MY earliest recollection Of the picture Of the face Of any man is that Of the Father Of his Country. The first and for many years the only pictures that hung on the wall Of the Old fashioned sitting room in our southern Indiana home were those Of George and Martha Washing ton. The story Of the hatchet and cherry tree was one Of the constructive in?uences in my life. As children we never tired Of hearing stories Of this great man. Later, in school, as we studied the history Of our country, and his part in it, he became to us a sort Of demigod. Could a real man do what Washington did? He seemed to be the special care of Providence.