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for it." This may, or may not have been judicious advice. It is not very material whether it was or not, for

"There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them how we will."

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Mr. Hall was right in admiring Plato's definition of education, as "that which qualifies men to be good citizens, and renders them fit to govern or to obey." This is decidedly the best ever given. Education is valuable so far, and so far only, as it tends to produce that result. And that is the legitimate and natural consequence of the harmonious culture of the intellectual faculties, and moral feelings of our nature. To be properly educated is, to be a good citizen,-is not only to have the ability to govern," but also the disposition "to obey," those municipal laws, which mand what is right, and prohibit what is wrong." At various periods in our history, mobocrats have set at defiance, both the laws of our country, and those of God. But these laws will eventually triumph. A spirit of insubordination and mobocracy may, for a time, in some sections, as when in days of old, "the fountains of the great deep were broken up, rise fifteen cubits" above all our constituted and broad-based authorities; and as its waters spread, they may be streaked with blood, yet the countrymen of Washington, if rightly EDUCATED, will ultimately sustain the supreme laws of the land.

126. CHARACTER OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.-Thomas Jefferson.

1. His mind was great and powerful, without being of the very first order; his penetration strong, though not so acute as that of Newton, Bacon, or Locke: and, as far as he saw, no judgment was ever sounder. It was slow in operation, being little aided by invention or imagination; but sure in conclusion. Hence it was the common remark of his officers, of the advantage he derived from the councils of war, where, hearing all suggestions, he selected whatever was best; and, certainly, no general ever planned his battles more judiciously.

2. But if deranged during the course of action; if any member of his plan was dislocated by sudden circumstances, he was slow in re-adjustment. The consequences were, that he often failed in the field; and rarely against an enemy in station, as at Boston and York. He was incapable of fear, meeting personal dangers with the calmest unconcern. Perhaps the strongest feature in his character, was prudence; never acting until every circumstance, every consideration, was maturely weighed; refraining, if he saw a doubt; but

when once decided, going through with his purpose, whatever obstacles opposed.

3. His integrity was the most pure; his justice, the most inflexible. I have never known any motives of interest, or consanguinity, or friendship, or hatred, being able to bias his decision. He was, indeed, in every sense of the word, a wise, a good, and a great man. His temper was naturally irritable and high toned; but reflection and resolution had obtained a firm and habitual ascendancy over it. If ever, however, it broke its bounds, he was tremendous in his wrath.

4. His heart was not warm in its affections; but he exactly calculated every man's value, and gave him a solid esteem, proportionate to it. His person was fine; his stature, exactly what one would wish; his deportment, easy, erect, and noble; the best horseman of his age; and the most graceful figure that could be seen on horseback. Although, in the circle of friends, where he might be unreserved with safety, he took a free share in conversation, his colloquial talents were not above mediocrity, possessing neither copiousness of ideas, nor fluency of words.

5. In public, when called upon for a sudden opinion, he was unready, short, and embarrassed. Yet he wrote readily, rather diffusely, in correct style. This he had acquired by conversation with the world; for his education was merely reading, writing, and common arithmetic, to which he added surveying at a later day. His time was employed in action chiefly, reading little, and that only in agricultural and English history.

6. His correspondence became necessarily extensive; and, with journalizing his agricultural proceedings, occupied most of his leisure hours within doors. On the whole, his character was, in its mass, perfect; in nothing, bad; in few points, indifferent; and, it may truly be said, that never did nature and fortune combine more perfectly to make a great man, and to place him in the same constellation with whatever worthies have merited from man, and everlasting remembrance.

7. For his was the singular destiny of leading the armies of his country successfully through an arduous war, for the establishment of its independence; of conducting its councils through the birth of a government, new in its forms and principles, until it had settled down in a quiet and orderly train; and of scrupulously obeying the laws through the whole of its

career, civil and military, of which the history of the world furnishes no other example.

To

George Washington was the founder of the North American republic, the first president of the United States, and an incorruptible patriot. His name needs no panegyric. It will live for ever in the hearts of his countrymen. His fame rests on the adamant of good deeds. His best eulogy will be an imitation of his glorious example. It constitutes the most valuable portion of our national capital. His memory is immortal. Washington, under God, we chiefly owe the manifold blessings of national independence and religious liberty. If, therefore, gratitude be due on earth, it is due to him. Let it fill every heart with thrilling exultation, and ascend to the holy habitation of Divinity. How large were his sacrifices of time, treasure, and care! How gloriously did he withstand the tempting whispers of demagogues! How great was the intrepidity with which he dared the tyrant's rage! With what fearlessness did he, before high heaven, renounce all allegiance to George III and the British constitution! With what wisdom he administered the United States' government! With what fairness and fidelity, he made and maintained treaties! And with what moral sublimity, did he live and die! Let the history of his life answer. That is a bright and cheering picture upon which we should gaze and scan, until our minds take the hue of the splendors we contemplate. The city of Thebes rose to sudden elevation, through the instrumentality of Epaminondas; but the moment of his dissolution was the moment of her fall. Like Epaminondas, the brightest name of all antiquity, Washington, the peculiar pride of modern times, exalted the glory of his country. But here the comparison ends. The monuments of Thebes are crumbled in dust, and republicanism there slumbers in the grave of oblivion; but America still maintains the high and happy ground on which Washington placed her. The banner, which, under his auspices, waved in triumph over British tyranny, still mingles its folds with the stars and stripes of the union. Let the spirit of Washington's patriotism pervade the people, and the republic, through all time, is safe.

127. THE LAST Hours of WASHINGTON.—G. W. P. Custis.

1. Twenty-eight years have passed since an interesting group were assembled in the death-room, and witnessed the last hours of Washington. So keen and unsparing hath been the scythe of time, that of all those who watched over the patriarch's couch, on the 13th and 14th of December, 1799, but a single personage survives.

2. On the morning of the 13th, the General was engaged in making some improvements in the front of Mount Vernon. As was usual with him, he carried his own compass, noticed

his observations, and marked out the ground. The day became rainy with sleet; and the improver remained so long exposed to the inclemency of the weather, as to be considerably wetted before his return to the house. About one o'clock, he was seized with chillness and nausea, but having changed his clothes, he sat down to his in-door work,-there being no moment of his time for which he had not provided an appropriate employment.

3. At night, on joining his family circle, the General complained of a slight indisposition; and, after a single cup of tea, repaired to his library, where he remained writing until between 11 and 12 o'clock. Mrs. Washington retired about the usual hour, but becoming alarmed at not hearing the accustomed sound of the library door as it closed for the night, and gave signal for rest in the well regulated mansion, she rose again, and continued sitting up, in much anxiety and suspense. At length, the well known step was heard on the stair, and upon the General's entering his chamber, the lady chided him for staying up so late, knowing him to be unwell; to which Washington made this memorable reply: "I came as soon as my business was accomplished. You well know, that through a long life, it has been my unvaried rule, never to put off till the morrow, the duties which should be performed to-day."

4. Having first covered the fire with care, the man of mighty labors sought repose; but it came not, as it long had been wont to do, to comfort and restore after the many earnest occupations of the well spent day. The night was passed in feverish restlessness and pain. "Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," was destined no more to visit his couch; yet the manly sufferer uttered no complaint, would permit no one to be disturbed in their rest, on his account; and it was only at day-break he would consent that the overseer might be called in, and bleeding resorted to. A vein was opened, but no relief afforded.

5. Couriers were despatched to Dr. Craik, the family physician, and Drs. Dick and Brown, as consulting physicians, all of whom came with speed. The proper remedies were administered, but without producing their healing effects; while the patient, yielding to the anxious looks of all around him, waived his usual objections to medicines, and took those which were prescribed, without hesitation or remark. The

medical gentlemen spared not their skill, and all the resources of their art were exhausted in unwearied endeavors, to preserve this noblest work of nature.

6. The night approached,—the last night of Washington; the weather became severely cold, while the group gathered nearer the couch of the sufferer, watching with intense anxiety for the slightest dawning of hope. He spoke but little. To the respectful and affectionate inquiries of an old family servant, as she smoothed down his pillow, how he felt, he answered: "I am very ill." To Dr. Craik, his earliest companion in arms, longest tried, and bosom friend, he observed: "I am dying, sir-but I am not afraid to die."

7. To Mrs. Washington he said: "Go to my escritoir and in my private drawer you will find two papers; bring them to me." They were brought. He continued: "These are my wills, preserve this one, and burn the other;" which was accordingly done. Calling to Col. Lear, he directed; "Let my corpse be kept for the usual period of three days."

8. Washington was old fashioned in some of his opinions; nor is he less to be admired on that account. The custom of keeping the dead for the scriptural period of three days, is derived from remote antiquity; and arose, not from fear of premature interment, as in more modern times, but from motives of veneration towards the deceased; for the better enabling the relatives and friends to assemble from a distance, to perform the funeral rites; for the pious watchings of the corpse, and for many sad, yet endearing ceremonies, with which we delight to pay our last duties, to the remains of those we loved.

9. The patient bore his acute suffering with fortitude, and perfect resignation to the Divine will, while, as the night advanced, it became evident that he was sinking, and he seemed fully aware that "his hour was nigh." He inquired the time, and was answered, a few minutes to twelve. He spoke no more, the hand of death was upon him, and he was conscious that "his hour was come." With surprising self-possession, he prepared to die. Composing his form at length, and folding his arms upon his bosom, without a sigh, without a groan, the father of his country died. No pang nor struggle told when the noble spirit took its noiseless flight; while so tranquil appeared the manly features in the repose of death, that

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