to a secluded spot, formed by rocks and trees, near her dwelling. where, abstracted from the world and worldly things, she communed with her Creator, in humiliation and prayer.
Alter an absence of nearly seven years, it was at length, on the return of the combined armies from Yorktown, permitted to the mother again to see and embrace her illustrious son. So soon as he had dismounted, in the midst of a numerous and brilliant suite, he sent to apprise her of his arrival, and to know when it would be her pleasure to receive him.
The lady was alone, her aged hands employed in the works of domestic industry, when the good news was announced; and it was further told that the victor chief was in waiting at the threshold. She welcomed him with a warm embrace, and by the well-remembered and endearing name of his childhood; enquiring as to Ills health, she remarked the lines which mighty cares and many trials had made on his manly countenance, spoke much of old times and old friends, but of his glory—not one word!
The foreign officers were amazed to behold one whom so many causes contributed to elevate, preserving the even tenour of her life, while such a blaze of glory shone upon her name and offspring. The European world furnished no examples of such magnanimity. Names of ancient lore were heard to escape from their lips; and they observed, that, "if such were the matrons of America, it was not wonderful the sons were illustrious."
The Marquis de Lafayette repaired to Fredericksburg, previous to his departure for Europe, in the fall of 1784, to pay his parting respects to the mother, and to ask her blessing.
Conducted by one of her grandsons, he approached the house; when the young gentleman observed, "There, sir, is my grandmother." Lafayette beheld, working in the garden, clad in domestic-made clothes, and her grey head covered in a plain straw hat, the mother of "his hero!" The lady saluted him kindly, observing—"Ah. Marquis! you see an old woman—but come, I can make you welcome to my poor dwelling, without the parade of changing my dress."
The marquis spoke of the happy effects of the revolution, and the goodly prospect which opened upon independent America; stated his speedy departure for his native land; paid the tribute of his heart, his love and admiration of her illustrious son; and concluded by asking her blessing. She blessed him; and to the encomiums which he had lavished upon his hero and paternal chief, the matron replied in these words: "I am not surprised at what George has done, for he was always a very good boy."
In her person, Mrs. Washington was of the middle size, and finely formed; her features pleasing, yet strongly marked. In her latter days, she often spoke of her own good boy; of the merits of his early life; of his love and dutifulness to herself; but of the delivery of his country, the chief magistrate of the great republic, she never spoke. Call you this insensibility? or want of ambition? Oh, no! her ambition had been gratified to overflowing. She had taught him to be good; that he became great when the opportunity presented, was a consequence, not a cause.
Mrs. Washington died, at the age of eighty-seven, soon after the decease of her illustrious son. She was buried at Fredericksburg, and for many years her grave remained without a memorial-stone. But the heart of the nation acknowledged her worth, and the noble
