This

the first time, with an instinctive deference and awe. may have arisen, in part, from a conviction of his superiority, as well as from the effect produced by his external form and deportment.

3. The character of his mind was unfolded in the public and private acts of his life; and the proofs of his greatness. are seen almost as much in the one as in the other. The same qualities which raised him to the ascendency he possessed over the will of a nation, as the commander of armies and chief magistrate, caused him to be loved and respected as an individual. Wisdom, judgment, prudence, and firmness, were his predominant traits. No man ever saw more clearly the relative importance of things and actions, or divested himself more entirely of the bias of personal interest, partiality, and prejudice, in discriminating between the true and the false, the right and the wrong, in all questions and subjects that were presented to him. He deliberated slowly, but decided surely; and when his decision was once formed, he seldom reversed it, and never relaxed from the execution of a measure till it was completed. Courage, physical and *moral, was a part of his nature; and, whether in battle, or in the midst of popular excitement, he was fearless of danger, and regardless of consequences to himself.

4. His ambition was of that noble kind, which aims to excel in whatever it undertakes, and to acquire a power over the hearts of men by promoting their happiness and winning their affections. Sensitive to the approbation of others, and solicitous to deserve it, he made no concession to gain their applause, either by flattering their vanity, or yielding to their *caprices. Cautious without timidity, bold without rashness, cool in counsel, deliberate but firm in action, clear in foresight, patient under reverses, steady, persevering, and self-possessed, he met and conquered every obstacle that obstructed his path to honor, renown, and success. More confident in the uprightness of his intention, than in his resources, he sought knowledge and advice from other men. He chose his counselors with unerring sagacity; and his quick perception of the soundness of an opinion, and of the strong points in an argument, enabled him to draw to his aid the best fruits of their talents, and the light of their collected wisdom.

5. His moral qualities were in perfect harmony with those of his intellect. Duty was the ruling principle of his conduct; and the rare endowments of his understanding were not more constantly tasked to devise the best methods of effecting an object, than they were to guard the sanctity of conscience. No instance can be adduced, in which he was actuated by a *sinister motive, or endeavored to attain an end by unworthy means. Truth, integrity, and justice, were deeply rooted in his mind; and nothing could rouse his indignation so soon, or so utterly destroy his confidence, as the discovery of the want of these virtues in any one whom he had trusted. Weaknesses, follies, indiscretions he could forgive; but subterfuge and dishonesty he never forgot, rarely pardoned.

6. He was candid and sincere, true to his friends, and faithful to all, neither practicing *dissimulation, descending to *artifice, nor holding out expectations which he did not intend should be realized. His passions were strong, and sometimes they broke out with vehemence: but he had the power of checking them in an instant. Perhaps self-control was the most remarkable trait of his character. It was, in part, the effect of discipline; yet he seems by nature to have possessed this power to a degree which has been denied to other men.

7. A Christian in faith and practice, he was habitually devout. His reverence for religion is seen in his example, his public communications, and his private writings. He uniformly ascribed his successes to the beneficent agency of the Supreme Being. Charitable and humane, he was liberal to the poor, and kind to those in distress. As a husband, son, and brother, he was tender and affectionate. Without vanity, ostentation, or pride, he never spoke of himself or his actions, unless required by circumstances which concerned the public interests.

8. As he was free from envy, so he had the good fortune to escape the envy of others, by standing on an elevation which none could hope to attain. If he had one passion more powerful than another, it was love of his country. The purity and ardor of his patriotism were commensurate with the greatness of its object. Love of country in him was invested with the sacred obligation of a duty; and from the faithful discharge of this duty he never swerved for a mo

ment, either in thought or deed, through the whole period of his eventful career.

9. Such are some of the traits in the character of Washington, which have acquired for him the love and veneration of mankind. If they are not marked with the brilliancy, extravagance, and eccentricity, which, in other men, have excited the astonishment of the world, so neither are they *tarnished by the follies, nor disgraced by the crimes of those men. It is the happy combination of rare talents and qualities, the harmonious union of the intellectual and moral powers, rather than the dazzling splendor of any one trait, which constitute the grandeur of his character. If the title of great man ought to be reserved for him who can not be charged with an *indiscretion or a vicc; who spent his life in establishing the independence, the glory, and durable prosperity of his country; who succeeded in all that he undertook; and whose successes were never won at the expense of honor, justice, integrity, or by the sacrifice of a single principle, this title will not be denied to WASHINGTON.

THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON.

METHINKS We see thee, as in olden time,
Simple in garb, +majestic and serene,
Unmoved by pomp or circumstance, in truth
+Inflexible, and, with a Spartan zeal
+Repressing vice, and making folly grave.
Thou didst not deem it woman's part to waste
Life in tinglorious sloth; to sport awhile
Amid the flowers, or on the summer wave,
Then fleet, like the ephemeron, away;
Building no temple in her chiluren's hearts,
Save to the vanity and pride of life

Which she had worshiped. For the might that clothed
His "Country's Father," for the glorious deeds

That make Mount Vernon's tomb a Mecca shrine,
For all the earth, what thanks to thee are due.
Who, 'mid his elements of being, wrought,
We know not: Heaven can tell.

CLXXIX. THE VICTOR'S CROWN.

FROM MRS. HALE.

1. A CROWN for the victor! a crown of light!

From the land where the flowers ne'er feel a blight,
Was gathered the wreath that around it blows:
And he who o'ercometh his treacherous foes,
That fadeless crown shall gain.

A king went forth on the rebel array,
Intrenched where a lovely hamlet lay:

He frowned, and there's naught save ashes and blood,
And blackened bones, where that hamlet stood;
Yet his treacherous foes he hath not slain

2. A crown for the victor! a crown of light!
Encircled with jewels so pure and bright.
Night never hath gloomed where its luster flows:
And he who can conquer his proudest foes,
That glorious crown shall gain.

A hero came from the gory field,

And low at his feet the captives kneeled;
In his might he hath trodden a nation down,
But he may not challenge that glorious crown,
For his proudest foes he hath not slain.

3. A crown for the victor! a crown of light!
Like the morning sun to the dazzled sight,
From the night of a dungeon raised, it glows,
And he who can slay his deadliest foes,
That shining crown shall gain.

With searching eye and stealthy tread,
The man of wrath sought his enemy's bed:

Like festering wounds are the wrongs he hath borne:
And he takes the revenge his soul hath sworn;
But his deadliest foe he hath not slain.

4. A crown for the victor! a crown of light!
To be worn with a robe whose spotless white
Makes darkness seem resting on Alpine snows;
And he who o'ercometh his mightiest foes,
That robe and crown shall gain.

With eye upraised, and forehead bare,
A pilgrim knelt down in holy prayer;

He hath wrestled with SELF, and with passion striven;
And to him hath the Sword of the Spirit been given —
Oh! crown him! for his foes,-his sins,—are slain.

CLXXX.-MRS. CAUDLE'S LECTURE.

FROM DOUGLAS JERROld.

1. WELL, Mr. Caudle, I hope you 're in a little better temper than you were this morning.

There, you need n't bed to whistle. But

begin to whistle: people don't come to it's like you; I can't speak, that you don't try to insult me. Once, I used to say you were the best creature living: now, you get quite a fiend. Do let you rest? No, I won't let you rest. It's the only time I have to talk to you, and you shall hear me. I'm put upon all day long: it's very hard if I can't speak a word at night; besides, it is n't often I open my mouth, goodness knows!

2. Because once in your lifetime your shirt wanted a button, you must almost swear the roof off the house. You didn't swear? Ha, Mr. Caudle! you do n't know what you do when you 're in a passion. You were not in a *passion, wer'n't you? Well, then, I don't know what a passion is; and I think I ought by this time. I've lived long enough with you, Mr. Caudle, to know that.

3. It's a pity you hav' n't something worse to complain of than a button off your shirt. If you'd some wives, you would, I know. I'm sure I'm never without a needle and thread in my hand; what with you and the children, I'm made a perfect slave of. And what's my thanks? Why, if once in your life a button 's off your shirt-what do you cry 'oh' at? I say once, Mr. Caudle; or twice, or three times, at most. I'm sure, Caudle, no man's buttons in the world are better looked after than yours. I only wish I'd kept the shirts you had when you were first married! I should like to know where were your buttons then?

4. Yes, it is worth talking of! But that's how you always try to put me down. You fly into a rage, and then, if I only try to speak, you won't hear me. That's how you men always will have all the talk to yourselves: a poor woman is n't allowed to get a word in. A nice notion you have of a wife, to suppose she 's nothing to think of but her husband's buttons. A pretty notion, indeed, you have of marriage. Ha! if poor women only knew what they had