Once more, and once only, do we hear of Mary Washington in connection with her son. We read that her home filled her time and heart; that she, like her son, sowed and planted, arranging her garden as the seasons succeeded each other, delighting in her personal work therein. Who can measure the charm, to a woman, of even a small garden! How often has she not "heard the voice of the Lord walking in the garden in the cool of the day!" She was born in a garden. Her first perception of beauty was awakened by her flowers. With these for companionship, who can be utterly wretched? Not all unhappy was the prisoner, after his "Picciola" had cleft the stone masonry of his dungeon! We love to think of Mary Washington in the old garden! Nowhere so sweetly, so gently, can a wearied body fulfil its day, until God wills the release of the soul. On the 14th of April, 1789, Washington received at Mount Vernon official intelligence that he had been chosen President of the United States. He at once prepared to go to New York and enter upon the duties of his office, but before doing so he set out on the evening of the same day, mounted on his horse and attended by his favorite body-servant, Billy Lee, to visit his mother in Fredericksburg. He found her feeble in body but bright-minded and cheerful, and he informed her that he had been elected President, and had come to bid her an affectionate farewell before assuming his office. "So soon," he said, "as the public business which must necessarily be encountered in arranging a new government can be disposed of, I shall hasten to Virginia"--but here she interrupted him and said: "You will see me no more. Age and disease warn me that I shall not be long in this world. I trust in God I am somewhat prepared for a better. But go; fulfil the high destinies which Heaven appears to assign you; go, and may Heaven's and your mother's blessing be with you always." This was the last meeting between the mother and the son. But that her heart followed him through the marvellous events of the next few weeks none can doubt. They helped her to ignore the shadow hanging over her. She was cheerful, strong, and uncomplaining. She decided to make two visits,--one to the family of Charles and the other to the widow and orphan children of Samuel Washington. The families met together to talk gratefully and affectionately of the illustrious one whom the country was loading with honors. He had left Mount Vernon on the 16th of April. An entry in his diary records his feelings. "I bade adieu to Mount Vernon and domestic felicity and with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensations than I can express, set out for New York with the best disposition to render service to my country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering its expectations."