vain to follow out these feelings here. fill volumes. They would | who stood timidly behind him, by the hand. "Now the one that jumps the furtherest on a dead level,' shall marry Annette this very night." There is no inscription on the tomb. The simple words, "WASHINGTON FAMILY," chiseled in granite, surmount the plain brickwork. The door is well secured, and of iron. There is a total absence of every thing like parade or circumstance about the resting-place of the Hero and Father. He sleeps there in the midst of the simplicities of nature. Cypress-trees wave over his dust on every side, and the traveller, who goes to stand by his grave, finds no careful enclosure to forbid his too near approach. The tomb has been enclosed since this letter was written. THE VILLAGE PRIZE. This unique address was received by the young men with applause. And many a youth, as he bounded gaily forward to the arena of trial, cast a glance of anticipated victory back upon the lovely object of village chivalry. The maidens left their looms and quilting frames, the children their noisy sports, the slaves their labours, and the old men their armchairs and long pipes, to witness and triumph in the success of the victor. All prophesied and many wished that it would be young Carroll. He was the handsomest and best humoured youth in the country, and all knew that a strong mutual attachment existed between him and the fair Annette. Carroll had won the reputation of being the "best leaper," and in a country where such athletic achievements were the sine qua non of a man's cleverness, this was no ordinary honour. In a contest like the present he had, therefore, every advantage over his fellow athlete. The arena allotted for this hymeneal contest was a level space in front of the village inn, and near the centre of a grass plat, reserved in the midst of the village, denominated the "green." The verdure was quite worn off at this place by previous exercises of a similar kind, and a hard surface of sand, more befitting for the purpose to which it was to be used, supplied its place. IN one of the lovliest villages of old Virginia there lived in the year 175-, an old man, whose daughter was declared, by universal consent, to be the lovliest maiden in all the country round. The veteran, in his youth, had been athletic and muscular above all his fellows; and his breast, where he always wore them, The father of the lovely, blushing, and withal could show the adornment of three medals, received happy prize, (for she well knew who would win,) for his victories in gymnastick feats when a young with three other patriarchal villagers were the judges man. His daughter was now eighteen, and had been a pointed to decide upon the claims of the several sought in marriage by many suitors. One brought competitors. The last time Carroll tried his skill in wealth another a fine person-another this, and this exercise, he "cleared," to use the leaper's another that. But they were all refused by the old phraseology-twenty-one feet and one inch. man, who became at last a by-word for his obstinacy The signal was given, and by lot the young men among the young men of the village and neighbour-stepped into the arena. hood. At length the nineteenth birthday of Annette, his charming daughter, who was as amiable and modest as she was beautiful, arrived. The morning of that day, her father invited all the youth of the country to a hay-making frolick. Seventeen handsome and industrious young men assembled. They came not only to make hay, but also to make love to the fair Annette. In three hours they had filled the father's barns with the newly dried grass, and their own hearts with love. Annette, by her father's command, had brought the malt liquor of her own brewing, which she presented to each enamoured swain with her own fair hands. "Now, my boys," said the old keeper of the jewel they all coveted, as leaning on their pitchforks they assembled round the door in the cool of the evening, "Now my lads, you have nearly all of you made proposals for my Annette. Now, you see, I don't care anything about money or talents, book larning nor soldier larning I can do as well by my gal as any man in the country. But I want her to marry a man of my own grit. Now, you know, or ought to know, when I was a youngster I could beat anything in all Virginny in the way o' leaping. I got my old woman by beating the smartest man on the Eastern Shore, and I have took the oath and sworn it, that no man shall marry my daughter without jumping for it. You understand me, boys. There's the green, and here's Annette," he added, taking his daughter, "Edward Grayson, seventeen feet," cried one of the judges. The youth had done his utmost. He was a pale, intellectual student. But what had intellect to do in such an arena? Without a look at the maiden he left the ground. "Dick Boulden, nineteen feet." Dick with a laugh turned away, and replaced his coat. "Harry Preston, nineteen feet and three inches." "Well done Harry Preston," shouted the spectators, "you have tried hard for the acres and homestead." Harry also laughed, and swore he only jumped for the fun of the thing. Henry was a rattle-brained fellow, but never thought of matrimony. He loved to walk and talk, and laugh and romp with Annette, but sober marriage never came into his head. He only jumped for the fun of the thing. He would not have said so, if he was sure of winning. "Charley Simms, fifteen feet and a half. Hurrah for Charley! Charley'll win!" cried the crowd good-humouredly. Charley Simms was the cleverest fellow in the world. His mother had advised him to stay at home, and told him if he ever won a wife, she would fall in love with his good temper, rather than his legs. Charley, however, made the trial of the latter's capabilities and lost. Many refused to enter the lists altogether. Others made the trial, and only one of the leapers had yet cleared twenty feet. "Now," cried the villagers, "let's see Henry Carroll. He ought to beat this ;" and every one appeared, as they called to mind the mutual love of the last competitor and the sweet Annette, as if they heartily wished his success. Henry stepped to his post with a firm tread. His eye glanced with confidence around upon the villagers and rested, before he bounded forward, upon the face of Annette, as if to catch therefrom that spirit and assurance which the occasion called for. Returning the encouraging glance with which she met his own, with a proud smile upon his lip, he bounded forward. "Twenty-one feet and a half!" shouted the multitude, repeating the announcement of one of the judges, "twenty-one feet and a half. Harry Carroll forever. Annette and Harry." Hands, caps, and handkerchiefs waved over the heads of the spectators, and the eyes of the delighted Annette sparkled with joy. The old man approached, and grasping his hand exultingly, called him his son, and said he felt prouder of him than if he were a prince. Physical activity and strength were the old leaper's true patents of nobility. Resuming his coat, the victor sought with his eye the fair prize he had, although nameless and unknown, so fairly won. She leaned upon her father's arm, pale and distressed. Her lover stood aloof, gloomy and mortified, admiring the superiority of the stranger in an exercise in which he prided himself as unrivalled, while he hated him for his success. "Annette, my pretty prize," said the victor, taking her passive hand-"I have won you fairly." Annette's cheek became paler than marble; she trembled like an aspen leaf, and clung closer to her father, while the drooping eye sought the form of her lover. His brow grew dark at the stranger's language. When Henry Carroll moved to this station to strive for the prize, a tall, gentlemanly young man, in a military undress frock coat, who had rode up to the "I have won you, my pretty flower, to make you inn, dismounted and joined the spectators, unperceiv- a bride!-tremble not so violently-I mean not myed, while the contest was going on, stepped suddenly self however proud I might be," he added with gal forward, and with a knowing eye measured deliber-lantry, "to wear so fair a gem next my heart. Pe ately the space accomplished by the last leaper. He haps," and he cast his eyes round inquiringly, while was a stranger in the village. His handsome face and easy address attracted the eyes of the village maidens, and his manly and sinewy frame, in which symmetry and strength were happily united, called forth the admiration of the young men. "Mayhap, sir stranger, you think you can beat that," said one of the bystanders, remarking the manner in which the eye of the stranger scanned the arena. "If you can leap beyond Harry Carroll, you'll beat the best man in the colonies." The truth of this observation was assented to by a general murmur. "Is it for mere amusement you are pursuing this pastime?" inquired the youthful stranger, or is there a prize for the winner?" "Annette, the loveliest and wealthiest of our village maidens, is to be the reward of the victor," cried one of the judges. "Are the lists open to all?" “All, young sir?" replied the father of Annette, with interest, his youthful ardour rising as he surveyed the proportions of the straight limbed young stranger. "She is the bride of him who outleaps Henry Carroll. If you will try you are free to do so. But let me tell you, Harry Carroll has no wife in Virginia. Here is my daughter, sir, look at her and make your trial." The officer glanced upon the trembling maiden about to be offered on the altar of her father's unconquerable monomania with an admiring eye. The poor girl looked at Harry, who stood near with a troubled brow and angry eye, and then cast upon the new competitor an imploring glance. Placing his coat in the hands of one of the judges, he drew a sash he wore beneath it tighter around his waist, and taking the appointed stand, made, apparently without effort, the bound that was to decide the happiness or misery of Henry and Annette. "Twenty-two feet and an inch!" shouted the judge. -The announcement was repeated with surprise by the spectators, who crowded around the victor, filling the air with congratulations, not unmingled, however, with loud murmurs from those who were more nearly interested in the happiness of the lovers. the current of life leaped joyfully to her brow, and a murmur of surprise ran through the crowd-" perhaps there is some favoured youth among the competitors, who has a higher claim to this jewel.-Young sir," he continued, turning to the surprised Henry, "methinks you were victor in the list before me I strove not for the maiden, though one could not well strive for a fairer-but from love for the manly sport in which I saw you engaged. You are the victor, and as such, with the permission of this worthy assembly, receive from my hand the prize you have so well and so honourably won." The youth sprang forward and grasped his hand with gratitude, and the next moment Annette was weeping from pure joy upon his shoulders. The welkin rung with the acclamations of the delighted villagers, and amid the temporary excitement produced by this act, the stranger withdrew from the crowd, mounted his horse, and spurred at a brisk trot through the village. That night, Henry and Annette were married, and the health of the mysterious and noble-hearted stranger, was drunk in overflowing bumpers of rustic bev erage. In process of time, there were born unto the married pair sons and daughters, and Harry Carroll had become Colonel Henry Carroll of the revolutionary army. One evening, having just returned home after a hard campaign, he was sitting with his family on the gallery of his handsome country-house, when an advance courier rode up and announced the approach of General Washington and suite, informing that he should crave his hospitality for the night. The necessary directions were given in reference to the household preparations, and Colonel Carroll, ordering his horse, rode forward to meet and escort to his house the distinguished guest, whom he had never yet seen, although serving in the same widely extended army. That evening, at the table, Annette, now become the dignified, matronly, and still handsome Mrs. Carroll, could not keep her eyes from the face of her The ancient family vault, in which his dust first reposed, was situated under the shade of a little grove of forest-trees, a short distance from the mansion-house at Mount Vernon, and near the brow of the precipitous bank of the Potomack. illustrious visitor. Every moment or two she would cember, 1799, of an inflammatory disorder of the steal a glance at his commanding features, and half- throat, aged 67 years, 9 months, and 23 days. On doubtingly, half-assuredly, shake her head and look Wednesday, the 18th of December, attended by again, to be still more puzzled. Her absence of mind military honours and the ceremonies of religion, and embarrassment at length became evident to her his body was deposited in the family vault at Mount husband, who inquired affectionately if she were ill? Vernon. "I suspect, colonel," said the general, who had been some time, with a quiet, meaning smile, observing the lady's curious and puzzled survey of his features" that Mrs. Carroll thinks she recognizes in me an old acquaintance." And he smiled with a mysterious air, as he gazed upon both alternately. The colonel stared, and a faint memory of the past seemed to be revived as he gazed, while the lady rose impulsively from her chair, and bending eagerly forward over the tea-urn, with clasped hands and an The ashes of the father of his country have been eye of intense, eager, inquiry, fixed full upon him, removed from that place, to one near the corner of a stood for a moment with her lips parted as if she would beautiful enclosure, where the river is concealed from speak. view. This site was selected by him during life, for "Pardon me, my dear madam-pardon me colonel a tomb; and here are now deposited the remains of -I must put an end to this scene. I have become, that great man, who rendered to the American repubby dint of camp-fare and hard usage, too unwieldly to leap again twenty-two feet one inch, even for so fair a bride as one I wot of." 66 GENERAL WASHINGTON was indeed the handsome young leaper," whose mysterious appearance and disappearance in the native village of the lovers, is still traditionary-and whose claim to a substantial body of bona fide flesh and blood, was stoutly contested by the village story-tellers, until the happy DENOUEMENT which took place at the hospitable mansion of Colonel Carroll. Small and unadorned, this humble sepulchre stood in a most romantick and picturesque spot, and could be distinctly seen by travellers, as they passed in steam-boats up and down the river. lic the most important civil and military services it ever received. It is arched over, and, with the ground about it, covered with grass and shrubbery. A few trees of cedar are scattered around it; but they do not afford much shade; many of their branches have been cut off by visitors, and taken away as mementoes. The front of the cemetery is constructed of brick, and has a plain iron door of the usual size. In the wall over the entrance, is a small slab of white marble, with these two words inscribed upon it: "WASHINGTON FAMILY." Below is another stone, containing the following brief passage from the Scriptures: "I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." Such is the simple tomb of Washington: no other monument marks his grave. 66 Washington was born Feb. 22, 1732, on the banks of the Potomack, in the county of Westmoreland, Virginia. On the 14th of June, 1775, he was chosen commander-in-chief of the armies of the United Colonies. He resigned his commission on the 23d of December, 1783. He was elected first President under the new constitution, 1789, and presided eight years He died on Saturday night, the 14th of De ON LEAVING NEW YORK.-GREELEY. She fades from my vision, the Queen of the West. And the stars which should spangle the calm river's breas I may view them no more from Manhattan's bright shore, As they gleam on her own noble bay; Still Care is behind me- -Affection before Then light be our parting!-away! II. Fair City of Commerce! my home and my pride! My hopes are entwined with thee yet; And though from thee this moment I blissfully glide, I should leave thee for aye with regret; I shall glad me full oft with a dream of thy spires, III. Thus ever with me, as Life's pathway I tread, I mourn not the Past-I deplore but the Dead- It were nothing to meet if we feared not to part: |