His prediction was gloriously verified. For, on hearing the word tribute, the American envoys instantly took fire!! while the brave Gen. Pinckney, (a revolutionary soldier, and neither Englishman nor Frenchman, but a true American,) indignantly exclaimed to the secretary of the directory-"Tribute, sir! no, sir! the Americans pay no tribute! tell the directory, that we will give millions for defence, but not a cent for tribute."

Soon as this demand of the directory was told in America, the glorious spirit of '76 was kindled like a flash of lightning, from St. Mary's to Maine. "What!" said the people every where," shall we, shall Americans! who, rather than pay an unconstitutional three-penny tax on tea, bravely encountered a bloody war with Britain, now tamely yield to France to beggar us at pleasure? No! Millions for defence, but not a cent for tribute," was nobly reverberated throughout the continent.

War being now fully expected, the eyes of the nation were instantly turned towards Washington, to head her armies against the French. He readily consented; but, at the same time, observed that there would be no war. "The directory," said he, " though mad enough to do almost any thing, are yet not quite so mad as to venture an attack, when they shall find that the spirit of the nation is up." The event showed the usual correctness of his judgment; for, on discovering that America, though very willing to be the sister, had no notion of being the slave of France-on learning that Washington was roused, and the strength of the nation rallying around him-and also that the American tars, led on by the gallant Truxton, had spread the fiery stars of liberty, blasting on every sea the sickly fleurs-de-luce, of gallic piracy, the directory very sagaciously signified a disposition to accommodate. Mr. Adams immediately despatched three new envoys to the French republic. By the time they got there, the French republic was no

more! Bonaparte, believing that volatile people incapable of governing for themselves, had kindly undertaken to govern for them; and having, en passant, kicked the directory from their seats, he seized their ill-managed power, and very leisurely mounted the throne of the Bourbons. Dazzled with the splendor of his talents and victories, the great nation quietly yielded to his reign; and with a happy versatility peculiar to themselves, exchanged the tumultuous and bloody "Caira," for the milder notes of "vive l'empereur." With this wonderful man, the American envoys found no difficulty to negotiate; for having no wish to re-unite America to his hated. enemy, Britain, he received them very graciously; and presently settled all their claims in a satisfactory manner. Thus lovingly did the breath of God blow away once more the black cloud of war, and restore the bright day of peace to our favoured land! But Washington never lived to rejoice with his countrymen in the sunshine of that peace; for before it reached our shores, he had closed his eyes for ever on all mortal things.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON,

And when disease obstructs the labouring breath,
When the heart sickens and each pulse is death,
Even then Religion shall sustain the just;

Grace their last moments; nor desert their dust.

Ir the prayers of millions could have prevailed, Washington would have been immortal on earth. And if fulness of peace, riches, and honours could. have rendered that immortality happy, Washington had been blessed indeed. But this world is not the place of true happiness. Though numberless are the satisfactions, which a prudence and virtue like Wash

ington's may enjoy in this world, yet they fall short, infinite degrees, of that pure, unen.bittered felicity which the Almighty parent has prepared in heaven for the spirits of the just.

To prepare for this immensity of bliss, is the real errand on which God sent us into the world. Our preparation consists in acquiring those great virtues, purity and love, which alone can make us worthy companions of angels, and fit partakers of their exalted delights. Washington had wisely spent his life in acquiring the immortal virtues. "He had fought the good fight" against his own unreasonable affections. He had glorified God, by exemplifying the charms of virtue to men. He had borne the heat and burden of the day-his great day of duty and the evening of old age being come, the servant of God must now go to receive his wages. Happy Washington! If crowns and kingdoms could have purchased such peace as thine, such hopes big with immortality, with what begging earnestness would crowns and kingdoms have been offered by the mighty conquerors of the earth, in their dying moments of terror and despair!

On the 14th of December, 1799, (when he wanted but nine weeks and two days of being sixty-eight years old,) he rode out to his mill, three miles distant. The day was raw and rainy. The following night he was attacked with a violent pain and inflamination of the throat. The lancet of one of his domestics was employed, but with no advantage. Early in the morning, Dr. Craik, the friend and physician of hus youth and age, was sent for. Alarmed at the least appearance of danger threatening a life so dear to him, Dr. Craik advised to call in, immediately, the consulting assistance of his friends, the ingenious and learned Dr. Dick, of Alexandria, and Dr. Brown, of Port Tobacco. They came on the wings of speed. They felt the awfulness of their situation. The greatest of human beings was lying low. A life, of

all others the most revered, the most beloved, was at stake. And if human skill could have saved—if the sword of genius, and the buckler of experience could have turned the stroke of death, Washington had still lived. But his hour was come.

It appears, that from the commencement of the attack, he was favored with a presentiment, that he was now laid down to rise no more. He took, however, the medicines that were offered him: but it was principally from a sense of duty.

It has been said that a man's death is generally a copy of his life. It was Washington's case exactly. In his last illness he behaved with the firmness of a soldier, and the resignation of a christian.

The inflammation in his throat was attended with great pain, which he bore with the fortitude that became him. He was, once or twice, heard to say that, had it pleased God, he should have been glad to die a little easier; but that he doubted not that it was for his good.

Every hour now spread a sadder gloom over the scene. Despair sat on the faces of the physicians; for they saw that their art had failed! The strength of the mighty was departing from him; and death, with his sad harbingers, chills and paleness, was coming on apace.

Mount Vernon, which had long shone the queen of elegant joys, was now about to suffer a sad eclipse! an eclipse, which would soon be mournfully visible, not only through the United States, but throughout the whole world.

Sons and daughters of Columbia, gather yourselves together around the bed of your expiring father— around the last bed of him to whom under God you and your children owe many of the best blessings of this life. When Joseph the prime minister of Egypt heard that his shepherd father was sick, he hastened up, to see him; and fell on his face, and kissed him, and wept a long while. But Joseph had never

received such services from Jacob as you have received from Washington. But we call you not to weep for Washington. We ask you not to view those eyes, now sunk hollow, which formerly darted their lightning flashes against your enemies-nor to feel that heart, now faintly laboring, which so often throbbed with more than mortal joys when he saw his young countrymen charging like lions, upon the foes of liberty. No! we call you not to weep, but to rejoice. Washington, who so often conquered himself, is now about to conquer the last enemy.

Silent and sad his physicians sat by his bedside, looking on him as he lay panting for breath. They thought on the past, and the tear swelled in their eyes. He marked it, and, stretching out his hand to them, and shaking his head, said, "O no! don't! don't!" then with a delightful smile added, "I am dying, gentlemen! but, thank God, I am not afraid to die."

Feeling that the hour of his departure out of this world was at hand, he desired that every body would quit the room. They all went out; and, according to his wish, left him-with his God.

There, by himself, like Moses alone on the top of Pisgah, he seeks the face of God. There, by himself, standing as on the awful boundary that divides time from eternity, that separates this world from the next, he cannot quit the long frequented haunts of the one, nor launch away into the untried regions of the other, until (in humble imitation of the world's great Redeemer,) he has poured forth, into the bosom of his God, those strong sensations which the solemnity of his situation naturally suggested.

With what angelic fervor did he adore that Almighty Love, which, though inhabiting the heaven of heavens, deigned to wake his sleeping dustframed him so fearfully in the womb-nursed him on a tender mother's breast-watched his helpless infancy-guarded his heedless youth-preserved him