burn their tools; and wasted
six thousand twelvepenny nails in building a corn-house.

Like other rich Virginians of his time, Washington kept open house.
He once said that his home had become "a well resorted tavern."
Indeed it was, for guests of all sorts and conditions were dined and
wined to their hearts' content. According to the diary, it seemed to
matter little whether it was a real nobleman, or a tramp "who called
himself a French Nobleman," a sick or a wounded soldier, or "a Farmer
who came to see the new drill Plow," all "were desired to tarry," to
help eat the hot roasts and drink the choice wines.

There seems to have been almost no end to the sums of money, both
large and small, which Washington gave away. Through the pages of his
ledgers, we find hundreds of items of cash paid in charity. Here are
a few entries which are typical of the whole: "10 Shillings for a
wounded Soldier"; "gave a poor Man $2.00"; "two deserving French
Women, $25"; "a poor blind Man, $1.50"; "a Lady in Distress, $50";
"the poor in Alexandria, $100"; "Sufferers by Fire, $300"; "School in
Kentucky, $100." His lavish hospitality and his {72} unceasing
charity were a constant drain on his income. Had he not been so
thorough in business, he surely would have been brought to financial
ruin.

[Illustration: General Washington and Staff riding through a Country
Village]

After the war of the Revolution was over, Congress having failed to
pay certain prominent officers of the army, an outbreak was
threatened. A meeting was held at Newburgh, New York. Washington was
there. Everybody present knew that he had served without pay and had
advanced large sums from his private fortune, to pay the army
expenses. There was a deathlike stillness when the commander in chief
rose to read his address. His eyesight had become so poor that he was
now using glasses. He had never worn these in public, but, finding
his sight dim, he stopped reading, took his spectacles from his
pocket, and put them on, saying quietly, "You will permit me to put
on my spectacles. I have grown gray in the service of my country, and
now find myself growing blind." It was not merely what the beloved
general said, but the way he spoke the few, simple words. The pathos
of this act, and the solemn address of this majestic man touched
every heart. No wonder that some of the veterans were moved to tears.

One day a schoolboy stood on the stone steps before the old State
House,