saluted them all, he passed through a corps of
soldiers outside the door, and walked to the river-side, followed by the
officers in solemn silence. He entered the barge, and raising his hat,
he waved them farewell; and they, with the same loving gesture, watched
the barge push off, and turned away. Washington took his journey to
Annapolis, in Maryland, gave up his commission to Congress, and returned
to Mount Vernon.

He reached his home on Christmas-eve, 1783. It was more than eight years
and a half since he had left it to join the Continental Congress at
Philadelphia, and he had seen it but twice in that long interval. When
he went away he was forty-three years old--in the very prime of manhood;
when he returned he was fifty-one, and felt that he was growing old.
Constant labor, constant care, exposure in the camp and on the march,
and the sad and fearful experience of battle, had told upon his
naturally strong frame, and he welcomed the prospect of rest as simply
and as gladly as a tired child. He wrote to his dear friend Lafayette,
who had returned to France: "At length I am become a private citizen on
the banks of the Potomac; and under the shadow of my own vine and
fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp and the busy scenes of public
life, I am solacing myself with tranquil enjoyments.... I have not only
retired from all public employments, but I am retiring within myself,
and shall be able to view the solitary walk and tread the paths of
private life with heart-felt satisfaction."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE MAGIC SPINET.

BY MRS. J. E. McCONAUGHY.

The gay people of Paris were one day invited to attend a musical
entertainment, in which "a magic spinet" was to be the chief attraction.
Its wonders were set forth in glowing terms, and a large audience
gathered at the appointed time to witness its performance. The poor
musician, whose all was at stake, looked on the assembly with rejoicing
eyes, but perhaps with a little trembling lest his "magic" should not
work as perfectly as at rehearsals.

After some playing by himself and his two little children, all stepped
back, and, at the word of command, the instrument repeated the whole
symphony. This marvel was well received, when the musician pretended to
wind up his machine by a very hard-working winch, which made a terrible
racket.

Now the wise ones thought it all explained. "Only a foolish contrivance
of weights and springs, like a barrel-organ," the