d silence, and the
officers were gravely grouped together. It was in vain the chief begged
of the players that they would proceed with their game; declared the
pleasure he had experienced from witnessing their skill; spoke of a
proficiency in the manly exercise that he himself could have boasted of
in other days. All would not do. Not a man could be induced to move,
till the general, finding that his presence hindered the officers from
continuing the amusement, bowed, and, wishing them good sport, retired."

A writer in the _National Intelligencer_, a few years ago, gave the
following sketch of the personal appearance of Washington:--

"The description given by 'R' [a correspondent of the _Intelligencer_]
of Washington's approach to the hall of Congress in Philadelphia,
has freshly awakened my own reminiscences of the same scene.
Its vivid truth can not be surpassed. I stood with him on that
same stone platform, before the door of the hall, elevated by a
few steps from the pavement, when the carriage of the president drew
up. It was, as he describes it, white, or rather of a light
cream-color, painted on the panels with beautiful groups, by
Cipriani, representing the four seasons. The horses, according to
my recollection, were white, in unison with the carriage, 'R.' says
they were bays; perhaps he is more correct. As he alighted, and,
ascending the steps, paused upon the platform, looking over his
shoulder, in an attitude that would have furnished an admirable
subject for the pencil, he was preceded by two gentlemen bearing
long white wands, who kept back the eager crowd that pressed on
every side to get a nearer view. At that moment I stood so near,
that I might have touched his clothes; but I should as soon have
thought of touching an electric battery. I was penetrated with a
veneration amounting to the deepest awe. Nor was this the feeling of
a schoolboy only; it pervaded, I believe, every human being that
approached Washington; and I have been told that, even in his social
and convivial hours, this feeling in those who were honored to share
them never suffered intermission. I saw him a hundred times
afterward, but never with any other than that same feeling. The
Almighty, who raised up for our hour of need a man so peculiarly
prepared for its whole dread responsibility, seems to have put