This revered name stands associated with every amiable and noble quality to which mortal man can attain on this dim revolving ball of human action. A sacred halo encircles it, that renders it dear to every philanthropist and respected by the whole civilized world. I am aware that his merits cannot be enhanced by eulogy, nor could detraction ever tarnish the glory of his fame. I am aware that the whole magazine of language has been exhausted in his praise. I am aware that talents of the highest order, hearts of the warmest devotion, imaginations of the happiest conception, united with the most refined and thrilling eloquence, have portrayed, in bold and glowing colours, the fair fame of Washington. To delineate fully and clearly the virtues of this great and good man, would require an angel’s pen dipped in etherial fire, and an angel’s hand to guide it. His life cannot be too often reviewed; his examples cannot be too closely imitated. Like some magnificent scenes of nature, his history is

The lustre of his virtues was of that celestial character, that, like the luminary of day, it is seen and felt, but cannot be fully described. His picture is one on which we may gaze with increased delight, and discover new beauties to the last. His memory should be rehearsed by every print in our land; every new press and fount of type should spread, in glowing capitals, the name of the beloved, the illustrious WASHINGTON. The aged sire should impress it on the hearts of the rising generation; the mother should teach it to her lisping babe; the preceptor should point his pupils to this polar star of virtue, goodness and magnanimity; and the friends of union, liberty and order, should read often, carefully and attentively, the biography of the father of our country. These are deemed reasons sufficiently strong to prompt this humble effort to delineate the interesting career of the man who was first in peace—terrible in war—the friend of humanity—the Hero of American Independence—and the founder of our country’s glory. To me, the subject possesses a peculiar zest, fraught with pleasure and delight.

George Washington was born in the county of Fairfax, Virginia, on the 22nd of February, 1732. He lost his father at an early age, and to the wisdom of his mother he declared himself indebted for the correct formation of his youthful mind. Matrons of America, if the mother of Washington moulded his mind with such beauty and greatness, how much may you do to perpetuate, through your sons, the prosperity and happiness of your favoured country! Train their youthful minds in wisdom’s ways; guide them in the paths of virtue and patriotism; teach them to love their country and its liberty; and to prize, dearer than life, the sacred boon of freedom that was nobly won and sacredly transmitted by the sages and patriots of ’76.

Washington, during his childhood and youth, exhibited a strong and enquiring mind. His habits were those of industry, perseverance and stability. He was assiduous in his studies and enriched his memory with solid and useful knowledge. He possessed a large share of merit and modesty, which gained for him the love and esteem of all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance. He was frank, open, generous, humane and honest. Nothing could induce him to utter a falsehood, practice deceit, or disobey his fond mother. He soared above the vain and trifling amusements that so often divert youth from wisdom’s ways. He was designed to be a star of the first magnitude on the great theatre of action; he studied well his part before he entered upon the stage, and when the curtain rose, he was prepared for his audience, acquitted himself nobly, and retired amidst the plaudits and cheers of astonished and admiring millions.

His talents and merit attracted the attention of Governor Dinwiddie, who then presided over Virginia, the frontiers of which were greatly annoyed by the French and Indians. It was deemed necessary to send a messenger to them, demanding the reasons for their unprovoked hostility, and, if possible, to induce them to evacuate their forts, smoke the pipe of peace and disperse. Young Washington, then only twenty-one years of age, was selected to perform this important mission, which was fraught with dangers on every side. His path lay through a dense wilderness for four hundred miles, inhabited by roving Indians seeking for prey. He undertook the hazardous enterprise and arrived at his place of destination in safety. Whilst the French commandant was writing an answer to Governor Dinwiddie, Washington, unobserved, took the dimensions of the fort and returned unmolested. It was soon found necessary to raise a regiment of troops to arrest the bloody career of the savages on the frontiers. Washington was placed in command over them with the commission of colonel, and marched towards the Great Meadows in April, 1754. On his way he surprised and captured a body of the enemy. On his arrival at the Great Meadows he erected a small stockade fort, very appropriately naming it Fort Necessity. Here he was reinforced, swelling his little army to four hundred men. He then made preparations to attack Fort Du Quesne (now Pittsburgh,) but soon learned that the enemy was advancing upon him to the number of 1500 men, commanded by M. de Villiers. The attack was soon commenced with great fury, and continued for several hours, when the French commander offered terms of capitulation and was glad to permit the young champion to march away unmolested. This brilliant and bold adventure placed the talents of Washington high on the scale of eminence, as a bold, skilful and prudent officer. It occurred on the 4th of July, a happy prelude to the glorious 4th of ’76, the grand birthday of American Independence.

The following year another expedition was sent against Fort Du Quesne of about two thousand troops, under the command of the unfortunate General Braddock, who had more courage than prudence, more self-conceit than wisdom. He spurned the advice of the “beardless boy,” and rushed into a snare, where he and nearly half of his army met the cold embrace of death. The deliberate courage and superior skill of Washington, by a judicious retreat, saved the remainder from the bloody tomahawk and scalping-knife. He arrived with them safe at Fort Cumberland. By his rashness, Braddock led his men into an ambuscade of about five hundred French and Indians, who were secreted in three deep ravines forming a triangle, secure from danger unless charged, where he remained with them until he had five horses shot under him, nearly half of his men cut down, himself mortally wounded, and not an enemy to be seen. One hundred men headed by Washington, with fixed bayonets, would have dispersed them in ten minutes.

Washington, unwilling to witness again such waste of human life, resigned his military command and retired to private life. But his sterling talents were not suffered to remain long inactive. He was elected to the legislature from Frederick, and subsequently from Fairfax, and was highly respected as a wise, discerning legislator, exhibiting a mind imbued with philanthropy and liberal principles, guided by a clear judgment and a sound discretion, adorned by a retiring modesty, too rare in men of talent.

From this field of action, Washington entered one of greater magnitude and importance, big with events, involving consequences of the deepest interest to himself, to his country, and to the world. After serving the mother country in the French war with blood and treasure, after submitting to taxation, oppression, and insult for years, the colonists resolved to burst the chains of slavery, throw off the shackles of tyranny, and assume their native dignity. Every source of redress had been exhausted; every avenue of conciliation had been explored; more than reason could demand had been offered; all that was clearly right, and much that was clearly wrong, the pilgrims had submitted to, and still their ungracious, their unfeeling, their blinded mother, cried give—give—give. They had not dreamed of independence; they had only demanded sheer justice; this being denied, they resorted to the last, the only alternative. Instead of submitting to taxation, without representation—instead of yielding obedience to the pernicious stamp act, they stamped their names with unfading glory, their country with lasting fame. In the autumn of 1774, the first great Congress of the American nation assembled at Philadelphia, of which Washington was a member. The solemnities of that thrilling scene have been repeatedly alluded to as of the most imposing character. No one felt them more deeply than the father of our country. When the proceedings were opened by prayer, Washington alone was upon his knees. His mind, on all occasions, seems to have reached to heaven, his soul seemed to dwell in the bosom of his God. Devoted, unsophisticated and humble piety marked his whole life—a piety sincere in its motives and consistent in all its exhibitions. But Washington was not to remain in the hall of the Continental Congress. A mighty work was in store for him. On the memorable 19th of April, 1775, on the heights of Lexington, American blood was spilt by order of Major Pitcairn. Justice looked at the purple current as it flowed, and sighed; mercy carried the sad news to the etherial skies; the eagle of liberty caught the mournful sound, descended in a stream of liquid fire, planted the torch of freedom in the serum of the bleeding patriots and bid eternal defiance to the British lion.

The effect was electrical. The alarm spread with the rapidity of lightning. It was sounded from church-bells and signal-guns; echo carried it from hills to dales, from sire to son. Vengeance was roused from its lair; the hardy yeomanry left their ploughs in the furrow; the merchant forsook his counting-house; the professional man his office; the minister his pulpit; and with powder-horn and slug, shouldered their rusty muskets, hastened to the scene of action determined to avenge their injured rights, defend their bleeding country, or perish in the attempt. The implements of husbandry were exchanged for those of war; the mechanic shop, the bar, the desk and the forum, were exchanged for the dangers and fatigues of the army. A band of veterans arose, with “hearts of oak and nerves of steel,” headed by that bright luminary the illustrious Washington, who stood forth the champions of Liberty, the advocates of Freedom; resolved upon emancipation or death; pledging their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honours in defence of their common country; looking to Heaven for strength, guidance and support. Illustrious heroes! disinterested patriots! yours exceeded all Greek, all Roman fame.

In June following, Washington was appointed by the unanimous voice of the Continental Congress commander-in-chief of the American armies. This appointment he accepted with diffidence and reluctance, feeling that it involved responsibilities, consequences and results too mighty for him to assume, too vast for him to encounter.

He did not view it as the field of glory, of conquest, of ambition, or of fame. He did not thirst for human blood or exult in the profession of arms. Love of country, of liberty, of human rights, of liberal principles, and the oppressive chains of tyranny, prompted him to action.

Before his arrival at Cambridge, to enter upon the important duties of his command, the fortress of Crown Point and Ticonderoga had fallen into the hands of the colonists.

The sanguinary battle of Bunker Hill had been fought, which convinced the British that men contending for their just rights, their dearest interests, their bosoms fired with indignation and patriotism, could not be made to yield to the glittering arms of a haughty monarch without a bold and daring effort to maintain that liberty which they had received at their birth from the hands of their Creator.

War now assumed a serious aspect, the bloody toils of the revolution commenced. England poured in her legions by thousands, and, to cap the climax of the terrific scene, called to her aid the blood-thirsty Indian with his tomahawk and scalping-knife. The welkin rang with the savage war-whoop and the expiring groans of mothers and babes. The contest seemed to be that of an infant with a giant, a lamb with a lion. The dark clouds blackened as they rose, charged with the fury of demons and the lightning of revenge.

Washington viewed their fiery aspect with calm serenity, heard their portentous roar without a tremor. With a soul reaching to heaven, he met the awful crisis with firmness and wisdom before unknown; his gigantic mind soared above the highest pinnacle difficulty could rear; his course was onward towards the goal of Liberty; beneath his conquering arm monarchy trembled, tottered and fell.

His whole energy was now directed to the organization of the army and a preparation for future action. An important expedition was planned against Canada, which was attended with great hardship, boldness and perseverance. It was entrusted to Generals Montgomery and Schuyler, who were subsequently followed by Arnold. It was crowned with success, until an unfortunate attack was made upon Quebec, where the brave Montgomery fell with many other valuable officers and soldiers. The ensuing spring the American army evacuated Canada. The royal governors in some of the colonies, by the aid of the king’s troops, still maintained the authority of the crown, but they were soon compelled to flee on board of the British ships of war, where they issued their proclamations with about as much effect as the puffing of a porpoise.

Early in March, 1776, Washington appeared before Boston, where lord Howe had concentrated his army, and took a position that induced the English general to evacuate the town on the 17th of the same month. In July, the fort on Sullivan’s Island was attacked by General Clinton and Sir Peter Parker, and after an action of ten hours, Sir Peter was compelled to retire with his silk breeches disfigured by the rudeness of a cannon ball, his ships badly torn to pieces by the rebel artillery, and two hundred of his men killed and wounded. The fort was defended by Colonel Moultrie with about five hundred men, with twenty-six nine and eighteen pounders. Sir Peter had two fifty gun ships, four frigates and several small vessels, with three thousand veteran troops. There was so much elasticity in the southern climate on this occasion, that the royalists did not venture there again for nearly two years.

On the 7th of June, Richard Henry Lee, a member from Virginia, made a motion in Congress to break off all allegiance with the mother country, and assume the rightful dignity of a free and independent nation. This resulted in the appointment of Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman and Philip Livingston, a committee to draft a declaration of independence; and, on the 4th of July, they arose in all the majesty of greatness, and in view of an admiring heaven and an astonished world, published that master-piece of composition which gave us national birth, absolved us from kingly power, planted the tree of liberty deep in our soil, and showed to anxious and gazing millions, that a nation could be born in a day and live. Language can never express, and none but those who witnessed the thrilling scene can fully conceive with what enthusiastic joy this declaration was received by the people. The bells sounded a requiem and funeral knell for monarchy; illuminations and roaring artillery quickly conveyed the glad news from the central arch of the union to its remotest bounds; the blazing torch of liberty rose, like a pillar of fire, to guide the patriots in their onward march; on the wings of thanksgiving and praise the happy tidings ascended to the throne of heaven, received the sanction of Jehovah’s high authority, and were recorded by the hand of justice, with an angel’s pen, in the book of everlasting fame. Kindred hearts mingled in joy and gratitude, and every FREEMAN shouted a hearty response—a loud AMEN.

On the 2nd of July, Admiral and General Howe landed near the narrows, nine miles below the city of New York, with twenty-four thousand men. They sent an insulting communication to Washington, which he very properly refused to receive. That part of the American army stationed at Brooklyn, under the command of General Sullivan, was attacked and defeated with great loss, on the 27th of August; and Generals Sullivan, Sterling and Woodhull were taken prisoners. Two days after, Washington planned and effected a retreat, and landed the troops from Long Island safely in New York, before the movement was discovered by the enemy. Chagrined and mortified at the loss of their prey, the British prepared to attack the city, which induced the Americans to evacuate it and retire to White Plains. Here they were attacked on the 28th of September; the British were repulsed, a considerable loss was sustained on both sides, neither party gaining a decided advantage. The disasters of the patriots multiplied rapidly; fort Washington and fort Lee fell into the hands of the English, and the American army was flying before a barbarous and conquering foe.

Washington crossed the Hudson, and retreated through New Jersey into Pennsylvania, with Lord Cornwallis pressing on his rear. His army was now reduced to three thousand men, who were destitute of almost every comfort of life; they could be tracked by blood from their naked feet on the frozen ground; disaster had chilled the zeal of many leading men who at first espoused the cause of liberty; a cloud of fiery indignation hung over the bleeding colonies, ready to devour them. But in the archives of heaven their FREEDOM was recorded; guardian angels directed their destiny; the bold career of the lion was arrested; this Spartan band was crowned with victory, and the red coats, in their turn, beat a retreat.

On the night of the 25th of December, Washington recrossed the Delaware amidst the floating ice, surprised and took one thousand of the enemy prisoners at Trenton, pushed on to Princeton, killed sixty more, took three hundred prisoners, and spread consternation in the ranks of the British army. These successes removed much of the gloom and despondency that hung over the cause. Washington retired to Morristown for the winter; the English occupied Brunswick. In the spring of 1777, the army of Washington amounted to about seven thousand men. No action occurred between the main armies until in August, when the British landed in Maryland with the intention of capturing Philadelphia.

On the 11th of September the two armies met at Brandywine; a desperate battle ensued, and partial victory attended the English army. On the approach of the enemy Philadelphia was abandoned and Congress retired to Lancaster. Another severe battle was fought at Germantown on the 4th of October, which proved disastrous to Washington, owing to a thick fog, by which his troops became separated and thrown into confusion. These keen misfortunes were much alleviated by the capture of the whole British army in the north under Burgoyne, by General Gates, on the 17th of October. The surrender of Burgoyne had a happy effect at home and abroad. France, on the reception of this news, recognised the independence of the United States, entered into a treaty of alliance, and furnished important aid in advancing the glorious cause, and sent many of her bravest sons to the rescue.

The treaty of alliance between the United States and France, and the loss of their northern army, induced the English to evacuate Philadelphia in the spring of 1778, and retreat to New York. From there they made frequent descents upon various places, burning and destroying property, murdering the inhabitants, and spreading desolation wherever they went.

An expedition was sent to Georgia which proved successful, and the south now became the principal theatre of action. Many feats of bravery were performed, but no decisive battle occurred between the main armies. The same mode of warfare characterized the campaign of 1779, the British seeming to aim more at predatory excursions than pitched battles, which they performed with a savage barbarity, disgraceful to themselves and heart-rending to humanity.

The exertions of Washington were almost paralyzed for the want of men and money; the French Admiral, D’Estaing, was unfortunate in all his movements, and the British lion was prowling through the land in all the majesty of cruelty. The anchor of hope could scarcely keep the shattered bark of liberty to its moorings; the cable of exertion lost thread after thread, until a small band of sages and heroes, who formed the nucleus, were left to contend with the fury of the storm that rolled its fiery and foaming surges over them.

The campaign of 1780 opened favourably to the royal arms, but more exertion was used on the part of the Americans. General Sumpter gave the British much trouble in the south, and a considerable force from the north was on its march to avenge the blood of slaughtered victims. The cruelties of the enemy had re-illumined the cause of freedom, and the people once more rallied around her sacred banner, determined on death or victory.

The southern army was now put under the command of General Gates, the hero of Saratoga—fresh aid arrived from France and the conflict was renewed with fury and desperation. On the 18th of August the two armies met near Camden, S.C.,—a decided advantage was gained by Lord Cornwallis. But defeat and misfortune no longer disheartened the friends of liberty. In the midst of adversity they rose like a phoenix from ashes, and hurled, with the fury of Mars, the thunderbolts of vengeance amongst their enemies.

The battle of the Cowpens, on the 17th of January, 1781, shed new lustre on the American arms. General Morgan there met the high-toned Colonel Tarleton, killed rising of one hundred men, wounded two hundred, took five hundred prisoners, two pieces of cannon, twelve standards, eight hundred muskets, thirty-five baggage wagons, one hundred dragoon horses, with a loss of only twelve killed and sixty wounded. His force amounted to only five hundred militia and a few regulars—that of Tarleton to over one thousand regulars, the flower of the British army.

Morgan now effected a junction with General Green, who had succeeded General Gates, and on the 8th of March they met the forces of Lord Cornwallis at Guilford court-house, where an obstinate battle was fought and the Americans compelled to leave the field. On the 9th of April General Green again put his troops in motion—on the 25th the two armies once more measured arms,—Green was compelled to retreat—not before a pursuing foe, but towards the British garrison Ninety-Six, which he reached and besieged on the 22nd of May, and gave it a hearty salute; but on the approach of Lord Rawdon with a large force, he modestly retired to the Santee hills to spend the hot and sickly season. In the meantime the English army encamped at Eutaw Springs, where Green renewed the attack on the 8th of September, and after a hard fought action, in which neither gained a decided victory, the enemy retired to Charleston, with a loss in killed, wounded and prisoners, of eleven hundred men. The Americans lost five hundred and fifty-five.

Although General Green had not gained any decided victory, he had gained many advantages and greatly weakened the enemy. Generals Lee and Wayne had been more successful, and the British were annoyed and harassed in every quarter—volunteers flocked around their beloved Washington, and the tide of war turned in his favour.

The patriotic Lafayette was now in the field. Morgan, Wayne, Greene and Lee were at their posts. Count de Grasse was co-operating with his fleet; and, in their turn, the English lords, admirals and generals, found themselves surrounded with impending danger. An awful crisis awaited them—retribution stared them in the face—their deeds of blood haunted their guilty souls, and consternation seized their troubled minds. Lord Cornwallis hastened to concentrate his forces at Yorktown, which he fortified in the best possible manner.

On the 6th of October the combined forces of Washington and Rochambeau commenced a siege upon this place, which surrendered on the 19th of the same month. The grand Rubicon was now passed, the colonies were free—the work was finished. This was the dying struggle of British monarchy in America. The last expiring hope of conquering the colonies now fled for ever. Heaven had decreed they should be free—that decree was now consummated. The eagle of liberty, like Jordan’s dove, descended—pronounced a benediction upon the conquering heroes—snatched the laurels from Britain’s brow and placed them triumphantly upon the champions of American Independence. To the friends of Freedom the scene was grand and joyful—to the enemies of Liberty, it was painful and humiliating.

The result of this victory was hailed with joy, and placed Washington on the lofty summit of immortal fame—gave freedom to his bleeding country—sealed the foundations of our republic, now towering to the skies—prepared an asylum for the oppressed, and planted deep in Columbia’s soil the long nursed tree of LIBERTY.

On the 30th of September, 1783, a definitive treaty was signed at Paris by Mr. Fitzherbert and Mr. Oswald, on the part of Great Britain, and by John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay and Henry Laurens, on the part of the United States.

On the second of November, Washington issued his farewell orders to his army, in terms of affectionate eloquence and parental solicitude. On the 3d, the troops were disbanded by Congress, and, with mingling tears of joy and gratitude, they once more repaired to their homes to meet the warm embrace of friends, and reap the fruit of their toils and fatigues—no longer embittered by the iron scourge of despotism. On the 23d of December, Washington appeared in the hall of Congress and resigned his commission. This last act was one of grandeur and thrilling interest. The past, the present and the future, were all in the mind of this great and good man, as he invoked the blessings of Heaven to descend and guide the destinies of his beloved, his emancipated country. Every heart beat quicker and higher—his commission was laid upon the table—a burst of applause rent the air, a flood of tears closed the scene.

The people of the United States, no longer under the paternal care of their old mother, were now left to try the experiment of self-government. Difficulties arose from local jealousies and interests—a debt of forty millions of dollars had been contracted—government paper became greatly depreciated—the public credit could not be sustained, and the liberty that the patriots had fought and bled to obtain, seemed doomed to a premature dissolution and to be lost in the whirlpool of anarchy and confusion. In view of these accumulating difficulties, commissioners from every state, except Rhode Island, convened at Philadelphia, for the purpose of devising means to preserve and perfect that freedom which had cost millions of treasure and fountains of noble blood. Washington was unanimously elected president of this august body. After long deliberation, the labours of the delegates resulted in the production of the federal constitution, one of the brightest specimens of legislation on record. It is the polar star of freedom, the great palladium of our liberty, the golden chain that connects our union, the grand rallying point of republicans, a shield against innovation and corruption, a terror to tyrants, a shining light to patriots, and stamps with immortal and lasting fame the names of its illustrious authors.

This was reported to Congress on the 17th of September, received their warm approbation, and was immediately sent to the several states for their consideration, all of which gave it their sanction, except North Carolina and Rhode Island—the former of which acceded to it in 1789, the latter in 1790. A degree of confidence was then restored, and from that time down to the present our nation has rolled on in the full tide of successful experiment, and enjoyed an increasing and towering prosperity without a parallel in the annals of history. The star-spangled banner waves on every sea, and is respected by every nation in the civilized world: our improvements at home have marched in advance of the boldest views of the most visionary projector, the fondest anticipations of their most ardent friends.

By the unanimous voice of a free and grateful people, Washington was elected the first president of the new republic, and, with the same modest diffidence that had marked his whole career, he took the oath of office on the 30th of April, 1789, in the city of New York, in the presence of the first Congress under the new constitution, and in the presence of a crowded assembly, who deeply felt and strongly expressed their love and gratitude to him. He then entered upon the important duties that devolved upon him.

A revenue was to be raised, the judiciary system to be organized, its officers to be appointed, a cabinet to be formed and every department of government to be established on a basis at once firm, impartial, just and humane. In performing these various and arduous duties he exhibited great wisdom, a sound discretion, a clear head and good heart. In the cabinet, as in the field, prudence and deliberation guided his every action. He was found equal to every emergency and duty that his country demanded at his hands—he acted up to, but never exceeded the bounds of delegated authority—an angel could do no more—Washington did no less. During his administration of eight years he put forth the noblest energies of his lucid mind to advance the prosperity of his country—meliorate the condition of those who were suffering from the effects of a protracted war—improve the state of society, arts, science, agriculture and commerce—disseminate general intelligence—allay local difficulties—and render the infant republic as happy and glorious as it was free and independent.

His exertions were crowned with success; his fondest anticipations were realized; he finished the work his country had called him to perform; the government stood on a basis firm as the rock of ages, and, on the 4th of March, 1797, he resigned his power to the sovereign people, retired from public life, honoured and loved by his fellow-citizens, respected and admired by a gazing world, and crowned with an unsullied fame that will endure unimpaired the revolutions of time.

He then retired to Mount Vernon to enjoy once more the felicity of domestic retirement and the sweets of his own fireside. He had served his country long and ably; he could look back upon a life well and nobly spent in the cause of human rights, liberal principles and universal philanthropy.

For his arduous services during the revolution Washington took no compensation, and virtually paid about three-fourths of his own expenses. He only charged his actual disbursements, for each item of which he produced a written voucher. He made a book entry of every business transaction with as much system as if he had enjoyed the quiet of a counting-room. A fac simile of his journal is now before me, which has been politely furnished by Timothy Caldwell, Esq. of the city of Philadelphia, one of the few survivors of “the times that tried men’s souls.” The first entry is dated the 22nd of June, 1775, and marked No. 1. £239. It commences with the outfit of the commander-in-chief and his staff at Philadelphia, and the expenses of the journey to Cambridge, immediately after his appointment by Congress, amounting to £466 2s. 10d. lawful money. But £3 of this amount was drawn from government at that time. The balance was furnished from his own pocket and credit, having received from Thomas Mifflin, Esq., £129 8s. 2d. The account current which is before me runs through a period of eight years, at the end of which time a balance was due to him of £1972 9s. 4d. His expenses for the eight years amounted to £16311 17s. 1d. He received $104,364 paper money, after March 1780, and passed it to the credit of the United States at forty for one, agreeably to the scale of depreciation, for which he did not obtain one for a hundred, by reason of which a large proportion of his expenses were actually paid with his own private money, for which he refused any remuneration. His expenses during his presidential terms exceeded his salary over five thousand dollars a year, which he paid from his private funds.

Had I time and power to trace the fair lines of Washington’s private worth and routine of life, I would present the picture of a man graced with native dignity, reducing all things around him to as perfect a system of order, economy, harmony and peace, as was ever devised by man. It should be chastened with sterling merit and magnanimity, and mellowed with benevolence and charity. It should be enlivened by the richest colours of virtue and consistency, and finished with the finest touches of a master’s hand. I would crown it with an amaranthine bouquet, richer and sweeter than the epic or civic wreath that decked his brow in the public view of an admiring world. He was a pattern of all that was great and good—the widow’s solace, the orphan’s father, the bountiful benefactor, the faithful friend, the kind husband, the true patriot, the humble christian, the worthy citizen and the honest man.

With the exception of his appointment to preside over the American army in 1798, when France threatened an invasion, Washington was relieved from any further participation in public affairs. He continued to live at Vernon’s sacred mount until the 14th of December, 1799, when his immortal spirit left its tenement of clay, soared aloft on angel’s wings to realms of ceaseless bliss, there to receive a crown of unfading glory, as the reward of a spotless life spent in the service of his country and his God.

His body was deposited in the family tomb, where its ashes slumber in peace, amidst the groves of his loved retreat.I This hallowed spot is visited yearly by large numbers, who approach it with veneration, gratitude and awe. Foreigners are proud to say they have visited the tomb of Washington—all nations revere his memory, unborn millions will perpetuate his praise.

His history, like that of our nation, is without a parallel. Unblemished virtue marked his whole career, philanthropy his whole course, justice and integrity his every action. A calm resignation, to the will of God, under the most trying circumstances and under every dispensation, added a brilliant lustre to all his amiable qualities. His course was not tarnished with bold strides of misguided ambition, or base attempts at self-aggrandizement. He was consistent to the last. His character, like a blazing luminary, outdazzles the surrounding stars, and illuminates, with meridian splendour, the horizon of biography. His brilliant achievements were not stained with that unnecessary effusion of human blood which characterized the ambitious CÆsar, the conquering Alexander and the disappointed Bonaparte. His fame is beyond the reach of slander or the attacks of malice. He has left an example of human conduct worthy the contemplation and imitation of all who move in the private walks of life or figure on the stage of public action. His sacred memory will live through the rolling ages of time, until the wreck of worlds and the dissolution of nature shall close the drama of human action, Gabriel’s dread clarion rend the vaulted tomb, awake the sleeping dead, and proclaim to astonished millions—TIME SHALL BE NO LONGER.