to explain thoroughly why he was not put upon the presidential list along with Washington. His cousin, John Adams, had just returned from his mission to England, weary and disgusted with the scanty respect which he had been able to secure for a feeble league of states that could not make good its own promises. His services during the Revolution had been of the most splendid sort: and after Washington, he was the second choice of the electoral college, receiving 34 votes, while John Jay of New York, his nearest competitor, received only 9. John Adams was accordingly declared vice-president. [Sidenote: Inauguration of Washington, April 30.] On the 14th of April Washington was informed of his election, and on the next day but one he bid adieu again to his beloved home at Mount Vernon, where he had hoped to pass the remainder of his days in that rural peace and quiet for which no one yearns like the man who is burdened with greatness and fame unsought for. The position to which he was summoned was one of unparalleled splendour,--how splendid we can now realize much better than he, and our grandchildren will realize it better than we,--the position of first ruler of what was soon to become at once the strongest and the most peace-loving people upon the face of the earth. As he journeyed toward New York, his thoughts must have been busy with the arduous problems of the time. Already, doubtless, he had marked out the two great men, Jefferson and Hamilton, for his chief advisers: the one to place us in a proper attitude before the mocking nations of Europe; the other to restore our shattered credit, and enlist the moneyed interests of all the states in the success of the Federal Union. Washington's temperament was a hopeful one, as befitted a man of his strength and dash. But in his most hopeful mood he could hardly have dared to count upon such a sudden and wonderful demonstration of national strength as was about to ensue upon the heroic financial measures of Hamilton. His meditations on this journey we may well believe to have been solemn and anxious enough. But if he could gather added courage from the often-declared trust of his fellow-countrymen, there was no lack of such comfort for him. At every town through which he passed, fresh evidences of it were gathered, but at one point on the route his strong nature was especially wrought upon. At Trenton, as he crossed the bridge over the Assunpink Creek, where twelve years ago, at the darkest moment of the Revolution, he had outwitted Cornwallis in the most skilful of stratagems, and turned threatening defeat into glorious victory,--at this spot, so fraught with thrilling associations, he was met by a party of maidens dressed in white, who strewed his path with sweet spring flowers, while triumphal arches in softest green bore inscriptions declaring that he who had watched over the safety of the mothers could well be trusted to protect the daughters. On the 23d he