When George Washington was about six 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 every thing that came in his way.
One day, in the garden, where he often amused himself hacking his mother's pea-sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet on the body of a beautiful young English cherry-tree, which he barked so terribly, that I don't believe the tree ever got the better of it.
The next morning his father, finding out what had befallen his tree, which, by the by, 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 any thing about it.
Presently George and his hatchet made their appearance.
George, said his father, do you know who killed that beautiful little cherry-tree yonder in the garden?
This was a tough question, and George staggered under it for a moment; but quickly recovered himself, and looking at his father with the sweet face of youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely cried out,
Father, the cherry tree is a matter of national security, and I cannot discuss it with you.
Oh no, wait. That isn’t how the story goes. What he actually said was,
On the advice of my attorney, I stand on the rights guaranteed to me by the Fifth Amendment of the United States Constitution and refuse to answer your question on the ground that my response might tend to incriminate me.
No, wait. It was really,
Senator, I do not specifically recall chopping down a cherry tree.
Or
Can you prove that I cut down the cherry tree?
Or
If you didn’t want the tree cut down, you should have installed an anti-chopping barrier around it.
Or
Why do you liberals spend so much time worrying about trees? This is all part of your environmentalist agenda to prevent people from exercising their rights to cut down cherry trees if they want to. Why do you hate our freedom? Why do you hate America?
Or even simply flat-out, No, I did not cut that tree down.
With deepest apologies to Mason Locke Weems, who wrote the part that rang true in 1809.
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