um, and dey look so bad; de people hadn't taken good care on um. De gin'ral he come out and say— "Well, Jeremy, how you horse do?'

"Oh, tolerable, say I.

66 6

'Well,' says he, 'Jeremy, stay rest yoursef long as you please, and take holyday. I shan't want your horses, and if I want a carriage, I can borrow de lady's to go to Williamsburg. But do you stay and rest.'

"Oh, says I, I no want rest. I got wife at home. I rather go spend Christmas dare. I got notting but wheels to take back, and so I tink to go home to

morrow.

6

"Says he, Jerry, hold your hand.'

"He put he hand in he pocket. I hold one hand, he full um. When I see dat, I hold t'oder-he full dat, too. And when I go to de stable, I count it out in my hat. Aha! d'ye mind me, sir! he had gin me pounds."

On another occasion, Jeremy said:

"De gin'ral, he care notting for de cold; he hard as a bull, and sometime when de gemmen, Colonel Ramsay, Colonel Carlisle, and de rest ob um, use to come down from Belhaven, he go out to shoot deer wid um. I reck❜lect one day he send for me, and tell me, go git de white mare and come wid him, de odder gemmen all ready. I didn't know what dey war going about, but I neber say a word. When we got to a place near Dorrel's Hill, called Hell Hole, dey all stop. De gin'ral put he hand in he pocket an draw out a little bell. He tie um round de gray

mare's neck, and say-Now, Jerry, you go ahead in a walk, and don't say a word, no matter what you see; don't be afraid, nor open your lips.' I went on about twenty yards ahead, and presently I seed a great buck come jumping along. He stop, he look sideways at me-he lif up one leg-bang! I hear de rifle, and den he drop. I was fit to tumble off de horse, for all I know he might shoot me, too, I Cod. Presently dey all come up. De gin'ral an' I lift de deer on to de mare, an' I lead her home; he want me to git up, but I say, no, tank you.

"He, gin'ral, mighty man for horse. He had a horse dey call Starling-he was wicked debil-de ginʼral raise him at he plantation down at Muddy Hole. He no let nobody ride or break him. When he tree year old, he bring him one Sunday morning, and say he gying to ride him. I look out; I'xpect ebery minute he git he neck broke, but when he sling he leg over, he dare, no git him off. He mighty man for bad horse. I don't say no better dan he, but I neber seed none."

These little details of Jeremy are, to me, highly interesting, as exhibiting nice traces of the habits and character of Washington. There is not the least doubt of their authenticity. They carry with them internal evidence of the strongest kind, and the minute particulars interwoven in them by the old negro, prove that his memory is still tenacious of every thing relating to his illustrious master.

I have collected a number of other memorials and anecdotes of Washington and his family, which I

VOL. II-S

will show you when we meet. The first of the name known in this country, was "John Washington," as he styles himself in his will," of Washington Parish, in the countie of Westmoreland, in Virginia, gentleman." I have a copy of this will, from which it is evident that he was a man of piety and integrity. He directs all the debts and dues which he owes, "in right or conscience," to be "well and truly paid," before his estates, which appear to have been very numerous and extensive, were divided. The will is dated the 21st of October, 1675, and is witnessed by John Lloyd and John Appleton. It appears that the Mount Vernon estate, or at least a moiety of it, belonged to the family of Washington at that time. It is thus conveyed: "Item-I give to my son Lawrence, my half of five thousand acres of land in Stafford county, which is betwixt Nicholas Spencer and myself, to him and his heirs for ever."

Perhaps of all the memorials Washington left behind him, the following letter, a copy of which was given me by one of his nearest surviving connexions -I mean the letter he wrote to Mrs. Washington, announcing his appointment to the command of the American army, at the commencement of the Revolution-is one of the most characteristic. It will there be seen with what unaffected modesty he distrusted his own abilities; with what piety he relied on the support of Providence; with what patriotism he devoted himself to his country in her hour of peril; and with what painful reluctance, mingled

with a noble determination, he consented to the sacrifice of all his domestic attachments. The postscript at the end, is not a little curious, as establishing the otherwise incredible fact, that in the year 1775, a full "suit" for a lady consisted of only two and a half yards of muslin. I wonder how many yards it takes now, Frank?

"MY DEAREST,

66

Philadelphia, June 18th, 1775.

"I am now set down to write to you on a subject which fills me with the deepest concern, and that concern is inexpressibly aggravated and increased, when I reflect on the uneasiness I know it will give you. It has been determined in congress, that the whole army raised for the defence of the American cause, shall be placed under my care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to Boston, to take upon me the command of it. You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you in the most solemn manner, that so far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavour in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part from you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity, and that I should enjoy more real happiness and felicity in one month with you at home, than I have the most distant prospect of reaping abroad, if my stay was to be seven times seven years.

"But as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown

upon me this service, I shall hope that my undertaking of it, is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I suppose did, perceive, from the tenor of my letters, that I was apprehensive that I could not even pretend to intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment, without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dishonour on myself, and given pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not, and ought not to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own esteem. I shall rely, therefore, on that Providence which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubting that I shall return safely to you in the fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or danger of the campaign; my unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel at being left alone. I therefore beg you to summon your whole fortitude and resolution, and pass your time as agreeably as possible. If it should be your desire to remove to Alexandria, as you once mentioned upon an occasion of this sort, I am quite pleased that you should put it in practice; and Lund Washington may be directed by you to build a kitchen, and other houses, proper for your reception. If, on the other hand, you should be inclined to spend a good part of the time among your friends below, I wish you to do so. In short, my earnest wish, my most ardent desire is, that you would pursue any plan most likely to produce content, and a tolerable