THREE WASHINGTON ANECDOTESAdapted fromM. L. Weems
Adapted fromM. L. Weems
The original story of little George Washington and his hatchet, together with two other doubtful anecdotes not so well known.
The original story of little George Washington and his hatchet, together with two other doubtful anecdotes not so well known.
ON A fine morning in the fall of 1737 Mr. Washington, taking little George by the hand, went to walk with him in the orchard, promising to show him a fine sight. On arriving at the orchard, a fine sight indeed was presented. The whole earth, as far as could be seen, was strewed with fruit, and yet the trees were bending under the weight of apples which hung in clusters like grapes, and vainly strove to hide their blushing cheeks behind the green leaves. “Now, George,� said his father, “look here, my son! Don’t you remember when a good cousin of yours brought you that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I could prevail on you to divide with your brothers and sisters; though I promised you that if you would but do it God Almighty would give you plenty of apples this fall?�
Poor George could not say a word, but hanging down his head, looked quite confused, while with his little naked toes he scratched in the soft ground. “Now look up, my son,� continued his father, “look up, George,and see there how richly the blessed God has made good my promise to you. Wherever you turn your eyes you see the trees loaded with fine fruit, many of them indeed breaking down; while the ground is covered with mellow apples, more than you could eat, my son, in all your lifetime.�
George looked in silence on the wide wilderness of fruit. He marked the busy humming bees, and heard the gay notes of birds; then, lifting his eyes filled with shining moisture, to his father, he softly said, “Well, Pa, only forgive me this time, and see if I ever be so stingy any more.�
When George was about six years old he was made the wealthy master of ahatchet, of which, like most little boys, he was immoderately fond; and was constantly going about chopping everything that came in his way. One day, in the garden, where he often amused himself hacking his mother’s pea-sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet on the body of a beautiful young English cherry tree, which he barked so terribly that I don’t believe the tree ever got the better of it. The next morning, the old gentleman, finding out what had befallen his tree, which, by the by, was a great favorite, came into the house; and with much warmth asked for the mischievous author, declaring at the same time that he would not have taken five guineas for his tree. Nobody could tell him anything about it. Presently George and his hatchet made their appearance.“George,� said his father, “do you know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden?� This was a tough question, and George staggered under it for a moment; but quickly recovered himself, and looking at his father, with the sweet face of youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely cried out, “I can’t tell a lie, Pa, you know I can’t tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet.�
“Run to my arms, you dearest boy,� cried his father; “such an act in my son is worth more than a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, and their fruits of purest gold.�
To startle George into a lively sense of his Maker, his father fell upon the following very curious but impressive expedient:
One day he went into the garden and prepared a little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he wrote George’s name at full, in large letters, then strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them up, and smoothed all over nicely with the roller. This bed he purposely prepared close alongside a gooseberry walk, which happening at this time to be well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be honored with George’s visits pretty regularly every day. Not many mornings had passed away before in came George, with eyes wild rolling and his little cheeks ready to burst with great news.
“Oh, Pa! come here, come here!�
“What’s the matter, my son? What’s the matter?�
“Oh, come here, I tell you, Pa: come here, and I’ll show you such a sight as you never saw in all your lifetime!�
The old gentleman, suspecting what George would be at, gave him his hand, which he seized with great eagerness, and tugging him along through the garden, led him point blank to the bed whereon was inscribed, in large letters, and in all the freshness of newly sprung plants, the full name of
GEORGE WASHINGTON
“There, Pa!� said George, quite in an ecstasy of astonishment, “did you ever see such a sight in all your lifetime?�
“Why, it seems like a curious affair, sure enough, George!�
“But, Pa, who did make it there? Who did make it there?�
“It grew there by chance, I suppose, my son.�
“By chance, Pa! Oh, no! no! It never did grow there by chance, Pa. Indeed that it never did!�
“Why not, my son?�
“Why, Pa, did you ever see anybody’s name in a plant bed before?�
“Well, but George, such a thing might happen, though you never saw it before.�
“Yes, Pa; but I did never see the little plants grow up so as to make one single letter of my name before. Now, how could they grow up so as to makeallthe letters of my name, and then standing one after another, to spellmyname so exactly, and all so neat and even, too, at top and bottom! Oh, Pa, you must not say chance did all this. Indeed,somebodydid it; and I dare say now, Pa,youdid it just to scare me, because I am your little boy.�
His father smiled, and said, “Well, George, you have guessed right. I indeed did it; but not to scare you, my son, but to teach you a great thing which I wish you to understand. I want, my son, to introduce you to your true Father.�
“Aye! I know well enough whom you mean, Pa. You mean God Almighty, don’t you?�
“Yes, my son, I mean Him indeed. He is your true Father, George, and as my son could not believe that chance had made and put together so exactly the letters of his name (though only sixteen) then how can he believe that chance could have made and put together all those millions and millions of things that are now so exactly fitted to his good.�