r_ of the good general's remarkable hand, which was all you could
do, my dear sir, at that time.'"

A late anonymous writer says: "I saw this remarkable man four times. It
was in the month of November, 1798, I first beheld the Father of his
Country. It was very cold, the northwest wind blowing hard down the
Potomac, at Georgetown, D. C. A troop of light-horse, from Alexandria,
escorted him to the western bank of the river. The waves ran high, and
the boat which brought him over seemed to labor considerably. Several
thousand people greeted his arrival with swelling hearts and joyful
countenances. The military were drawn up in a long line to receive him;
the officers, pressed in regimentals, did him homage. I was so fortunate
as to walk by his side, and had a full view of him. Although only about
ten years of age, the impression his person and manner then made on me
is now perfectly revived. He was six feet and one inch high, broad and
athletic, with very large limbs, entirely erect, and without the
slightest tendency to stooping; his hair was white, and tied with a silk
string; his countenance lofty, masculine, and contemplative; his eye
light gray. He was dressed in the clothes of a citizen, and over these a
blue surtout of the finest cloth. His weight must have been two hundred
and thirty pounds, with no superfluous flesh; all was bone and sinew;
and he walked like a soldier. Whoever has seen, in the patent-office at
Washington, the dress he wore when resigning his commission as
commander-in-chief, in December, 1783, at once perceives how large and
magnificent was his frame. During the parade, something at a distance
suddenly attracted his attention; his eye was instantaneously lighted up
as with the lightning's flash. At this moment I see its marvellous
animation, its glowing fire, exhibiting strong passion, controlled by
deliberate reason.

"In the summer of 1799, I again saw the chief. He rode a purely white
horse, seventeen hands high, well proportioned, of high spirit: he
almost seemed conscious that he bore on his back the Father of his
Country. He reminded me of the war-horse whose 'neck is clothed with
thunder.' I have seen some highly-accomplished riders, but not one of
them approached Washington; he was perfect in this respect. Behind him,
at the distance of perhaps forty yards, came Billy Lee, his
body-servant, who had perilled his life in many a field, beginning on
the heights of Boston, in 1775, and endin