From Farm House to the White House - 912 Freedom Library

Farm House to the White House, by William M. Thayer 43
In this incident we discover the daring, adventurous spirit of George. His courage was equal to his honesty.
No act of his life approached so nearly to disobedience as this. Yet the spirit of disobedience was not in his
heart. His mother had forbidden any one to ride the colt, but it was because she feared the colt would injure
them. "If I can ride him successfully, and prove that he can be broken to the saddle, mother will be delighted,"
he reasoned. His thoughts were of pleasing instead of disobeying his mother. Were there any doubt on this
point, his rehearsal of the whole story, with no attempt to shield himself from censure, together with his
sincere desire to be forgiven, settles the question beyond controversy.
After George left Mr. Williams' school, and had gone to reside with his brother Lawrence at Mount Vernon, a
companion discovered in his journal several verses that breathed love for an unknown "lowland beauty."
"What is this, George?" he asked. "Are you the poet who writes such lines as these?" And he read aloud the
verses.
"To be honest I must acknowledge the authorship," George answered, with his usual frankness. "But there is
more truth than poetry in the production, I imagine."
"I was suspicious of that," responded his friend. "That means that you fell in love with some bewitching girl, I
conclude."
"All of that," answered George, with no disposition to conceal anything.
"That accounts for your poetical turn of mind," continued his friend. "I have heard it said that lovers take to
poetry."
"I don't know about that; but I confess to being smitten by the 'lowland beauty,'" was George's honest answer.
"Who is she, and where does she live?"
"That is of no consequence now; she is nothing to me, although she is much in my thoughts."
"Did she respond to your professions of love?"
"I never made any profession of love to her."
"How is that?"
"I am too young and bashful to take such a step; it would be foolish indeed."
"Well, to love and keep it to one's self must be misery indeed," continued his companion.
"There is something in that," answered George, "and I shall not conceal that it has made me unhappy at
times."
"And it was a kind of relief to let your tender regard express itself in poetry?" suggested his friend.
"Exactly so; and you are the only person in the world to whom I have spoken of the affair."
We have introduced this incident to show the tender side of George's heart. His gravity, decorum, and
thoughtful habit were such as almost to preclude the possibility of his being captivated by a "lowland beauty."
But this incident shows that he was much like the average boy of Christendom in this regard.