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ANECDOTES OF WASHINGTON.
in the eyes
Never did the *wise *Ulysses take more pains with his beloved "Telemachus, than did Mr. Washington with George, to *inspire him with an early love of *TRUTH. “Truth, George," said he,“ is the loveliest *quality of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son, to see the boy whose heart is so honest, and his lips so pure, that we may *depend on every word he says. “O, how *lovely does such a child
appear of every body! His parents doat on him. His relations *glory in him. They are constantly praising him to their children, whom they beg to imitate him. They are often sending for him to visit them; and receive him, when he comes, with as much "joy as if he were an angel, come to set good examples to their children.
But, oh! how different, George, is the case with the boy who is so given to lying, that nobody can *believe a word he says! He is looked at with ‘aversion wherever he
and parents "dread to see him come among their children. Oh, George! my son! rather than see you come to this *pass, dear as you are to my heart, gladly would I 'assist to nail you up in your little coffin, and follow you to your grave. 'Hard, indeed, would it be for me to give up my son, whose feet are always so ready to run about with me, and whose fondly looking eyes, and sweet prattle, make so large a
Fåte, får, fåll, fåt-mė, mėt-pine, pin-nó, move,
nồr, not—tůbe, tůb, bůll—ðil, põůnd-thin, this.
part of my thappiness. But still I would give him up, rather than see him a common *liar."
“Pa," said George, very seriously, “ do I ever tell lies ?”
“ No, George; I thank God, you do not, my son; and I *rejoice in the hope that you never will. Whenever, by "accident, you do any thing wrong, which must often be the case, as you are but a poor little boy yet, without *experience or *knowledge, you must never tell a falsehood to *conceal it, but come *bravely up, my son, like a little man, and tell me of it.”
in his way
When George was about six years old, he was made the *wealthy master of a hatchet; of which, like most little boys, he was *immoderately fond; and was constantly going about #chopping every thing that came
One day, in the garden, where he often *amused himself with 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 favorite, came into the house, and, with much *warmth, asked for the *mischievous *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.
Fåte, får, fåll, fåt--mė, mėt-pine, pin-nó, move,
nôr, nôt—tube, tůb, bůll—õil, pôůnd—thin, this.
· Happiness, felicity.
• Accident, chance.
Finding out, discovering.
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 of more worth than a thousand trees, though *blossomed with silver, and their fruits of purest gold."
No. 2.-Our True Father.
One day Mr. Washington 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 roiler.
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 honored 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.