin. Let your countenance be pleasant, but in serious matters somewhat grave. In writing or speaking, give to every person his due title, according to his degree and the custom of the place. Being to advise or reprehend any one, consider whether it ought to be in public or in private, presently or at some other time, in what terms to do it; and in reproving show no signs of choler, but do it with sweetness and mildness. Take all admonitions thankfully,

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in what time or place soever given; but afterwards, not being culpable, take a time and place convenient to let him know it that gave them. Mock not nor jest at any thing of importance; break no jests that are sharp-biting, and if you deliver any thing witty and pleasant, abstain from laughing thereat yourself. Wherein you reprove another, be unblamable yourself, for example is more prevalent than precepts. Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is a sign of a tractable and commendable nature; and in all cases of passion, admit reason to govern. Be not angry at table, whatever happens, and if you have reason to be so, show it not; put on a cheerful countenance, especially if there be strangers, for good humor maketh one dish of meat