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Arnold Winkelried
A great army was marching into Swit-zer-land. If it should ...

King Alfred And The Cakes
Many years ago there lived in Eng-land a wise and good ...

King Canute On The Seashore
A hundred years or more after the time of Alfred the Great ...

Sir Philip Sidney
A cruel battle was being fought. The ground was covered wit...

Damon And Pythias
A young man whose name was Pyth'i-as had done something whi...

The Story Of William Tell
The people of Swit-zer-land were not always free and happy ...

Doctor Goldsmith
There was once a kind man whose name was Oliver Gold-smith....

The Kingdoms
There was once a king of Prussia whose name was Frederick W...

Horatius At The Bridge
Once there was a war between the Roman people and the E-tru...

The Barmecide Feast
There was once a rich old man who was called the Bar-me-cid...

How Napoleon Crossed The Alps
About a hundred years ago there lived a great gen-er-al who...

The Story Of Regulus
On the other side of the sea from Rome there was once a gre...

King Alfred And The Beggar
At one time the Danes drove King Alfred from his kingdom, a...

Bruce And The Spider
There was once a king of Scot-land whose name was Robert Br...

Sir Humphrey Gilbert
More than three hundred years ago there lived in England a ...

The Ungrateful Soldier
Here is another story of the bat-tle-field, and it is much ...

George Washington And His Hatchet
When George Wash-ing-ton was quite a little boy, his father...

Maximilian And The Goose Boy
One summer day King Max-i-mil'ian of Ba-va'ri-a was walking...

Antonio Canova
A good many years ago there lived in Italy a little boy who...

He Never Smiled Again
The bark that held the prince went down, The sweep...



GEORGE WASHINGTON AND HIS HATCHET








When George Wash-ing-ton was quite a little boy, his father gave him a
hatchet. It was bright and new, and George took great delight in going
about and chopping things with it.

He ran into the garden, and there he saw a tree which seemed to say to
him, "Come and cut me down!"

George had often seen his father's men chop down the great trees in
the forest, and he thought that it would be fine sport to see this
tree fall with a crash to the ground. So he set to work with his
little hatchet, and, as the tree was a very small one, it did not take
long to lay it low.


Soon after that, his father came home.

"Who has been cutting my fine young cherry tree?" he cried. "It was
the only tree of its kind in this country, and it cost me a great
deal of money."

He was very angry when he came into the house.

"If I only knew who killed that cherry tree," he cried, "I would--yes,
I would"--

"Father!" cried little George. "I will tell you the truth about it. I
chopped the tree down with my hatchet."

His father forgot his anger.

"George," he said, and he took the little fellow in his arms, "George,
I am glad that you told me about it. I would rather lose a dozen
cherry trees than that you should tell one false-hood."





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