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transmitted by the President (John Adams) on the 23d Dec., 1799, Mrs. Washington says:

"MOUNT VERNON, Dec. 31st, 1799.

"SIR: While I feel with keenest anguish the late dispensation of Divine Providence, I cannot be insensible to the mournful tributes of respect and veneration which are paid to the memory of my dear, deceased husband, and as his best services and most anxious wishes were always devoted to the welfare and happiness of his country, to know that they were truly appreciated and gratefully remembered, affords no inconsiderable consolation.

Taught by that great example which I have so long had before me, never to oppose my private wishes to the public will, I must consent to the request made by Congress which you have had the goodness to transmit to me, and in doing this I need not, I cannot say, what a sacrifice of individual feeling I make to a sense of public duty.

"With grateful acknowledgments and unfeigned thanks for the personal respects and evidences of condolence expressed by Congress and yourself,

"I remain, very respectfully,

"Your most obedient and humble servant,

"MARTHA WASHINGTON."

But this pain might have been spared her, for the monument was never erected, and the remains are still at Mount Vernon their most fitting resting-place.

The twofold duties of life pressed constantly upon

her, nor did she shirk any claim. Yet the compressed lip, and the ofttimes quivering eyelid betrayed the restless moanings of her aching heart.

It has been remarked that she resembled Washington in manners and person; she was like him as every weaker nature is like a stronger one living in close relationship. She received from his stronger will his influences, and he impressed her with his views so thoroughly that she could not distinguish her own. Relying on his guidance in every thing, she studied his features until her softer lineaments imperceptibly grew like his, and the tones of her voice sounded wonderfully similar. Imbibing the sentiments and teachings of such a nature, her own life was ennobled and his rendered happy.

In the engraving we have before us, taken while in the Executive Mansion, we trace the gradual development of her life. All the way through it has counted more of bliss than of sorrow, and the calm contentment of the face in repose speaks of a heart full of peace and pleasantness. It is not the countenance of a gay or sunny-hearted woman, nay, rather the well-reflected satisfaction of an inward faith in her religion and confidence and dependence in the husband in whom she had so long trusted. How full of sympathy and kindness of heart is that serene face, and how instinctively we would trust it! Sustained as she was by her deep devotional piety, and shielded by the protecting arm of her husband, she grew in spiritual development and fondly believed herself strong and self-reliant. But when she was tested, when the

earthly support was removed, the inward strength was insufficient, and she pined under the loss until she died.

"Few women have ever figured in the great drama of life amid scenes so varied and imposing, with so few faults and so many virtues as the subject of this sketch. Identified with the 'Father of his Country' in the great events which led to the establishment of a nation's independence, Mrs. Washington necessarily partook much of his thoughts, his councils, and his views. Often at his side in those awful times that tried his soul, her cheerfulness soothed his anxieties, her firmness inspired confidence, while her devotional piety toward the Supreme Being enabled her to discern a ray of hope amid the darkness of a horizon clouded by despair." She had lived through the "five grand acts of the drama of American Independence," had witnessed its prelude and its closing tableaux, and stood waiting to hear the swell of the pean she was apt to sing in heaven. Her life was passed in seasons of darkness, as of glorious, refulgent happiness, and was contemporaneous with some of the greatest minds that will ever shine out from any century. Her sphere was limited entirely to social occupations, and possessing wealth and position she gratified her taste. Had her character been a decided one, it would have stamped the age in which she flourished, for, as there never was but one Washington, so there will never come a time when there will be the same opportunities as Mrs. Washington had for winning a name and an individuality. But she did not aspire to any nobler ambition

than merely to perform the duties of her home, and she lives in the memories of her descendants, and in the hearts of the people of the United States, as the wife of the illustrious Father of his Country, and the first in position of the women of the Revolution.

years

The death of her husband was the last event of Mrs. Washington's life. It shattered her nerves and broke her heart. She never recovered from it. The shaft of agony which had buried itself in her soul was never removed. "Fate had now dealt the last deadly blow to the earthly happiness of Mrs. Washington! Her children, their father, the faithful, affectionate, sympathizing friend and counsellor with whom through unnumbered she had stood side by side in many and grievous trials, dangers, and sorrows-all were gone!" It was useless to strive to be courageous, a glance at the low, narrow vault under the side of the hill unnerved her. She stood, the desolate survivor, like a lone sentinel upon a deserted battle-field, regarding in mute despair the fatal destruction of hope, and love, and joy. Through all time that Saturday night would be the closing scene of her life, even though her existence should be lengthened to a span of years.

"The memory of his faintest tone,
In the deep midnight came upon her soul,
And cheered the passing hours so sad, so lone,
As on they rolled."

Without religious faith she would have been haughty, reserved, and indolent, and with a less noble husband could never have been as even-tempered and concilia

tory as she was. But all of life was love to her; and all of our memory of her is beautiful harmony.

Thirty months numbered themselves among eternity's uncounted years, and it became apparent to all that another death scene was to be enacted, and the lonely occupant of the room above that other chamber of dissolution, was reaching the goal of its long hopedfor desire. The gentle spirit was panting to free itself, and the glad light in the dim eye asserted the pleasure experienced in the knowledge of the coming change.

For many months Mrs. Washington had been growing more gloomy and silent than ever before, and the friends who gathered about her called her actions strange and incomprehensible. She staid much alone, and declined every offer of company, but toward the last the truth flashed upon her that she, too, was going, and her heart grew young again. Blessing all about her, she sank quietly to rest, in the seventy-first year of her age, and the third of her widowhood. "In the spring of 1801, Martha Washington descended to the grave, cheered by the prospect of a blessed immortality, and mourned by the millions of a mighty empire."

Her resting-place beside her husband is, like Mecca and Jerusalem, the resort of the travellers of all nations, who, wandering in its hallowed precincts, imbibe anew admiration and veneration for the immortal genius, whose name is traced in imperishable remembrance in the hearts of his grateful countrymen. Side by side their bodies lie crumbling away, while their

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