s by honeysuckles, and a grape-vine running under them, as to
conceal myself entirely from the sight of starers, and at the same
time to have myself a full view of them. Governor Gore conducted me to
my apartments at a warder's house. As I was entering the house, I
heard some of the people say, "Poor old gentleman, bowed down with
infirmities. He is come to lay his bones here." My reflection was, "I
shall not leave a bone with you."

I was very sick, but my spirits were good, and my mind foreboding good
from the event of being a prisoner in London. Their Lordships' orders
were: "To confine me a close prisoner; to be locked up every night; to
be in the custody of two wardens, who were not to suffer me to be out
of their sight _one moment_, day or night; to allow me no liberty of
speaking to any person, nor to permit any person to speak to me; to
deprive me of the use of pen and ink; to suffer no letter to be
brought to me, nor any to go from me," etc. As an apology, I presume
for their first rigor, the wardens gave me their orders to peruse. . .

And now I found myself a close prisoner, indeed; shut up in two small
rooms, which together made about twenty feet square; a warder my
constant companion; and a fixed bayonet under my window; not a friend
to converse with, and no prospect of a correspondence. . . .

_September 23d._--For some time past I have been frequently and
strongly tempted to make my escape from the Tower, assured, "It was
the advice and desire of all my friends, the thing might be easily
effected, the face of American affairs was extremely gloomy. That I
might have eighteen hours' start before I was missed; time enough to
reach Margate and Ostend; that it was believed there would be no
pursuit," etc., etc. I had always said, "I hate the name of a
runaway." At length I put a stop to farther applications by saying, "I
will not attempt an escape. The gates were opened for me to enter;
they shall be opened for me to go out of the Tower. God Almighty sent
me here for some purpose. I am determined to see the end of it."

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

~1732=1799.~

GEORGE WASHINGTON'S life is so well known, it is so simple, so grand,
that a few words can tell it, and yet volumes would not exhaust it.
His mother's remark, "George was always a good son," sums up his
character; and his title, "Father of his Country," sums up his
life-work.

[Illustration: ~George Washington.~]

He was born at Pope's Creek,