fond; and was constantly going about chopping every thing that came in his way. One day, in the garden, where he often amused himself hacking his mother's pea-sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet on the body of a beautiful young English cherry-tree, which he barked so terribly, that I don't ⚫ believe the tree ever got the better of it. The next morning the old gentleman, finding out what had befallen his tree, which, by the by, was a great favourite, came into the house; and with much warmth asked for the n.ischievous author, declaring at the same time, that he would not have taken five guineas for his tree. Nobody could tell him any thing about it. Presently George and his hatchet made their appearance. "George," said his father, "do you know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden?" This was a tough question; and George staggered under it for a moment; but quickly recovered himself: and looking at his father, with the sweet face of youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely cried out, "I can't tell a lie, Pa; you know I can't tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet."-Run to my arms, you dearest boy, cried his father in transports, run to my arms; glad am I, George, that you killed my tree; for you have paid me for it a thousand fold. Such an act of heroism in my son is more worth than a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, and their fruits of purest gold."

It was in this way by interesting at once both his heart and head, that Mr. Washington conducted George with great ease and pleasure along the happy paths of virtue. But well knowing that his beloved charge, soon to be a man, would be left exposed to numberless temptations, both from himself and from others, his heart throbbed with the tenderest anxiety to make him acquainted with that GREAT BEING, whom to know and love, is to possess the surest defence against vice, and the best of all motives to virtue and happiness. To startle George into

a lively sense of his Maker, he fell upon the following very curious, but impressive expedient:

ONE day he went into the garden, and prepared a little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he wrote George's name at full, in large letters-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 along side of a gooseberry walk, which happening at this time to be well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be honoured with George's visits pretty regularly every day. Not many mornings had passed away before in came George, with eyes wild rolling, and his little cheeks ready to burst with great news.

"O 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 shew you such a sight as you never saw in all your life time."

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 ecstacy of astonishment, "d'd you ever see such a sight in your life time?"

ali

"WHY it seems like a curious affaire, shure enough George!

"BUT, Pa, who did make it there? who did make it there?"

"Ir grew there by chance, I suppose, my son. "By chance, Pa! O no! no! it neve, did grow there by chance, Pa. Indeed that it neve did!" "HIGH! why not, my son ?"

WHY, Pa, did you ever see any body's name in a lant bed befre?"

"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! and then standing one after another, to spell my name so exactly!—and all so neat and even too, at top and bottom!! O Pa, you must not say chance did all this. Indeed somebody did it; and I dare say now, Pa, you did it just to scare me, because I am your little boy."

His father smiled; and said, "Well George, you have guessed right. I indeed did it ; but not to scare you, my son; but to learn you a great thing which I wish you to understand. I want, my son, to introduce you to your true Father."

"HIGH, Pa, an't you my true father, that has loved me, and been so good to me always?"

"YES, George, I am your father, as the world calls it and I love you very dearly too. But yet with all my love for you, George, I am but a poor goodfor-nothing sort of a father in comparison of one you have."

"AYE! I know, well enough whom you mean, Pa. You mean God Almighty; don't you?"

"YES, my son, I mean him indeed. He is your true Father, George."

"BUT, Pa, where is God Almighty? I did never see him yet."

"True my son; but though you never saw him, yet he is always with you. You did not see me when ten days ago I made this little plant bed, where you see your name in such beautiful green letters: but though you did not see me here, yet you know I was here!!"

“YES, Pa, that I do. I know you was here."

"WELL then, 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 ey can he believe, that chance could have made and

put together all those millions and milliors 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 she 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 the dear little tongue to prattle with his father! 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 fresh and strong as a little buck, there the sweet golden light is ready for him! When he looks down into 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, 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 the good cow 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 thousand other good things more than my son can ever think of, and all so exactly fitted to his use and delight-Now how could chance ever have done all this for my little son? Oh George !

He would have gone on: but George, who had hung upon his father's words with looks and eyes of all-devouring attention, here broke out

"OH, Рa, that's enough! that's enough! It can't be chance, indeed-it can't be chance, that made and gave me all these things.'

"WHAT was it then, do you think, my son?" "INDEED, Pa, I don't know, unless it was God Almighty!"

"YES, George, he it was, my son, and nobody else."

"WELL, but Pa, (continued George) does God Almighty give me every thing? Don't you give me some things, Pa?"

"I GIVE you something indeed! Oh how can I give you any thing, George! I who have nothing on earth that I can call my own, no, not even the breath I draw !"

"HIGH, Pa! is'nt that great big house your house, and this garden, and the horses yonder, and oxen, and sheep, and trees, and every thing, is'nt all yours, Pa?"

“Он no! my son! no! why you make me shrink into nothing, George, when you talk of all these belonging to me, who can't even make a grain of sand! Oh, how could I, my son, have given life to those great oxen and horses, when I can't give life even to a fly?-no! for if the poorest fly were killed, it is not your father, George, nor all the men in the world, that could ever make him alive again!"

AT this, George fell into a profound silence, while his pensive looks showed that his youthful soul_was labouring with some idea never felt before. Perhaps it was at that moment, that the good Spirit of God ingrafted on his heart that germ of piety, which filled his after life with so many of the precious fruits of morality..