When he went to Boston and was named as Commander of the Army, his chief concern seemed to be how he would make peace with Martha.  Ho! ye married men! do you understand the situation?  He was to be away for a year, two, or possibly three, and his wife did not have an inkling of it.  Now, he must break the news to her.

As plainly shown by Cabot Lodge and other historians, there was much rivalry for the office, and it was only allotted to the South as a political deal after much bickering.  Washington had been a passive but very willing candidate, and after a struggle his friends secured him the prize—­and now what to do with Martha!  Writing to her, among other things he says, “You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you in the most solemn manner that so far from seeking the appointment I have done all in my power to avoid it.”  The man who will not fabricate a bit in order to keep peace with the wife of his bosom is not much of a man.  But “Patsy’s” objections were overcome, and beyond a few chidings and sundry complainings, she did nothing to block the great game of war.

At Princeton, Washington ordered campfires to be built along the brow of a hill for a mile, and when the fires were well lighted, he withdrew his army, marched around to the other side, and surprised the enemy at daylight.  At Brooklyn, he used masked batteries, and presented a fierce row of round, black spots painted on canvas that, from the city, looked like the mouths of cannon at which men seek the bauble reputation.  It is said he also sent a note threatening to fire these sham cannon, on receiving which the enemy hastily moved beyond range.  Perceiving afterwards that they had been imposed upon, the brave English sent word to “shoot and be damned.”  Evidently, Washington considered that all things are fair in love and war.

Washington talked but little, and his usual air was one of melancholy that stopped just short of sadness.  All this, with the firmness of his features and the dignity of his carriage, gave the impression of sternness and severity.  And these things gave rise to the popular conception that he had small sense of humor; yet he surely was fond of a quiet smile.

At one time, Congress insisted that a standing army of five thousand men was too large; Washington replied that if England would agree never to invade this country with more than three thousand men, he would be perfectly willing that our army should be reduced to four thousand.

When the King of Spain, knowing he was a farmer, thoughtfully sent him a present of a jackass, Washington proposed naming the animal in honor of the donor; and in writing to friends about the present, draws invidious comparisons between the gift and the giver.  Evidently, the joke pleased him, for he repeats it in different letters; thus showing how, when he sat down to clear his desk of correspondence, he economized energy by following a form.  So, we now find letters that are almost identical, even to jokes, sent to persons in South Carolina and in Massachusetts.  Doubtless the good man thought they would never be compared, for how could he foresee that an autograph-dealer in New York would eventually catalog them at twenty-two dollars fifty cents each, or that a very proper but half-affectionate missive of his to a Faire Ladye would be sold by her great-granddaughter for fifty dollars?