When the news reached Fredericksburg of the victories of Trenton and Princeton (in that ten days' campaign which Frederick the Great called the most brilliant in the annals of war) friends gathered around her with congratulations upon the great achievements of her son. She received them with calmness, observed that it was most pleasurable news, and that George appeared to have deserved well of his country for such signal services, and continued, in reply to the congratulating patriots (most of whom held letters in their hands, from which they read extracts), "but, my good sirs, here is too much flattery--still George will not forget the lessons I early taught him; he will not forget himself, though he is the subject of so much praise." Among the traditions which still linger around Fredericksburg is one illustrating her perfect calmness, trust, and self-control. George Kiger, the courier, having at a time of great anxiety ridden hard to deliver a packet to her from headquarters, was dismayed to see her drop it unread into one of her unfathomable pockets, simply remarking, "It is all right--I am well assured of that." Bursting with curiosity, and mindful of the crowd which had assembled at her gate to hear the news, Kiger suggested: "There may have been a battle. The neighbors would like to know." Thereupon she fished up the packet, glanced over it, and announced, "There has been a victory!" adding, in the fulness of her heart, "George generally carries through whatever he undertakes." In relating this we are reminded of the despatch once handed to General Washington while he was sitting for his portrait. He read it apparently unmoved and in silence. It announced the surrender of Burgoyne's army! As the long years passed heavily away she had need of more than her own strong nature to sustain her. She must seek for strength not her own. "She was always pious," says Mr. Custis, "but in her latter days her devotions were performed in private. She was in the habit of repairing every day to a secluded spot, formed by rocks and trees, near her dwelling, where, abstracted from the world and worldly things, she communed with her Creator, in humiliation and prayer." This favorite resort of hers, sometimes called "Oratory Rock," was a spot on Colonel Lewis's estate, sheltered by climbing vines from observation. Oratory Rock was a knoll on the "Kenmore" grounds which during her life overlooked the Rappahannock. The river has since forsaken its bed there, and flows in another channel. It was to this spot, made lovely by shade trees and flowing vines, that she repaired daily for meditation and prayer, returning home soothed and strengthened. She often expressed her gratitude for these serene hours, and desired that she might be buried upon the spot, where she had received such consolation. [Illustration: Oratory Rock.]