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{{B}}Text{{/B}} George Washington was six feet tall, with{{U}} (26) {{/U}}shoulders, a big nose, reddish hair that was now grey and that{{U}} (27) {{/U}}of power and authority large men often{{U}} (28) {{/U}}. He had a wonderful quality of silence{{U}} (29) {{/U}}in the noisy Constitutional Conventtion at Philadelphia in 1787 had{{U}} (30) {{/U}}an eloquence of{{U}} (31) {{/U}}. He was the unlikely{{U}} (32) {{/U}}the people were seeking: a citizen-soldier, a steady, rocklike, responsible man. He was not a{{U}} (33) {{/U}}There have been{{U}} (34) {{/U}}soldiers, more capable executives, more creative statesmen. {{U}}(35) {{/U}}he had been once, and was now again, pre-eminently the{{U}} (36) {{/U}}man in the right place{{U}} (37) {{/U}}the right time. He had{{U}} (38) {{/U}}the weight of the Revolution on his shoulders, had torn victory out of defeat because he had never known when he was{{U}} (39) {{/U}}. He could never give in, yet he was no statue. {{U}}(40) {{/U}}passions strung on a hair trigger. When{{U}} (41) {{/U}}that the painter Gilbert Stuart had seen signs of a fierce temper controlled only with difficulty, Washington said soberly, "He is right." He was too honest to evade anything. He was the good soldier who never{{U}} (42) {{/U}}his country's call. Like several later generals, he would bring to the presidential{{U}} (43) {{/U}}more prestige than he found in it; {{U}}(44) {{/U}}some, he would leave the office greater than he had found it, and{{U}} (45) {{/U}}an authority that could be handed down to those who came after him. |