Roman’s estimate of fame. When the army that he has led to victory is about to be disbanded, a source of dissatisfaction arises, and the soldiers that are wearing the badges of triumph over a foreign enemy murmur at the treatment they receive by the government at home. The congress of the country they have served, so long and so faithfully, refuses to pay them for their services, and would have them dismissed and sent home poor, penniless, and in rags. With tears in his eyes, Washington communicates the sad intelligence to his brave comrades in arms. They hear the tale in silence and in sorrow. And scarcely is it told, when the fire of indignation flashes in every eye. The men that have fought and conquered under Washington, and have fought and conquered for their country, now propose to have their own private wrongs redressed by fighting for their matchless leader. They would hurl the members of congress from their seats, and upon the throne of a newly erected kingdom they would place their Washington. And what is the import of this proposition from the triumphant American army? It is no less than to make Washington a king; no less than to crown him king of conquerless America. They would have crowned him, as many a warrior of past ages had been crowned, after they had been victorious over their enemies. They would have laid a nation’s honors and a nation’s homage at his feet. And does Washington accede to their proposal? Does he receive the gift of the crown, and mount his throne a king? No! He scorns the deed. He becomes indignant at the proposition, and he pities from his heart the brave sufferers whose wrongs induced them to make it. He turns from the disheartened troops that stood by him in the trials of many a stormy hour, and lays the laurels that he won, as their chief, at his country’s feet. He resigns his commission as an American general, and he walks from his place at the head of his army, not an American king, but a private American citizen. And may I not ask, where is the deed in history that stands out in such strong relief, and in such glowing colors, as does that deed of the most glorious of heroes. Where is the victorious general of Greece, or Rome, or of any other nation, that refused such brilliant honors, and at a time of such trying interest? Where is the hero who, with the crown in view, held out by his weeping, suffering troops, and under such touching circumstances, that went out from before them, of helm and plume bereft, “a man of private mien?” The deed, like the man, stands out in history in solitary isolation. And glow on fame’s immortal height, Inscribed in lines of living light, The name, the deed, they are but one, Unrivalled in our WASHINGTON. WASHINGTON THE PATRIOTIC STATESMAN.