Thus the business of organizing the government in the first great and essential points was completed.  It was the work of the President, and, anxious and arduous as it was, it is worth remembering, too, that it was done, and thoroughly done, in the midst of severe physical suffering.  Just after the inauguration, Washington was laid up with an anthrax or carbuncle in his thigh, which brought him at one time very near death.  For six weeks he could lie only on one side, endured the most constant and acute pain, and was almost incapable of motion.  He referred to his illness at the time in a casual and perfectly simple way, and mind and will so prevailed over the bodily suffering that the great task of organizing the government was never suspended nor interrupted.

When the work was done and Congress had adjourned, Washington, feeling that he had earned a little rest and recreation, proceeded to carry out a purpose, which he had formed very early in his presidency, of visiting the Eastern States.  This was the first part of a general plan which he had conceived of visiting while in office all portions of the Union.  The personal appearance of the President, representing the whole people, would serve to bring home to the public mind the existence and reality of a central government, which to many if not to most persons in the outlying States seemed shadowy and distant.  But General Washington was neither shadowy nor distant to any one.  Every man, woman, and child had heard of and loved the leader of the Revolution.  To his countrymen everywhere, his name meant political freedom and victory in battle; and when he came among them as the head of a new government, that government took on in some measure the character of its chief.  His journey was a well-calculated appeal, not for himself but for his cause, to the warm human interest which a man readily excites, but which only gathers slowly around constitutions and forms of government.  The world owes a good deal to the right kind of hero-worship, and the United States have been no exception.

The journey itself was uneventful, and was carried out with Washington’s usual precision.  It served its purpose, too, and brought out a popular enthusiasm which spoke well for the prospects of the federal government, and which was the first promise of the loyal support which New England gave to the President, as she had already given it to the general.  In the succession of crowds and processions and celebrations which marked the public rejoicing, one incident of this journey stands out as still memorable, and possessed of real meaning.  Mr. John Hancock was governor of Massachusetts.  There is no need to dwell upon him.  He was a man of slender abilities, large wealth, and ready patriotism, with a great sense of his own importance, and a fine taste for impressive display.  Every external thing about him, from his handsome house and his Copley portrait to his imposing gout and his immortal signature, was showy