"Your dutiful son." This was a part of the manners of the
time. It was like the stiff dress which men wore when they paid their
respects to others; it was put on for the occasion, and one would have
been thought very unmannerly who did not make a marked difference
between his every-day dress and that which he wore when he went into the
presence of his betters. So Washington, when he wrote to his mother,
would not be so rude as to say, "Dear Mother."

Such habits as this go deeper than mere forms of speech. I do not
suppose that the sons of this lady feared her, but they stood in awe of
her, which is quite a different thing.

"We were all as mute as mice, when in her presence," says one of
Washington's companions; and common report makes her to have been very
much such a woman as her son afterward was a man.

I think that George Washington owed two strong traits to his mother--a
governing spirit and a spirit of order and method. She taught him many
lessons and gave him many rules; but, after all, it was her character
shaping his which was most powerful. She taught him to be truthful, but
her lessons were not half so forcible as her own truthfulness.

There is a story told of George Washington's boyhood--unfortunately
there are not many stories--which is to the point. His father had taken
a great deal of pride in his blooded horses, and his mother afterward
took pains to keep the stock pure. She had several young horses that had
not yet been broken, and one of them in particular, a sorrel, was
extremely spirited. No one had been able to do anything with it, and it
was pronounced thoroughly vicious, as people are apt to pronounce horses
which they have not learned to master. George was determined to ride
this colt, and told his companions that if they would help him catch it,
he would ride and tame it.

Early in the morning they set out for the pasture, where the boys
managed to surround the sorrel and then to put a bit into its mouth.
Washington sprang upon its back, the boys dropped the bridle, and away
flew the angry animal. Its rider at once began to command; the horse
resisted, backing about the field, rearing and plunging. The boys became
thoroughly alarmed, but Washington kept his seat, never once losing his
self-control or his mastery of the colt. The struggle was a sharp one;
when suddenly, as if determined to rid itself of its rider, the creature
leaped into the air with a tremendous bound. It was its last. T