to every thing taught him, that, by the time he was ten years
old, he had learned all that the poor old grave-digger knew himself;
and it was this worthy man's boast in after-years, that he had laid
the foundation of Washington's future greatness. But what old Wooden
Leg--for so they always called him when his back was turned--could not
teach him at school, little George learned at home of his father and
mother, who were well educated for those days; and many a long winter
evening did these good parents spend in telling their children
interesting and instructive stories of olden times, far-off countries,
and strange people, which George would write down in his copy-book in
his neatest, roundest hand, and remember ever afterward.

A more prudent and careful father, and a more discreet and
affectionate mother, than Mr. Washington and his wife Mary, perhaps
never lived. So earnest and watchful were they to bring up their
children in the fear of the Lord, and in the practice of every noble
virtue, that their dutiful behavior and sweet manners were the talk
and praise of the good people for miles and miles around. They taught
them to be neat and orderly in their dress, as well as civil and
polite in their manners; to be respectful to their elders; to be kind
to one another, and to every thing God hath made, both great and
small, whether man or bird or beast: but chiefly were they concerned
to teach them the love of truth, and to tell it at all times when it
should be their duty to speak out, let the consequences be what they
might. To show you that such wise and careful training was not lost
on the tender mind of George, I will tell you the story of his little
hatchet, as it may serve you good stead in the day when you may be
tempted to wander astray from the path of truth and virtue.

One Christmas Eve, when the sharp, frosty air made the blood brisk and
lively in the veins, little George, who was then about six years old,
hung up his stocking on the mantel of the huge chimney, saying to
himself as he did so, "Good Santa Claus, be kind to me while I am
sleeping peacefully." Next morning, bright and early, just as a great
Christmas log had begun to blaze and crackle on the hearth, he jumped
spryly from his bed, and, without stopping to put on his clothes, ran
to his stockings to see what good old Santa Claus had brought him
while he slept. I leave you to picture to your minds his delight upon
finding therein a little India