fast (a little after seven o'clock, about the time, I presume, you are taking leave of Mrs. McHenry) is ready; that, this being over, I mount my horse and ride 'round my farms, which employs me until it is time to dress foi dinner, at which I rarely miss seeing strange faces, come, as they say, out of respect for me. Pray, would not the word curiosity answer as well; And how different this from having a few social friends at a cheerful board! The usual time of sitting at the table, a walk and tea, brings me within the dawn of candle-light; previous to which, if not prevented by company, I resolve that, as soon as the glimmering taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I will retire to my writing table, and acknowledge the letters I have received, but, when the lights are brought, I feel tired and disinclined to engage in this work, conceiving that the next night will do as well. The next night comes, and with it the same causes for postponement, and so on. Having given you the history of a day, it will serve for a year, and I am persuaded you will not require a second edition of it, But it may strike you in this detail no mention is made of any portion of time allotted to reading. The remark would be just, for I have not looked into a book since I came home; nor shall I be able to do it until I have discharged my workmen; probably not before the nights grow longer, when possibly, I may be looking in the Doomsday Book."

The coming of so many guests to Mount Vernon compelled Washington to request his nephew, Lawrence Lewis, to take up his residence there, and assume some of the arduous duties of hospitality. Lewis was young, well-bred, highly educated and attractive. A member of the household, he was, of course, ever in the field, and he discovered better occupation than entertaining curious visitors. Pretty Nelly Custis was budding into beautiful womanhood, and Lewis soon found a divided service, laying warm siege to her heart. His suit seemed promising, yet there came a rival in the person of the aristocratic young Carroll, of Carrollton. This young scion of the Virginia noblesse, was fresh from the grand tour, polished, accomplished, confident, yet the fair Nelly was not for him, and Lewis became her husband, the marriage occurring at Mount Vernon in 1798. But one break occurred in the monotony of this happy life, before the last dread interruption. In 1797 the French administration assumed a very hostile tone toward America. Pinckney, the American minister, was ordered to leave France, and notice was given that no one accredited by the United States would be recognized, until the wrongs which France had suffered should be compensated. Pinckney took refuge at The Hague, and gave notice of the indignity. The action of France seems to have been merely a scheme on the part of Talleyrand to extort money from the United States. Adams named three envoys to proceed to France, and consider the grievance upor which the Directory laid so much stress. These gentlemen found that they were regarded by Talleyrand merely as sheep to be shorn; that no question

of national right or dignity entered into the matter; it was a purely mercenary expedient, and, having received the insult of a proposal that they should bribe the Directory, returned to America, having accomplished nothing. War now seemed inevitable, and Adams was extremely anxious upon the subject. He at once consulted Washington, and, no sooner, had the discussion of the prospect of war begun, than the latter began to receive letters from many sources, to the effect that, in the event of hostilities, America would look to him, not only for advice, but for leadership. So imminent seemed the prospect of war, that Congress provided for the raising of a provisional army of ten thousand men, and Washington was made its commander in chief. He had before avowed that he would accept the duty of leading the army, should there actually be a foreign invasion, and that he would give his counsel and accept rank during the organization of an army, but would not take command, save in the event of actual hostilities. When it was arranged to raise the army, he went to Philadelphia, and spent five laborious weeks in consulting and arranging as to its organization, equipment and disposition. The most important step taken was the appointment of three major-generals, Hamilton, Knox, and the late minister to France, Pinckney, to command the various divisions of the army. This provided for, Washington returned to Mount Vernon.

The effect of the active war preparations in America was to convince the French Directory that it had made a wrong estimate of the people with whom it had to deal, and to decidedly vary its tone in relation to America. Eventually, Talleyrand wrote the French secretary of legation at the Hague, that France would doubtless receive any person accredited by the United States, with the respect due the representative of a formidable power. This letter was of course shown the American minister at that point, and was communicated by him to the department of state. Mr. Adams was weak enough to act upon this intimation, coming in such indirect fashion, and appointed a minister to France, who was duly confirmed. So was the war cloud broken, at the expense of the dignity of the United States.*

The month of December, 1799, found Washington in good health, and systematically occupied with the care of his estate. He was particularly engaged in preparing a written plan for the conduct of his farms, including a tabular statement of the crops to be raised in various fields, for several years in advance. This he finished on the 10th, and noting the fact in his diary, adds that the weather was clear and pleasant in the morning, but lowering in the afternoon. It rained on the 11th, and "there was a large circle around the moon." The 12th was snowy, the weather, however, being so warm that the snow was very wet. Washington wrapped himself in a cloak and went out in the saddle, as was his custom. Before setting out, he wrote

*For a fuller account of this transaction, see the life of John Adams.

Hamilton, heartily endorsing the plan of the latter for the establishment of a military academy. During the morning his secretary sought him in the field, and obtained his frank upon a number of letters. Noticing snow clinging to the general's hair, he expressed fear lest he might take cold; Washington added that his cloak amply protected him, but, with characteristic thoughtfulness, added that the weather was too bad to send a servant out with the letters. On the morning of the 13th, there was too much snow upon the ground to permit of his going out, and he complained of a sore throat. In the evening he was very cheerful, attempting to read aloud from newspapers received that day, but this his hoarseness rendered very difficult. Upon retiring, Mr. Lear, his secretary, advised his taking medicine, but he said, "No, I never take anything for a cold; let it go as it came."

During the night he suffered severely, yet would not consent to Mrs. Washington's arising to call a servant. In the morning, Mr. Lear came to the bed side and found the General almost unable to speak, and nearly suf focated by the swelling of his throat. Dr. Craik, his old friend, was at once sent for, and one of the farm overseers was called in and bled him. Between 8 and 9 in the morning, Dr. Craik arrived, and soon after, two other physicians, but none of their remedies gave relief. Washington was perfectly conscious and aware of the hopelessness of his case. About 4 in the afternoon, he called his secretary and gave directions about arranging his papers, and various other matters of importance. During the evening he seemed a little easier, and spoke a few times. At 10 o'clock he said to Mr. Lear, with much difficulty: "I am just going; have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put into the vault in less than three days after I am dead." Lear bowed, in answer, for emotion prevented his speaking. The general looked up and asked:

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"Tis well," said he.

These were his last words, for, between 10 and 11 o'clock, he passed peacefully away.

The funeral occurred on the 18th. The remains of the beloved friend; the brave soldier; the wise counselor; the great and good man, were placed in the family vault, in the presence of a great concourse of neighbors and friends; the honors of war were paid by the militia of Alexandria, while a schooner in the river fired minute guns.

So ended this wonderful life, as he would have had it close, with his friends about him, and for all time his tired body finds rest in the midst of the scenes which he so loved in life, and from which he was so constantly and so reluctantly divided.

Leave can hardly be taken of the memory of this great and good man without reference to one act that found its fulfillment only atter nis death.

"On opening the will which he had handed to Mrs. Washington shortly before death," writes Irving, "it was found to have been carefully drawn up by himself in the preceding July; and by an act in conformity with his whole career, one of its first provisions directed the emancipation of his slaves on the decease of his wife. It had iong been his earnest wish that the slaves held by him in his own right should receive their freedom during his life, but he had found that it would be attended with insuperable difficulties on account of their intermixture by marriage with the 'dower negroes,' whom it was not in his power to manumit under the tenure by which they were held. With provident benignity he also made provision in his will for such as were to receive their freedom under this device, but who, from age, bodily infirmities, or infancy, might be unable to support themselves, and he expressly forbade, under any pretense whatsoever, the sale or transportation out of Virginia of any slave of whom he might die possessed. Though born and educated a slaveholder, this was in consonance with feelings, sentiments and principles which he had long entertained. In a letter . . . in September, 1786, he writes: 'I never mean, unless some particular circumstances should compel me to it, to possess another slave by purchase, it being among my first wishes to see some plan adopted by which slavery in this country may be abolished by law.' And eleven years afterward he writes: . . 'I wish from my soul that the legislature of this state could see the policy of a gradual abolition of slavery. It might prevent much future mischief.'"

"The character of Washington," writes Irving further, in summing up the life-work of the great leader, "may want some of those poetical elements which dazzle and delight the multitude, but it possessed fewer inequalities and a rarer union of virtues than perhaps ever fell to the lot of one man—prudence, firmness, sagacity, moderation, an overruling judgment, an immovable justice, courage that never faltered, patience that never wearied, truth that disdained all artifice, magnanimity without alloy. It seems as if Providence had endowed him in a preeminent degree with all the qualities requisite to fit him for the high destiny he was called upon to fulfill to conduct a momentous revolution which was to form an era in the history of the world, and to inaugurate a new and untried government, which, to use his own words, was to lay the foundation for the enjoyment. of much purer civil liberty and greater public happiness than have hitherto been the portion of mankind.' The fame of Washington stands apart from every other in history, shining with a truer lustre and a more benignant glory. With us his memory remains a National property, where all sympathies throughout our widely-extended and diversified empire meet in unison. Under all dissensions and amid all the storms of party, his precepts and example speak to us from the grave with a paternal appeal; and his name-by all revered-forms a universal tie of brotherhood-a

Hamilton, heartily endorsing the plan of the latter for the establishment of a military academy. During the morning his secretary sought him in the field, and obtained his frank upon a number of letters. Noticing snow clinging to the general's hair, he expressed fear lest he might take cold; Washington added that his cloak amply protected him, but, with characteristic thoughtfulness, added that the weather was too bad to send a servant out with the letters. On the morning of the 13th, there was too much snow upon the ground to permit of his going out, and he complained of a sore throat. In the evening he was very cheerful, attempting to read aloud from newspapers received that day, but this his hoarseness rendered very difficult. Upon retiring, Mr. Lear, his secretary, advised his taking medicine, but he said, "No, I never take anything for a cold; let it go as it came.

During the night he suffered severely, yet would not consent to Mrs. Washington's arising to call a servant. In the morning, Mr. Lear came to the bed side and found the General almost unable to speak, and nearly suffocated by the swelling of his throat. Dr. Craik, his old friend, was at once sent for, and one of the farm overseers was called in and bled him. Between 8 and 9 in the morning, Dr. Craik arrived, and soon after, two other physicians, but none of their remedies gave relief. Washington was perfectly conscious and aware of the hopelessness of his case. About 4 in the afternoon, he called his secretary and gave directions about arranging his papers, and various other matters of importance. During the evening he seemed a little easier, and spoke a few times. At 10 o'clock he said to Mr. Lear, with much difficulty: "I am just going; have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put into the vault in less than three days after I am dead." Lear bowed, in answer, for emotion prevented his speaking. The general looked up and asked:

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"'Tis well," said he.

These were his last words, for, between 10 and 11 o'clock, he passed peacefully away.

The funeral occurred on the 18th. The remains of the beloved friend; the brave soldier; the wise counselor; the great and good man, were placed in the family vault, in the presence of a great concourse of neighbors and friends; the honors of war were paid by the militia of Alexandria, while a schooner in the river fired minute guns.

So ended this wonderful life, as he would have had it close, with his friends about him, and for all time his tired body finds rest in the midst of the scenes which he so loved in life, and from which he was so constantly and so reluctantly divided.

Leave can hardly be taken of the memory of this great and good man without reference to one act that found its fulfillment only atter nis death.