now near his ninetieth year. During all the time that he was in the government, Washington was punctual in his attendance on divine worship. His pew was seldom vacant when the weather would permit him to attend. In regard to his habit, at that time, the living grandson of Mrs. Washington, Geo. W. P. Custis, Esq. of Arlington, bears the following testimony:

"On Sundays, unless the weather was uncommonly severe, the President, and Mrs. Washington, attended divine service at Christ church; and in 'the evenings the President read to Mrs. Washington, in her chamber, a sermon, or some portion from the Sacred Writings. No visitors, with the exception of Mr. Speaker Trumbull, were admitted to the presidoliad on Sundays."

After his retirement from the Chair of State, he still continued the same in spirit and practice. The church in Alexandria was again his place of worship. The distance, indeed, was nine miles, and yet his pew was seldom unoccupied on the Lord's day. The writer, many years since, had the following circumstances, in relation to this habit of the ex-President, from a valued female friend, now numbered with the dead.

"In the summer of 1799," said Mrs. M., "I was in Alexandria, on a visit to the family of Mr. H., with whom I was connected by the ties of relationship. Whilst there, I expressed a wish to see General Washington, as I had never enjoyed that pleasure. My friend Mrs. H., observed, You will certainly see him on Sunday, as he is never absent from church when he can get there; and as he often dines with us, we will ask him on that day, when you will have a better opportunity of seeing him.' Accordingly, we all repaired to

church on Sunday, and seated in Mr. H.'s large double pew, I kept my eyes upon the door, looking for the venerable form of him I had so long desired to see. Many persons entered the doors, but none came up to my impressions of General Washington's appearance. At length, a person of noble and majestic figure entered, and the conviction was instantaneous that I beheld the Father of his Country. It was so!--my friend at that moment intimated the fact to me. He walked to his pew, at the upper part of the church, and demeaned himself throughout the services of the day with that gravity and propriety becoming the place and his own high character. After the services were concluded we waited for him at the door, for his pew being near the pulpit he was among the last that came out—when Mrs. H. invited him to dine with us. He declined, however, the invitation, observing, as he looked at the sky, that he thought there were appearances of a thunderstorm in the afternoon, and he believed he would return home to dinner.'

This occurrence is introduced, not for any peculiar interest belonging to it, but merely for confirmation: showing the punctuality and conscientiousness with which Washington attended to the duty in question, even to old age. He was now within six months of his death, having reached his 68th year; and yet he is not to be detained on the Sabbath from the House of God, either by distance or the fervours of a summer sun.

It may here be added, simply as evidence of his devotional habits, that he always said grace at table. On one occasion, from the force of habit, he performed this duty himself when a clergyman was present-an in

stance of indecorum very unusual with him. Being told, after the clergyman's departure, of the incivility, he expressed his regret at the oversight, but added, "the reverend gentleman will at least be assured, that we are not entirely graceless at Mount Vernon."

Thus have we ample illustration of the unvarying practice to which the principles of Washington led him, in regard to the sacred duty of public worship. It may be, however, that the fullest admission of his zeal and good example in this respect, does not necessarily imply a conviction of his inward faith and piety. Some may think, that this outward attention to religion had no higher source than patriotism-than a regard for the prevalence of morality and good order in society-of which ends he no doubt considered the public worship of God to be highly promotive. That these motives alone did not originate his devotional habits, as evinced in the House of God, we are well assured; and in confirmation, shall now proceed to the consideration of those habits of private prayer ascribed to him; and which, if once fully verified, will forever settle the question of his faith and devotional feeling. He who prays habitually in secret, furnishes the best possible evidence of his sincerity. Such a one cannot be a dissembler. He has regard to no eye, but that of his Maker. If it is inevitable that a man's private habits, in this respect, will be known to his family, or those who are intimate with him; yet, it is clear that no motive can arise from such a source to induce long continued perseverance in the duty. This must be sustained by other influences. "Private prayer," says a good writer, "differs from public prayer in several respects. The proper subjects of public prayer

are such wants as belong to men in general. In private prayer, the wants of our particular state, our peculiar trials, dangers, and temptations, form the proper subjects of our addresses. Hence, private prayer is a peculiarly interesting part of devotion. It may also be considered as more spiritual in its nature. In public prayer there are many outward things to excite the affections-all good and profitable, perhaps, in themselves; still it must be owned, that the less our devotion arises from outward causes, and the less it depends on these, the more likely is it to be the genuine feeling of a pious heart, actuated by gratitude to God, admiration of his perfections, love to his character, confidence in his providence, and faith in his promises. Private prayer, therefore, is far more likely to be the result of a real fear and love of God. It cannot, at least, be the offspring of ostentation; nor is it easy to conceive that it should flow from hypocrisy.

"Private prayer is also a better test, or index, of the state of the soul, than public worship. Every man is, what he is in secret. When no eye is upon him, then his true character and feelings show themselves. If, then, he sincerely and devoutly pours out his heart before God; if, then, he truly mourns his sins, and fervently desires to obtain divine grace to pardon and sanctify him, there is good ground for believing that he is a real disciple of Christ."

In our inquiries respecting this practice of Washington, the same amount or variety of matter will not be expected as abounded in testimony of his more public habits. And yet there is enough to satisfy every mind

that he was not less punctual and unremitting in his attention to the duties of the closet, than to those of the public Sanctuary.

At what period of life his observance of this sacred duty commenced it is impossible for mortals to know. But the following instances of secret prayer are submitted with the most perfect assurance of the certainty of their occurrence.

We before adduced the testimony of one of his aids in the French and Indian War, to his habit of reading the Scriptures and praying with his troops on Sundays, in the absence of the chaplain. This same individual, Col. B. Temple, has often been heard to say in connexion with the above, "that on sudden and unexpected visits into his (Washington's) marquee, he has, more than once, found him on his knees at his devotions."

The annexed article will furnish another well authenticated instance, occurring at a subsequent period of his life.

Extract of a letter from a Baptist minister to the Editor of the (Boston) Christian Watchman, dated Baltimore, January 13, 1832:

"The Meeting-house (which is built of stone) belonging to the church just alluded to, is in sight of the spot on which the American army, under the command of General Washington, was encamped during a most severe winter. This, you know, was then called Valley Forge. It is affecting to hear the old people narrate the sufferings of the army, when the soldiers were frequently tracked by the blood from their sore and bare feet, lacerated by the rough and frozen roads over which they were obliged to pass.