The Student's Life of Washington; Condensed from the Larger Work of Washington Irving For Young Persons and for the Use of Schools

morning the snow was three inches deep and still falling, which prevented him from taking his usual ride. He complained of a sore throat, and had evidently taken cold the day before. In the afternoon the weather cleared up, and he went out on the grounds between the house and the river, to mark some trees which were to be cut down. A hoarseness which had hung about him through the day grew worse towards night, but he made light of it. He was very cheerful in the evening, as he sat in the parlor with Mrs. Washington and Mr. Lear, amusing himself with the papers which had been brought from the post-office.
    On retiring to bed, Mr. Lear suggested that he should take something to relieve the cold. “No,” replied he, “you know I never take anything for a cold. Let it go as it came.” In the night he was taken extremely ill with ague and difficulty of breathing. Between two and three o’clock in the morning he awoke Mrs. Washington, who would have risen to call a servant; but he would not permit her, lest she should take cold. At daybreak, when the servant woman entered to make a fire, she was sent to call Mr. Lear. He found the general breathing with difficulty, and hardly able to utter a word intelligibly. Washington desired that Dr. Craik, who lived in Alexandria, should be sent for, and that in the meantime, Rawlins, one of the overseers, should be summoned to bleed him before the doctor could arrive.
    A gargle was prepared for his throat, but whenever he attempted to swallow any of it, he was convulsed and almost suffocated. Rawlins made his appearance soon after sunrise, but when the general’s arm was ready for the operation became agitated. “Don’t be afraid,” said the general, as well as he could speak. Rawlins made an incision. “The orifice is not large enough,” said Washington. The blood, however, ran pretty freely, and Mrs. Washington, uncertain whether the treatment was proper, and fearful that too much blood might be taken, begged Mr. Lear to stop it. When he was about to untie the string the general put up his hand to prevent him, and as soon as he could speak, murmured, “more—more;” but Mrs. Washington’s doubts prevailed, and the bleeding was stopped, after about half a pint of blood had been taken. External applications were now made to the throat, and his feet were bathed in warm water, but without affording any relief. His old friend, Dr. Craik, arrived between eight and nine, and two other physicians, Drs. Dick and Brown, were called in. Various remedies were tried, and additional bleeding, but all of no avail.
    “About half-past four o’clock,” writes Mr. Lear, “he desired me to call Mrs. Washington to his bedside, when he requested her to go down into his room and take from his desk two wills, which she would find there, and bring them to him, which she did. Upon looking at them, he gave her one, which he observed was useless, as being superseded by the other, and desired her to burn it, which she did, and took the other and put it into her closet.”
    In the course of the afternoon he appeared to be in great pain and distress from the difficulty of breathing, and frequently changed his posture in the bed. About five o’clock his old friend, Dr. Craik, came again into the room, and approached the bedside. “Doctor,” said the general, “I die hard, but I am not afraid to go. I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it—my breath cannot last long.” The doctor pressed his hand in silence, retired from the bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in grief.
    Between five and six the other physicians came in, and he was assisted to sit up in his bed. “I feel I am going,” said he; “I thank you for your attentions, but I pray you to take no more trouble about me; let me go off quietly; I cannot last long.” He lay down again; all retired excepting Dr. Craik. The general continued uneasy and restless, but without complaining, frequently asking what hour it was. Further remedies were tried without avail in the evening. He took whatever was offered him, did as he was desired by the physicians, and never uttered sigh or complaint.
    “About ten minutes before he expired (which was between ten and eleven o’clock),” Mr. Lear further writes, “his breathing became easier. He lay quietly; he withdrew his hand from mine and felt his own pulse. I saw his countenance change. I spoke to Dr. Craik, who sat by the fire. He came to the bedside. The