character. He could not have been more enterprising without endangering the cause he defended, nor have put more to hazard without incurring justly the imputation of rashness. Not relying upon those chances which sometimes give a favorable issue to attempts apparently desperate, his conduct was regulated by calculations made upon the capacities of his army, and the real situation of his country. When called a second time to command the armies of the U. States, a change of circumstances had taken place, and he meditated a corresponding change of conduct. In modelling the army of 1798, he sought for men distinguished for their boldness of execution, not less than for their prudence in council, and contemplated a system of continued attack. "The enemy,' said the general in his private letters, must never be permitted to gain foothold on our shores.' In his civil administration, as in his military career, were exhibited ample and repeated proofs of that practical good sense, of that sound judgment, which is, perhaps, the most rare, and is certainly the most valuable quality of the human mind. Devoting himself to the duties of his station, and pursuing no object distinct from the public good, he was accustomed to contemplate, at a distance, those critical situations in which the U. States might probably be placed, and to digest, before the occasion required action, the line of conduct which it would be proper to observe. Taught to distrust first impressions, he sought to acquire all the information which was attainable, and to hear, without prejudice, all the reasons which could be urged for or against a particular measure. His own judgment was suspended until it became necessary to determine; and his decisions, thus maturely made, were seldom, if ever, to be shaken. His conduct, therefore, was systematic, and the great objects of his administration were steadily pursued. Respecting, as the first magistrate in a free government must ever do, the real and deliberate sentiments of the people, their gusts of passion passed over without ruffling the smooth surface of his mind. Trusting to the reflecting good sense of the nation for approbation and support, he had the magnanimity to pursue its real interests, in opposition to its temporary prejudices; and, though far from being regardless of popular favor, he could never stoop to retain by deserving to lose it. In more instances than one, we find him committing his whole popularity to hazard, and pursuing steadily, in opposi

tion to a torrent, which would have overwhelmed a man of ordinary firmness, that course which had been dictated by a sense of duty. In speculation, he was a real republican, devoted to the constitution of his country, and to that system of equal political rights on which it is founded. But between a balanced republic and a democracy, the difference is like that between order and chaos. Real liberty, he thought, was to be preserved only by preserving the authority of the laws, and maintaining the energy of government. Scarcely did society present two characters, which, in his opinion, less resembled each other, than a patriot and a demagogue. No man has ever appeared upon the theatre of public action whose integrity was more incorruptible, or whose principles were more perfectly free from the contamination of those selfish and unworthy passions which find their nourishment in the conflicts of party. Having no views which required concealment, his real and avowed motives were the same; and his whole correspondence does not furnish a single case from which even an enemy would infer that he was capable, under any circumstances, of stooping to the employment of duplicity. No truth can be uttered with more confidence than that his ends were always upright, and his means always pure. He exhibits the rare example of a politician to whom wiles were absolutely unknown, and whose professions to foreign governments, and to his own countryinen, were always sincere. In him was fully exemplified the real distinction which for ever exists between wisdom and cunning, and the importance as well as truth of the maxim that 'honesty is the best polcy.' If Washington possessed ambition, that passion was, in his bosom, so regu lated by principles, or controlled by eircumstances, that it was neither vicious nor turbulent. Intrigue was never employed as the means of its gratification; nor was personal aggrandizement its object. The various high and important stations to which he was called by the public voice, were unsought by himself; and, in consenting to fill them, he seems rather to have yielded to a general conviction, that the interests of his country would be thereby promoted, than to his particular inclination. Neither the extraordinary partiality of the American people, the extravagant praises which were bestowed upon him, nor the inveterate opposition and malignant calumnies which he experienced, had any visible

influence upon his conduct. The cause is to be looked for in the texture of his mind. In him, that innate and unassuming modesty which adulation would have offended, which the voluntary plaudits of millions could not betray into indiscretion, and which never obtruded upon others his claims to superior consideration, was happily blended with a high and correct sense of personal dignity, and with a just consciousness of that respect which is due to station. Without exertion, he could maintain the happy medium between that arrogance which wounds, and that facility which allows the office to be degraded in the person who fills it. It is impossible to contemplate the great events which have occurred in the U. States, under the auspices of Washington, without ascribing them, in some measure, to him. If we ask the causes of the prosperous issue of a war, against the successful termination of which there were so many probabilities; of the good which was produced, and the ill which was avoided, during an administration fated to contend with the strongest prejudices that a combination of circumstances and of passions could produce; of the constant favor of the great mass of his fellow citizens, and of the confidence which, to the last moment of his life, they reposed in him, the answer, so far as these causes may be found in his character, will furnish a lesson well meriting the attention of those who are candidates for political fame. Endowed by nature with a sound judgment, and an accurate, discriminating mind, he feared not that laborious attention which made him perfectly master of those subjects, in all their relations, on which he was to decide; and this essential quality was guided by an unvarying sense of moral right, which would tolerate the employment only of those means that would bear the most rigid examination; by a fairness of intention which neither sought nor required disguise; and by a purity of virtue which was not only untainted, but unsuspected." -A selection from Washington's papers is preparing for publication, by Mr. Jared Sparks, and the first part may be expected to appear very soon. An account of these papers was published some time since, by Mr. Sparks, in a series of letters addressed to judge Story, from which it appears that it was a habit adopted by general Washington, at an early stage of his life, to preserve copies of all his important letters, as well those of a private as those of a public nature. The transcripts of his revolutionary papers occupy forty-four

large folio volumes. Each class of subjects is brought together in a strict chronological order, and a copious index is added to every volume. After the revolution had terminated, and he was settled on his farm, though relieved from public duties, his correspondence continued to be very extensive with eminent persons in this country and in Europe; and from that time till his acceptance of the presidency, his copied letters fill six folio volumes; and, even during the period of his presidency, his habits of industry enabled him to find leisure for preparing seven volumes of recorded letters, besides many others of which press copies were taken, and which are not preserved in books. There are fourteen other volumes, in which are recorded the transactions of the president with congress and the heads of departments, and which consist of letters that passed between him and the secretaries, on special subjects; also opinions, reports and intelligence from the secretaries. Among other records is a private journal kept by him, in which his official acts and intercourse with the departments are daily noted down. His letters remained numerous and important to the end of his life. This great collection shows, in a striking light, the industrious, methodical and careful habits of Washington.

WASHINGTON, William Augustine, a distinguished officer in the revolution, was the eldest son of Baily Washington, of Staf ford county, Virginia. He was one of the earliest to engage in the struggle of his country with the British government, and was appointed to the command of a company of infantry in the third regiment of the Virginia line. His first essay in arms was at York island, where his conduct elicited warm applause. In the retreat through New Jersey, he was distinguished for the fortitude with which he sustained its difficulties, hardships and dangers. At the surprise of the Hessians, he led the van of one of the assailing columns, and, whilst rushing with his company to the attack, received a severe wound in one of his hands. Soon afterwards, three regiments of light dragoons having been raised, he was appointed a major in one of them, commanded by lieutenant-colonel Baylor. This corps was surprised, in 1778, by a detachment of the enemy, under general Gray, and almost cut to pieces. Washington, however, escaped, and, in the following year, was detached to join the army of general Lincoln, in South Carolina. There he was constantly employed with the light troops

His first rencounter with the enemy took place betwixt Ashley ferry and Rantowle's bridge, in which he drove back the cavalry of the British legion, commanded by lieutenant-colonel Tarleton, and took several prisoners; but, being unsupported by infantry, he gained little advantage from his success. He has been exonerated from all blame in relation to the surprises at Monk's corner and Lanian's ferry, which had nearly caused the annihilation of the American cavalry, as, in both instances, he was acting in a subordinate capacity. Being compelled by these disasters to retire, with the remainder of his corps, to the borders of North Carolina, he solicited from general Gates the aid of his name and authority, to facilitate its restoration and equipment. The refusal of the general was severely punished in the battle of Camden, where the presence of a superior cavalry, led by such a soldier as Washington, might have done much to insure success, or, at least, would have prevented the terrible slaughter which followed the defeat. After this occurrence, lieutenant-colonel Washington was attached, with his cavalry, to the light corps commanded by general Morgan. By an ingenious stratagem, he carried the post at Rugely's, taking a large body of the enemy without firing a shot. Aware of the character of his opponent, Rugely, he fixed a pine log on the front wheels of a wagon, so as to make it look, at a distance, like a field-piece, and threatening immediate destruction if resistance should be attempted: the affrighted colonel begged for quarter, and surrendered at discretion. To the brilliant victory at the Cowpens, he contributed in a high degree, and received a silver medal from congress, in testimony of his gallant conduct. His ardor in this affair had nearly cost him his life. Anxious to animate the pursuit by his example, he was hurried so far in advance as to be surrounded by several officers of the British legion, and was saved only by the bravery of a sergeant and his bugleman, Ball, who, by a pistol-shot, disabled an officer, whose sword was raised for his destruction. After the junction of the two divisions of the American army at Guilford courthouse, his cavalry was made a part of a body of horse and foot, selected by general Greene, and placed under colonel Williams. In the retreat into Virginia, and in all the manœuvres subsequent to the recrossing of the Dan, he essentially aided in baffling the skilful efforts of Cornwallis to force Greene to a battle. In

the affair at Guilford, he acted a very conspicuous part. By a spirited and judicious charge, he broke the regiment of guards commanded by colonel Steward, who was killed, and, in conjunction with colonel Howard and his Marylanders, nearly effected their entire destruction. Unfortunately, his hat fell from his head, and whilst dismounting to recover it, the officer next in command was so griev ously wounded as to be disabled from managing his horse, which, wheeling round, carried him off the field, followed by the rest of the cavalry, who imagined that the movement had been directed. This accident saved the remnant of the guards, and, in all probability, the entire British army. At Hobkirk's hill, he obtained fresh laurels. By skilful manoeuvring, he gained the rear of the British army, and captured eleven officers, and upwards of two hundred men. He was only able, however, to bring fifty of them off the field, in consequence of the retreat of the American forces. At the battle of Eutaw, he exhibited signal valor, and made repeated charges on the British light infantry, who maintained their ground with a steadiness worthy of the attack. In a last effort for victory, his horse was killed, and, becoming entangled, as he fell, in the ranks of the enemy, and unable to extricate himself, he was made prisoner. This was the final scene of his military performances. He remained a prisoner in Charleston until the close of the war. He then settled in South Carolina, having married a lady of that state, to whom he had become attached during his captivity. He subsequently served in the legislature, where he gave evidences of capacity for civil service, which induced his friends to endeavor to persuade him to become a candidate for the office of governor; but his modesty caused him to refuse every solicitation to that effect. When general Washington accepted the command of the army, during the presidency of Mr. Adams, he selected his relative to be one of his staff, with the rank of brigadiergeneral. After a tedious indisposition, he died in 1810. In person, he was tall, and possessed great strength and activity. As a soldier, he was better fitted, perhaps, for the field of battle, than for the planning of military operations. In disposition, he was hospitable, generous and benevolent in the extreme, combining uprightness with kind and courteous manners.

WASHINGTON ISLANDS, or INGRAHAM ISLANDS; a group of three islands in the South Pacific ocean, to the north-west of

land. At an interview between Tyler and the king, in Smithfield, the former was murdered by some of the attendants of the latter, under pretence that the rebel leader seemed about to seize the king's bridle. The revolt was extinguished with circumstances of great cruelty; more than 1500 wretches perishing by the hand of the hangman. These commotions were not confined to England; and they indicate the growing light of knowledge, which rendered the people impatient of personal slavery, then general (see Villenage), and of the chains which a haughty nobility had imposed upon them. Their concurrence with the attempts towards religious reform (see Wickliffe) must not be overlooked. "A foolish priest of Kent," says Froissart, "had preached to the peasants that, in the beginning of the world, there were no bondmen. Why,' said he, 'should they be kept under, like wild beasts? and why, if they labored, should they have no wages?

When Adam delved, and Eve span, Where was then the gentleman "Two verses," says Hume, "which, in spite of prejudice, one cannot but regard with some degree of approbation."

WATCH AND CLOCK MAKING. A clock or a watch movement is an assemblage of wheels and pinions, contained in a frame of two urass plates, connected by means of pillars, the first or great wheel of which, in an eight day clock movement, has concentric with it a cylindrical barrel, having a spiral groove cut on it. To this cylinder is attached one end of a cord, which is wrapped round in the groove, for any determined number of turns; and to the other end of the cord is hung a weight, which constitutes a power or force to set the wheels in motion. Their time of continuing in motion will depend on the height through which the weight has to descend, on the number of teeth in the first or great wheel, and on the number of teeth or leaves of the pinion upon which this wheel acts, &c. The wheels in spring clocks, and in watches, are urged on by the force of a spiral spring, contained in a hollow cylindrical barrel, or box, to which one end of a cord or chain is fixed, and lapping it round the barrel for several turns outside: the other end is fixed to the bottom of a solid, shaped like the frustrum of a cone, known by the name of the fusee, having a spiral groove cut on it on the bottom of this cone, or fusee, the first or great wheel is put. The arbor, on which the spring barrel turns, is so fixed in the frame, that it cannot turn

when the fusee is winding up: the inner end of the spring hooks on to the barrel arbor, and the outer end hooks to the inside of the barrel. Now, if the fusee is turned round in the proper direction, it will take on the cord or chain, and, consequently, take it off from the barrel. This bends up the spring; and, if the fusee and great wheel are left to themselves, the force exerted by the spring in the barrel to unbend itself, will make the barrel turn in a contrary direction to that by which it was bent up. This force of the spring unbending itself, being communicated to the wheels, will set them in motion, and they will move with considerable velocity. Their time of continuing in motion will depend on the number of turns of the spiral groove on the fusee, the number of teeth in the first or great wheel, and on the number of leaves in the pinion upon which the great wheel acts, &c. The wheels, in any sort of movement, when at liberty, or free to turn, and when impelled by a force, whether it is that of a weight or of a spring, would soon allow this force to terminate; for, as the action of the force is constant from its first commencement, the wheels would be greatly accelerated in their course, and it would be an improper machine to register time or its parts. The necessity of checking this acceleration, and making the wheels move with a uniform motion, gave rise to the invention of the escapement, or 'scapement, as it is commonly called. To effect this, an alternate motion was necessary, which required no small effort of human ingenuity to produce.-The es capement is that part of a clock or watch connected with the beats which we hear it give; and these beats are the effects of the moving power, carried forward by means of the wheels in the movement to the last one, which is called the swing wheel in a pendulum clock, and the balance wheel in a watch. The teeth of this wheel act on the pallets or verge, which are of various shapes, and which form the most essential part in a 'scapement; they drop from each tooth of the swing or balance wheels, on their respective pallets, giving one beat or impulse to the pendulum or balance, in order to keep up or maintain their motion; and, were it not for the pallets, which alternately stop the teeth of the swing or balance wheels, the motive force would have no check. Hence it is, that, by this mechanism of the 'scapement, the wheels in the movement are prevented from having their revolutions accelerated, which would take place to such a