He was always extremely fond of little girls. He liked other little girls beside Nellie. He had with him her pretty sister, Elizabeth, when he sat for one of his portraits. And in the most critical week of his Presidency, Washington went to the house of one of his cabinet officers, and played with his little daughters. _Harriet Taylor Upton_ (_Retold_) _Many of the stories in this book are from the Life of Washington, by his adopted son, George Washington Parke Custis._ SEEING THE PRESIDENT Sometimes, when President Washington went on a journey in his state-coach, he wanted to travel quietly, without attracting people’s attention. So he charged his courier, who rode on ahead, to make all necessary arrangements at inns, but to tell no one but the landlords, that the President was coming. Often, however, the news leaked out, and was flashed throughout the countryside. Trumpets were blown, as the veterans of the War for Independence gathered to welcome their Chief. Village cannon roared. Every village and hamlet poured out its folk to greet the man who was “first in the hearts of his countrymen.” As for the school children, how eagerly they hurried to get their lessons, so that as a reward, they might see _General Washington_. And when at last he did come, how happy the children were to be presented to him. With delight, they listened to his kind voice, felt the kindlier touch of his hand, and even climbed on his knee to look up into his smiling face. _George Washington Parke Custis_ (_Retold_) NELSON THE HERO There was one old horse at Mount Vernon, after the War for Independence, who was a hero. He was never ridden. He was cared for kindly. He grazed in a pleasant paddock. That was Nelson, Washington’s favourite and splendid charger, which he had ridden on the day of the surrender at Yorktown. He was a light sorrel, with white face and legs. Now that he was old, he was petted and cared for. Whenever Washington made the rounds of his kennels and stables, he stopped at the paddock. Then the old war-horse would run neighing up to the fence, proud to be caressed by the hand of his master. _George Washington Parke Custis_ (_Retold_) CARING FOR THE GUEST _Told by the Guest Himself_ I had feasted my imagination, for several days, on the near prospect of a visit to Mount Vernon, the seat of Washington. No pilgrim ever approached Mecca with deeper enthusiasm. The first evening I spent under the wing of his hospitality, we sat a full hour at table, by ourselves, without the least interruption after the family had retired. I was extremely oppressed with a severe cold and excessive coughing, contracted from the exposure of a harsh winter journey. He pressed me to use some remedies, but I declined doing so. As usual, soon after retiring, my cough increased.