"I would not have taken five guineas for it," he added, with a long-drawn sigh. The words had scarcely escaped from his lips before George appeared with his hatchet.
"George," said his father, "do you know who killed that cherry-tree in the garden?"
George had not stopped to think, until that moment, that he had used his hatchet improperly. His father's question was a revelation to him; and he hung his head in a guilty manner for a moment.
"George, did you do it?" urged his father.
Raising his head, and looking his father fully in the face, he replied:
"I can't tell a lie, pa; you know I can't tell a lie, I did cut it with my hatchet."
Mr. Washington was well-nigh overcome by this frank and honest reply. For a moment he stood spell bound; then recovering himself, he exclaimed:
"Come to my arms, my boy! You have paid for the cherry-tree a thousand times over. Such an act of heroism is worth more to me than a thousand trees!"
Mr. Weems regards this honest confession the out-growth of previous instructions upon the sin of lying and the beauty of truthfulness. He represents Mr. Washington as saying to his son:
"Truth, George, is the loveliest quality of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son, to see the little boy whose heart is so honest, and his lips so pure, that we may depend on every word he says."