sound of the library door, as it closed for the night, and gave signal for rest in the well regulated mansion, she rose again, and continued sitting up in much anxiety and suspense. At length the well known step was heard upon the stair, and upon the General's entering his chamber, the lady kindly chided him for remaining up so late, knowing himself to be unwell; to which Washington made this memorable reply: "I came as soon as my business was accomplished. You know well, that through a long life, it has been my unvaried rule, never to put off till the morrow, the duties which should be performed today." Having first covered up the fire with care, the mighty man of labors at last sought repose: but it came not as it had long been wont to do, to comfort and restore, after the many and earnest occupations of the well spent day. The night was passed in feverish restlessness and pain. Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, was destined no more to visit his couch; yet the manly sufferer uttered no complaint, would permit no one to be disturbed in their rest on his account, and it was only at day break that he would consent that the overseer might be called in, and bleeding resorted to. A vein was opened, but without affording relief. Couriers were despatched to summon Dr Craik, the family physician, and Doctors Dick and Brown, as consulting physicians, all of whom came with speed. The proper remedies were administered, but without producing their healing effects; while the patient, yielding to the anxious looks of all around him, waived his usual objection to medicines, and took those which were prescribed, without hesitation or remark. The medical gentlemen spared not their skill, and all the resources of their art were exhausted in unwearied endeavors to preserve this noblest work of nature. Night approached — the last night of WASHINGTON! The weather became severely cold, while the group gathered nearer to the couch of the sufferer, watching with intense anxiety for the slightest dawning of hope. He spoke but little. To the respectful and affectionate inquiries of an old family servant, as she smoothed down his pillow, how he felt himself? he answered, "I am very ill." To Dr Craik, his earliest companion in arms, his longest tried, and bosom friend, he observed: "I am dying, Sir-but am not afraid to die." To Mrs Washington, he said: "Go to my escrutoir, and in the private drawer you will find two papers; - bring them to me." They were brought. He continued: “These are my wills; preserve this one, and burn the other." This was immediately done. Calling to Col. Lear, he directed: "Let my corpse be kept for the usual period of three days." Here we would beg leave to remind our readers, that Washington was old fashioned in many of his habits and manners, and in some of his opinions; nor was he the less to be admired on these accounts. The custom of keeping the dead for the scriptural period of three days, is derived from remote antiquity, and arose, not from fear of premature interment, as in more modern times, but from motives of veneration toward the deceased; for the better enabling the relatives and friends to assemble from a distance to perform the funeral rites; for the pious watchings of the corpse; and for the many sad, yet endearing ceremonials with which we delight to pay our last duties to the remains of those we have loved. The patient bore his acute sufferings with manly fortitude, and perfect resignation to the Divine will: while, as the night advanced, it became evident that he was sinking, and he seemed fully aware that his "hour was nigh." He inquired the time; and was told that it was near twelve. He spoke no more: the hand of death was upon him, and he was conscious that his "hour was come." With surprising self-possession, he prepared to die. Composing his form at length, and folding his hands upon his bosom without a sigh — without a groan -the Father of his Country expired, gently as though an infant died. No pang or struggle told when the noble spirit took its noiseless flight; while, so tranquil appeared the manly features in the repose of death, that some moments had passed, ere those around could believe that the patriarch was no more. It may be asked, why the ministry of religion was wanting to shed its peaceful and benign lustre upon the last hours of Washington? Why was he, to whom the observances of sacred things were ever primary duties through life, without their consolations in his last moments? We answer, that circumstances did not permit it. It was but for a little while that the disease assumed so threatening a character as to forbid the encouragement of hope. Yet, to stay that summons which none may refuse, to give still farther length of days to him whose "time-honored life” was so dear to mankind, prayer was not wanting at the Throne of Grace. Close to the couch of the sufferer, resting her head upon that ancient book, with which she had been wont to hold pious communion, a portion of every day, for more than half a century, was his venerable consort, absorbed in silent prayer, and from which she only arose when the mourning group prepared to bear her from the chamber of the dead. SUCH WERE THE LAST HOURS OF WASHINGTON. REPENTANCE. REPENTANCE is the relinquishment of any practice, from the conviction that it has offended God; it is that disposition of mind by which "the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness, and doeth that which is lawful and right;" and when this change is made, the repentance is complete. Sorrow, fear, and anxiety are properly not parts, but adjuncts to repentance; yet they are too closely connected with it to be easily separated; for they not only mark its sincerity, but promote its efficacy. The completion and sum of repentance is a change of life. That sorrow which dictates no caution, that fear which does not quicken our escape, that austerity which fails to rectify our affections, is vain and unavailing. What better can we do than prostrate fall |