"Never seed the like, sir,--never the like of him, though I have seen many in my day,--so tall, so straight! And then, sir, he sat on a horse and rode with such an air! Ah, sir, he was like no one else! Many of the grandest gentlemen, in the gold lace, were at the wedding, but none looked like the man himself." Washington resided at the "White House" three months before taking his seat in the House of Burgesses. That he had resolved to abandon a military career, and that his new relation afforded him unalloyed pleasure, is quite evident from what he wrote to a friend: "I am now, I believe, fixed in this seat, with an agreeable partner for life; and I hope to find more happiness in retirement than I ever experienced in the wide and bustling world." From a child, Mrs. Washington had enjoyed the luxuries and society that wealth multiplies. Her own property, now united to that of her husband, amounted to a large fortune. She could live in princely style, although she adopted that style only so far as her social position demanded. There was an aristocratic element that ruled in Virginia at that time, embracing the wealthy, cultured, and ruling classes, to which she belonged; and to this standard of living she was obliged to conform. Her home was the resort of the wealthiest and most influential people of Virginia. After three months had elapsed, Washington took his seat in the Legislature. That body arranged to honor the hero as soon as he appeared in the House, by a eulogistic address by the speaker. No sooner had he taken his seat, than the speaker, Mr. Robinson, immediately arose, and, commanding silence, addressed Washington in such language of praise as only true patriotism, united with personal friendship, could dictate; enlarging upon his heroic deeds for his country in its time of its greatest peril. As he closed, the whole Assembly rose to their feet, and saluted the young colonel with a bow. Had an earthquake suddenly shaken the Capitol to its centre, Washington would not have been more completely surprised. He was confounded. He rose to make his acknowledgments, but, alas! his tongue had forgotten its office. Thrice he essayed to speak, and thrice, in spite of every effort, his utterance failed him, save faintly to articulate, "Mr. Speaker! Mr. Speaker!" The speaker was equal to the occasion, and came to his relief in one of the best, quick-witted sallies on record. "Colonel Washington," he exclaimed, "sit down! sit down! Your modesty alone is equal to your merit."