The Savannah morning news., 1903-03-02
THE ORIGINAL STORY
OF THE RATCHET.


his little Ratchet. now known in all the
world. was first told in print by Par
son Weems in his life of Washington,
published in the year 1900. immediate
/ ly after the death of the first Presi-
dent. says the Boston Globe. There is
| no other authority for the Ratchet
story.
The title of the book ran thus:
The Life
George Washington,
with
Curious Anecdotes
| Equally Honorable to Himself and
Exemplary to His Young Countrymen.
BY
NJ. l.. Weems,
Formerly Rector of Mount Vernon
Parish.
The original cherry tree story in Mr..
Weems' book is as follows:
Never did the wise Ulysses take
more pains with his beloved Telema-
chus than did Mr.. Washington with
George, to inspire him with an early
love of truth. Truth, George (said
he) lis the loveliest quality of youth.
l would ride fifty miles, my son. to
see the little boy whose heart is hon
est. and his lips so pure, that we may
depend on every word he says. o how
lovely does such a child appear in the
eyes of everybody His parents dote
on him; his relations glory in him,
they are constantly praising him to
their children, whom they beg to inn
itate him. They are often sending for
him to visit them, and receive him
when he somes, with as much joy as
If he were a little angel come to set
pretty examples to their children.
But, Oh! how different, George, is
the case with the boy who is so given
to lying that nobody can believe a
word he says! He is looked at with
aversion wherever he goes, and par
ents dread to see him come among
their children. Oh. George, my son!
rather than see you come to this pass
dear as you are to my heart, gladly
would / assist to nail you up in your
little coffin and follow you to your
grave. Hard, indeed, would it be to
me TO give up my son, whose little feet
are always so ready to run about with
me, and whose fondly looking eyes and
sweet prattle make so large a part of
my happiness, but still l would give
him up, rather than see him COM
mon liar.
Pa" (said George very seriously
do | ever tell lies %
NO, George, | thank God you do
not, my son; and l rejoice in the hope
you never will. At least, you shall
never, from me, have cause to be
guilty of SO shameful a thing. Many
parents, indeed even compel their
children to this vile practice, by bar
barously beating them for every little
fault; hence, on the next offense, the
little terrified creature slips out a lie!
just to escape the rod. But as to your
self, George, you know l have always
told you. and now tell you again, that,
whenever by accident you do anything
wrong. which must often be the case, as
you are but a poor little boy yet, with
out experience or knowledge, never tell
falsehood to conceal it, and instead
of beating you, George, l will but the
more honor and love your for it, my
dear"
This, you'll say, was sowing good
seed Yes, it was; and the crop, thank
God, was, as l believe it ever will be,
where man acts the true parent that
is, the Guardian Angel, by his child.
The following anecdote is a case in
point. 1t Is too valuable to be lost, and
too true to be doubted. for it was COM
municated to me by the same excellent
lady to whom am indebted for the
lasts
When George" said she, was about
years old he was made the wealthy
master of a hatchet. of which. like
most little boys, he was immoderately
fond, and was constantly going about
chopping everything that came in his
way. One day, in the garden, where
he often amused himself hacking his
fathers pea sticks, he unluckily tried
the edge of his Ratchet on the body
of beautiful young English cherry
tree, which he barked so terribly that
L don't believe the tree ever got the
better of it. The next morning, the
old gentleman finding out what had
befallen his tree, which, by the way,
was a great favorite, came into the
house and with much warmth asked
for the mischievous author, declaring
at the same time that he would not
have taken five guineas for his tree.
Nobody could tell him anything about
il.
Presently George and his hatchet
made their appearance. George said
his father, do you know who killed
that beautiful little cherry tree yon-
der in the garden? This was a tough
question, and George staggered under
1t moment, but quickly recovered
himself, and looking at his father, with
the sweet face of youth frightened
with the ineXpressible charm of all
conquering truth, he bravely cried out,
1 can't tell lie, Pa; you know 1 can't
tell lie. l did cut it with my hatchet!
Run to my arms. my dearest boy,
cried his father in transports, run to
my arms; glad am l, George, that you
killed my tree, for you have paid me
for 1t thousand fold. Such an act
of heroism in my son is more worth
than a thousand trees, though bios
somed with silver, and their fruits OF
purest gold
| ut was in this way, by interesting at
once both his heart and head, that
Mr.. Washington conducted George
with great ease and pleasure along the
happy paths of virtue"
THE name of this lady does not ap-
pear, in the biography.