and gain in his accounts. He loved horseracing and horses, and
nothing pleased him more than to talk of that noble animal. He
kept hounds and until his burden of cares became too great was an
eager devotee of hunting. His shooting was of a type more heroic
than that of an English squire spending a day on a moor with
guests and gamekeepers and returning to comfort in the evening.
Washington went off on expeditions into the forest lasting many
days and shared the life in the woods of rough men, sleeping
often in the open air. "Happy," he wrote, "is he who gets the
berth nearest the fire." He could spend a happy day in admiring
the trees and the richness of the land on a neighbor's estate.
Always his thoughts were turning to the soil. There was poetry
in him. It was said of Napoleon that the one approach to poetry
in all his writings is the phrase: "The spring is at last
appearing and the leaves are beginning to sprout." Washington, on
the other hand, brooded over the mysteries of life. He pictured
to himself the serenity of a calm old age and always dared to
look death squarely in the face. He was sensitive to human
passion and he felt the wonder of nature in all her ways, her
bounteous response in growth to the skill of man, the delight of
improving the earth in contrast with the vain glory gained by
ravaging it in war. His most striking characteristics were energy
and decision united often with strong likes and dislikes. His
clever secretary, Alexander Hamilton, found, as he said, that his
chief was not remarkable for good temper and resigned his post
because of an impatient rebuke. When a young man serving in the
army of Virginia, Washington had many a tussle with the obstinate
Scottish Governor, Dinwiddie, who thought his vehemence
unmannerly and ungrateful. Gilbert Stuart, who painted several of
his portraits, said that his features showed strong passions and