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Show V'tOKS STORY Or THE FIRST VISE ? BY THE PRESIDENT- Installment 26 Affairs fell very quiet again as the last year of his presidency drew towards to-wards Its close. Brisk trade under the new treaties heartened the country coun-try more and more; the turbulent Democratic clubs that had so noisily affected French principles and French modes of agitation were sobered and discredited, now the Reign of Terror had come and wrought its bloody work In France; the country turned once more to Washington with Its old con (idencc and affection, and would have had him take the presidency a third tiin to keep the government steady in Its new ways. His Farewell Address. Hut he would not have the hard office of-fice again. On the 19th of September, 17!)C, he published to the people a farewell address, quick with the solemn sol-emn eloquence men had come to expect ex-pect from him. He wrote to Hamilton aud lo Madison for advice as to what he should say, as In the old days of his (I i ifi den t beginnings In the great office though Hamilton was the arch-'deralist arch-'deralist and Madison was turning Democrat took their phrases for his thought where they seemed better than his own; put the address forth as hi3 mature and last counsel to the little nation he loved. "It was designed," he said, "In a more especial manner for the yeomanry yeoman-ry of the country," and spoke the advice ad-vice he hoped they might take to heart. The circumstances which had given his services a temporary value, he told them, were passed; they had now a unified and national government, govern-ment, which might serve them for great ends. He exhorted them to preserve pre-serve it Intact, and not to degrade it In the using; to put down party spirit, obliged to sell no less than fifty thousand thou-sand dollars' worth of his lands In the course of four or five years to defray de-fray the great expenses he was put to in the presidency and the cost of bringing his estate Into solvent shape again. He did not try to begin anew; he only set things in order, and kept his days serene. , Another Spark of War. A spark of war was kindled by the new administration's dealings with France, aud Washington was called once more to prepare for command, should the fighting leave the sea and come ashore. But formal war did not come. The flurry only kept him a little lit-tle nearer the movements of politics than he cared to be. He was the more uneasy to see how the Democrats Demo-crats bore themselves in the presence of the moment's peril; doubted the ex pediency of assigning men of that party par-ty to places of command in the army; approved the laws passed against aliens and against those who should utter seditious libel against the government; gov-ernment; showed again, and without reserve, how deeply his affections were engaged on the side of the institutions insti-tutions he had so labored to set up and protect; was intolerant towards any who sought to touch or question at any point their new authority imperious im-perious as of old in question of action. ac-tion. Still the Simple Gentleman. But It was his home that chiefly held his thought now. He had not changed towards his friends through all the long years of public care and engrossing business. An old comrade, who had come in his rough frontier dress all the way from far Kentucky to Philadelphia to see the president, had been told "that Washington had her arm about his neck, that she loved him better in that. Death of Washington. The quiet days went by without Incident. In-cident. He served upon a petty jury of the county when summoned; and was more than content to be the simple sim-ple citizen again, great duties put by, small ones diligently resumed. Once and again his anger flamed at perverse neglects and tasks ill done. Even while he was president, he had stormed to find his horses put to the chariot with unpolished hoofs upon a day of ceremony. But old age, and the consciousness of a lifework done, had added serenity now to his self-control; and at last the end came, when he was ready. On the 12th of December, 1799, he was chilled through by the keen winds and cold rain and sleet that beat upon him as he went his round about the farms. He spent the evening cheerfully, cheerful-ly, listening to his secretary read; but went to bed with a gathering hoarseness hoarse-ness and cold, and woke in the night sharply stricken in his throat. Physicians came almost at dawn, but the disease was already beyond their control. Nothing that they tried could stay it; and by evening the end had come. He was calm the day through, as in a time of battle; knowing know-ing what betided, but not fearing it; steady, noble, a warrior figure to the last; and he died as those who loved him might have wished to see him die. The country knew him when he was dead: knew the majesty, the nobility, the unsullied greatness of the man who was gone, and knew not whether to mourn or give praise. He could not serve them any more; but they saw his light shine already upon the future as UDon the nast. and were make religion, education and good faith the guides and safeguards of their government, and keep it national nation-al and their own by excluding foreign influences and entanglements. 'Twas a noble document. No thoughtful man could read it without emotion, knowing know-ing how it spoke in all its solemn sentences sen-tences the great character of the man hose career was ended. People Show Their Love. When the day came on which he should resign his office to John Adams, Ad-ams, the great civilian who was to succeed him, there was a scene which left no one in doubt not even Washington Wash-ington himself what the people thought of the leader they had trusted trust-ed these twenty years. A great crowd was assembled to see the simple ceremonies of the inauguration, inaugu-ration, as on that April day in New York eight years ago; but very few In the throng watched Adams. All eyes were bent upon that great figure in black velvet, with a light sword ueeume puueu up wiin tne lmpui tauce of his station, and was too much of an aristocrat to welcome him in that garb." But the old soldier was not daunted, daunt-ed, pressed on to make his call, and came back to tell his friends how the president and his lady had both seen him and recognized him from the window, win-dow, and had hurried to the door to draw him cordially in. "I never was better treated," he said. "I had not believed a word against him; and I found that he was 'Old Hoss' still." 'Twas the same with his neighbors, and with strangers too. He was the simple gentleman of the old days. A strolling actor, riding Mount Vernon way on a day in July, stopped to help a man and woman who had been thrown from their chaise, and did not recognize the stalward horseman who galloped up to his assistance till the ' overturned vehicle had been set up again, they had dusted each the other's coat, and the stately stranger, saying hp hnH hart trip nlpasnre nf Rppfner him glad. They knew him now the Happy Warrior, War-rior, "Whose powers shed round fcim, in the common strife Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad, for humankind, hu-mankind, Is happy as a Lover; and attired With sudden brightness, like a man inspired; And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw. A soul whose master-bias leans To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes; More brave for this, that he hath mucb play in Philadelphia, had bidden him come to the house yonder and be refreshed. re-freshed. "Have I the honor of addressing ad-dressing General Washington?" exclaimed ex-claimed the astonished player. "An to love: the man who, lifted high. Conspicuous object in a nation's eye, Orleftunthought of in obscurity, Who. with a toward or untoward lot. oiuug ul ma rtiue. nu uue surreu tin he had left the room, to follow and pay his respects to the new president. Then they and all the crowd in the streets moved after him, an immense company, going as one man, "in total silence," his escort all the way. He turned upon the threshold of the president's pres-ident's lodgings and looked, as if for the last time, upon this multitude of nameless friends. "No man ever saw him so moved." The tears rolled unchecked un-checked down his cheeks, and when at last he went within, a great smothered smoth-ered common voice went through the stirred throng, as if they sobbed to see their hero go from their sight forever for-ever As soon as possible he was at his beloved Mount Vernon once more, to pick up such threads as he might of the old life again. "I begin my diurnal course with the sun," he wrote, in grave playfulness, to a friend; "if my hirelings are not iu their places by that time, I send them messages of sorrow for their indisposition; in-disposition; having put these wheels in motion. I examine the state of things further; the more they are probed the deeper I find the wounds which my buildings have sustained by an absence and neglect of eight years; hv ine time I have accomnlished Washington's Tomb. Prosperous or adverse to his wish a not. Plays, in the many games of life, tliai one Where what he most doth value must be won." these matters breakfast (a little after seven o'clock, about the time, I presume, pre-sume, that you are taking leave of Mrs. Mcllenry) is ready; this being over, 1 mount my horse and ride round my farms, which employs me until it, is time to dress for dinner. . . . The usual time of sitting at the table, a walk, and tea bring me within the dawn of candlelight; previous previ-ous to whici, if not prevented by com-piny, com-piny, 1 resolve that as scon as the glimmering taper supplies the place of the great luminary I will retire to my writing-table and acknowledge the letters I have received; when the ik;h:s are brought I feel tired and disinclined to engage iu this work, ::!iceiv ir.g that the next night will do as well. The next night comes, and wii.li it the same causes for postponement. postpone-ment. a::d so cn. Having given you the history of a day, it will serve for a year, aud I am persuaded that you will not require a second edition of it." lie Kid kept his overseers under his hand all the time he was president; hail not forgotten to write to Dr. Young upon methods of cultivation; had shown the tame passion as ever for speeding and regulating at Its best every detail of his private business; but ma'ters had gone ill for lack of bin personal supervision. He was odd sort of Introduction, Mr. Bernard," smiled the heated soldier; "but I am pleased to find you can play so active a part in private, and without a prompter." Those who saw him now at Mount Vernon thought him gentler with little lit-tle children than Mrs. Washington even, and remembered how he had always al-ways shown a like love and tenderness tender-ness for them, going oftentimes out of his way to warn them of danger, with a kindly pat on the head, when he saw them watching the soldiers in the war days. Now all at Mount Vernon looked forward to the evening. That "was the children's hour." He had written sweet Nelly Custis a careful letter of advice upon love matters, half grave, half playful in the midst of his presidency, when the troubles with England were beginning to darken; she had always found him a comrade, and had loved him with an intimacy very few could know. Now she waa to be married, to his own sister's son, and upon his birthday, February 22, 1709. She begged him to wear the "grand embroidered uniform," uni-form," just made for the French war, at her wedding, but he shook his head and donned instead the worn buff and blue that had seen real campaigns. Then the delighted girl told him, with |