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CHAPTER III.

George's father dies-his education continued by his mother---his behaviour under school-master Williams.

THUS pleasantly, on wings of down, passed away the few short years of little George's and his father's earthly acquaintance.) Sweetly ruled by the sceptre of REASON, George almost adored his father: and thus sweetly obeyed with all the cheerfulness of LOVE, his father doated on George....And though very different in their years, yet parental and filial love rendered them so mutually dear, that the old gentleman was often heard to regret, that the school took his little companion so much from him-while George, on the other hand, would often quit his playmates to run home and converse with his more beloved father.

BUT George was not long to enjoy the pleasure or the profit of such a companion; for scarcely had he attained his tenth year, before his father was seized with the gout in his stomach, which carried him off in a few days. George was not at home when his father was taken ill. He was on a visit to some of his cousins in Chotank, about twenty miles off: and his father, unwilling to interrupt his pleasures, (for it was but seldom that he visited) would not at first allow him to be sent for. But finding that he was going very fast, he begged that they would send for him in all haste. He often asked if he was come; and said how happy he should be once more to see his little son, and give him his blessing before he died. But alas! he never enjoyed that last mournful pleasure; for George did not reach home until a few hours before his father's death: and then he was speechless! The moment he alighted, he ran into the chamber where he lay. But oh what wherehis

feelings when he saw the sad change that had passed upon him! when he beheld those eyes, late so bright and fond, now reft of all their lustre, faintly looking on him from their hollow sockets, and through swelling tears, in mute but melting language, bidding him a LAST, LAST FAREWELL!

Rushing with sobs and cries, he fell upon his father's neck- -he kissed him a thousand and a thousand times, and bathed his clay-cold face with scalding

tears.

O HAPPIEST YOUTH! Happiest in that love, which thus, to its enamoured soul strained an aged, an expiring sire. O! worthiest to be the founder of a JUST and EQUAL GOVERNMENT lasting as thy own deathless name! And O! happiest old man! thus luxuriously expiring in the arms of such a child! O! well requited for teaching him that LOVE OF HIS GOD (the only fountain of every virtuous love) in return for which he gave thee ('twas all he had) himself--his fondest company-his sweetest looks and prattle. He now gives thee his little feeble embraces. With artless sighs and tears, faithful to thee still, his feet will follow thee to thy grave: and when thy beloved corse is let down to the stones of the pit, with streaming eyes, he will rush to the brink, to take one more look, while his bursting heart will give thee its last trembling cry-O my father! my father!

BUT, though he had lost his best of friends, yet he never lost those divine sentiments which that friend had so carefully inculcated. On the contrary, interwoven with the fibres of his heart, they seemed to 66 grow with his growth, and to strengthen with his strength." The memory of his father, often bathed with a tear--the memory of his father, now sleeping in his grave, was felt to impose a more sacred obligation to do whatever he knew would rejoice his departed shade. This was very happily displayed, in every part of his deportment, from the moment of his earliest intercourse with mankind.

Soon after the death of his father, his mother sent him down to Westmoreland, the place of his nativity, where he lived with his half-brother Au, ustine, and went to school to a Mr. Williams, an excellent teacher in that neighbourhood. He carried with him his virtues, his zeal for unblemished character, his love of truth, and detestation of whatever was false and base. A gilt chariot with richest robes and liveried servants, could not half so substantially have befriended him ; for in a very short time, so completely had his vir tues secured the love and confidence of the boys, his word was just as current among them as a law. A very aged gentleman, formerly a school mate of his, has often assured me, (while pleasing recollection brightened his furrowed cheeks,) that nothing was more common, when the boys were in high dispute about a question of fact, than for some little shaver among the mimic heroes, to call out, "well boys! George Washington was there; George Washington was there. He knows all about it: and if he don't say it was so, then we will give it up."--"Done," said the adverse party. Then away they would trot to hunt for George. Soon as his verdict was heard, the party favoured would begin to crow, and then all hands would return to play again.

ABOUT five years after the death of his father, he quitted school for ever, leaving the boys in tears for his departure: for he had ever lived among them, in the spirit of a brother. He was never guilty of so brutish a practice as that of fighting himself; nor would he, when able to prevent it, allow them to fight one another. If he could not disarm their savage passions by his arguments, the would instantly go to the master, and inform him of their barbarous intentions.

"THE boys," said the same good old gentleman, "were often angry with George for this."-But he used to say, 66 angry or not angry, you shall never, boys, have my consent to a practice so shocking! shocking even in slaves and dogs; then how utterly

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scandalous in little boys at school, who ought to look on one another as brothers. And what must be the feelings of our tender parents, when, instead of seeing us come home smiling and lovely, as the JOY OF THEIR HEARTS! they see us creeping in like young blackguards, with our heads bound up, black eyes, and bloody clothes! And what is all this for? Why, that we may get praise!! But the truth is, a quarrelsome boy was never sincerely praised! Big boys, of the vulgar sort, indeed may praise him: but it is only as they would a silly game cock, that fights for their pastime and the little boys are sure to praise him, but it is only as they would a bull dog--to keep him from tearing them!!"

SOME of his historians have said, and many believe, that Washington was a Latin scholar! But 'tis an error. He never learned a syllable of Latin. His second and last teacher, Mr. Williams, was indeed a capital hand--but not at Latin; for of that he understood perhaps as little as Balaam's ass. But at reading, spelling, English grammar, arithmetic, surveying, book keeping, and geography, he was indeed famous. And in these useful arts, 'tis said he often' boasted that he had made young George Washington as great a scholar as himself.

BORN to be a soldier, Washington early discovered symptoms of nature's intentions towards him. In his 11th year, while at school under old Mr. Hobby, he used to divide his play-mates into two parties or armies. One of these, for distinction sake, was called French, the other American. A big boy at the school, named William Bustle, commanded he former; George commanded the latter. And every day, at play-time, with corn-stalks for muskets, and calabashes for drums, the two armies would turn out, and march, and counter-march, and file off or fight their mimic battles, with great fury. This was fine sport for George, whose passion for active exercise was so strong, that at play-time no weather could keep him within doors. His fair cousins, who

visited at his mother's, used to complain, that "George was not fond of their company, like other boys; but soon as he had got his task, would run out to play." But such trifling play as marbles and tops he haha. could never endure. They did not afford him exercise enough. His delight was in that of the manliest sort, which, by stringing the limbs and swelling the muscles, promotes the kindliest flow of blood and spirits. At jumping with a long pole, or heaving heavy weights, for his years he hardly had an equal. And as to running, the swift-footed Achilles could scarcely have matched his speed.

"EGAD! he ran wonderfully," said my amiable and aged friend, John Fitzhugh, esq. wew him well. "We had nobody here-abouts, tha ld come near him. There was a young Langhorn Dade, of Westmoreland, a confounded clean made, tight young fellow, and a mighty swift runner too. But then he was no match for George. Langy, indeed, did not like to give it up; and would brag that he had sometimes brought George to a tie. But I believe he was mistaken: for I have seen them run together many a time; and George always beat him easy enough."

Col. Lewis Willis, his play-mate and kinsman, has been heard to say, that he has often seen him throw a stone across Rappahannock, at the lower ferry of Fredericksburg. It would be no easy matter to find a man, now a-days, who could do it.

INDEED his father before him was a man of extraordinary strength. His gun, which to this day is called Washington's fowling-piece, and is now the property of Mr. Harry Fitzhugh, of Chotank, is of such enormous weight, that not one man in fifty can fire it without a rest. And yet throughout that country it is said, that he made nothing of holding it off at arms length, and blazing away at the swans on Potomack; of which he has been known to kill, rank and file seven or eight at a shot

BUT to return to George. It appears that from the start he was a boy of an uncommonly warm and

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