ribbon, upon which are inscribed the words: "PRESENTED, IN THE NAME OF THE FRENCH SOLDIERS, TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE GENERAL WASHINGTON." This also is studded with precious stones. Above it is a bow of moire antique ribbon, of light-blue color, with white edges. This jewel is at present [1859] in the possession of the Honorable Hamilton Fish, of New York,

president of the Society of the Cincinnati.

The Society had a certificate of membership engraved in France, by J. J. Le Veau, from a drawing by Aug. Le Belle. It occupies a space thirteen and a half inches in width and twenty inches in length, and was printed on fine vellum. The engraving upon the next page is a facsimile on a reduced scale. The design represents American liberty as a strong man armed, bearing in one hand the Union flag, and in the other a naked sword. Beneath his feet are British flags, and Hovering by his side is the whose talons the lightning

a broken spear, shield, and chain. eagle, our national emblem, from of destruction is flashing upon the British lion. Britannia, with the crown falling from her head, is hastening toward a boat to escape to a fleet, which denotes the departure of British

power from our shores. Upon a cloud, on the right, is an angel blowing a trumpet, from which flutters a loose scroll. Upon the scroll are the sentences: Palam nuntiata libertas, A. D. 1776. Foedus sociale cum Gallia, A. D. 1778. Pax: libertas parta, A. D. 1783-"Independence declared, A. D. 1776. Treaty of alliance with France declared, A. D. 1778. Peace! independence obtained, A. D. 1783.”

Upon the medallion on the right is a device representing Cincinnatus at his plow, a ship on the sea, and a walled town in the distance. Over his head is a flying angel, holding a ribbon inscribed: Virtutis præmium; "Reward of virtue." Below is a heart, with the words: Esto perpetua; "Be thou perpetual." Upon the rim is the legend: Societas Cincinnatorum Instituta A. D. MDCCLXXXIII.; "Society of the Cincinnati, instituted 1783." The device upon the medallion on the left is Cincinnatus, with his family, near his house. He is receiving a sword and shield from three senators: an army is seen in the distance. Upon the rim are the words: Omnia relinqui tservare rempublicam; "He abandons every thing to serve his country" (referring to Cincinnatus).

Washington was chosen the first president-general of the Society of the Cincinnati, and General Henry Knox the secretary. The former remained in office until his death, a period of sixteen years, and was succeeded by General Alexander Hamilton. All of the certificates given to the original members, like the one delineated in the engraving, were filled up and signed by Washington, at Mount Vernon.

We have observed that it was Christmas eve when Washington arrived at Mount Vernon from Annapolis, once more a private citizen. What a glad Christmas was that for all in

that pleasant home on the banks of the Potomac! It was a Christmas to be specially remembered by the retired soldier. It was a day long hoped for by him when engaged in the mighty labors of his official station. Rest, rest he often sighed for, and now the elements seemed to sympathize in his great desire. An intensely severe winter closed almost every avenue to Mount Vernon, and even neighborly intercourse was suspended. Washington had rest in abundance. To Lafayette he wrote on the first of February following his retirement: "On the eve of Christmas I entered these doors an older man by near nine years, than when I left them. Since that period, we have been fast locked up in frost and snow, and excluded in a manner from all kinds of intercourse."

"I have not only retired from all public employments," he added, “but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary walks, and tread the paths of private life with heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers."

And yet, even in that perfect retirement, it was several weeks before Washington could entirely divest his mind of the burden of solicitude for public affairs. To General Knox he wrote on the 20th of February: "I am just beginning to experience that ease and freedom from public cares, which, however desirable, takes some time to realize; for strange as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that it was not till lately I could get the better of my usual custom of ruminating, as soon as I waked in the morning, on the business of the ensuing day; ard of my surprise at finding, after revolving many things in

my mind, that I was no longer a public man, nor had any thing to do with public transactions.

"I feel now, however, as I conceive a wearied traveller must do, who, after treading many a painful step with a heavy burden on his shoulders, is eased of the latter, having reached the haven to which all the former were directed; and from his house-top is looking back, and tracing with an eager eye the meanders by which he escaped the quicksands and mires which lay in his way; and into which none but the all-powerful Guide and Dispenser of human events could have prevented his falling."

Never had a traveller more cause for serenity of mind and perfect gratitude, in the hour of calm retrospection, than George Washington at that time; and also twelve years later, when he resigned the helm of the vessel of state into other hands, and sought repose for the last time in the shades of Mount Vernon. And when he fully realized his relief, his social desires, so long repressed, came into full play, and renewals of old acquaintance and friendly correspondence took place. "Freed from the clangor of arms and the bustle of a camp," he wrote to the wife of Lafayette, in April, after receiving information that the marquis intended to visit America soon-"Freed from the cares of public employment and the responsibility of office, I am now enjoying domestic ease under the shadow of my own vine and my own fig-tree; and in a small villa, with the implements of husbandry and lambkins around me, I expect to glide gently down the stream of life, till I am entombed in the mansion of my fathers. *** Come, then, let me entreat you, and call my cottage your home; for your own doors do not open to you with more