her lessons were not half so forcible as her own truthfulness.

There is a story told of George Washington's boyhood--unfortunately
there are not many stories--which is to the point. His father had taken
a great deal of pride in his blooded horses, and his mother afterward
took great pains to keep the stock pure. She had several young horses
that had not yet been broken, and one of them in particular, a sorrel,
was extremely spirited. No one had been able to do anything with it, and
it was pronounced thoroughly vicious, as people are apt to pronounce
horses which they have not learned to master. George was determined to
ride this colt, and told his companions that if they would help him
catch it, he would ride and tame it.

[Illustration: OLD WHITE CHAPEL, LANCASTER COUNTY, VIRGINIA, WHERE
WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER ATTENDED SERVICE]

Early in the morning they set out for the pasture, where the boys
managed to surround the sorrel and then to put a bit into its mouth.
Washington sprang on its back, the boys dropped the bridle, and away
flew the angry animal. Its rider at once began to command; the horse
resisted, backing about the field, rearing and plunging. The boys became
thoroughly alarmed, but Washington kept his seat, never once losing his
self-control or his mastery of the colt. The struggle was a sharp one;
when suddenly, as if determined to rid itself of its rider, the creature
leaped into the air with a tremendous bound. It was its last. The
violence burst a blood-vessel, and the noble horse fell dead.

Before the boys could sufficiently recover to consider how they should
extricate themselves from the scrape, they were called to breakfast; and
the mistress of the house, knowing that they had been in the fields,